Early-early posting again—because next week will be a bitch. In every teeth-grinding, hair-pulling sense. This is going to be the last caesura in the fic! Set Zoo-era, after the Bordeaux Sunday. Expect griping and angst, and much conflict (and awkwardness XD) between Haji and Saya! Enjoy! (?)

Review, pretty please! ;)

Caesura VIII

Saya twisted her black handkerchief into a knot.

Sunlight streamed from the guestroom's curtains. But she couldn't feel it. The aroma of flowers suffused the air. But all she smelled was smoke. The splendid Alsatian villa—belonging to Joel's son, Julien—bore unmistakable signs of mourning. The black crepe ribbons swagging the curtains. The vases of jardinières and lilies. The black-bordered condolence cards everywhere.

Behind the door, she heard voices tangled in fierce shouts. Joel's shrewish sister and her stentorian husband, interrogating the solicitor about Joel's will. Downstairs, footsteps and somber voices resounded; the last guests departing after paying their respects to Joel's bereaved family.

Which did not include her.

She'd always been seen as an interloper in the Goldschmidt clan—an anomaly.

Now, she was just a loose end.

Joel's funeral had been momentous affair, as were all funerals for the wealthy in that era. Relatives, friends, colleagues, and even intellectual rivals had attended.

After the fire at the Bordeaux mansion, the send-off was conducted in Strasbourg, where the Goldschmidt tomb was located. Joel had been buried alongside his rightful ancestry, at his family's request. They knew it was what he would've wanted.

Saya's eyes hardened.

That's not true.

He hated his family in Strasbourg. That's why he had his estate built in Bordeaux.

He used to say that place was his real home.

But her objections refused to move Joel's relatives. Julien had just given her a sharp look, like she was being a disruptive brat. And Joel's younger brother had the temerity to bark, Stay out of this! This is for his real family to resolve! Not your kind!

Those words still lashed her like rainsqualls.

Not your kind.

Not the girl who wasn't really Joel's daughter. Who wasn't really human.

Diva. Duty. Death.

The three words resurged. Flooding her with memories of blistering heat and mad blue eyes. Of red lilies, hooting bandits and wings exploding from Haji's back.

The room blurred with tears.

All of this…

It's all my fault.

Since Joel's death, guilt had been dogging her like a noxious shadow, unshakeable. She'd eluded it by trying keep her mind fixed on the present. But it percolated the air around her now. She was half-terrified to inhale, lest it engulf her whole.

Outside, the shrieks gained volume. Saya caught phrases like répartition and usufruit. She frowned, vague memory flickering. Usufruit? Usufruct. A Latin term. She couldn't remember what it meant.

Julien's voice intervened, explaining something in that dour manner he'd inherited from his father. He even resembled Joel from his early days, but with ruddier skin and a fashionably curled moustache.

Joel had married late; Julien was his only child. Saya had played with him when they were children, and he'd always had a priggish streak. Then Julien had gone off to boarding school, and returned fully-grown with fussy manners and pomaded hair and a spine so stiff a roadroller may as well have flattened it, and what little interaction he and Saya shared had faded entirely. By the time he'd married, Saya barely saw him except on Christmases. And even then, he'd made a point to keep his distance.

She'd sensed no hatred from him; no bad blood. Just a basic discomfort at her presence, as if he couldn't understand how she was still alive.

Still young, unchanged, when those around her were anything but.

Having read Joel's diary, he knew the truth now.

A second male voice rose over the shrilling. Quiet. Penetrating.

Haji.

He seemed to calming down Joel's harridan sister. Perhaps it might work. Haji's voice had a talent for permeating the atmosphere like a soporific mist. A gypsy spell, the chambermaids used to giggle.

It was working. Whatever he said was making the shrieks dwindle.

Saya knew she should be outside with him. She should be facing Joel's outraged family, not Haji. He'd been with her every step of the way already—from their long journey to Strasbourg, to her excruciating meeting with Julien and his snobbish wife, to the ordeal of the funeral itself.

