As Kendra trotted down the stairs, pointlessly readjusting the strap of the heavier bag on her shoulder, she cocked her head slightly once she'd reached the first floor, her eyes narrowing satisfactorily when she caught the murmur of music down the hall. Leaving her bags at the foot of the stairs, she followed the heavy thrum of primal bass to the studio, the frantic finesse of mechanical strains becoming clearer as she got closer.
Aurora had a penchant for electronic rock during her work-outs.
Kendra pushed open the ajar door in time to see Aurora leap into a fully executed butterfly kick, landing lightly and bending into two back handsprings. She turned, her fists in tight to her chest, and leapt into a jump kick that had enough power to break her imaginary foe's jaw. Pivoting, she delivered an uppercut, backfist, and elbow strike in rapid succession. Aurora then ended the set on a viciously fast roundhouse that carried her momentum down into a left split. As the forceful, self-assured lyrics, declaring it was time to walk away without apologies and how the voices in the mirror speak, wound to a close, Kendra cleared her throat.
Her breath rolling in and out in controlled waves, Aurora looked over instantly at the sound. For a moment, the silver in her eyes was sharp enough to cut through concrete, the eyes of a hunter primed to spring into action. Hence Kendra's distance when she'd broken her friend's concentration. She knew better than most Aurora's potential lethality.
"Looking good," the doctor said with an approving smile, slowly walking into the room that smelled like grass, metal, and sweat. The open window accounted for the first scent and fresh breeze that whispered through the room, bringing the cool in with it.
"Thanks," Aurora returned, only slightly out of breath. Sliding her leg forward around her, she stood lithely in a graceful, controlled stretch of movement. Aurora always had a way of making the hardest thing look easy, Kendra thought to herself. It was most likely because of the intensive training she had endured in her youth. Her footsteps echoing on the sprung maple floor, Kendra glanced over at the mirrored wall, seeing Aurora step over to stop the music already revving into its next song and grab a towel. Swiping it over her face, she chugged generously at a water bottle before turning back. Looking at each other in the reflection for a moment, Kendra spun slowly on her heel.
"No dancing?"
Aurora just shrugged before stepping over to plop down on a carved bench next to a small duffel and a stack of clean white towels. Kendra joined her, the two women sitting shoulder to shoulder. Ban snoozed on a round bed placed at the end of the bench just for him. He found work-out time boring.
"A little to warm up. I'm kind of out of shape, so I thought some of my bastardized katas would be the best call. Besides, I get a little itchy when I don't imagine punching someone after a couple of weeks."
"Or actually punching someone," Kendra murmured drily, remembering how she'd once foolishly agreed to spar with Aurora the last time they'd come to Ireland. Kendra had boasted that Aurora wouldn't have to hold back. She hadn't broken her nose, but it'd been a close call, and even as a doctor, Kendra hadn't been sure that the nosebleed would ever stop. Aurora just grinned a little sheepishly; she still felt bad about it, but Kendra had asked her to go for it, after all.
Her smile fading, Aurora toyed with the corner of the sweat-laced towel.
"Um, Kendra?"
The doctor glanced over, her brows raised in question.
"Did I do something wrong?"
It took Kendra a moment; when it dawned on her, she smiled and rubbed Aurora's shoulder affectionately.
"No, sweetheart. But you could have cut the tension in there and spread it on bread like butter. Did you and Suzaku have a fight?" Her suspicions were sharpened when Aurora didn't make eye contact, or respond right away. But when she looked back up, Aurora's eyes were in control and her smile disarming.
"Of course not. Just a little awkward this morning. He's not exactly the easiest person to talk to."
Kendra sighed as she leaned back against the wall and stacked her ankles.
"No, not really."
"Speaking of which, how is he doing?"
Kendra ran Aurora through Suzaku's physical condition, adding more technical terms than she had with Suzaku and directions for his care. Especially in regards to the stretching, his diet, and the hourly deep breaths he would have to take to avoid pneumonia. Aurora took it all with a nod and a serious expression.
"Aurora… I'd like your opinion on Suzaku's mental condition."
She glanced over, frowning slightly.
"You're the professional, Kendra, not me. I only have impressions."
The doctor nodded in agreement.
"Exactly. I don't want you to betray any confidences, but can you give me an idea of him? Think of it this way – if you had to explain Suzaku to someone who'd never met him and couldn't know the specifics, what would you say?"
