Aurora was a light sleeper, and it took about half an hour before she could read herself to sleep. So much was whirling around her head, her eyes would have crossed if she tried to process it all at once. So she was determined to get some sleep and absorb it all tomorrow. But she'd only been out for about an hour when Ban woke her up.

Her irritated grunting and shoving him away was not sufficient; Ban kept trying to lift her arm with his head, a low whining vibrating in his throat. When she finally sat up and squinted at the gray dog that was all but invisible in the dark, he was standing on the bed, looking at her with wide eyed expectation. It was like he was saying, "Can't you tell? Something's wrong!"

It took only a moment before the puzzlement gave way to dread, her stomach dropping as she flung aside the comforter and leapt from the bed. Ban lunged down behind her, following her with a tightly clamped tail and worried eyes. Opening the door to Suzaku's room quickly, she paused in the doorway, her sharp eyes making out his sleeping form in the dark.

Moving on the faint moonlight instead of switching on the light, Aurora crept closer carefully. At first, she thought that Suzaku was even now soundly asleep, still and quiet. But as she neared the bedside, she realized that he was locked with tension, his breathing sharp and shallow while his brows furrowed deeply. His fist was balled, and he broke his tight silence with a tiny whimper that was an unmistakable sound of pain. She had to wake him up; she couldn't leave him struggling in his personal darkness.

Reaching over, she switched on the lamp, the soft gold glow throwing his face into stark shadows. Grimacing in preparation, she reached down and shook his good shoulder, knowing that she was probably too close to avoid a blow when he came up swinging. Sure enough, the bunched fist smacked against her right shoulder, and even as she winced at the dull pain, Aurora pushed him back down on the bed with more force than most thought she was capable of.

"Wake up! Come on, Suzaku, wake up!" At her sharp, brisk words, his eyes blinked open, blank and trapped. He struggled against her instinctively, but she managed to keep him down. He was still weak from the injuries and withdrawal; otherwise, Aurora knew that restraining him would have been impossible.

"Suzaku! You're here with me. It's Aurora, and you're safe."

As he blinked his way clear of the dream and went limp under her restraining hands, she heaved a relieved sigh before sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked at him silently as he pressed a hand first to his eyes, then to his mouth, waiting for him to say something. When he continued his silence, she had no choice but to speak.

"Are you OK?"

Suzaku pushed himself up, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of being supine and helpless. He was still breathing quickly and startlingly pale, but he managed to drag himself together and look at her with a guarded, distant expression, clearing his throat to free the trapped screams.

"I'm fine. It was nothing." When he didn't elaborate, Aurora felt her brows crease in concern.

"Are you sure?"

He just shrugged, looking out the window at the land silvered by the moon.

"Like I said, it was nothing."

Aurora wasn't convinced.

"Because if you-"

"It was nothing, alright?" Suzaku snapped. "It was a nightmare! It's not like I'm exactly a stranger to them! They haunted me before, and they'll haunt me for the rest of my life! Happy now?"

Most people would probably have backed away and left the snarling, injured man to his own devices for the rest of the night. But as Aurora had revealed, she was no ordinary person. She merely narrowed her eyes before gently wrapping her arms around him. Suzaku immediately stiffened, leaning away from her as far as her arms would allow.

"What are you-"

"Just, for once in your life, accept the comfort that's offered. I'm not an idiot, nor am I blind. You need this. For once, just take it." Her tone was abrupt and impatient by his ear, leaving him no choice but to subside into silence. Eventually, his uninjured arm crept up carefully around her shoulders, holding her like she was porcelain. But it was he who was the fragile one.

Aurora waited, slowly rubbing a hand up and down his back in a soft, comforting rhythm. She was careful of the bruising she remembered from changing his bandages, smoothing the hair at the nape of his neck as Suzaku slowly relaxed. His head shifted, pressing his forehead into her shoulder as he shuddered hard. She felt his hand fist in her loose t-shirt, and Aurora merely kept stroking his back, patiently silent.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed. Suzaku kept her close, mentally pouring his fears and terrors into her comforting silence, the muscles along his arms and chest vibrating. No words were exchanged, and she didn't think there needed to be. It was enough that this time, he didn't have to survive it alone.

When he finally released her and leaned back against the pillows, he looked more exhausted than she'd seen him in days. Their hands didn't touch, but their fingers were only an inch from each other on the blanket.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. He looked at her, bemused. "Dredging all those memories up must have triggered the nightmares."

