Black Tea
Summary: There was a time when Garaku hated tea. Drabble- Garaku, Shidan. A memory.
Warning: Side-side-side characters.
Set: Somewhat post-ep to Chapter 45. (Yuzuri, Suzu and Kirito visit Shirayuki and Obi in Wistalia.)
Disclaimer: Standards apply.
The tea was warm and sweet and had just the perfect temperature.
From the next room, Shirayuki's voice was muted but her laughter was still crystal-clear and familiar. Dimly, Garaku also heard other voices; Ryu, Obi and the guests from Lilias. It sounded like they were having a good time. Eventually, the noises died down and paper rustling took over, again, as her sweet, little apothecaries – and their friends, some of them less sweet and some rather tall – took up the paper work she had left them earlier. They were truly helpful and the Head Apothecary almost regretted having dumped all that work on them. But she did give them a fair warning. And besides, she could remember a time when working next to and with others was as much fun as actually not doing work all by herself: maybe they would benefit from this. They were young, after all.
(Garaku doesn't feel young right now.)
Dropping onto the small sofa in the back of her office, she carefully cradled the warm tea cup in her hands and enjoyed its scent. There were days when nothing worked the way it was supposed to, when work piled up and threatened to drown her and the sun and the ocean and the forest outside mocked her with their beauty. Garaku had been born in Lilias: she loved the cold and the icy beauty of the Northern winter that lasted twice as long as winter in Wistalia and was twice as cold. On days like these, she missed her home with a longing that was physically painful, and the ache added to the one in her hip and her hands. But the warmth of the tea soothed her homesickness. With a sight, Garaku closed her eyes.
"You haven't finished copying the chapter yet."
Garaku Gazelt had never been known for her politeness and her friendly nature, and her fellow students knew that much. It was different with the younger semesters. Knowing her name – only eighteen and famous already in a place that had produced many famous scientists, physicians and apothecaries over centuries of times – the first-years had almost brawled over the honor of being selected as her student assistant. It hadn't helped knowing that no assistant had ever stayed with her longer than five months: they still came.
In front of her, the beet-red boy shrank even further into himself. "I," he stuttered. "I wanted to- and then – I-"
Exasperated, Garaku tore away the book he was clutching to his chest as if it was a life line. "Hand this over. I'm going to do it myself."
Shidan watched her disappear down the corridor, her poor – probably former, now – assistant almost in tears. She was brilliant, but she also was very, very hard to deal with. Thank the stars that he didn't have to.
Or, he wouldn't have, if they hadn't been sharing a lab and office space.
When he entered their office Garaku was kneeling on the floor, furiously scribbling over a huge sheet of paper. She had been working on the chart for weeks now and it was amazing to watch it grow, line by line: a piece of art in itself, twisting and winding into every direction. Science was beautiful, and so was she.
"You'll need another assistant," he told her, grabbing his lab coat from the hook next to the door and dropping his books neatly into a pile on his desk. Garaku's desk was the living embodiment of entropy but Shidan liked his things in order, thank you very much.
"He was stupid anyway," she muttered.
Sighing, her colleague donned a pair of gloves and turned towards the small glass houses full of plants standing on the long lab table between their respective spaces. The scent of warm earth and humidity was calming.
"You can't treat them like that, Garaku."
"Why not? If they can't even manage the simple tasks I give them, they shouldn't be studying here."
She was talking without looking up from her chart. Shidan glanced down: a few strands of her blonde hair had escaped her ponytail and she tucked them behind her ear without bothering to look up. She wasn't beautiful like some other women at the university: her features were too sharp, her eyes too piercing. She had no sense of politeness and a twisted sense of humor most people didn't understand, and yet her face drew in gazes she never noticed. Garaku was striking.
"By the way." She stood in one flowing motion and walked over to her desk. Only because he knew her Shidan noticed the almost nonexistent pause she made, the short look of disorientation that crossed her face and the way she favored her right side as she started walking. She was back so quickly it could as well have never happened, but Shidan knew. "The Professor asked us to finish these."
A stack of exams clattered onto his neat desk, blue ink and student scribbling and unreadable, un-understandable thought processes spelled out in messy writing: at least five hours of work for each one of them. Shidan sighed.
"When are you doing yours?"
"As soon as I finished copying in this chapter." She was back at her chart again, speaking without even looking at him.
He carefully closed the glass boxes again, pulled off his gloves and resigned himself to a night's work of exam corrections. Setting the small kettle onto the heating place, he got out his cup and the box of dried leaves. The scent filled the entire lab.
"I hate black tea," Garaku said over her shoulder. "Do you have to drink it here?"
"I like black tea," he answered, unperturbed. "If you don't like it, you can leave."
Garaku huffed, but she didn't move.
"You should drink some, you know."
"Why?"
"Because tea can heal anything."
"I highly doubt that."
Her tone was frigid. Shidan turned away.
It hurt.
Her bones were aching with a pain so deep she wanted to cry. Instead, Garaku took a deep, shaking breath and continued on with the lectures. There were only ten minutes left, and she'd certainly had had it worse.