Aurora sighed, rubbing the center of her forehead with two fingers. It was a tell, one of a few that betrayed exhaustion, confusion, and stress. Silently, Kendra rubbed a soothing hand over Aurora's shoulders, but didn't recant her question.
"He's… incredibly angry. Angry and heartbroken and helpless. He's trapped in this vicious cycle of hating his situation but is incapable of escaping it. Suzaku has lost so much, but never really had a chance to grieve for any of it properly. And when you never grieve, I guess you never allow yourself the chance to look back on memories with any sort of positive emotion. Which ends up adding guilt to the whole mess. You never really accept the loss, and the pain eats away at you like a cancer. And I don't think he understands any of that. Or wants to."
Nodding, Kendra tugged on Aurora's gold ponytail warmly.
"Pretty much hit the nail on the head there, Rora. I agree with you, on just about everything."
Narrowing her eyes, slightly, Aurora caught the wisps of Kendra's drift.
"What's your point, Kendra? That he's beyond help? That I'm wasting my time?"
"Physically, no, of course not. But mentally? I don't know, kiddo. You might have bitten off more than you can chew. I don't think I'm qualified to deal with his battery of mental problems, and I have a doctorate. And all those things you mentioned were just a kickboard for the addiction, which is a whole other breed of cat." Kendra sighed. "I know this is the best, if only, option for his recovery, but I'm worried about you. Suzaku will heal up; he'll go back to Britannia. But what will you be left with? You can't change him, Aurora. And you may have saved his life, but you can't save his mind. You don't like failure; if I recall correctly, you always used to say that it doesn't suit you. So how will you handle failure in something of this magnitude? That's what I'm worried about."
Aurora gazed at her friend a moment before pushing to her feet, pacing along the paneled floor with long, agitated strides.
"I know you're right. No, I do," she said before Kendra could open her mouth to protest. "I know that until he wants to get better, he won't. But I have to try, Kendra. I have to give him a chance; he's never had one before, so none of us can know if he'll take it. I have faith that if I show Suzaku that someone cares, someone wants the best for him, someone wants him here on this planet, then he might be a bit more amenable about his own existence. You and I both know humans aren't designed to be alone. And he's been so incredibly alone, Kendra. Being here, in this place, could show him that he doesn't have to be alone, not anymore."
"You can't go with him, Aurora," Kendra gently reminded. She just rolled her eyes.
"I know that. And he can't stay here. But if memories can destroy Suzaku, maybe memories can also give him the strength to carry on. I won't give up on him; not now, not ever."Aurora stood in the center of the room, her hands curled into loose fists, her feet planted as if ready for attack. Her shoulders were squared, and her eyes blazed like the silver was molten. She was just a slim, tall woman in a blue tank, black pants, and black, high-arched shoes. There was still a faint sheen of sweat on her skin, and her ponytail was a bit ragged, hair falling free to frame her eyes and cheekbones as the base of the tail started to loll to the left. She should just be ordinary.
But she was glorious.
If only Suzaku could see her now, Kendra thought. This was a woman to believe in. And if she believed in him, how could he ever doubt himself?
"Since when did you get so righteous?" Kendra asked with a crooked smile. Aurora's shoulders loosened a little, the corner of her lips tipping up.
"You and I both know I wasn't always this way. And I'm no stranger to grief. But when you lose everything, and manage to scrape yourself back together, you believe more than most that almost anything is possible, if you had just a little bit of help."
Sighing through her nose, Kendra stood, nudging Ban's rump with her toe before kneeling down. Massaging his ears, she pulled his face close.
"You keep an eye on them, you hear me?"
Ban blinked, then licked Kendra's nose. She stroked his head before straightening.
"At least somebody around here is thinking with a clear head," she murmured with a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a frustrated sigh. Looking over her shoulder at Aurora, Kendra jerked her head in invitation, and they left the room together, Ban lowering his head again. His whip-like tail may have been over his nose, but his ears remained pricked, tracking the women's movements.
They retrieved Kendra's bags, loading them into her non-descript silver rental sedan. The western sky was gathering clouds, and if Aurora had to guess, she'd estimate they'd get rain before dinner. Once they finished settling Kendra's equipment, Aurora wrapped her in a hug. She held on for a moment, closing her eyes briefly.