Suzaku's mouth crooked.

"They're always there. The only way to keep them at bay is the drugs."

Aurora struggled not to frown.

"That doesn't have to be true."

He just looked away, his eyes shuttered with distance and fatigue. Deciding now was not the time to tackle the issue of his psychological addiction since he was still wrung out from the physical battle with it, Aurora stood and walked away, switching off the lamp before shutting the door gently behind her. She made it back into her room before she collapsed on the bed, burying her fingers in her hair as she braced her elbows on her knees. Looking up, she made eye contact with Bannock, who stood, staring at her with a very intent expression. It dragged out a smile.

"What? Should I call you Lassie now?"

Ban merely stepped forward and very gently licked the back of Aurora's hand before shooting onto the bed.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right." She settled back down under the blanket, switching on the light and slipping on her reading glasses again before picking up her book.

She finished it, and started another one. But nothing could settle her back down to sleep. It wasn't until the wee hours of the morning that Aurora finally fell into a light, twitchy sleep, her book still in her hand, her glasses askew on her face, and her bedside lamp still burning.

The next morning, Aurora slept long past her regular wake up time of seven. It wasn't her internal clock that awoke her, however, and neither was it Ban. Something, a low creak, had her blinking awake, her vision lopsided and blurry. Spotting her dog standing by the door, his tail slowly wagging as he looked back at her, Aurora glared at him, then at the door, not quite sure what she was irritated about. On her way up, she glanced at the old-fashioned clock next to the lamp.

9:54. Yep, that would do it.

Aurora didn't do oversleeping well. It was the same reason she rarely napped; she woke up grumpier and more tired than she was when she went to sleep. Stomping to the door with a bad-tempered snarl just waiting to steal across her lips, she yanked open the door to see a standing, somewhat embarrassed Suzaku in the threshold of his room.

They stared at each other silently for a moment, him surprised and her confused, before Aurora spoke. Well, it was more of a growl.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" The belligerent, aggressive tone dragged up instincts of his military training, and Suzaku's spine snapped straight. Realizing she was squinting at him through crooked reading glasses, Aurora ripped them off her nose, hooking them on the collar of her giant gray t-shirt. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"I was just-"

"Marching your ass back into your room and getting back in bed. You are in no shape to be roaming around, and I will be damned if you re-injure yourself because you've got a wild hair to start wandering around the place. Go. Now." She had a way of lingering over the n in "now" that was strangely threatening, baring her canines as she spat the word out. In the distant mists of his memory, Suzaku vaguely remembered his mother speaking to him in the same way when he was in trouble.

Before he could think to disobey, she stomped across the hallway, turning him around with little grumpy shoves and propelling him back to his bed. He tried to protest, but Aurora pretended she was deaf, settling him down without even acknowledging his argument. She left the room without looking at him, parting only with the low command of "Hold, Ban," to her dog. As Aurora shut the door behind her, the dog she called Ban sat by it, his eyes trained on Suzaku. It seemed that his legs were too long to actually sit, leaving his haunches floating in the air. It was clearly difficult, considering the muscular strain visible along his back. Eventually, the dog cocked his hips before walking himself down, his neck still erect and his gaze childishly magnetized to Suzaku.

"I don't suppose you'll let me out, will you?" he murmured. The dog's ears popped up and he leapt to his feet, trotting towards Suzaku with the aim of a missile. "No, no! Wait, I didn't mean-"

But instead of the dog lunging for his throat with bared teeth, Ban merely gathered himself and neatly leapt onto the bed next to Suzaku's legs. He thought briefly about pushing the dog off, but he wasn't exactly a lap dog.

He hadn't known dogs could be this big. Really, this Ban was more of a small horse than a dog. His legs were ridiculously long, his ribcage massive and his waist tiny. Gray as charcoal with black on his legs, back, and the tip of his tail, the dog sported a black mask that lent the appearance of a wolf. As he settled down and laid his head on Suzaku's leg, Ban gazed at him with his liquid brown eyes. There wasn't a drop of aggression there. Holding out his hand hesitantly, the dog briefly lifted his head to sniff it, then dropped it back down. Praying Ban would warn him with a growl before he ripped off his hand, Suzaku stretched out his fingers, running them hesitantly over the dog's silky ears.

