On the last day of April, four days after Kendra and Chandler visited, Aurora announced during breakfast that they were going to Galway today. Suzaku just looked at her blankly, his forkful of scrambled eggs halting mid-air. Aurora leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, the sparkle of excitement in her eyes unmistakable, glinting with an edge he couldn't quite recognize.
"You need some clothes, I have a few other errands in mind, and I'm in need of a people fix. I don't get this way very often, but some city energy would do us both good, I think." When she winked, Suzaku almost dropped his fork.
"I don't…" he started, trailing off when he couldn't quite think of a way to mention his lack of funds without sounding pathetic. She just waved his worries away, standing to clear her place with a sizzle of energy that brought an answering shiver to Suzaku's muscles.
"Don't worry about it. You need some stuff, I need some stuff, and we both need a break. We'll stop by the O'Tooles on the way back, say hello, and we'll be home having dinner before the sun even sets." Since the sun didn't hit the horizon these days until about eight o'clock at night, Aurora was giving them a large margin of time.
"As soon as you're finished, get dressed. I'll meet you on the porch in half an hour," she called over her shoulder as she bounded out the kitchen door to the gardens. Suzaku still sat, shocked by what felt like a tidal wave of vitality left in Aurora's wake. He glanced over at Ban, who snoozed on his dog bed by the laundry room.
"Wow," he finally managed under his breath. "OK."
Ban flopped his tail around once before shutting his eyes again and seamlessly falling back to sleep. Apparently, he was accustomed to a sparkling, firecracker Aurora.
Suzaku did as he was told, left with no options to do otherwise, and headed upstairs. As he finished his grooming and made his way down the hall, Aurora ran up the stairs, her hands grubby and a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She simply smiled luminously at Suzaku, slipped by him like a shadow, and dove into the bathroom, the crank of shower dials and the thunder of water hitting porcelain soon rumbling down the hallway. Suzaku shook his head after a moment, and continued on his way.
As he got dressed, he realized that Aurora was right. He'd been circulating through a set of clinic scrubs and some of Chandler's hand-me-downs that were either too small for the man or easily adjustable. While given in the spirit of generosity, Suzaku had to admit that borrowed clothing never failed to make him feel like an outcast. And after what felt like a lifetime spent in uniforms, it was as if he'd forgotten how to wear casual clothes, how to be comfortable and safe without his armor.
Pulling on the jeans that sagged the least around his hips, Suzaku cranked a scuffed belt to its tightest hole, only just keeping the pants from slipping down his butt. The t-shirt billowed a little on him, followed by a dark green plaid shirt too big across the shoulders. At least it gave him a little room to maneuver with his battered arm and still bandaged shoulder. Finally slipping on the worn pair of boots that were just a little too big, Suzaku set to the task of putting on his sling.
As he carefully smoothed the Velcro fixtures, he heard the faint squeak of the shower dials being turned off, then the quick patter of footsteps down the hall towards his end. Frowning slightly, Suzaku tried to estimate how long Aurora's shower had been. It couldn't have taken him very long to get dressed – he'd never met a woman who could shower in less than ten minutes.
Deciding that the mysteries of the female transformation were far beyond him, Suzaku grabbed his cane. Heading downstairs, he pausing before he pulled the front door open. He glanced to his right when something caught his eye, at the mirror that hung on the wall. It reflected back the picture of a man with shaggy brown hair, waving and a little wild, green eyes recovering from bruising and still hollow, his cheeks gaunt and his jaw still unnaturally sharp. The clothes were too big, the posture, though rigid from training, starting to bow under pain. Reflexively, he tried to straighten his spine, pull back his shoulders in a form that had been pounded into him since infancy till it had coalesced into habit. But now, the stretch of muscle almost made Suzaku gasp, and he relaxed with a wince. Even the soldier had been beaten out of him.
Sighing like an old man, frustrated and resigned, he opened the door and stepped out. The breeze was delicate as blown glass, the sun warming quickly with three hours spent revving its way into the sky. The flowers nodded their heads, as if all in agreement to the sun's idea. Suzaku lowered himself onto one of the rockers angled on the porch, pleased that the twinges and aches, though still present, weren't severe enough to make him want to double over. He felt silly at such minor progress, but Aurora had tirelessly encouraged him to celebrate each improvement. At first, Suzaku had felt ridiculous when she gushed about him being able to walk for fifteen minutes without becoming winded. But he had to admit that noticing even the most minor development kept him from wanting to tear his hair out and scream until his lungs collapsed from sheer impotence.