Kendra wanted to protect her, she knew that. And Aurora knew that her friend was worried for both her and Suzaku. Instinct, ground deep in a young girl that had learned the hard way how to take care of herself, wanted to snarl that she didn't need protection. But Aurora wasn't that girl anymore. That little girl had served her purpose – she'd survived.
Survived long enough to allow Aurora to grow into the sort of woman who could appreciate her friend's genuine concern for exactly what it was. As she pulled back, Aurora pressed a kiss to Kendra's cheek, careful that when she straightened, a charming, tilted grin was on her face.
"Don't worry, Mom. We'll be fine. I'll be careful. See you in a week."
Kendra tipped her head back to look into her taller friend's eyes, one brow lifting. She could tell when she was being dismissed. Shaking her head before kissing Aurora's cheek in return, Kendra turned and seated herself in the car. She'd slammed the door shut and buckled her seatbelt when Aurora could faintly hear her speak.
"Oh, I almost forgot!" Leaning over as far as she could in the constraint of the belt, she rustled around for a moment before straightening and rolling down the window, holding what appeared to be the thigh bone of a mastodon in her hand.
"Since Chandler wasn't able to come this time, he sent along a present for Ban."
Aurora took it with an incredulous expression.
"You do realize it will take him six years to get through this monstrosity, right?"
Kendra just shrugged with a smile, turned on the car, and backed out of the narrow dirt drive. Aurora stood and watched until she disappeared, waving when Kendra reached the end of the drive and shifted gears, slowly twirling the giant bone between her fingers. Shaking her head as she mounted the steps of the porch, she loosed a quick, crystalline whistle through her teeth. Ban came thundering out of the house like an ungainly gazelle. When he caught sight of the bone, the gleam in his eyes could have lit a stage.
Silently, Aurora held out her hand, the palm facing him. Skidding so hard on the hardwood floor that his butt dipped, Ban plopped down in a maneuver that would have appeared designed to a bystander. Aurora knew, however, that when it came to food, Ban was an uncoordinated klutz. The sheer excitement made his brain leak out of his ears.
On command, he shook with each paw, laid down, stood up primly on his hind legs before settling down to sit again. On the directive to "Say please," Ban sang out a series of low, warbling howls that sounded distinctly like speech, his liquid eyes warm and pinned on the bone like a hawk sizing up a baby rabbit.
The ritual had been commonplace for the both of them; but Aurora had to admit that no matter the circumstances, Ban talking was probably one of the funniest things she'd ever heard. As he delicately nipped the hulking treat out of her fingertips, the gray dog immediately spun and trotted into the living room. Walking inside, Aurora saw him circling to lie down on the old hooked rug in soft rose and steely blue.
"No. Bed," she said sharply before he had time to settle down and start slobbering. With a sigh, Ban straightened and trotted over to the dog bed tucked next to one of the couches. He had one in almost every single room in the house.
Satisfied that her dog wouldn't ruin an antique rug with his saliva, Aurora strode back to the kitchen. After perusing the refrigerator for a moment, she wolfed down Suzaku's untouched sandwich from a few days ago before opening a can of chicken noodle soup and setting about heating it. She didn't know what had gone on up there today, but she imagined Suzaku was probably feeling a little twitchy and nervy. And soup seemed the best comfort food she could offer, not knowing his tastes.
Busily crunching an apple as she set tea to boil, Aurora ran through a quick version of her cool-down stretches, since her routine had been interrupted. Most of them she could do easily without interrupting her snack, but there were a few that required her to clamp the apple in her teeth when she had to use both hands. She supposed that if anyone had walked into the kitchen and caught sight of her, bowing into a bridge stretch with an apple pierced by her canines held in her mouth, they would have thought she was either psychotic or escaped from the circus. Neither of which were necessarily untrue. Lazily pushing off with her feet, she paused her walkover, holding the handstand, a silent pillar of muscle and bone. She then brought her feet down, straightening as she reached up and freed the apple with a crisp crunch.
Just then, the tea kettle loosed a dry squeal. Ban paused in his fanatical chewing and howled in response. Smiling around the apple bones that hung trapped between her front teeth, she poured her tea, and spooned Suzaku's soup into a bowl. Balancing it and the mug in one hand, she finished off the apple before ascending the stairs. When Aurora pushed her way into Suzaku's room, she found him lightly dozing. He jerked awake at the sound of her footsteps, and Aurora instantly felt guilty, despite the instinctive near silence of her movements.