A wake had been set up in the villa's palatial dining room, with Joel's open polished casket placed on the candlelit table. The undertaker had slapped rouge on the dead body's face to give it color—unsurprising, given that Joel had died of blood-loss at Diva's hands.

Saya had been unable to face that garish, shriveled-up corpse. Unable to bear the flood of mourners everywhere; how the gentlemen had stood whispering in dark corners about her, or the cool speculative glances the ladies had cast her from behind their black ostrich-feather fans.

See that girl there? Wasn't she living in Joel's mansion all those years?

Where on earth did he pick her up?

What do you suppose is going to happen to her?

There had been no sympathy in their eyes. Only veiled condemnation. Perhaps they'd sensed, instinctively as much as socially, that she wasn't one of them anymore.

Not their kind.

Maids had bustled back and forth, bearing trays of coffee and cognac, patés, rillettes, and ammonia-soaked compresses in case the ladies felt faint. The sight of all that food, those gorging mouths, had choked Saya.

Her body revolted against the idea of nourishment. She wanted to fall down, crumbling, and expire.

Haji had been the grown-up one then. Or perhaps he'd been grown-up all along, and she'd never noticed? He'd slid a full plate into her lap, and whispered for her to eat with her eyes averted, so no one would expect her to talk to them. He'd held her hand when the flower-brimming hearse arrived, with its gowned entourage of pallbearers and feathermen. Throughout the long procession, the coach-ride, and the walk to the chapel where speeches were made eulogizing virtues Joel had never possessed, he'd stayed close. Keeping, at all times, what Joel used to call a stiff upper lip.

Under the scrutiny of guests, he'd been unshakeable.

But alone, she'd caught him rubbing bloodshot eyes.

Perhaps this was how he'd felt on the streets as a child? Destitute and adrift, with no one to go to. Or perhaps it had been worse than that, which was why his parents had sold him to strangers at all?

She wondered, quite suddenly, how he'd endured that primal loss of home.

There was a sudden knock on the door, followed by the knob turning. Haji stepped in, calm and somber in his black mourning suit. The sunshine haloed his loose hair with silvery-gold; casting two bright glints in his eyes.

"Saya? Are you all right?"

Wooden, she nodded. And, in the same breath, shook her head. Haji understood. Shutting the door, he crossed the room in two strides. Knelt before her, his arms coming tight around her.

And, with the woolen fabric of his coat against her cheek, he said, "Saya, it doesn't matter what was written in that diary. It is all right to miss him. We both do."

This broke her. During the funeral, she'd been too frozen to cry. But now, away from whispers and prying eyes, the tears fell in a gush. Her shoulders shook, harder and harder, a gathering avalanche. Feeling, at last, the horror of what she'd endured, made Haji endure, and would have to endure still.

The guilt of countless lives destroyed from a single unlocked door.

Pressing her wet face to his chest, she sobbed, "You used to warn me that something terrible would happen because of my recklessness—and you were right—you were right!"

"Saya—Sssh."

"I'm sorry, Haji. I'm so sorry I let this happen! Why couldn't I understand that there was a reason she was locked in that tower? Why couldn't I have told Joel, instead of—?"

"Saya, please. It was a mistake. A terrible mistake. That doesn't make you evil. From the moment Diva left her tower, this was beyond your control."

She squeezed her eyes shut, tears overflowing. "You sound so sure!"

"I'm sure of nothing. Except that you need to stop blaming yourself. Otherwise the guilt will destroy you. And that is the last thing I want."

"I should be destroyed!"

"No—Saya, please—"

Her hands slipped between them, gently putting him back. She couldn't bear the tears in his eyes. How could he be so willing to forgive her, when she could never forgive herself? Everything alive ought to recoil from her. Yet even as she thought this, she was grateful for his closeness, his warmth.

Swabbing her eyes with her handkerchief, she whispered, "What was Joel's sister screaming about? Did he leave nothing for her family in his will?"

"He did. A hefty sum. But it was his instructions about the mansion she was furious with."

"The mansion?"