By the time the bell rang she was near delirious with pain. Dismissing the students, she walked over to one of the benches and dropped down. The stone was cold, but at least it was a relief for her hip bone to finally be sitting again. Closing her eyes, she savored the fresh air of the green houses. Lilias had a cold climate, so most flowers and medicinal herbs had to be grown in the large hothouses of the university… And there was no place Garaku loved more. Right now, though, it couldn't soothe the pain in her side. The attack had been plaguing her a few days already and she knew she was even more irritated than usual. But with all the work she currently had – her own research, the nearing deadline for the manuscript, the lectures her professor had decided to dump on her without talking to her first (wouldn't Shidan have been the logical choice here?) and the pain in her bones had made her even more irritated than usual. She didn't particularly like herself when she became like this, but she also couldn't help it. Besides…
Another scent mingled with the lavender she was sitting next to: sweet and aromatic. When she opened her eyes Shidan was standing over her, his eyes unreadable.
"Drink this."
He handed her a cup without further ado. Her hand closed around it automatically before it could drop.
"What's that?" She asked, suspicious.
"Tea."
"I hate black tea," she answered in a knee-jerk reaction.
Shidan sighed. "I know. This is something I prepared. Try it."
Its scent was sweet, almost seductive. Frowning, Garaku tried a sip and felt the warmth slip down her throat. It wasn't black tea: it was a soft, fruity tea of sorts. Her trained brain recognized at least seven of the ingredients Shidan had used. She took another sip and felt herself relax almost involuntarily.
"Experiment of yours?"
He grunted in response, his arms crossed. "Drink up."
She did so, feeling a smile – the first one in some time that felt like eternity – blossom on her face. She bit it back.
"Thanks."
Shidan didn't answer. But his eyes warmed, fractionally.
Sometimes Garaku dozed off in the middle of her work.
It was then that Shidan knew that fatigue had finally caught up with her. The apothecary could work for hours and hours on end, concentrated and without a break. But at some point she dropped, almost like dead. It was worrisome, because someone had to make sure she ate and drank and got some sleep. This one person, naturally, was Shidan: after all, nobody was stupid enough to swap labs with him. And besides, after more than three years of working with and beside Garaku, he had most of her strange behavior catalogued and either had developed a strategy to deal with it or had managed to ignore her – more or less. She could be a real pain in the ass – pushy, annoying, stubborn as hell. But she also was dedicated and loyal and a hard-working person; and she was one of the best in their field. Grudgingly, Shidan had recognized her superiority when it came to the medical aspect of their work, but he also always enjoyed playing with plants more than finding cures and medicines, so at least that was that. Let her be the physician: Shidan was the botanist.
And she was beautiful in her sleep.
He watched her for some time and then quietly left their lab.
When she woke up, the sweet scent of one of Shidan's concoctions was the first thing she recognized. The white cup was familiar, too, placed right at her head on the small table next to the sofa. She had fallen asleep dead tired and had only slept for a few hours, but she felt better already. No doubt, the tea would restore most of her powers. Shidan might not be a brilliant scholar, but he was a natural when it came to plants and tea.
Carefully, Garaku wrapped her hands around the cup: it was still warm.
She savored the scent and smiled.
"Teacher."
Shirayuki's respectful voice rang out in the silence of her mind and Garaku's head shot up. Her former apprentice was standing in the entrance to her small back office, a black shadow in the light that streamed in from the main office. It was already dark outside – Garaku hadn't even noticed the sun set. The weariness in her bones had become even worse and her entire body yearned for sleep she knew she wouldn't be granted. It was this time of the year when the pain made her feel stiff and old despite her relative youth, and she hated it. But there was nothing to be done.
"Yes?"
Shirayuki stepped closer and for one instant, Garaku saw the worry that flitted over her face only to be hidden away again quickly. The girl was her complete opposite: kind, polite and friendly, always making sure the people around her were fine.
"We finished the paperwork, Teacher. Where do you want me to put it?"
"Over there." Garaku waved at her desk: it was a mess, as usual. Today, the sight gave a painful pang in her chest. It was just one desk. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
The girl placed the papers carefully on one of the more tidy corners of the desk and turned to leave again. In the door, she stopped.
"Do you have a lot of work left, Teacher?"
Her intention was clear, and so was the worry in her voice. Garaku smiled. "No, I'm almost finished."
A smile blossomed on Shirayuki's face and the Head Apothecary knew why the Second Prince and all the others in the palace loved her so much. She couldn't help feeling - and sharing - the sensation either, after all.
"Would you like another cup of tea?"
Tea, Garaku thought. Shidan's cure to everything. He'd even gone out of his way to make one especially for her and maybe, he wasn't so wrong. Maybe his tea really had helped. Or had it been him? Not that it mattered nowadays. Shidan was in the North, in Lilias, while Garaku was in Wistalia. So, so far away. He hadn't wanted to come and rationally, she understood why. They'd always been too much of antagonists to work together peacefully, always had fought more than they had exchanged kind words. But fighting him had been as natural as breathing, as had working next to him been. As long as they had different projects, it had never mattered that they were polar opposites. But him working as her subordinate...
She thought she had learned to control it, but the longing rose and choked her. She pushed it back down viciously. The way his gaze would linger on her when he thought she wasn't aware of it. The way he looked at her when she told him she was leaving and asked him to come, and he declined. The way she missed his tidy desk and his stupid plant breeds, his horrid black concoction and his warm, sweet tea experiments. The warmth in his eyes when–
(They would never be the same again.)
But it didn't matter either way. If there ever had been a way they could have spent more time together, this path had closed up long ago. And she couldn't go back.
She should probably go back to Lilias sometimes soon: if only to annoy him and to see his exasperated face. If only to argue with him.
To have some of Shidan's tea again.
"Yes, please," Garaku Gazelt, Head Apothecary of the Royal Palace of Wistalia, said and smiled.