Author's note: I apologize for the delay, but I've been feeling a bit under the weather lately. But this chapter's a bit longer than usual, and it's finally time for Haruhi to talk.

True, he'd been thrown by his best friend's admission, and part of his mind was currently busy listing all the ways one Eclair Tonnerre would be paying for her actions, but the largest part of his thoughts were centered on the words he was about to say and the consequences thereof. Still, he'd made up his mind. Taking a deep breath and a good look at all of his friends, he steeled himself for the explosion and spoke.

"My father intends for me to wed Haruhi. He has likely taken this weekend to arrange a meeting with Ranka to discuss a formal betrothal."

After a deafening silence, the reactions began. All around the circle there were gasps, exclamations, denials; none were as distinctive, however, as the shocked, sputtering sound that issued from the female host's lips.

"I – my...wait, what? Kyoya-senpai, are you serious?"

He turned to her solely, ignoring the shouting and speaking from the rest of the hosts. In this moment it was Haruhi he needed to speak with, Haruhi he wanted to soothe. To that end he kept his voice level, which had the added bonus of giving everyone else a need to be quiet if they wanted to hear him. He spoke directly to her.

"Before vacation, my father asked me into his study where he proceeded to inform me that he had plans for you and I to marry." She was about to speak but he held up a hand, begging her patience. Her expression was very guarded, but she nodded her permission for him to continue.

"Please, let me finish what I have to say and I promise I will answer any questions you have honestly and to the best of my ability." Once more she nodded and, upon seeing that Haruhi was willing to bide her time, the others ceased their vocal protests as well. He took a quick look around to gauge all of their attitudes. There was belligerence on Hikaru's face, hurt on Kaoru's. Mori looked calm as usual, but there was something in the depths of his eyes that gave even the vaunted Shadow King pause. Honey, having already been filled in the previous night, was sitting patiently, one hand reaching out for Haruhi's. Swallowing, feeling apprehensive, Kyoya turned slowly to look at his golden-haired lover, almost dreading what he might see. And there beside him sat Tamaki – calm, composed, yet with an air of disappointment emanating from him. In that instant Kyoya realized that not only had his friend already known, but that he had wanted Kyoya to tell him of his own volition.

And I scolded him for keeping secrets, he thought, a wave of remorse flashing over him. Clearing his throat, he sent a silent apology to his best friend and returned his attention to the wide-eyed girl on his other side.

"To make a long story short, he has decided that despite your 'common status' -" this was said with a sneer to show what he thought of the distinction, "- you possess many admirable qualities that would be an asset to our family. I've no doubt that with all of us away he will have seen fit to take the chance to invite your father to the estate to discuss the possibility of a betrothal. He will be expecting it to be easy to convince your father – a commoner of no standing – of the benefits to joining his daughter in matrimony to one of the premier families in Japan. He will be confident. He will anticipate no barriers to achieving his goals.

" In short, he will be prepared for anything but your father." He couldn't help the smile that tilted the corners of his lips or the fond amusement in his voice, even if he had wanted to. Hikaru picked up on the tone and was the first to speak.

"What's so funny about that?" the redhead asked. Kyoya let out a small chuckle.

"You've all met Ranka. Can you see him being happy or even willing to agree to any plan that would take away Haruhi's choices, especially as he understands her need to be independent and self-sufficient?" He snorted. "I almost wish I could be a fly on the study wall when my exceptionally controlling father – he who expects everyone to fall in and obey his every whim – tries to convince Ranka that his daughter is nothing more than a piece of property to be bartered away when the situation seems favorable."

Though he could tell everyone agreed with his point, he was also aware that none of them were pleased with the existence of the situation itself. Once more, though, they were not the important parties here. He turned back to Haruhi only to find her fixing him with a thoughtful gaze. Curious about her reaction, he arched an eyebrow.

"You're not worried about this?" he asked calmly. "It is very unlikely that your father would agree. I doubt that you need be concerned that you will find yourself married to me."

"I'm not worried about that," she said absently, and it was obvious that only half of her attention was on what she was saying. "And it's not like it would be horrid if it did end up happening."

As lost in her own mental wanderings as she was, she didn't see the effect that her careless announcement had on her boys, never noticed the gaping-mouthed stares, the incredulous expressions that adorned every handsome face.

"Are you saying you want to marry Kyoya?" Hikaru choked out, ignoring his brother's calming hand on his arm. Still deep in thought she waved his question away, replying distractedly.

"No. What I'm saying is that it wouldn't be so horrid to be married to him – or to any of you, really. We're all close enough friends that I doubt I would ever have to worry that anyone would try to change me into someone I'm not. But as it's not likely to happen it's unimportant."

