The next day, Suzaku grew steadily worse.
No matter what Aurora did, she couldn't get his temperature down. Sweat beaded his brow from his body's heat and the sheer effort of breathing when his blood demanded something it simply couldn't have. She became really concerned when he didn't have enough energy to be rude or taciturn, and simply suffered in a helpless silence. It took all of Suzaku's control and focus to keep his limbs still and steady against the tremors that rippled through his muscles to prevent re-injury. Then even that began to slip. A glaze slid over his eyes, his body shuddering and his breath coming out choppy huffs. It would seem their grace period before Suzaku's withdrawal was over.
By midmorning, Aurora had no choice but to divest him of the loose shirt he regularly wore, stripping back the covers and pushing the window wide open. The cool, wet cloth she laid against his forehead had to be changed every ten minutes. Suzaku's body was burning through its last traces of the drug that had supported his entire being for half a year. This was not going to be easy, for either of them.
When he began to lose coherent awareness, Aurora climbed onto the bed with Suzaku. At first, she was simply an anchor to keep him from thrashing too badly. But when he pinned his wide, glassy green eyes on her after coming out of some half-waking nightmare with a wildness that broke Aurora's heart, she slipped behind him. She stripped off her blouse, leaving her in a tank top and leggings. Even through her clothes, the touch of his skin was like brushing against an open flame. Tucking his injured arm against her ribcage to protect it from himself and his twitches and shudders, she propped Suzaku's head on her shoulder, stroking the washcloth over his painfully hot forehead in a gentle, lulling tempo.
That calmed him for a while. He seemed to dream, or hallucinate, for the next few hours. Whatever it was, his mind wasn't here with the pain, which was something. Occasionally, Aurora could make out whispered words that she felt against her collarbone more than heard as Suzaku swam through his own darkness. More often than not, it was Euphemia's name.
When he lost that and began to degrade further, wavering in and out of vague consciousness, she murmured comforts and sang songs as she lightly rocked with him sprawled across her lap. Aurora couldn't know if he heard her, and thought that he was struggling too deep in the withdrawal to make it out. But she hoped it helped even a little if he knew he wasn't alone.
The day slipped into the afternoon, the seconds running through their fingers like sand. Aurora lost complete track of the time; her focus on Suzaku was absolute, and the window was north-facing, which meant her gauge of the sun was minimal at best. Occasionally, a sweet breeze that ruffled the curtains would sigh into the room. It was a lovely touch to the sweat on their skin, a cool breath of relief amidst the burn of recovery.
Ban sat by the doorway the entire time, awkwardly watching the two of them with wary concern. Suzaku had frightened him, scaring Ban from his usual spot by the bed to the doorway. The dog refused to leave the room, but the tension lacing the air had driven him to the farthest he could go and still keep them in sight. He knew something was wrong; he just didn't know what. Aurora didn't leave her post all day – Suzaku certainly wasn't eating, and she was too wrapped up in him to remember for herself. When the sun set, she ran downstairs to feed Ban, guzzle a glass of water, and go to the restroom. Even that felt like too long before she loped back up the stairs to Suzaku's room.
He seemed to quiet down after the sun set; either he was coming out of the worst of the withdrawal, or he was simply exhausted. Or both. Carefully laying him down on the bed, her hand cupped around the back of his neck as she guided him down slowly, Aurora drew just the sheet over him. She then pulled the window half closed before picking up her wrinkled, forgotten blouse off the floor. Aurora dragged the shirt on slowly, her eyes blankly focused on the sleeping Suzaku. Ban stood from his post by the door, cautiously approaching. When he touched his nose to her dangling hand, Aurora jumped, then realized that her muscles were buzzing from the tension of the day.
Collapsing into the rocking chair with a low groan, she weakly scrubbed her hand over Ban's head. Now that she allowed herself to relax, her entire body went soft as a wet noodle. Practically dissolving into a puddle of skin, Aurora sighed, shaking back the loose cuff of her shirt before pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. Her eyes shot open, however, at a low noise.
It was a soft keen of pain, the way a person might sound when trying to hide agony but incapable of completely biting back the instinctive moan. Aurora launched to her feet, bending over Suzaku as she ran her hand down his arm, searching his face and murmuring reassurance. She could feel the clench and tremble of his muscles, then the minor relaxation at her touch. Afraid that he would disintegrate if she wasn't touching him, Aurora dragged the rocking chair closer to the bed. As she settled into a rhythm that was both habitual and soothing, she stroked her fingers through his soft, wavy hair.