Suzaku was embarrassed that he'd fallen asleep at all. It was galling to admit that his interaction with Kendra had been so exhausting. Once, he'd fought battles for hours on end without pause or falter, a juggernaut that only stopped when the Lancelot gave out; his physical strength had never been the first to fail. Now, a few hours of talking and listening were enough to drive him into a fatigued sleep. He would have been angry if he hadn't been busy blushing over Aurora's appearance.
She looked ready and young and lethal, her muscles still a little flushed from exertion and her acres of fair, exposed skin lightly dewed with sweat. Moving with a looseness of joint that spoke of eager exertion, Suzaku couldn't help but envy her a little. He'd used to revel in the health of his body like Aurora was; now, it was just a cage.
She was legs and hair and eyes, and Suzaku had to swallow frantically against the saliva that suddenly pooled in his mouth as she placed the bowl of soup in his numb hand. She said something to him; he had no idea what. His brain had gone helplessly silent as he really saw her, perhaps for the first time.
Her skin was lighter than his by several shades, a delicate cream that bore old, faint scars. Battle scars, he had no doubt. He had suspected her strength, but the sleek muscles along her arms and shoulders told Suzaku he hadn't been nearly generous enough in his estimation. The honey glimmer of her hair was darkened along the temples by sweat, the sleek tail streaming over her shoulder delicate in comparison to her physical strength.
Aurora glanced at him, and Suzaku felt a detached curiosity trickle through the shock as all sound faded and the light sharpened. It was her eyes, he realized. The color of a silver bullet, just waiting for the squeeze of a trigger to change the timeline. The color of approaching storms, brimming with a violence held in check by the atmosphere. It was locked in by her flesh, caged in by the bars of her bones. This kinetic energy that could burn down the universe and take everyone, including herself, with it. She was elemental; a monolith made mortal.
Then she blinked, and the sensation faded. She was just a beautiful woman, looking at him for a response before giving up with a shrug and walking away. As she shut the door behind her and he could hear the illusive patter of her footsteps down the hall, Suzaku felt like he'd just survived a hurricane. How could someone feel that much? How could someone be that much?
She wasn't even in the room anymore, and yet Suzaku's fingers itched to touch her skin, to feel every scar, to know every battle without having to be told. To heal or break her anew, he couldn't be sure. Confused and scared at his own needs, he curled his fingers into a fist, and clenched it tight. It was only when faint thunder rolled in the distance that Suzaku realized he'd felt that same whirling realization as he'd looked into Aurora's eyes before.
The color had been different, but the distinct sensation of being in the presence of a titan was much the same.
Aurora was more like Lelouch than she thought.
She showered, changed, and trotted back downstairs. She checked in on Ban, and smiled – he'd already obliterated one end of the bone, and was gnawing his way down the shaft. Heading back to the kitchen, she prepared a plate of cheddar cheese slices and a couple hard boiled eggs. One of each were for her, but the rest were for Suzaku. Now that his diet was freed up, it was time to get sneaky.
As distant thunder rumbling along the northern horizon caught her attention, Aurora freshened her tea and then began her rounds through the house closing windows against the impending rain. With that chore finished, she scooped up her plate and made her way back upstairs. Armed with her current book and her reading glasses shoved up on top of her head, Aurora knocked at Suzaku's door and poked her head in.
"Hey. Mind if I join you?"
Suzaku looked up from his sketch pad. He was about halfway through a picture of Milly Ashford on the day of her graduation from the academy. Aurora recognized the silly heart hat in her hands from the pictures. He gazed at her for a moment, and Aurora was reminded of the strange look he'd given her when she'd dropped off his soup. Part calculation, part fear, part wonder.
Finally, he murmured, "Come in," and Aurora made her way to her usual seat. With what she thought was admirable stealth, she scooted the half-empty bowl of cooled soup over and set down the plate of eggs and cheese within easy reach of both of them. With a contended sigh as her used muscles stretched, coiled, then relaxed, she picked up a slice of egg and chewed it slowly as she pulled her glasses down onto her nose. She could see that Suzaku had turned his attention back to the drawing, his fingertips already darkened with graphite from shading.