In one swift statement she managed to both build them all up and then send them crashing down again, and the thing that Kyoya found most impressive was that she didn't even realize it. She held them all in the palm of her hand and yet was completely unaware of the power she held, of how she could so easily destroy them if she so chose. It was impressive, to say the least. And then she looked up directly at him and he felt pinned, completely immobile under her gaze.

"How serious was your father?" she asked.

"Very. But it doesn't matter. He possesses no currency that your father would find sufficient temptation to essentially sell his precious daughter."

"He might," she said quietly.

"What?" The Shadow King was puzzled by her response as well as by the melancholy air that had settled on her like a cloak.

"Your father...he was the one that blocked your access to the medical records, wasn't he?"

Understanding immediately, Kyoya's nod was slow but as definite as the chill that ran through him. She sighed before responding.

"Then he has all the currency he needs."

"What medical records? What are you two talking about?" This time it was Tamaki's voice, perplexed and concerned, breaking into what had unintentionally become a two-person conversation. At his words Kyoya saw Haruhi jump, suddenly remembering that there were five other people sitting on the beach with them. She turned, startled, only to see all of them looking at her with various expressions of curiosity and worry. He watched as a sheen of panic entered her eyes, but in the next moment Honey's hand found hers and though he was disappointed that the senior had reached out first, Kyoya knew that this way was better. After all, it was Honey that she had confided in. It was only fitting that he be the first to support her. He watched as she looked over at their blond senpai, saw him gazing back at her with eyes full of understanding and support and a love so deep that he knew instinctively Haruhi would never recognize it for what it truly was. In that brief moment, the third Ootori son felt an overwhelming sympathy for the oldest host, a feeling only surpassed by his awe at how deftly Honey was handling the situation.

"Haru-chan," Honey said calmly, squeezing her hand with gentle pressure, "it's time you told everyone."

Her eyes filled with tears – something that shocked the others to no end, Kyoya noticed – but the grip on her hand never lessened and he knew he was right in his assumption that it needed to be Honey that helped her through this. Burying his own feelings of helplessness in the face of her sorrow, he watched as she subconsciously matched her breathing to the martial artist's, the action both calming her and centering her.

"You're not alone," Honey whispered. That small phrase seemed to be what she needed. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the rest of the group.

"My dad..." She paused and Honey put an arm around her waist, drawing her over to lean against him. To Kyoya's shock she looked in his direction, and when her chocolate eyes met his own he obeyed the impulse that had him reaching out for her other hand. She seemed to draw comfort from his touch as well, and it gave her strength even as it filled him with a protective warmth he'd never truly known before. Swallowing hard himself, he settled for keeping his eyes on hers while she composed herself.

"My dad was diagnosed with leukemia. It's terminal. And they don't know how much longer he has."

She watched her friends as they heard her words, looked on as they processed them. Honey's arm was strong around her, a solid band of support that she was so very grateful for. Kyoya's hand in hers was another much appreciated anchor, and in the sensation of his fingers enfolding hers, in the warm depths of his dark eyes, she felt every apology he would never speak. It sent a message of comfort and caring through her, something she badly needed. On Honey's other side, Mori was looking at her, a protective and reassuring light in his eyes. She had figured that Honey would have already told his cousin, since they kept very little from one another. It really didn't bother her. No, now it was time to focus on the three that had just heard the news for the first time.

Without a doubt the prevailing emotion on each of their faces was denial.

"Oh Haruhi, no..." Tamaki whispered.

"Haruhi..." the twins said in hushed, disbelieving tones.

She waited for the complaints, for the recriminations for telling everyone but them. What actually happened was something quite different.

Mori moved first, coming around until he was directly behind Haruhi where she still leaned against his cousin. He placed one large hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly. At the same time, as though on some instinct, Kyoya scooted over closer to her until he was close enough to wrap her arm around his own, his other hand covering hers where it rested on his wrist. None of this was really shocking, however; surrounded by both seniors and the Shadow King, Haruhi felt so...accepted, so safe, that it nearly made her head spin. But when the twins made their ways over to lay their heads on her legs and wrap their arms around her and each other, the feeling was amplified. And when Tamaki, eyes full of sympathetic pain and a shimmer of tears, knelt in front of her and leaned forward to cradle her in a hug, she felt those iron walls she always hid her emotions behind begin to quake.

"It's okay," his golden voice whispered in her ear. "We're here. You don't have to be the strong one now. We're here."

