Title: Strings (of a spider's web)
Chapter: 3/?
Author: The black gryphon/Zaheela
Overall Rating: PG-13
Chapter rating: PG-13
Status: Beta'd by Cybridolmink
Pairings: Mori/Haruhi, Kyouya/Haruhi
Disclaimer: Ouran host club Bisco Hatori and I doubt anyone would have it any other way. Not like I can draw anyways!

"Neeee, Haru-sempai!" Even with her doors closed, the loud wail could be heard from the hall. Biting down a groan, Haruhi gently closed her laptop before the door was slammed open. Luckily, the protective pad that Haruhi had installed stopped the brass handle from smashing a hole into the wall. As if the hounds of hell was chasing her, a petite, brunette woman burst into Haruhi's office. With a quick glance, the young woman's blue eyes locked onto their target and her hands darted forward to grab the hand of her senior and drag her out of her comfortable, warm leather chair. Haruhi smiled softly at the young woman for a moment before her smile changed into a frown.

"Taisuke-san..." She began, only to have the woman cut her off.

"How many times did I tell you, call me Ayame!" Puffing out her cheeks, Ayame glared at her senior, who merely rolled her eyes. The one sided glaring match continued for a moment before a huge grin broke out on Ayame's face and she resumed her tugging.

"You simply MUST have lunch with Kai-sempai and I!" Ayame pleaded, her large brown eyes watery and her lip pressed out in a pout. Normally such a combination would send anyone's objections down the drain (A pity that such tactics couldn't be effectively used in the courtroom), but Haruhi merely frowned. Being a mother, as well as having an overly cute friend, granted immunities to things like puppy dog eyes and pouting lips.

"I have to finish sorting my previous cases before 3pm today. Besides, I already packed a Bento lunch." Haruhi stated, pulling her hand from Ayame's death grip and motioning to the wrapped box on the end of her desk. Ayame's pout slowly changed into a smirk.

As if she had been waiting for the words to escape from Haruhi's mouth, Ayame magically whipped out a small white container. "That's perfect then! Kai-sempai and I just ordered some takeout from the local eatery and was planning to eat it in my office. Since you don't need to go to the cafeteria today, that means you can join us!"

"It wasn't my idea." A soft voice could be heard as an embarrassed looking gentleman entered Haruhi's office.

"Sure! Blame it on the helpless little girl!" Ayame retorted, sticking out her tongue, letting out a little 'harump' under her breath. Haruhi chuckled softly and the man outside her door smiled before closing the door behind him.

"If you're helpless, then I'm the emperor of Timbuktu." He retorted as his embarrassed look melted away into a warm smile.

Himura Kaisuke, a man who's gentle nature belittled the incredibly sharp tongue he possessed. The said man ruffled his black hair and sat down on one of the seats normally reserved for her clients setting down his small box. Ayame cheerfully dragged the other spare chair so that it stood at the edge of her desk, she wanted to ensure that she could trip Haruhi the moment she tried to escape as well as face the both of them while they ate. With a sigh, Haruhi gave in and moved her laptop out of the way taking out her wrapped lunch.

"So, has anyone heard about why Yammy-sempai snapped at his idiotic client yesterday?" Ayame broke the silence as she stabbed her plastic spork into the freshly baked shepherds pie. For a moment, Kaisuke looked thoughtful before nodding.

"He told me that it was because the man had insisted that he had the right to beat his wife." With a snort, Kaisuke took a bite of his own meal, loosening his tie with his free hand. Haruhi's chopsticks had stopped their accent, her eyes catching that simple movements and her ears suddenly becoming muffled. She didn't want to care anymore, so she had forced herself to ignore it. However when you were in love, it seemed that there were things you remembered, even if you never remembered watching it before. There were times Haruhi wished that she could just forget those little things...

He had always loosened his tie whenever he was relaxed.

"Haru-sempai? Haru-sempai!"

"Hmmm? Fujioka-san, Is something wrong?" Haruhi jumped a little bit, but luckily her chopsticks had refused to let the piece of fried fish ruin her skirt.

"Just thinking." Both of her unwelcome guests knew not to press on the issue.

"Anyways, so I hear we're going to get a big client later on today. Oh I do hope that it's a handsome, single, guy..." Ayame began to chirp. Haruhi couldn't help but smile as the gloomy atmosphere lifted, and in the back of her mind she wondered if Hatori was alright.

"Lately we have been seeing improvement, but unfortunately there is not much else we can do at this point." The doctor said with little to no emotion in the tone. Haruhi just nodded as she took in all the new (pointless) information before asking if it was alright to visit today. With a nod, Haruhi found herself traveling down white, sterile hallways. The smell of disinfectant was comforting in it's own strange way, but the moment she touched the icy cold handle of the door, her loathing for this particular ward came roaring back. Opening the door, she smiled brightly.

"So how are you today?" The silence was deafening.

"I won another case today." The soft hiss of the machine next to her was ignored.

"Hatori misses you... We all miss you." The figure laying in the bed blinked, and turned his head, staring blankly at her. Eying the drool coming from the corner of his mouth, Haruhi's smile slipped just a bit before she pulled a tissue free from the little pack she carried, and began to clean his face.

"Honestly, sometimes you are so troublesome." It was at this point she realized her hand was shaking, but she merely forced herself to calm down. She avoided looking into the blank eyes of her father, because she knew if she did, then she wouldn't be able to stop the tears. Crying was pointless now, because unlike years ago, there would be no warm arms to comfort her, everyone who could was gone after all. Like many times before, Haruhi's mind wandered back to that horrendous day of which her father was robbed of his life and she cast off any doubts of choices for the future.