When Ban didn't move, Suzaku stroked him more firmly, marveling at how such a strong-looking dog could be so soft. He'd tried to get up and find something to do – he was unaccustomed to feeling bored, and didn't like the way inactivity left his mind vulnerable. He'd thought perhaps Aurora had left, going to get supplies or on one of the walks he thought he remembered her taking. But he hadn't been fast enough.

"She did look pretty adorable, though. Didn't she?" he murmured to Ban, his smile a little crooked and unfamiliar as he twined the dog's ear through his fingers. As if in agreement, the dog flopped over on his side, his entire length pressed against Suzaku's legs, Ban's head on his hip. If he had met Aurora even two years ago, she would have been his height, if a little taller. Since he'd never stood next to her before this morning, not that he really remembered, Suzaku hadn't realized how tall she was. But the awkward growth spurt that had plagued him last year put Suzaku a solid four inches taller than Aurora.

With that gigantically baggy gray t-shirt obscuring her upper body and almost dropping to the hem of her shorts, she'd looked like a cranky rain cloud on long, gorgeous legs. Aurora had clearly slept in the braid she'd worn yesterday, the tail slung over her shoulder bursting with stray hairs and the left side of her head looking like her golden hair had exploded. Her glasses, which he often forgot that she sometimes wore, had slipped down her nose, one lense still in front of her eye while the other hung down near her cheekbone. There were faint shadows under her eyes, and such a cantankerous expression on her face, that Suzaku didn't know whether to laugh or run. He'd settled on the vague mortification of being caught when he'd used to be all but invisible with his stealth.

As he was barely able to make out the thunder of the shower, Suzaku assumed she was remedying her appearance, as ridiculously appealing as it had been. He couldn't decide if he wanted her to improve her attitude along with it. After Aurora's incredible patience, understanding, and generosity, it was a bit of a relief to know that she could wake up crabby and rude, just like a normal person. Suzaku wasn't comfortable with saints.

Frowning as he realized how fondly he'd thought of Aurora, Suzaku shifted his gaze from the apparently snoozing dog to the window. It had rained briefly this morning, the soft patter waking Suzaku up. It was one of the most pleasant ways he'd come out of sleep in his memory. But now, the sun was shining, and it looked like the grass and trees were laced with diamonds. Something tugged at his memory, but was quickly swallowed by his guilt. He had no business thinking of Aurora in any way but gratitude and a vague suspicion. Not only could he offer her absolutely nothing, but he loved Euphemia. Now, forever, and always. No one, not even her half-breed sister, could replace her.

Frowning, he traced the edges of the black markings on Ban's face. He hadn't thought of anyone, any woman, like that since before he'd met Euphie. And he refused to ever again. But it was disconcerting that Aurora tempted him, that something about her made him want to reach out and grasp something that had been taken from him long ago.

It wasn't long until the soft patter of footsteps emerged from the end of the hall, ending on the quick, brutal click of Aurora's door. All the women Suzaku had been around in his life would remain sequestered in their bedroom for another half hour – the female ritual was one that brought a faint sweat to Suzaku's palms. But not ten minutes later, footsteps reappeared in the hall outside his room, quickly clattering down the stairs.

Ban lifted his head for a moment, gazing at the door as if waiting for it to swing open. When it remained shut, however, he dropped his head back down heavily, sighing with a sort of patience that sounded distinctly human. Suzaku just smiled faintly and stroked the dog's head, telling himself that he wasn't bored. It was, of course, a lie.

When she returned with breakfast, Ban leapt off the bed as soon as Aurora opened the door, his tail wagging wildly in a circle as she came in balancing a bowl and several cups in her hands expertly.

"Yes, yours is downstairs. Go on."

Like a gray bullet, he was out the door and clambering down the stairs, his nails clicking faintly on the tiles of the kitchen as he scouted out his food. She bumped the door almost closed with her hip before striding over to the bed. Her damp hair had been scraped back brutally into a long tail, her jeans well-worn and white at the seams, her white long-sleeved t-shirt hugging to her curves.

"And as for you," Aurora said, placing a bowl of oatmeal on Suzaku's lap along with a spoon. As Aurora turned her back to settle with her usual mug of tea and her book in her beloved rocker, Suzaku grimaced at the bowl. Oatmeal. Blegh. He'd practically lived on the thick glop the drill sergeants affectionately called "oatmeal" his first few years of training in the Britannian military. It did not bring back fond memories, and he'd never really developed a taste, or tolerance, for it.