Surrounded, hemmed in on all sides by the six people besides her father who meant the most to her, feeling their support, their comfort – she knew he was right. She didn't have to be strong, not always. She wasn't facing this alone. That knowledge barreled into her like a locomotive and the force left her gasping. Arms tightened, comforting words were whispered; the protective embrace they all had her snuggled in was exactly what she had needed for so long, but had never known how to ask for. In their cocoon of security Haruhi, beloved princess of the Ouran Host Club, broke down completely, all of her anger, her fear, her pain and sorrow bursting like an overfull balloon. She began to sob.

Later, she would speak. Later, she would explain. Later she would discuss and brainstorm and use her rationality, she would listen to any suggestions, she would talk with them all. But for now Haruhi was right where she knew she should be – held in the supporting warmth of her boys and allowing herself to need them.

It was a while before she managed to get her emotions back under control, but they didn't push and they didn't leave her. Eventually when she was breathing normally again the jumble of arms and legs began to separate, yet that feeling of closeness never dissipated. Together they sat in a circle once more, but it had changed. No longer spread out, now all of the hosts were sitting knee-to-knee in a much smaller ring. Someone passed her a handkerchief and she blushed self-consciously, beginning to wipe her face.

"I'm sorry, guys, I -"

"Don't apologize," Tamaki said with kind firmness. "For anything."

"But -" she began, only to trail off questioningly as he shook his head.

"This isn't something you could have brought up casually in conversation," he murmured. "And we understand if you don't want to talk about it. But we're here for you if you do."

Looking at them all she saw the nods of agreement from each of them. There was no criticism or chastisement here. Just support and caring and compassion – it was almost enough to make her want to tear up again. Not wanting to make anymore of a spectacle of herself, however, she swallowed hard and cleared her throat a couple of times before speaking.

"I think...I think it first became noticeable near the beginning of last summer. Dad seemed so tired so often. Even on his days off there was always a...weariness, I guess. Anyway, he blamed it on work. I knew he was picking up some more hours at the bar, not just for the extra pay but because they'd lost two employees and needed the help. He swore there was nothing wrong. I trusted him."

She knew they could hear the bitterness in her voice but it didn't bother her. If she couldn't let her honest feelings out with them, after everything, then who could she drop her walls around?

"A few weeks after school started, I tried to talk him into cutting back on his hours at work. We really didn't need the money, after all, and they'd hired a new person. He told me that he was saving up, and when I asked what for, he stammered and finally said that he was planning to – if all went well – make an offer to buy the bar at the end of this summer. He said that the owner was looking to retire, but that he was willing to give Dad the time he needed to get the money together." Here she paused, a sudden comprehension in her eyes attesting to the fact that something had just occurred to her. She spoke in a contemplative undertone, almost to herself.

"Even then, Dad?" she murmured. It was clear to the others that she had just realized something unpleasant – they could see the anger building in her eyes.

"You're his daughter. He wanted to protect you."

Mori's voice – even more surprising as it had not been expected – snapped her out of her solitary musing and she looked up at him, by now able to read the emotions in his charcoal gaze.

"I just...he should have told me." She knew she sounded a bit petulant; she didn't care. Mori nodded but rather than agreeing with her, he asked her a simple question.

"Have you told him how you feel? Really?"

"Of course I did!" she snapped, indignant. At his considering stare, though, she sighed and slumped down.

"Okay, so maybe I haven't told him that I'm mad about it."

"Why?" Mori inquired. Haruhi shrugged slightly.

"I don't want to upset him. He has enough to worry about as it is – he doesn't need another thing to deal with."

A hush descended as Mori just looked at her, his steadiness amplified by his expression, and she found herself knowing exactly what it was he was silently pointing out. Exhaling slowly, resigned, she nodded.

"I understand. He kept it from me for the same reason I haven't told him that I'm upset." She paused for a moment, turning her eyes downwards towards the sand her fingers were idly shifting. "Does that make me wrong too?" she asked no one in particular.

"Only you can decide that, Haru," Kaoru answered softly. She thought for a while before replying slowly.

"If I say 'no', that I'm not wrong in keeping my anger to myself and not burdening him, then that would imply that Dad was right in keeping this from me. Either that or I'm a hypocrite. But if I say that Dad was wrong..."

"Does it matter?" Hikaru asked, not unkindly. "I mean, really?" This question, too, required some thought, but eventually she answered it.

"No...no, I guess it doesn't." She sighed, and Kyoya reached over and squeezed her hand gently. She graced him with a melancholy smile before continuing her story.