He twined his fingers with hers. "He's left the Zoo to Julien. But he's also added that you will be allowed to live there, unconditionally. Until the event of your death. Joel's sister claimed—"

"That I have no right to live there, because I'm not family?" Tears spilled thicker, but she spoke without sobs. "She's right. I've been a hanger-on since the day Joel took me out of that… that mummy. I have no right to claim anything from him."

"You do on paper. That's what matters. Joel's sister wanted Julien to sign over his right to the Zoo, and expel you. She kept going on about some term called usufruit—I do not know. At first I thought she was hungry. Although God knows, she ate enough for twenty at the funeral. Even you would have been shocked." He tried to quirk his lips, but it was a poor joke. "Whatever the case, Julien refused her demands."

"Why would he do that?" Her voice shook. "I as good as killed his father. He blames me for what happened."

"Not as much as you might think." He thumbed the tears off her cheeks. "Julien quarreled with Joel, because he was seeking a divorce from his first wife to marry some cabaret singer. You remember, don't you? When he arrived unannounced in March, and left the same night after rowing in Joel's study?"

"Yes. I remember."

Vague memories of Julien stepping from a carriage and hurrying into the mansion one spring afternoon. Memories of angry voices rising from behind Joel's study, and the crash of a door slamming open as Julien stormed out, trailed by his father's livid warnings. Of Joel refusing to answer when she asked what they'd talked about, or why Julien left so soon.

"Joel was against the idea of Julien remarrying," she said. "'Not a woman of her get'. It would've been a scandal."

"Joel never did approve of divorce." Haji's brow knitted faintly, as if bemused by how a man so notorious for his liberal ideas could hold such rigid concepts about marriage.

Saya sighed, bittersweet. "I loved Joel. But he could be such a hypocrite. He only disapproved of divorce because of the social hassles. Rank was always more important to him than money."

Abruptly, she fought a cringe. Was. Loved. She was already thinking of Joel in the present-tense.

"He was what he was," Haji said. It sounded like an epitaph. "But with the recent events, Julien has full leave to do what he wishes. He's told me that as soon as the prescribed period of mourning is over, he and his mistress will be married."

"What about… all the others? The guests who were killed at the party. They blame me for what happened, don't they?"

Haji winced, but did not refute it. "Saya… what happened that night. It wasn't your fault. You never…"

"Don't." Tears scalded her eyes. "Please don't. Denial or comforting is going to change what I did. Not to Joel… or to you."

He stiffened, as if ashamed. His resurrection after that horrible fall at the cliff, after the blood-kiss, the thrashing and screams—was like being confronted by a ghost. Even now, part of her wondered if this truly was Haji, and not some warped embodiment of her conscience, reminding her hour-by-hour of her crimes.

She took a breath, willing herself to feign a composure she did not feel. "Haji, I—I have to speak with you about something."

"What?"

"I—met with Joel's cousin, David. Last evening in the parlor, while you were out helping with the funeral arrangements."

She felt his sharp focused stare. "And?"

"He—he and Julien have read Joel's diary. Page for page. About the experiments Joel conducted. The research on the—Ch-chiropterans." She sniffled, pressing her handkerchief to her nose. "And after discussing everything, David, Julien and I reached an arrangement."

"An arrangement?"

She nodded, not meeting his eyes. "In Joel's diary, it—stated that my blood is poisonous to Diva. When Joel—mixed it with hers during a test, it crystallized. That must mean that my blood can take her down. So we agreed that—"

"Saya—" A chill riffled through Haji's voice.

She kept her eyes on her handkerchief. "We decided that once the funeral, and the other arrangements have settled down, I would head out to find Diva. David and Julien will finance the venture. They have contacts over France who can help me in locating her. So that I can—"

"Saya—are you sure that what you want to do? If anything, the massacre at the Zoo has proven how dangerous Diva is. Do you truly plan to—?"

"To kill her? Yes." A steel edge of hatred sharpened her tone. "I'm the one responsible for what she did that night, Haji. It's my duty to correct everything now." She let that word, duty, simmer through the air. Then swallowed, eyes slipping shut. "But that isn't what I want to talk to you about. I want to tell you… that you have to go."

