Chapter 4

The girl sat up abruptly, blinking her rather large, owlish eyes. One moment she'd been asleep and now… Am I still asleep? She ran her fingers through her short, everlasting sleep mussed hair, rubbed her forearm across her eyes. No, not anymore. Hovering at the fringe of wakefulness, she blindly reached for her glasses, fumbled, finally managing to pick them up without spilling them off the nightstand. Trying to slip them on with one hand, she glanced anxiously over at the sleeping form beside her. She bit her lip, holding her breath as the figure shifted in her sleep, one arm flopping over to cover the recently vacated space, grabbed the pillow and curled herself around it, murmuring in contentment.

Yukino smiled shyly, enjoying the view, tracing the outlines of the sleeping figure's face with loving eyes, from long, golden hair to the firm, resolute hold she had on the pillow as she pulled it securely into the protection of her body. It was something she'd never dared dream possible, especially considering… well, considering the particular uncompromising mindset of her partner, but sometimes fate was kind, and even stone could bend. It wasn't always easy being with Haruka, one step forward for two steps back. She was brusque and intolerably forthright, lacked the sensitivity which might make their relationship less of a challenge.

Sometimes it seemed as though it was doomed to failure, sometimes Yukino hoped it would fail, as she sat alone, crying, waiting for Haruka to work her way through her frequent temper-tantrums. Sometimes it seemed as though the growing pains would tear her heart apart, but in the end… if she was very very patient, if she remained quiet in the face of the raging storm, it would pass. Haruka would make love to her as a form of apology, sweeping her along, carrying her away, and in the morning, the skies were so achingly clear. She leaned over and pulled a few stray strands of hair away from the sleeping girl's face, tucking them behind an ear before rising to investigate what had awakened her.

There it was again, a weak, rhythmic sound, as if someone were lightly knocking on the front door. She hesitated, debated waking Haruka – she was so much better at dealing with crisis, at 2 am, what else could it be? but decided against it. Haruka was also temperamental, and prone to judgment before the jury arrived. She slipped into a robe, knotting it as she walked cautiously towards the door. I could always just go back to bed… The knock repeated and Yukino fidgeted, reached to unlock the door, opening it a crack. Her eyes widened, almost swallowing her face as she recognized the disheveled, obviously wounded woman dripping blood across their front walkway.

"Natsuki!"

She looked exhausted, not just battered and bleeding. Her head was hanging down; she didn't raise it, though Yukino suspected she knew her name had been called. The waist length ebony hair, snarled and matted, hung limply in front of her unnaturally pale skin. Natsuki's face was devoid of color, except for the dark, bruised looking hollows surrounding her emerald eyes, and the florid, feverish patches staining her cheeks. Her gaze slipped downward, taking in the familiar leather bikesuit, almost shredded across Natsuki's midsection, revealing long, raw scrapes. She followed one of these wounds until it dipped deeply into the flesh, wincing. Even covered with blood as it was, she thought she caught a flash of white buried amidst the gaping red mass, and she stepped back raising a trembling hand to her lips, wondering if that was pelvic bone.

Natsuki swallowed painfully. "Yo. I was wondering…" Her voice sounded very far away to herself; she had the sinking suspicion she was going to pass out at any moment. She bit her tongue to stay in the here and now long enough to finish her sentence. "Wondering if I could stay here for … a… little while. It won't be for long, so maybe… maybe it would be ok." Her prediction came true.

Yukino stepped forward reflexively, catching her old school mate in her arms awkwardly as she pitched forward. Something clattered to the ground as Natsuki went limp; she found herself mildly unsurprised it was a gun. She staggered under the taller girl's weight, swaying until she managed to reach a clumsy equilibrium, half carrying, half dragging her into the hallway, where she coaxed Natsuki to the carpet. She then went to retrieve the fallen objects, locked the front door, set the box and gun on the coffee table, and started pacing, chewing on a nail as she glanced from the unconscious form currently staining their living room rug to the gun and back again.

She had no idea how to handle this situation, she never had, not even when she'd been a… while she'd been in school. Considering the extenuating circumstances, variables she wasn't willing to explore because they didn't exist, she doubted Haruka would know what to do either. She'd insist Kuga needed medical attention, not now, five minutes ago, and that could get very… complicated, very quickly. Her pacing grew more animated as the panic of not knowing how to proceed threatened to overturn her carefully constructed reality, and she was already dialing before her mind caught up with the implications of her actions.

The soft, almost velvety Kyoto accent nearly sent her into hysterics. "Kikukawa-san, what an unexpected surprise."

Natsuki drifted between realities, moaning to herself as the dream, her never-ending, reoccurring nightmare, replayed itself behind her eyelids. Her fingers flexed, her hand reaching, reaching…

"…don't really know what happened…"

Please, don't leave me, please oh please, I'm sorry.

"Yukino!"

She thrashed, whimpering as physical discomfort interjected itself. Please…

"…are you doing here, Fujino?"

Her hand clutched at her side, her lungs filled with the shades of burning air. Take…

"…please, Haruka…"

Her mind struggled to drag her awake. Take me…

"…where is she?"

Some part of herself detached from the memory, hearing familiarity amidst the low toned conversation happening around her, screaming for her to wake up.

"…and you let her in?"

Take me with you, "Shizuru!"

"Natsuki?" She'd recognize that intoxicating, wounded voice anywhere. Rich, evocative, alive with worry and fear. But why? Ahh, I must be hurt. She tried to sit up and cried out, gritting her teeth as she fell backwards into the reassuring warmth of waiting arms. Definitely hurt. Natsuki's pain was the only thing that could banish the soft spoken, teasing tone; the only thing that breached the unfailing, surreal calm Shizuru wrapped around herself.