But, catching the arch look Aurora shot him over the rim of her reading glasses, he sighed and picked up the spoon, swallowing the first spoonful with a stoic grimace. He was surprised, however, when it wasn't that bad. She had a heavy hand with the cinnamon and nutmeg, and he guessed that she'd used milk and brown sugar, more decadent options than Suzaku usually consumed when dealing with oatmeal.

She granted him a smile when he scraped the bowl clean. Suzaku had a feeling Aurora was still a little out of sorts from her late wake-up. He decided that he would wait to ask her about some sort of distraction until she was in a more amenable frame of mind.

He lasted about fifteen minutes.

"So, I was wondering if maybe we could go for a walk."

"No."

She said it so quickly, the word almost clipped the tail end of his sentence.

"But-"

"No, Suzaku. You're not ready." Her blatant command over him made his teeth grind. Struggling with his patience, he reminded himself to be polite. He'd never had to reach for that, but it had become harder and harder over the last couple of years. His patience had slipped away, the mellowness Lelouch had one remarked upon ground away by time and circumstance like a rock slowly dissolving under the sea's onslaught. It left nothing but his overwrought discipline in its wake.

"Please, I can't just sit here another day doing nothing. I don't…I prefer not to let my mind wander."

Finally looking up from the page of her book that her eyes had been glued to since the moment he'd started talking, Aurora gazed at him consideringly, her brow arched slightly.

"Well, what do you want to do? Besides anything physical," she quickly added. Suzaku really had no idea. He couldn't remember the last time he'd inactive by choice.

"How about something to read?" Aurora suggested.

"I could go downstairs and pick something out," Suzaku quickly volunteered. The idea of a book was lukewarm at best, but perhaps he'd at least get to see something more of the house he'd been living in for about a week. She just smiled knowingly.

"No, but you can tell me what you like, and I can bring you back up a few selections."

He huffed out a breath. He really didn't have a preference for reading material, and had only latched onto the idea in the hopes of a change of scene. When Suzaku remained moodily silent, Aurora continued.

"There's a deck of cards around here somewhere, and I know a fair few games. Or I could drag out a puzzle I saw in storage."

"You were a great kid on rainy days, weren't you?" Suzaku accused sourly. Aurora marked her page with her finger before closing the book, laughing lightly.

"Far from it. My mother used to call me a little plane that had a jet engine. I was a notorious menace on rainy days. But I've had the few options there are pounded into my head enough times to know them by rote. Being wound like a top doesn't come in handy on stakeouts, either."

Suzaku furrowed his brow in question.

"It only took a few times of me incessantly announcing that I was bored before George demanded that I get myself under control. Either I quieted down, or I stayed home. Which was worse. So I figured out how to occupy my brain enough to keep my body quiet. Took a few months till I managed, but it was worth it."

Suzaku thought that over. She didn't seem obviously hyperactive, but she had an immense reserve of energy and strength that he'd glimpsed a few times.

"What do you like to do, Suzaku? Hobbies, pastimes, diversion?"

Suzaku faltered.

What did he like to do? He'd never really established a sort of hobby that occupied his time; everything he had was devoted wholeheartedly to his quest, whatever it had been during the roller coaster ride two years ago. Working out had kept his mind busy and his body toned, but did he like it, or did he just depend on it to keep him from imploding? It had occurred to him before that beyond his role as a soldier, Suzaku Kururugi was basically empty. He had no other defining aspects, no other part of himself to focus on. It was depressing, and pathetic.

"I… I don't know," he whispered, his brow furiously knitted at his own worthlessness. So distracted, Suzaku didn't notice when Aurora stood. When he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, he looked over to see her standing next to him, a thick, square sketch pad in her hand and a bulky, industrial looking pencil clamped between her fingers, a stubby eraser sticking out of her fist like another thumb.

"Here. See what you can do with this."

Instead of waiting for him to take them, she deposited the items in his lap before sitting again. Suzaku helplessly stared at the items in his lap, almost afraid to pick up the pencil. Failure was not something he could handle, and had never really learned how to accept and move on from. So why try something he undoubtedly had no talent with?

"You ever draw before?" she asked lightly, flipping a page as she spoke, her flashing lenses still focused on the book.

