Part Four -- Intermission

"I'm sorry about that," Zoicite said when they were in the car – Zoicite's car, not the van this time. His head was bowed and he looked decidedly vulnerable and sad. "I didn't think he'd do that to you . . ."

"It's okay," Ami whispered.
"No it's not!" he banged his fist against the steering wheel, green eyes wet and angry, glittering brokenly in the dim lights of the parking garage. "I didn't want you to get involved in this, not like . . ." he broke off and turned away from her.
"Gertrude," she finished softly for him. She was looking out of the windshield but couldn't see anything. There was an artificial calm around her like a big swath of cotton, muffling everything, and the whole scene seemed completely unreal. "I understand," she continued in a voice wrapped with unreality, still looking blankly out the windshield. "You don't want me to die like Gertrude." Zoicite opened his mouth, eyes wide, but Ami lowered her eyes to the dashboard and spoke again, voice flat. "Minako told me."
It was a moment before he spoke. "I'm sorry, Ami," he whispered hoarsely. "I understand if you hate me, but . . . I didn't want you to get messed up in everything. I love you too much."
"I know," she said, and slipped her arms around him, holding him as he apologized over and over and over. She knew, holding him, that all of this changed . . . everything.

It was much later that night that Ami awoke to faint noises. She rolled over, reaching out, and noticed that Zoicite was gone. Her brow furrowed lightly, but she wasn't upset. He had probably gone to get something to drink. Admittedly, she was rather thirsty herself. With an oddly foreboding pit in the middle of her stomach, she slipped out of the dark-sheeted bed and noticed that her clothes, where she had discarded them onto the floor, were gone, though his still lay there, rumpled. Blinking, she wrapped the sheet around herself and walked out to the living room.

"I'm done." Ami heard a woman's voice and stopped just shy of the living room. Peeking carefully around the corner, though the hall and living room were very dark, she saw Zoicite in his boxers and a robe talking to the red-haired woman who had stormed in with Jared that day at the clinic.
"Will you please keep your voice down?" Zoicite hissed.
"Why?" the woman tossed her hair, but her voice dropped a notch, laced thickly through with spite. "Afraid your little whore of a girlfriend will wake up and catch us?"
Zoicite took a terse step toward her, fist clenching. "If you weren't a woman . . ."
His voice was low and dark, and the red-head took a step back, trying not to show how startled she actually was. She tossed her hair again nervously, not meeting his eyes. "Yeah, well, you owe me now. I did you a favor."
"You did the boss a favor," Zoicite sneered, stepping back and picking up some things off the couch – Ami's clothes. "Get out."
"You," the woman spluttered, and Ami realized he was going to catch her if she didn't move. She slunk back into the hall shadows, carefully trying to keep the sheet from swishing against the carpet, and moved toward the bedroom. Still, she didn't bother to pretend to be sleeping when the door of the apartment slammed and Zoicite came in moments later, tossing her clothes by his on the floor.
When his brooding gaze settled on her anxious face, he softened and sat beside her, stroking her hair. "Why are you awake?" he murmured.
She frowned at him, wanting to ask quite a few questions, but settled on the most basic. "What were you doing with my clothes?"
"Debugging them," Zoicite sighed, and she could tell from the harassed expression that entered his eyes and quirked his mouth that he was telling the truth. That was the look of a man who had just been recently annoyed.
"They were bugged?"
"Uh huh. I didn't have my debugger thingy, so I had to ask one of the operatives who lives in this building to come up and help me," he murmured, kissing her hair. Ami noticed that he didn't mention it had been a woman. He perceived her distress and assured her, "I didn't let them come back here, though. I would never do that to you." He smiled and kissed her sleepily on the nose, pulling the sheet from her grasp and nuzzling into her, drawing the cover up over them. So soft . . . so warm . . .
He fell asleep soon after, but Ami lay awake for some while, thoughts puttering about in her head.

Ami was making breakfast in one of Zoicite's dress shirts the next morning, freshly washed. She was humming a happy tune when arms slipped about her waist from behind and lips settled on the bare spot where shoulder curved into throat.

"Good morning," she smiled, blushing a little as green eyes glanced up at her lazily from under dark blonde bangs.
His hold on her waist tightened. "What do you say we have a repeat of last night after breakfast, hm?"
Ami felt her ears heat and didn't reply, but a shy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He was just starting to unbutton the shirt when his cell phone, on the counter, shrilled. Zoicite groaned and turned to pick it up.
"Hello?"
Ami concentrated on the bacon, since it was about to burn, but listened shamelessly to his conversation.
"Now? Do I have to, Kunzite?" he complained, then listened for a minute and sighed. "Fine fine. You do know you have the worst timing on the planet, right?" He paused for a moment, then smiled, laughter lacing his voice. "At least you know it. Bye." He shut it and put it back down on the counter, wrapping his arms about Ami again. "Go get dressed – I have to go to work and I'll take you home on the way." Still embracing her, he picked up the pan of bacon and set it aside, turning the stove off.
"Now?" Ami asked, heart beating heavily in her chest.
He kissed her on the nose. "Don't worry. I'll call you if I get home early."
Ami leaned back into his warmth. "Okay," she agreed, turning to kiss him fully, her soft lips hesitant. Before she could make him forget about the appointment, he pushed her away and toward the bedroom.
"Go," he murmured, swatting her lightly on the rump and smiling at her indignant, sullen little glare.

Ami blew the hair from her eyes and attempted a strained smile for the ebony woman talking and peering over her shoulder. It was tough enough to hear the child's heartbeat over his cries, but his mother's persistent invasion of Ami's space was increasing the tension in her limbs. Zoicite still hadn't called and she was loaded with patients. The longer he took, the deeper her stomach sunk.

Why didn't he mention that his fellow operative last night had been a woman? Didn't he trust her to understand? Did he think she was so petty? Ami frowned at herself. She needed to trust Zoicite and forget the nagging ideas that pricked her mind about their intimate night. He wouldn't have used her just to satisfy himself – he was nobler than that. He loved her and would never hurt her. . . .
"Need any help?" a dark blue head popped in the door, smiling, and Ami was startled out of her thoughts.
"Mom!" she greeted in relief. "Yeah, could you do a check-up on the Terrion triplets?"
"Sure, dear," the older woman and hung her coat on a peg by the door, dropping her purse on a chair under it. As she went out to collect the three boys, Usagi popped in.
"You have a phone call, Ami!"
"I'll get it on the extension," she replied, reaching past the little boy to grab her phone and jab the blinking button. "Hello?" Zoicite? she prayed.
"What happened last night?" Makoto's voice demanded eagerly and Ami's hopes dropped.
She scowled. "I'm at work, Makoto – do you mind?"
"So it was that good?" Ami blushed; she could practically see her friend's smile.
Ami sighed, exasperated, and rolled her eyes. "I'll call you later, I promise."
"Fine," Makoto replied too-casually and Ami hung up, frowning at the phone for a moment before her mother bustled the little boys in. After that, she didn't have time to worry about Makoto's curiosity or Zoicite not calling.