"Normally, I prefer to watch a storm alone. But you've got the best view of the house." As if to punctuate her words, lightning cracked through the dim storm light, the growl of thunder quickly chased by a soul-piercing whine from downstairs. Suzaku had followed her gaze to the window filled with clouds and misted by early rain, but quickly whipped his head towards the distressed sound, his brows furrowed in concern and question. Aurora sipped her tea, waiting, her eyes calming tracking over the lines of text. As dependable as the sun, Bannock came thundering up the stairs.
"In here, you big baby," she called without looking away from her book. The big dog, ninety pounds if he was an ounce, slid to a halt from his mad dash to Aurora's room, squeezing through the ajar door with his ears flat against his neck and his eyes wide with distress. His present from Chandler long forgotten, Aurora stroked his head and neck comfortingly as he gave another quivering whine, the next thunderclap resonating in their bones. She murmured the comforts that seem to come naturally to a mother before pointing his head towards the bed and patting his rump.
She could tell by the expression on Suzaku's face that he'd expected Ban to jump on the bed, and he didn't seem very opposed to the idea. Aurora had a moment to think over that development with a small smile. But confusion chased over his chiseled features when Ban hunkered down and crawled under the bed, until the only visible part of him was the white-tipped end of his tail. Sighing, Aurora pushed herself up from the chair and crossed the hall to her room. When she returned, she was carrying a somewhat ratty navy blanket that was usually bunched on the floor at the foot of her bed. It was something of Bannock's baby blanket, and while he didn't often sleep on it anymore, it helped with travel or storms.
Crouching down beside the bed, she lifted up the bed skirt, and murmuring soothing comforts as the rain started to fall in earnest and the thunder picked up rhythm, she slid the blanket under Ban's head and shoulders before retreating back to her chair. Sighing as she munched on a piece of cheese, she sent the chair rocking.
"That dog has faced down violent degenerates, hostile drug dealers, and dirty soldiers without so much as a flinch. He's tasted blood, and is a goddamn hellhound in the protection of me and mine. But he's always been a complete coward when it comes to thunderstorms." Shaking her head, Aurora set her book back in her lap and resumed reading.
Suzaku thought he knew why Ban was afraid of storms. The things Aurora had mentioned, the things that could be fought against, could be defeated. But a thunderstorm was Mother Nature's show, and no matter how strong and brave and smart you were, there was no defending against that fear. There was just no reason to it. That was probably the magnificence of it.
Then again, he could be totally wrong. After all, Ban was just a dog.
As Suzaku worked on the shading of Milly's hands, a slight movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. As the rain pelted the cottage with a wild drum beat, he glanced over to see the foot resting on Aurora's knee jiggling like a spastic puppet. She must have seen the tilt of his head, as her eyes invariably met his.
"Sorry," she said, her smile apologetic, her foot falling still. She took another sip of tea, and returned to her book. Not two minutes had passed, though, before her foot started bouncing again.
"Didn't you work out today?" Suzaku asked. She glanced up at him, then down at her foot. It fell still again as she took another sip of tea.
"My bad. Storms get me kinda worked up. They're just… elemental."
Funny, he'd thought the same of her not an hour ago.
"Besides, I have to go at it for about six hours before the first edges really get ground down. That's not terribly feasible."
Curious about this side of her that she'd mentioned but he'd never really seen, Suzaku set his pencil down.
"So how do you handle it?"
She toasted him with her faintly steaming mug.
"It's a blend of chamomile and lavender tea. It takes a bit to get used to, but it keeps me from doing cartwheels on the ceiling or scratching someone's eyes out. I think of it as a very mild form of medication."
Suzaku tried to grasp the concept of being wound so incredibly tight.
"Was your mother like that?"
Aurora had returned her attention to her book. Instead of looking up and responding, she just shrugged her shoulders and hummed three distinct syllables. It was obviously, "I don't know," without the enunciation. It struck Suzaku as an incredibly juvenile response. He tilted his head, his brows furrowed and a small smile curving his lips.
"How old are you?"
That got her attention. Placing her elbow in the spine of the book to hold it open, Aurora wrapped her other hand around her mug.
"I'm nineteen."
It seemed impossible. But, then again, her age was difficult to estimate. Sometimes she had the mannerisms of a fourteen year old, sometimes she had the expressions of a forty year old. He'd never met someone so mercurial.