"Go?"

She wouldn't look at him. "The last thing I need is another person suffering because of my blood. Which is why Julien and David both agreed that now that Joel's gone, and—and the Zoo's destroyed, you needn't be held back anymore." Her tone faltered, then firmed. "I'll be offering you a sum of money. Along with the request that you not come into further contact with me."

"What?"

"I'm letting you go, Haji. You're free of your duty to—to take care of me—or whatever it is that Joel took you in for."

He leaned in, putting a hand on her wrist. Light, but with an underlying tremor of anger. "There was more to my time at the Zoo than a dry financial arrangement, Saya."

"Maybe. But I think its time you were absolved of that… servitude. You're free to leave. Pursue a life outside the Zoo. Get married. Have a career. Whatever you want."

"Saya—" His tight imploring tone was excruciating.

Forcibly, she jerked his hand off. "Please, Haji. I've made my choice. And it's time for you to make yours. To start your life over."

"And what if I don't?"

She leapt to her feet, impatient. "Don't say these things! You know what sort of disaster we're in! You know I have to bring Diva down. Who else is going to do it? But I can't risk you getting hurt in this battle, Haji. I can't."

"Saya—I do not care how dangerous you think this battle is. If you have chosen to take up arms against Diva, I am ready to go with you. To help however I can."

"Please, Haji! This is not some errand to run! This is going to take time. And travel. A-a-and venturing places neither of us wants to go. Our lives are never going to be the same again." Her throat ached, a reminder that she wasn't quite as resigned to this cruel reality, or their separation, as she let on. She swallowed, but couldn't look at him.

Haji was adamant. "I endured travel to unwanted places continually as a boy. Why should this be any different?"

Her hands balled into fists. Anger transmogrifying into misery. "Haji—please. Don't do this! You're free to lead your own life now. To do what you want! You should go!"

"And leave you to shoulder this burden alone? I cannot do that, Saya."

"You stubborn pest, this isn't your battle to fight! You have no duty—"

"Not everything is about duty."

The violence in his answer shocked her. She froze.

In the sudden silence, the sound of voices floated from downstairs, clicking hooves and clumping carriage wheels. And behind her, Haji's breathing; tight, controlled. Synchronized with hers.

Both of them were fighting tears.

"Saya," he said. "You are angry. And in pain. I can see that. But that does not mean that you—condemn yourself to facing this problem alone. Why not put it aside for a moment, and allow yourself to mourn? There are still people who lo—who want to help you."

"I can't do that. I have to face up to everything I've done."

"By turning yourself away? By punishing me?"

Tears burned her swollen eyes. "I'm don't want to punish you, Haji."

"Then what do you want? Saya—can't you see that this guilt is making you believe things about yourself that aren't true? You hate yourself, and you want to send me away because I cannot agree with you. Please—do not let it come to that. I refuse to let you to face Diva alone. You are all I have left."

The words, grief contracting into an iron point of pressure, crumbled her. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She covered her face with her hands.

The pain in Haji's voice wasn't a ploy, she knew. He wasn't trying to play on her guilt so she wouldn't leave him.

His grief was for her—for everything she had suffered, now and then. For the destruction of their home—and an era which, in retrospect, seemed like nothing less than heaven.

Then Haji stepped behind her, his arms curling around her shoulders. She was suddenly pressed to him, all the way down, his suit fabric against her parmatta silk dress, his boots against hers. She felt the vibration of his voice on the top of her head.

"Please, Saya. I do not want to fight with you. If you choose to hunt Diva—so be it. I will go with you. I will help you fulfill this duty—however long it takes."

"Haji…"

"Please. You may think this is not my battle—but it is. If I cannot offer the same assistance as David or Julien—I can offer it as family. Whatever it will take to make this easier for you."

The agony in his voice choked her. She opened her eyes, not so much in agreement as resignation. What point was there, making him suffer like this? She had brought him enough misery.

Turning, she hugged him, wet aching face pressed into his chest. "Haji—I'm sorry."