She left the hospital shortly after, her eyes cloudy with unshed tears and her shoulders slumped. Turning the corner, she thought she heard someone call out her name and lifted her gaze from the pavement. Glancing behind her, she saw Mori calmly walking towards her and a sleek black car parked at the curve. Apparently she had walked right past her friend and his driver, for which she became mortified over.

"Sorry about that Mori-san. I guess I just had some things on my mind." Haruhi said apologetically and Mori just shrugged before reaching down and wrapping his hand around her own. The feel of his rough skin against her own was comforting to her senses. She ignored the little spark of disappointment when he let go of her hand to let the driver take her briefcase. Mori focused his attention on her once more and motioned for her to enter the backseat first and then climbed in once she had settled down in her seat. The car door closed and she leaned back into the soft leather seats focusing her gaze on the ceiling. A warm hand once again clasped her own, his right over her left. He then, as gently as he could, pulled her into an odd hug, pressing her face against his chest. Warm arms wrapped around her, as if encouraging her to cry, but she refused to do so. She just lay in his arms, feeling her worries, her tears, and her silent suffering fade away in the feeling of brotherly affection he offered. What had replaced all those feelings was a heavy urge to drown in the nothingness of sleep, which she eagerly gave into. In that sleep of nothingness, she dreamed of the horrid night where she had faced a fateful decision.

Haruhi knew that her father's unique life style was not looked favorably upon. There were times where that irrational hate escalated to threats, however she never thought that the people would go so far as to do it physically. She opened the door to find her father being ruthlessly beaten by a pack of strangers, she was shocked to say the least. Her mind was screaming and she did the only thing a loving child would of done in that situation; She lunged for the nearest punk. A cry of pain and a fist to the stomach ended their attempts to beat her father to death, but it only redirected their attention to herself. They crowded around her, much like hyenas circling an injured gazelle, but a strong hand had stopped the first of the many fists aiming for her. When she had heard the cry of pain, she dared to peek upwards, only to find Honey standing over her, protecting her. She could almost imagine the dark, imposing, and downright frighting aura swirling around the short man. Some of the punks had darted out the door, only to be blocked by an equally imposing Mori.

"Takashi, they're mine." Honey had stated, but by the look on Mori's face, Haruhi ventured to guess that he was half tempted to disobey that order. Honey launched himself at the nearest person, sending the boy crashing into the nearest solid wall. Haruhi then took the moment to check on her father. Blood was dripping from a deep gash on his forehead and his pupils were dilated to almost inhuman amounts. Even though she wasn't trained in any form of medical aide, Haruhi knew instinctively that something was wrong. Her hands darted for her pockets and pulled out a small pink cell phone and began to press the number pad. The next few hours were a blur, rational thought a wisp in a harsh wind, and any feeling of hope crushed by the bitter reality. Haruhi knew, somewhere in the pit of her stomach, that her father would not come out unscathed. Indeed, the incident was the prologue to much anguish, but her story was not a tragedy or some sappy romance story.

Lack of oxygen to the brain, that was how they termed it. To Haruhi, all it meant was that her father was gone. His body was still there, but his mind was locked away. She had broken down, for the second time in her life Haruhi Fujioka could not think straight. She barely realized that she was picked up off the cold hospital floor and carried to a warm limo. In retrospect, she imagined that seeing a young blond who was obviously MUCH shorter then herself carrying a sobbing young woman as if she weighted no more then a single feather was strange. Next thing she knew she was being settled down in her apartment, arms wrapping around her. The blood was wiped away, but the crater of impact still remained. For a while, she took comfort in the warmth around her, but she knew that now with her father in that condition, life would become harder. How could she, a full time law student, balance a full time job required to keep her an apartment, her studies, and the hospital bills that were most likely going to pile up?

"Haru-chan... What now?" Honey questioned as he lay down, his head in her lap.

"What?" Haruhi blinked, not trusting her own voice.

"What are you going to do now? I'm sure that Tama-chan or Kyou-chan could..."

"No." Haruhi snuggled deeper into the arms encircling her. She shut her eyes, afraid that her eyes would betray the fact that Kyouya had abandoned her in a sense.

"You'll be staying with me." Both Honey and herself had made a startled noise staring up at the stern sword master. Mori didn't say anything afterwards, but they could tell; He was dead serious.

"I'm going to pay rent... somehow..." Haruhi sulked slightly, but Honey smiled that secret little smile snuggling his head into her lap. They spoke of an old guest house on the Morinozuka property which they could loan out to her and an adequate compromise for a 'rent' payment. How long she stayed was up to her, however she didn't have to worry about opposition. After all, she did have the backing of not only the heirs of the two clans, but the younger siblings who cherished her as much as their brothers did. How soon she would move, how she would commute, what she could do, many things were planned and argued about. They had to remind her many times that she was not 'taking advantage' of them, that they had offered, and that to them, she was like family.

Sleep evaded her that night, however, as she leaned against Mori's chest and gently stroked Honey's silky hair. That night she had thought of her choices, her past, and her future. She wasn't the type of woman to be content with crying in the arms of some man. If she were to reach her dreams, she had to stand. She had to stand against the harsh wind of a future filled with uncertainty. She, as a woman, had to claw her way into the world of men, to protect those who could not. Haruhi would fight, to save those who suffered, who would suffer, who did not want to suffer. Like a phoenix, she would rise from this tragedy and take it all in, refusing to bend to the crippling pain and continue to fight. The next morning, she had slipped out of the comforting arms and watched the sunrise, her eyes focused and clear. She would fight, because if she didn't, then she wouldn't be able to protect a single thing.

AN: Most annoying chapter yet... -sigh- chapter four should be up soon, and for those of you who remember my previous fanfiction "a Piece of insanity", the second part is in the works... I've got a few sketches of Hatori lying around, but anyways, thanks to Cybridolmink for being my beta.