Ban still stood by the bed, looking at Aurora with perked ears asking for permission. Normally, she liked to have him on Suzaku's bed – he wouldn't feel alone, and Ban was bizarrely good at keeping an eye on their patient. But considering how hard she had worked to keep him from overheating, it would seem that Ban would have to do without this evening. Pointing to the rug with a snap, she gave the low command with a voice that had gone gravelly with exhaustion, a yawn cracking her jaw as she still rocked and stroked, her eyes on the moonlit grass of the land beyond the window as Ban nested and settled down with a sigh. She had nothing else to offer but her support, and the fervent wish that this would all be over soon.
After a very long day of pointed focus and attention, it didn't take long for the glare of the half moon to make Aurora's eyes tired. She told herself she was just going to rest her eyes for a minute; she had to stay awake, for Suzaku. It wasn't long, however, until her rocking slowed, then stopped all together. She slipped into sleep like sliding into water, awkwardly tucked into the rocking chair with her fingers still buried in his hair.
Aurora woke with a jerk, a sudden, vising pain on her wrist. Too deep in sleep to calm herself fast enough, she yanked against the hold instinctively. She was fully awake by the time she was completely dragged from the rocking chair, sprawling against Suzaku on the bed. She was pressed against his side and chest, and there was something different. She had held him all day, but the sudden reversal of strength and weakness between the two of them rendered Aurora still and intensely aware of him, her arms incapable of pushing her away. He was looking at her with a wild hope and a pained derangement in his eyes.
"…Suzaku?" she managed after a moment. Aurora hated herself for allowing her voice to tremble, but his effortless show of strength frightened her, and his sudden closeness made her blood thud against her skin. And this was a sick, injured man in the midst of drug withdrawal. A tremulous smile worked across his mouth as he released her wrist and stroked a wisp of hair over her ear with a shaking hand.
"I'm so glad to see you," he whispered. It was the first time she'd ever heard him speak kindly, and it took Aurora aback for a moment. She was struggling for words when he continued.
"Euphemia, I've missed you so much."
She swallowed against the tears, her throat clicking drily. Shaking her head, she was helpless against the tears that welled, but vigilant against letting them fall.
"Suzaku, I'm not… I'm not Euphemia. I'm Aurora."
He cocked his head slightly, his brows lightly furrowed. It was a gentle confusion, like she'd told him a child's riddle that had a silly answer.
"No, that's… I know who you are. You're Euphemia, the seventh princess of the Britannian Empire. I am your Knight. I'm here to protect you."
Aurora bit her lip, laying her palm against his chest next to the bandage over his heart. The desperation in the undertone of his voice was obvious. She knew the truth was there, somewhere in his head. She just didn't know if she had the heart to drag it to the surface again.
"My name is Aurora Sterling, Suzaku. We've known each other for a week. And I'm here to protect you." She could see the loss rock him, the threat of lost memories beating against his heart. His muscles tensed against her, then shuddered. He was asking for more than his body could possible give.
"Where's Euphemia?" he asked in a dangerously low, desperately ragged tone. She hadn't moved; she couldn't. Nor could Aurora answer that question in its brutal entirety. She was very much afraid he would shatter if she did.
"She's not here, Suzaku. But you know. You know, and you'll remember. You just need to go to sleep. If you go back to sleep, I promise you, it'll all make sense in the morning. Will you do that for me? Please?"
Suzaku looked at her warily for a moment before nodding. When she shifted away from him and stood, he caught her fingers. In direct contrast to the grip that had awakened her, the touch to her fingers was delicately gentle.
"I'll sleep if you stay with me. Please."
She looked back at him, broken and beautiful in the moonlight. She nodded slowly before curling up next to him on the bed. Aurora initially kept a couple inches between them, but Suzaku shifted and tugged her closer until her cheek was pillowed on his shoulder and his fingers trailed through her hair. It struck her how much he must have loved Euphemia if he could treat a ghost of her in such a way with the remnants of that love.
Which led to another question as he settled and dropped off to sleep, leaving Aurora awake and shaken. Zero had been the one who killed Euphemia.
How could Suzaku possibly be the one who killed someone he was still so obviously in love with? He had rushed her to medical facilities as soon as possible afterwards, but that didn't absolve him of possible guilt. He had been mysteriously missing during the Murder Princess' massacre, after all.