Natsuki's eyelids fluttered. "Shizuru." It came out in a labored, plaintive whine, sounding more like a whimper than a greeting, and she bit her lower lip in frustration. "Why…" Her voice trailed off as cool fingers stroked her cheek; so gentle, so soothing. An unconscious smile curved her lips, her features smoothing under the comforting ministrations.

"Natsuki doesn't have to ask why, she already knows." Shizuru's words dropped to the barest of whispers. "I love Natsuki. I promised to protect Natsuki for as long as she lives."

So easy to be lulled by that passionate, melodic voice, so easy to forget the scars had been born from a wound or, if unforgotten, who'd inflicted them, Shizuru or herself. She closed her eyes, allowing this brief luxury; being in the arms of the one she craved most, undemanding, forgiven, loved. So simple. Shizuru returned her smile, and it was a thing of painful beauty: blameless adoration, unfettered by the nuance of social interpretation. Love was love. Natsuki missed her so. Shizuru brushed fingers through her hair, and Natsuki turned her head, resting it against Shizuru's breast, drifting into the rhythm of her breath.

"You haven't answered my question! Why are you here? Why is she here, bleeding all over my carpet?"

Shizuru lifted the hand she'd been working through Natsuki's hair firmly to silence Haruka's tirade, not raising her head to acknowledge the irate, golden haired woman standing more closely than was acceptable. Haruka hadn't changed – she recalled this same petulant, overbearing expression twisting her face each time they'd spoken in the past.

Haruka shifted her stance, defiantly resting her hands on her hips; she despised being ignored, especially by this woman.

"Haruka, please… I'm sure Natsuki," Yukino swallowed anxiously as the object of her comments turned stormy lavender eyes oh her, as if daring her to take Fujino's side. There aren't any sides, Haruka… why can't you accept that?

"What the hell are you thinking? Stop this nonsense, immediately. Can't you see she needs to be in the hospital? Why are you sitting there acting like nothing is wrong? Do you think you are so all powerful that you can bring her back from death on a whim?"

Shizuru raised her head sharply, and Yukino took several steps back, vividly remembering the last time she'd seen this exact air, this slow, inexorable building of contemptuous fury marring the otherwise complacent expression the kaichou ex-kaichou perpetually wore. She knew it was a trick of the lighting, but she swore those eyes had turned bright, arterial red. She couldn't stand to stare too long into their depths; something dangerous – cold, lacking pity or remorse – twisted sinuously just below the surface.

Shizuru's lips thinned as she glanced at Haruka, from crown to toes, as if wondering how far she could throw her without straining something, before she managed to reign in her temper. Now was not the time. She turned those frighteningly red eyes on the timid brown haired girl, giving her a silent, but wholly understood warning. Muzzle your dog – or I will.

Completely oblivious to the greater portion of the underlying, silent communication between the bubuzuke woman and Yukino, Haruka did realize something was going on. She wrapped her arms around Yukino's waist, pulling the smaller girl snugly, possessively into her body.

Haruka wasn't the only one who'd noticed differences in the atmosphere; Shizuru frantically grasped the raged edges of her self-imposed calm, willing herself into passivity. "I see. Your relationship seems to have changed somewhat from the last time we spoke, Suzushiro-san, " she teased, and Yukino blushed, dropping her eyes.

Yukino took a nervous breath and continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. She spoke as softly, as soothingly as she could, taking one of Haruka's hands, drawing her away to relative safety. "I'm sure Kuga-san will be alright… and… Fujino-san has come to take her to the hospital, haven't you?" Please say yes, please accept this ruse and take Natsuki with you. I couldn't stand this any more.

Shizuru nodded, smiling to her 'hosts' as she rose, cradling Natsuki in her arms as a mother would her child. Her back arched just far enough that Natsuki's head remained resting on her chest. Shizuru didn't want to wake her – she needed sleep, and rest, and quiet. All of which she could provide, once she'd removed Natsuki from this den of emotional masochists and boorish, small-minded dictators.

Yukino extracted herself from Haruka's embrace, quickly gathering the raven-haired girls dropped possessions. She escorted the pair to Shizuru's car, opening the doors for them, and dropped the contents of her hands into the passenger seat, already feeling more at ease. No one wants to dance with a starved tiger.

"Yukino, you should drive them to the emergency room. I'm sure Fujino will have her hands full trying to keep Kuga from bouncing around…" Haruka stood in the doorway, for once seeming hesitant, unsure of herself. It was true, she wanted the bubuzuke woman and her whore out of their lives, preferably for good this time, but she knew what was right, and what was wrong. Kuga was seriously injured; she needed to be looked after by a professional as quickly as possible.

Shizuru painstakingly arranged Natsuki on the back seat, pausing just long enough to kiss the pale, dirt-smeared forehead before closing the door. She looked up at Haruka. "Ara, ara, Haruka-chan's concern is so touching, but we don't need any further assistance." She paused, as if terribly amused with herself, the hint of a smile creeping into her tone. She was sure neither could tell if she were being sarcastic, sincere, or some blending of the two, and this pleased her even more. She turned, taking a half step to close the distance, and embraced a very startled Yukino in an affectionate hug. "Thank you for calling, Kikukawa-san," she whispered fiercely, pretense set aside. Haruka scowled.

Shizuru waved a hand in parting to the disgruntled blond, getting into the car and driving away without another word, leaving the blushing brunette to wonder… had it merely been an act of appreciation? Yukino glanced up at her huffing partner, noting the narrowed, almost envious eyes, the arms crossed defensively across her chest. Perhaps, but she thought not.