"At any rate, I kept asking him what was wrong, but he kept deflecting or changing the subject. I knew he was hiding something. I doubt he would have told me at all until he ended up in the hospital." The bitterness was back in her voice, but this time it was tinged with sadness.

"When did he finally tell you?" Tamaki asked carefully. She snorted, then looked up at him with a slightly sheepish expression.

"He, um...well, you remember that day that I...kinda...sorta...screamed at you? In the Music Room? And then I stormed off before Club had even started?"

"Yeah..." he said hesitantly, eyes worried.

"Well, the night before I'd been sitting at home finishing up my history essay. Dad said he had to run out to the store but that he'd be back before too long. He accidentally left his cell phone on the table near my notes. Since we have the same ringtone, when the call came in I just answered it, figuring it was one of you guys." She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly in an attempt to center herself again. When she felt sufficiently calm, she went on.

It was his doctor. He asked to speak to Dad, and I said that he'd stepped out for a moment but that I would be happy to take a message. He told me to have Dad call at his earliest convenience to discuss the results of the tests. I knew then that I'd been right in thinking there was a problem, but I also knew better than to ask the doctor for further information, as he wouldn't have been allowed to tell me anything anyway. Instead I said I'd pass the message on and then I hung up and waited for Dad to get home.

"When he came back a little while later, I told him that the doctor wanted him to call about his test results. He turned white as a sheet and I could see the panic in his eyes. I...I sort of...exploded. I asked him point blank what was wrong, and told him he couldn't just brush me off, that I wouldn't let him feed me another excuse, not when I knew he'd been to see a doctor.

"He seemed to almost crumple onto the couch. I hadn't ever seen him look so utterly defeated, not since Mom died. I stood there for what felt like forever, but he finally managed to spit it out. He'd been diagnosed with leukemia."

She had tears in her eyes again but she hardly noticed. All of her will power was devoted to finishing her confession, now that she'd begun. Not looking at anyone, nonetheless she could feel them all there with her, and it gave her the strength to press on.

"He didn't have a lot of information. They had come to the initial diagnosis only four days before, and then he had had to go in for another series of tests. The doctor had been calling about the second bunch. He tried to play it off like it was no big deal and I just...I don't know. I kind of shut down. I sat in the living room as he told me the little that he knew so far, and while he stressed that I wasn't supposed to worry, and that it wasn't as bad as it sounded. And I guess it must have seemed like I was okay, that I understood, because the next thing I really remember was going to bed with his consoling words in my ears.

"I didn't sleep, not really. I think I likely just passed out from mental overload. I barely remember getting ready for school that day. I just remember being upset and scared and angry, and that I had to act normal because I didn't want to burden any of you with anything – especially since I still didn't know how to take it all myself." She looked at Tamaki, a rueful expression on her face. "And then you started in on the way those three guys from the coffee shop were hitting on me a few days before and I...I just blew up. It had all gotten to be too much and you were a convenient target and I am so, so sorry I took it all out on you."

Her eyes begged his forgiveness, but his were full of understanding. As close as they were all sitting right now it was the matter of a second for him to reach for her hands, to pull her to him, to cradle her head against his shoulder and wrap his arms around her. His voice was warm against her ear.

"You don't have to apologize, Haruhi. I was wrong to try and treat you the way I did. Please forgive me."

She allowed him to comfort her, though she did shake her head and say that there was nothing to forgive, that he'd already been forgiven. But the feeling of security in his embrace was something she truly needed; his warmth held the chill of the frightening future at bay – not forever, but for long enough.

How long they stayed in that position she never knew, but when they shifted apart his hand came up to cup her chin and he pressed a kiss to her forehead before locking his violet gaze to hers.

"I know you're used to handling everything yourself. You're right – you are far stronger, far more independent than we give you credit for being sometimes. And we would never, ever ask you to change. But I hope – we all hope – that you will let us help you when you need it. That you'll stop shutting us out. Haruhi, we can be whatever you need us to be, but only if you let us in. Do you understand?"

She was silent for a long time, her gaze flitting from host to host before finally settlin back on their King. Slowly she nodded her head.

"I'll try," she whispered. "I just...I can't promise I won't wall myself off again. Just don't...don't ever think that it means I don't want you around, that I don't need you. All of you." She glanced down at her hands again and when she spoke it was in a murmur just barely audible over the whispering surf. "I don't know what I'd do without you guys."

Once more Haruhi found herself enveloped in the comfort of her friends' embraces but this time there were no tears. She didn't have to handle everything by herself. She was slowly beginning to believe it. And she felt that no matter what the future might hold, at least she would never have to face it alone.