"Not in a very long time," he admitted weakly. He'd been absent or otherwise involved when the class was gathered to work on art during his brief stint at Ashford, his one attempt during Art Week left unfinished. He'd been much too distracted by Nunnally's kidnap and his military duties to focus on the sketch of Lelouch. It had been one of the worst grades he'd ever received, a half-finished rough sketch that didn't look like much of anything. And the last time he'd put pencil to paper in an attempt to draw something, he hadn't yet met Lelouch. He remembered a vague sort of enjoyment and accomplishment associated with the task, but every child felt like a master when they put forms on a piece of paper, regardless of actual skill. Hesitantly, he opened the pale gray cover, revealing solid, coarse pages designed for art. His eyes strangely magnetized to the clean ivory paper, Suzaku ran his finger lightly along the edges of the sheets. They were too broad to even threaten a paper cut.

"What should I draw?" he said, glancing over at Aurora. This was her idea, after all. The least she could do was offer a little guidance. She just shrugged, still not looking at him.

"Whatever you want. That's the best part, I guess."

At a loss, Suzaku glanced around the room. There were plenty of things to draw. But did he want to draw any of them?

Just then, Bannock slid into the room, licking his chops in a decidedly satisfied manner. He circled on the rug, and dropped down. But instead of staying in a tight, curled ball, Ban flopped over on his side, his long legs stretched out and his back arched. It was almost as if the dog was trying to occupy as much space as possible. His huge ribcage rose once in an explosive sigh before settling into its regular rhythm.

Before he had a chance to second-guess himself, Suzaku snatched up the pencil and began to sketch out fast, strong strokes on the paper. All too quickly, he was absorbed, sketching Ban on a forgotten, empty art notebook and completely disregarding everything else.

Aurora was afraid to move.

Suzaku's face exuded such intensity as he worked the pencil and eraser with equal fervor. Keeping her head tilted towards her book, she watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye, mesmerized. She had a feeling that something very important was happening, but she couldn't say what, exactly. Even if Aurora wasn't certain what was unfolding in that human silence, she kept utterly still, loathe to interrupt.

He worked on the picture of Ban for at least two hours. Not a word was spoken, but the room was far from silent. The swift scratches of the pencil and frantic scrubbing of the eraser were constant, his occasional hum or grunt the only living noise in the room. Aurora was silent; Ban was asleep.

When he finally leaned back against the pillows, his portrait complete, Suzaku looked dazed, as if he was unsure what he had just done. Blankly, he looked around the room; in his fervor, he'd all but forgotten where he was. With his quick, lost glances, he met Aurora's eyes. She was looking at him steadily without turning her head from her novel, a small smile on her mouth.

"It's good."

She glanced down at the rough portrait. Aurora hadn't been placating him. It was rough, certainly, and lacked the precision that came from training. But it did have an elemental appeal, an unstudied truth that spoke to a natural eye and hidden skill. The unrefined drawing of Bannock displayed not only the dog's relaxation, but somehow the gentility in his face, as well.

"You have talent," she murmured. He blinked at her a few times like she'd spoken in Latin. Finally, Suzaku cleared his throat, and smiled a little sheepishly, flexing his hand, his tendons unused to such focused strain.

"Thank you."

Before she could say anything else, he flipped the page, and started anew.

For such a disciplined man, it was odd to see his rhythm so utterly jagged. At times, he sketched on the page with little more than ten strokes before flipping it to the next. Then he spent an hour and a half on a portrait of Cecile's face. Some of the pictures were heavy, dense with shading, while others were all but invisible with the delicate pencil strokes. The one thing that united them all, with the exception of the picture of Bannock, was that every drawing was done from memory.

Aurora saw them all flip by. Lelouch, Shirley, Gino, Lloyd, the Lancelot, Arthur.

Euphemia.

Suzaku sketched out countless pictures of Euphemia. Some laughing, some smiling, one scowling, another shifted into a pretty pout. There was one that Aurora recognized from his knighting, and another that looked like she was falling out of the sky. One picture that stayed with Aurora focused on Euphie's hands and face, her chin propped on her palms as she gazed dreamily away. He captured her delicate wrists, shining hair, and depthless eyes with the sight of a man who had not only seen, but loved.