"Ssh. It's all right." His arms went tight around her, one hand smoothing her hair, as if comforting a frightened child.

As they stood there, the world seemed to go still. A weightless caesura. Curled against him, it was so easy to pretend that nothing bad had happened. That she and Haji were still peas-in-a-pod, hidden away from the harshness of the world.

Except the Zoo's carefree days already seemed so distant, as if they'd happened to another Saya and Haji. A pair who had the luxury to dream without reprisal. After today, she and Haji both knew nothing would be the same again.

After a few minutes, she said, "Haji…?"

"Yes?"

"Joel's sister? Did she… really eat enough for twenty at the funeral?"

She felt the imprint of his lips on her forehead. A sad smile. "She did. In fact, watching her, I half-feared you were dead."

"Me? Why?"

"I thought she might be channeling your spirit. Or your stomach."

Annoyed, she tried to thump him. But Haji only pressed her closer. She felt him shaking with silent, relieved laugher. As if he expected to embrace a corpse, only to feel a faint pulse still beating.

It was a long moment before they drew back. Haji regarded her pensively, hands cradling her head. This close, she could see the dark smudges under the fine skin of his eyes. The almost boyish way his lower-lip quivered. She realized she'd forgotten how young he still was, underneath all that black fabric and cool poise. How breakable.

Without thinking, she leaned on tiptoe in to kiss him. His lips were cool, slippery on hers. She tasted wine and blackcurrants—quintessence of Haji. He stood frozen for a moment, head at an angle. She heard his breath catch, felt him swallow, before he circled her closer. For a moment they both seemed to succumb—until she jerked back as if electrocuted.

"Ha-Haji—I—"

Haji took a ragged breath, fighting for a composure he clearly did not feel.

"I—I'm sorry." The apology was preemptive more than anything. "I did not mean to—"

She was shaking her head before he finished, though she was unsure at what. His face was palely anxious, exuding chagrin. She wondered what her own expression looked like to him.

He shifted as if to let her go. But she held on.

Not everything is about duty.

Those words strobed through her, their edges flickering. Igniting warnings, implications, she instinctively understood, but could not bring herself to face. They had no place in the wake of her duty. If she turned her back on them, shelved them into the corner of her mind, she would be able to maintain a precarious sanity.

"I-I'm sorry," Haji said again. Quieter. She felt his radiating shame.

"It's—it's all right," she whispered. They had both made themselves vulnerable in grief; vulnerable in their sympathy for each other. It was an accident, nothing more.

It was all she could allow it to be.

But even as she thought this, her mind felt divided. Caught between grief and a strange, frightening epiphany.

Haji slowly drew back. "I—should go. Perhaps you would like to be alone."

She shook her head. "No. Stay here."

"Are—are you sure?"

She nodded. Drew slowly closer to him, her head settling against his chest. Haji hesitated, before his arm came around her, cool hand on the nape of her neck. She felt him wonder at himself, as if this gesture, skin on skin, were both daring and unseemly.

She could've told him they had crossed such prim thresholds when the Zoo burned down.

"Saya," Haji whispered then. "I—there is something I need to tell you. I-I know it is not the right time, but I—"

"Don't," she cut in.

He froze.

Eyes closed, she nestled against him. "Please. Stay here and don't talk. I just—want to forget for a little bit."

Haji paused, still caught between thought and speech. Then nodded. His arm tightened around her, lips brushing the top of her head. He breathed something into her hair. Perhaps an apology—I am sorry. Perhaps something practical—You need to rest. Perhaps protective—Everything will be fine.

Or perhaps something far more heartfelt. More devastating.

But whatever the words, she couldn't hear them. The sound of her own weeping drowned them out.

*Eyeroll* Why are we not surprised…?

Anyhow, hope you guys enjoyed the caesuras, in general! The fic's Second Movement won't have any flashback-based interruptions—it's all pretty straightforward narration from this point onward! Let me know what you guys thought of the chapter—and the fic so far! All feedback is appreciated!

Review, please!;)