But there was no way. There was absolutely no way that the man who slept next to her had killed the woman he loved. Aurora still wasn't sure of a great deal, but she was utterly certain of that. Which only deepened the mystery of his appearance as Zero and his faked death. She warned herself not to torture her mind with possibilities and guesses, not until she had more facts. And the only person with the answers was in no shape to share them. Deciding that she would do Suzaku little good if she was drooping from exhaustion, Aurora relaxed, and drifted away to sleep.
During the night, they edged closer to each other, Aurora's arm wrapping around Suzaku's waist, their legs tangling together as his hand came up to wrap around her shoulder. Neither had ever slept so intimately with another person.
In the small hours of the morning, when the heavy blankets of mist had yet to burn off and the moon was dying on the horizon, Aurora blinked awake. For a moment, she didn't want to remember. She didn't want to remember what had brought her to be embraced by the White Knight.
But she did, and there was simply no time to entertain fantasies that were doomed to remain that way. She awoke Ban and commanded him up on the bed with a whisper, sliding away from the powerful heat of Suzaku's body once the dog was settled next to his legs. Moving out of the room as quietly as a shadow once she'd nudged the window open a little more, Aurora dashed to the bathroom, completing the fastest shower she'd ever taken in seven minutes. Pushing for time, she scrubbed her skin quickly and brutally while her hair was frothed into a bubbly monstrosity. She didn't care to be out of hearing range from Suzaku and nearly slipped in the tub from the anxiety.
Forgoing a towel for her hair, she padded back down the hallway with nothing but a large towel. Her hair lay in dripping, glistening ropes down her back as she peeked into Suzaku's bedroom, breathing a deep sigh of relief when she saw that he was still asleep. Ban lifted his head at her appearance, his ears popping up like sails catching the wind. Aurora held him with a stay command, her palm facing him as she backed away from the door quietly into her own room.
Relaxing a little as she dressed, Aurora scrubbed the towel over her hair once she'd dragged on jeans and a green plaid shirt over a black tank. Snatching a hair tie and shoving her feet into moccasins as she crept out of her room, she glanced into his room again as she passed by before heading down the stairs. She knew a few steps creaked, and avoided them with a mischievous child's expertise. Back in her misspent youth, she'd been something of a terror.
Preparing the makings for tea with the patient boredom of regular habit, Aurora waited for the water to boil by braiding her wet hair back. Deciding that she was ravenous once the long, tight braid was tied, she whipped up some scrambled eggs, letting her tea steep as she poured eggs and milk, sprinkling cheese with a generous hand. Moving silently on her slippered feet, Aurora sat at the table with her plate of eggs and mug of tea, watching the countryside out of the three windows the kitchen sported as she scooped up her handiwork.
The land was going intensely green with summer, but she was sure they had a few more wicked storms left before spring bowed out for the year. The blankets of mist were just patches now, the sun creeping over the horizon with a halo of gold and fire that burned back the cool night with purple flames. Aurora soaked in the peace, taking it while she could. It didn't take a great deal of instinct to guess that there wouldn't be much peace here for a while.
And Aurora had a great deal of instinct. Humming to herself quietly as she finished her breakfast, she stood to wash her dishes and stow them in the dishwasher, tapping her foot in time with her internal dance as she went about the homely chore. Instead of heading back upstairs, she opened the back door, leaning against the jamb as she crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes slightly against the infant sun.
She had always wanted this, just this. The land, the quiet, a home and a place.
She had dined with some of the most powerful people in the world, and had held the others under her power with knowledge and fear. She had seen a war at its most heightened, and had spent years trying to repair the aftermath. She had dueled with danger and death, had skirted punishment and laughed at pursuers.
But through all her exploits, all of her power brokering and truth bartering, the desire for simply this had lived on. Why did it have to be here and now, like this, that Aurora could live exactly the way she wanted to?
Awww, cuddles.
I love cuddles.
Things are going to start being revealed, plot wise. Then we get to the real meat of this arc. It was one of the very, very rare times I've ever had to do this, but I had to go back and beef up the first page or so of this chapter. I'm almost always slimming things down, editing stuff out because I tend to ramble. But I kinda copped out at first, and this is one of the most compelling moments for these two, so I had to step it up a notch.
In other news, I purchased the entirety of Code Geass. Yeah. Hey, no one ever said I was sane. But I did.
I'm rather proud that this fic has made it so far, especially since it's the revamp of a series I wasn't even sure I wanted to watch. Go figure.
Hope you like it!
Love, Tango