He didn't look up when Aurora left to prepare lunch, nor when she returned. She could hardly complain, however, since he all but inhaled the egg burrito with a distracted air before diving back into the notebook. He was over half way through the book when he was forced to stop, the sun setting and his hands cramping viciously.

Since she'd managed to see most of them, Aurora didn't ask if she could look through the drawings. She doubted Suzaku would acquiesce, anyway. Instead, she moved the notebook and tools over by her neglected book and sat on the bed, carefully massaging his right hand and wrist as she met his gaze with a small smile. He was breathing a little hard for someone who had sat all day, and his eyes were a little wild. But Aurora didn't regret her decision. She couldn't say why, but something told her that her idea to give Suzaku that sketch pad could quite possibly be one of the best things she'd ever done for him.

"Still bored?"

He shook his head, a little dumbfounded.

"No, I… No." His hand still hurt a little, but the careless ease she loosened the muscles and tendons in his hand with made Suzaku feel too vulnerable. Bobbing his head in thanks, he retrieved his hand. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes entirely too piercing and sharp for his comfort. Then Aurora stood, shoving back the sleeves of her shirt before crouching to rub Ban. He awakened and rolled over, one paw in the air in invitation as she stroked his ribcage and spoke gentle nonsense. Suzaku was brought to attention when she said his full name.

"His name is Bannock?" he asked when she straightened, the dog lunging to his feet as she settled again on the chair, his head draped in her lap. As she rubbed his ears, the dog leaning into the contact with a grunt, she glanced over at him and smiled.

"Yeah. Why?"

Suzaku shrugged, a little embarrassed to be caught listening.

"I didn't even really want him when he first showed up. We'd just gotten the clinic off the ground, and this abominably thin dog, little better than a pup, just appeared at our door one day. He was riddled with worms, and battling an infection that almost turned him inside out. I wasn't qualified to care for him, and I didn't want to weigh Kendra down with another difficult project. But he suckered me in. I refused to name him at first, because I didn't want to get attached in the likely case that he died." Aurora stroked his neck, rocking slightly as she remembered with the fondness of a mother.

"But one day, Chandler, Kendra, and I were sitting around, having lunch, when he snuck in like a ghost and nipped Chandler's bread before any of us noticed. He was half way through the wedge before Chandler realized that his beloved scone had been stolen. At first, he was mad. He yelled, 'Hey!' in this hilariously indignant tone, and the dog lifted his head, popping up these gigantic bat ears in the most ridiculous expression ever, still chewing on the bread. I'd seen that look a few times, but it was the first time he showed it to anyone else. The two boys just stared at each other a few minutes before we all collapsed into howling laughter. Kendra suggested that we name him Scone. Chandler didn't think it was dignified enough, and instead said we should name him Bannock, which is pretty much the same thing. When I said it, he hopped up and laid his head in my lap. In a way, he chose his own name." She planted a smacking kiss on the dog's head before rising.

"I'm going to get dinner ready," she said with a wave before leaving the room. Ban watched her walk away before turning and leaping onto Suzaku's bed without invitation. With the dog settled against his leg, he rubbed the gray, muscled flank.

"Had her wrapped around your finger from the first moment, didn't you?" he murmured to the dog. Ban lifted his head and blinked almost knowingly at Suzaku. Panting for a minute, revealing a doggy grin with enormous, pointed teeth, he dropped his head back down and slipping seamlessly into a snooze.

Lucky dog, Suzaku thought.

Initially, this was supposed to go on for another section, but I decided against it. The tone shifts, and I rather like how this one ended.

A word about Suzaku and art. My life is dominated by several disparate, but very important diversions that pretty much define who I am and keep me from being locked in a padded cell. I find such things to be very important for all of us, and Suzaku's lack struck me.

So, I gave him a talent (that Aurora didn't already lay claim to) that wasn't terribly public that could give him some measure of relief. He's no Rembrandt, but he's good. Good enough to take some of the pressure off his skull.

We haven't seen the last of this, and we're ramping up to an expansion of the Ireland universe. With the next chapter will be a little improvement in Suzaku's mobility, so his world will literally be opening beyond his bedroom window.

Can I get a shout-out for grumpy Aurora? That shit made my day.

Thank you all for being so patient. I'm trying to reach for the drive that I see with so many webcomic artists. And they have to draw stuff, too. Man up, Tango.

I swear I know where I'm going. I just hope I know what I'm doing.

Hope you like it!

Love, Tango