Ban had slipped out behind him, sniffing his way along the dirt track leading to the driveway and back again, copiously marking the path in his usual manner. Just as he was about to calmly trot back to the porch, something caught his attention to the north. Lifting his head and ears in an almost painfully attentive stance, Ban suddenly leaped over the flower beds, sprinting after something Suzaku couldn't quite see with an eerie silence. His mouth almost dropped open, astonished at Ban's effortless speed. Not a bark or howl, not even a warning bay before he suddenly unleashed immense power and shot couldn't gather his thoughts quick enough to call Bannock back, and then wasn't even sure if he needed to, or if the dog would respond. Not even a minute passed before Ban loped back, empty-handed but apparently quite pleased with himself. He hopped up and stood next to Suzaku on the porch for a moment, lightly panting as he looked out over the land of his newest kingdom. Suzaku ran a hand down his back, finally having witnessed what all that lean muscle and long bone was designed for.
"I didn't know dogs could be that fast, Bannock," he stated under his breath. Ban lightly licked his wrist before circling next to the rocker at least four times, flopping down on the boards with a contended grunt, the silence only broken by the soft tinkling of the wind had just begun to snooze when his ears twitched at the click of Aurora's steps inside as she approached the front door. Suzaku lifted his eyes, his mouth already open in an attempt to make some sort of comment on Bannock's display of speed when Aurora came through the door.
His thoughts collided with each other like train cars piling up on an engine that had suddenly stopped, flopping off the rails into silence like flailing guppies. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open, Suzaku helplessly drank in the sight of her.
Aurora was wearing a dress.
White as the moon, the bodice was snug, cinched in at her natural waist where it bloomed into a charming circle skirt that fell to her knees. He caught a glimpse of a blue sheer underskirt peeking out from under the hem, drawing the eye to mile-long legs smoothly toned with muscle. The dress sported red flowers the size of medals, scattered on the fabric like poppies strewn across snow, haloed faintly in blue. The waist was tied in by a blood red belt, the dress somehow managing to skirt the line between coyly conservative and outrageously sexy. She wore a short sleeved, fitted white sweater that ended at the belt, successfully sprinkling a little sweet in the ensemble.
Aurora hooked her hands on her hips, angling slightly and smiling to herself under the open appraisal that Suzaku was incapable of stopping.
She'd done something to her face. It was mild, even subtle. Something that made her eyes seem larger, sparkling like ocean waters of the north laced with frost. Her mouth was glossy and warm, and, still slightly horrified at his complete inability to control his undoubtedly rude gaze, Suzaku almost blanched when he helplessly wondered what her lips would taste like. Hair he'd usually seen ruthlessly tamed back into a braid or a ponytail spilled over her shoulders in clouds of aged gold, looking decadent and deliciously rumpled. Luckily one hand was out of commission; Suzaku could barely control the way his fingers itched to lock themselves into those banks of rich hair.
If he didn't say something, anything, he was going to jump off the roof. Anything to mitigate the ridiculous storm of feeling Aurora, this teasing, sassy, beautiful Aurora, brought sweeping through him. Clearing his throat a few times – the first couple attempts didn't manage to dislodge the wool that seemed to wrap around his larynx – he finally found his voice.
"You look… nice," Suzaku managed, a little alarmed at how husky his voice was. Nice? Did he just say nice? She looked good enough to… well, he wasn't sure what, but she was far beyond nice into the realms of man-killer gorgeous. If she was insulted by his stunningly lackluster comment, she didn't show it. Instead, Aurora just smiled, a cat-like curve of those lips that did something to Suzaku's stomach.
"Thanks," she purred. "Here," she continued in a slightly more normal tone, bright with excitement. Managing to drag his eyes away from her, Suzaku slowly focused on the objects in her hand. His brain still firing on a half a coughing cylinder, he just looked at them. Aurora stepped closer, bringing with her the halo of scent he'd caught the edges of before – cherry blossoms and the cool air of storms.
She hooked a black ball cap on his head, tugging it low over his eyes. Sliding a pair of aviator sunglasses onto his nose, Aurora stepped back and tilted her head, taking the tantalizing whisper of her scent with her. After a moment of narrow-eyed consideration, she straightened and smiled, Suzaku still struck stupidly dumb.
"Good. No one will recognize you. I've always found that disguises, like cover ID's, are better off simple."
He had no response to that – he could hardly compute the importance of that. Finally, Suzaku realized that Aurora was taking precautions. He hardly recognized himself, and Ireland was far from a political player, but it was best that he didn't wander around a sizable city as is. Since he couldn't see what he looked like, Suzaku guessed that Aurora was satisfied with whatever the hat and glasses hid.