"You're as old as I am?" Suzaku asked, shocked. She waved his question away.
"No, no. I turned twenty last month, which makes me…" She paused as her fingers rippled in the air, counting out the months, "eight months younger than you."
That gave Suzaku pause.
"You know when my birthday is?" He couldn't help the defensive, slightly suspicious tone. It was an odd topic – he hadn't celebrated his birthday in years. So how, and why, would she know? Suzaku shouldn't have been surprised that Aurora sensed his resistance and misgiving. Turning the book over on her thigh and halting her rocking, she gave him her full, undivided attention. When coming from the bright silvered blue of her eyes, it was a little spooky.
"I know your birthday is July 10th. I know you were born in the Wakkanai Municipal Hospital in Hokkaido, not far from your family's summer estate. I know that you're the eldest of three brothers. You are the only one to inherit your mother's eyes, eyes she displays because of the tiny drops of Britannian blood that she carries. It was this blood that allowed your acceptance into the Honorary Britannian system at the tender age of thirteen. When you were fourteen, you broke your wrist in what was called a "training accident," when, in reality, it was the result of three Britannian officers ganging up on you when your parentage became known." She set her chair to rocking again.
"I know that you were considered for warrant officer three times before Cornelia promoted you. The first time you were passed over, they gave you the consolation prize of granting your request to join the Honorary Britannian Special Response Unit when you were fifteen years old. During your time with the HBSR, you were considered for officership twice more, your four commendations for bravery weighing in your favor. But you carried a citation on your record for inappropriate conduct. Only snotty Britannians would punish someone for defending an ally against the scorn of others. But racism was how the old Britannia worked." She shrugged, and took a sip of her tea. Suzaku tried to breathe, his fingertips tingling and numb.
"How… how could you know that? All the copies of my military file were-"
"Destroyed. Except for two. One of which is in the Royal Registry, which I do not, nor will I ever, have access to. The other was in the possession of your former commanding officer." As she gazed at him over the rims of her glasses, her eyes calm and her expression pleasant, it dawned on him.
"Lloyd was one of your clients."
Her smile widened.
"Asplund was one of my last big cases, and a royal pain in the rear. I went above and beyond the call of duty for that moron, so, yes, he owes me to this very day. He did knock out quite a chunk of his debt by getting me the complete version of your military file, though."
"Why?" Suzaku managed, slowly regaining control over his breathing. He trusted her, or he wouldn't have told her his whole history following the time after his stint in the HBSR. But it was terrifying, and impressive, that she could find out so much just by making a phone call. Suzaku didn't care to be so vulnerable, even with someone he was starting to trust.
Aurora pressed her mouth to the knuckles of her fist before responding.
"Because I needed to know what we were up against."
Suzaku had no idea what to say to that. Lightning dominated the faint light, and for a moment, her face was cast in the stark wash of dancing electricity. Then the thunder was growling along their skin, and she was smiling gently as Ban groaned from under the bed.
"You're alright," she crooned, her eyes never leaving Suzaku. Something was pressing against his chest, something that begged to be set free into the air, to be voiced into fruition. Just as Suzaku opened his mouth to ease the pressure in his heart and head, the lights went out.
"Damn," Aurora muttered, pushing up from her chair. Taking the moment to scramble back from an edge he'd nearly leapt over, Suzaku took advantage of the dark and regained control of his facial features, rolling his lips together as he swallowed the words he'd almost spilled. He still had no idea what exactly they were – all he was certain of was that he wasn't ready to say it. He may never be.
The room was painted in shadows with a heavy brush, the air dense and the light swallowed whole. Aurora moved with assurance, despite the lack of light, and when her eyes caught his as she deftly opened one of the drawers in the armoire and withdrew a pack of matches, Suzaku realized with a sort of wonder that she could see in the dark as well as he could.
That was impossible. No one had night vision like his.
Yet despite the thick gloom, briefly shattered by lightning that stole the dark more than gave the light, Aurora moved with assurance, lighting the candles scattered around the room. Suzaku had never noticed them before, and assumed they were arranged for just this purpose. When she'd finished, the room rippled with the gentle echoes of the firelight, the breath of flame flowing along her skin and dancing on her glasses.
"Sometimes the power will go out during a storm. This one's more fireworks than a drencher, but the flowers could use it regardless."