Slowly regaining control over his embarrassingly scattered system, he carefully stood, looking over as Aurora ushered Ban into the house, murmuring reassurances and promises for a treat upon their return as she closed the door, snagging a small, shiny purse of navy blue patent leather. The click of her footsteps caught his attention, and Suzaku's eyes dropped to her feet. She was wearing pumps with heels at least four inches tall, bringing her eye to eye with Suzaku. They were a blistering red in patent leather that matched her belt, and made him gulp. As she strode past him and started down the porch steps, his mouth flapped open before he had enough wherewithal to seal it shut.
"Those are pretty tall heels. You going to be OK in them all day?"
Aurora paused on the stairs, looking over her shoulder at him, her expression the singular, disparaging, pitying look women gave to brain-dead males who really couldn't help being that thick. She fully turned, one hand on the railing while the other holding her little bag settled on her hip. Tilting her head, she somehow managed to playfully look down her nose at him, even though she was several steps lower.
"Suzaku, I am a professional female. Not only could I hike a mountain or walk miles in these shoes, I could kill you with them." With that, she spun in a twirl of gold hair, white skirt, and silky scent, stepping off the porch and walking around the side of the house towards the shed.
Suzaku was pretty certain he should be insulted. Or embarrassed. It didn't really make sense that all he could make out through the scramble of emotions was being oddly impressed. And something that made his lips tingle and his muscle quiver and he could confuse himself any further, the elemental roar of an engine starting caught his attention. Making his way off the porch, he looked around the side of the house to see Aurora driving over in a startingly bright blue sports car. Shifting into neutral and cranking on the emergency brake, she got out like she'd been slinging out of low sports cars all her life, walking over to the passenger side, caressing the hood lightly with a loving leaned back against the curved front fender with a sexy, smug smile and relaxed, feline stance.
"Meet Natasha."
A beautiful woman with a beautiful car. Suzaku was pretty certain that the parts of his brain designed to be interested in this scenario, long left to disuse, were short-circuiting. Swallowing heavily, he made his cautious way closer, feeling the engine's thrum, purring like a jungle cat, in his bones.
"1969 Corvette Stingray. ZL1 aluminum V8 big block engine, she can put out four hundred sixty horsepower when she's feeling frisky. She's one of the rarest Corvettes ever built. Besides Tash, only one other car, a white one, was built for the street, although I heard a rumor of a black one floating around," Aurora said with the pride of a mother and the fluency of an enthusiast. "She's a beast, and looking to stretch her legs. Shall we go?" With that, she turned with a flip of her lustrous hair, striding back over to the driver side and folding her tall length into the cab. Feeling a little overpowered from the overload of sensation this morning was bringing, Suzaku made his careful way to the car, opening the door with wary fingers like it would explode at a careless touch. Instead, Natasha just continued to growl joyfully.
Once he'd finally gotten comfortable, closing the door and meticulously clicking his seatbelt, Aurora shifted the car into gear and eased Natasha down the lane to the main road. As she crept out of the drive and made her way west towards the village Gallagher, Suzaku looked around the cab. Done in white leather with accents that matched the scorching blue of the car and black paneling the same color as the steering wheel, it was one of the most vintage things Suzaku had ever seen.
The only two dials behind the steering wheel were the speedometer – which went up to one hundred sixty – and the RPM gauge. All the other gauges were in the center console, and there wasn't a digital read-out to be seen. Aurora competently rested her right hand on the white ball of the gear shift, edging upwards to fifty miles per hour as they neared Gallagher.
She slowed when they hit the town proper, coasting through the quiet streets like a shark gliding through a school of tuna. The gleaming car drew quite a few interested, or wary, looks, but Aurora just smiled sunnily and occasionally waved, a lovely woman in a gorgeous old car out for a drive. She made quite a picture.
And then there was Suzaku. Hunched down in the passenger seat with his black hat, mirrored glasses, and too-big clothes, he looked as out of place as a gray moth surrounded by blue morpho butterflies. Maybe Aurora was on to something in getting him some new clothes – a naturally neat person, Suzaku didn't care to dress like a vagrant.
As she cleared Gallagher and turned south, they drew closer to the ocean. For a moment, Suzaku forgot the beautiful woman, the beautiful car, even the beautiful day, as the water folded open to his right, the lace-crowned waves shifting and sliding in their eternal dance. Laboriously rolling down the window, he breathed in the sea air, and was struck by an incredible wave of homesickness. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the ocean, not after the capital had been moved to a secure location in the center of the continent and Suzaku had all but stopped traveling.
He missed the smell, the color, the sound. The sight of the water glimmering and pulsing like a heart. Faintly, he noticed the way Aurora had slowed, allowing him a chance to look his fill. When he finally managed to drag his eyes away, he looked over to see her wearing large, round sunglasses. From the angle of her head, Suzaku realized that when she glanced over repeatedly, she wasn't looking at him, but the sea.