Suzaku nodded, still a little skittish. From what he'd almost said, or maybe just the way the woman looked in the candlelight. As guilt reached up and grabbed him by the throat with hot, sweaty fingers, he flung his eyes back down to the sketchbook with a frantic desperation
Why?
Why did Aurora make it so easy to forget Euphemia, and the obligations he had to her memory and spirit and pain? To forget what had been lost, and what had sealed the sentence of the life he now lived? He squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to slide the armor back on, the distance that he wasn't sure he could now live without. But when it didn't click firmly in place, he felt the panicky fear of exposure slither in through the cracks.
Aurora sat, feeling helpless.
She had no idea what was going on in Suzaku's head, but whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant. She'd seen the flashes of struggle and fear, of panic and distance. And she couldn't begin to guess their origin or meaning. What in the world was going on in that pretty head of his?
As the intimacy of the atmosphere began to sink in, Aurora lost her courage to dig for answers. She knew it was cowardly, but she couldn't be sure she'd be what he needed. She'd made a solemn vow during the ferry trip over, swearing to never ask him for something he couldn't give. And what Aurora wanted from him, as a woman, simply wasn't possible.
In an act of desperation, she shoved a whole hard-boiled egg in her mouth, in case any damning or embarrassing words slipped past her impressive filter. Suzaku looked over at her oddly, and as Aurora pictured how she must look with her cheeks puffed out by egg, she made the resigned realization that she'd probably never looked so stupid in her life. But, taking advantage of her painfully comical appearance, she merely flashed a thumbs up, nodding and humming as if it were the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted in her life, and nudged the plate closer to Suzaku, gesturing towards it in invitation.
He looked at her askance for a while before finally taking a piece of cheese and nibbling at it as Aurora doggedly chewed. Neither said anything. Their pasts had proven them fearless, but now, they remained mute with fear.
The lightning waned, and the rain settled to light, comfortable rhythm. Ban emerged from his hiding place, disappearing for a few minutes before returning with his half-gnawed thigh bone and earnestly settling down to work. Suzaku smiled in approval, and finally returned his attention to his nearly completed sketch. Aurora watched him work for a few moments before flipping over her all-but-forgotten book.
Time passed quietly as the tension slowly ebbed. Suzaku absently ate the rest of the plate, absorbed in the finishing touches of Milly's silly hat. Aurora finished her book, quietly sipping the last of her tea as enough of the clouds parted to reveal a glittering sunset burning along the clouds, the illusion of fire and smoke softly stunning. Each drop of water reflected the distant light, until it seemed that the whole countryside shimmered and flamed.
Aurora nudged Suzaku's leg with her toe, jerking her chin towards the window. Whatever he was going to say died on his tongue as the sweeps of crimson, bronze, and gold sizzled in the sky. They watched the sun fold itself onto the horizon in silence. It was almost holy, the fury of the sky manifested in color.
As the witch-fire red smoldered to violet, a color that never failed to remind Aurora of Lelouch's eyes, Suzaku looked back at her.
"What was it you did? For Lloyd, when he was your client?"
Aurora glanced over at him, the lenses of her glasses flashing in the candlelight as she tilted her head, the corner of her mouth kicking up.
"You don't want to know."
Suzaku wondered if he felt bad for Lloyd. Not really. The emotion that did trickle through, however, was humor.
"That bad, huh?"
She laughed as she set aside her empty mug, standing to make them dinner and refill her tea.
"Worse."
This one took a while. Hammered it out, then it sat. Hammered out some more, sat some more. That seems to be my rhythm, which is an unfortunate roller coaster ride, if you ask me.
With the exception of his birthday, all of the stuff Aurora talks about from Suzaku's military file is headcanon. I'm an author, so I can get away with that kind of shit. :D
I figure that when you get to a point in a story when you just want to grind two people's heads together in an attempt to tell them that they're meant and should now kiss like nobody's business, you're on the right track. I love these two morons. *sigh.
One of the reasons why this story usually takes so long to update is that whenever I start feeling like I'm losing touch with Suzaku, I re-watch episodes or check out art or just cruise on the wiki. There are so many aspects of him that I can't touch on quite yet, so I want to make sure I don't lose sight of them.
Canon characters are hard.
He's getting out of that bed next chapter and we're seeing the rest of the house. I promise.
Hope you like it!
Love, Tango