"It's something, isn't it?" she said quietly. Suzaku could just nod.
"Yeah. Something." The road veered slightly east, and the ocean disappeared behind a set of hills. For a moment, Suzaku struggled with a sorrow that welled out of nowhere. Then, he realized the way the car was increasing speed.
"Aurora?" he asked, his voice embarrassingly high as he rolled up the window and gripped the handle above the door. Glancing over, he could see the speedometer rapidly approaching, then passing seventy mph. Aurora had a feral, somewhat frightening smile on her face, her hands holding the steering wheel with the smooth, competent grip of a musician on her instrument, swiftly shifting through the gears in a fluid motion.
"Trust, Suzaku. Just trust me. We know what we're doing."
As they ripped around a curve in the road, Suzaku prayed that she was right. Driver and car quickly settled into a rhythm, and he had to admit that Aurora handled the Corvette like a professional. Natasha hugged the curves like a lover, and as the needle played hide and seek with the number one hundred, sometimes swinging well wide of it, he felt his stomach swerving with the turns.
Although he'd seen and done things brave men only dream of, Suzaku was rather inexperienced when it came to cars. He'd never been anything but a passenger, and certainly never in a car this beautiful or dangerous, its driver much the same. Silly that a man who'd been locked in mortal, aerial combat with the best Knightmare pilots in the world should feel his guts sparkle with nerves as he was driven around a tight turn at a solid sixty miles per hour. The wheels didn't screech, and Aurora kept Natasha shy of a drift, but it was a near thing.
Eventually, Suzaku came to the realization that Aurora was not, in fact, trying to kill him, nor was her driving going to consign them both to a fiery death. Although he refused to let go of his grip on the handle above the door, it slackened enough to allow a bit of blood to leech back into his knuckles. Another ten minutes spent zipping through the shimmering green of Ireland's hills, and Suzaku came to a surprised realization.
He was actually enjoying himself.
The car snarled as Aurora stomped on the accelerator, sending them charging down a straightaway like a run-away horse. For a moment, Suzaku was terrified. Then, glancing at the landscape whipping past and the gleam in his driver's eyes behind the shield of her sunglasses, the sticky hold on his lungs loosened. Loosened just enough to allow a laugh to slip out into the air before he even realized it.
"I knew you had it in you," Aurora said with a grin, her eyes never leaving the road she hurled her car over.
"What if you get pulled over by a cop?" Suzaku asked. He intended for the question to be stern, but it came out trembling on a giggle, his eyes eagerly searching out the next turn in the road she was going to sling them through. Aurora just shrugged.
"Then I'd consider it a fair price to pay for a good bit of fun."
Natasha glided through the curl in the road like silk, and the smile that tipped Suzaku's mouth felt foreign and sweet, like chocolate made in the EU.
The rest of the drive passed in silence. It was only once the car slowed as they started to approach Galway that Suzaku realized the quiet hadn't been uncomfortable. He was accustomed to silence born of awkwardness or a need to intimidate – it seemed so strange to him that he could be around someone, and they could pleasantly pass the time without feeling the urge to fill the silence with words.
And this was after Suzaku's shocking reaction to a dolled-up Aurora. He hadn't had much of a chance to analyze what he'd felt, or feel guilty about it; she'd steamrolled him with the car, and they were rocketing into the hills before he'd gotten over that. He had a sneaking suspicion that the rest of the day would follow in much the same pattern, and he couldn't decide whether or not the idea irritated him.
It was amazing to see Aurora in her element this way, Suzaku thought as they reached the edges of Galway, its streets crowded for a Tuesday, the eclectic mix of old and new, stone and steel lending a diverse sort of charm. As they parked on the street and exited the car, she was immediately stopped by a gentleman in his early fifties, drawing her into a discussion that opened with his compliments of Natasha and quickly swerved into the value of Britannian cars versus European cars.
She conversed knowledgeably, in good humor, and, of course, charmingly. When she winked, the man stuttered. When she laughed, he blushed. And when she pressed a kiss to his cheek by means of thanks for the compliment, Suzaku thought the man might die right there on the sidewalk. It was no wonder she'd controlled the flow of information at the heart of an empire when she was fifteen. After all, her older brother had taken over the world at eighteen. It was something about their bloodline, Suzaku decided as he straightened from where he'd been leaning his arm on the car's roof and moving around the hood. Something about who they were, beyond the similar, metallic eyes and long, lean frames, that made Aurora, Lelouch, and many of their siblings simply extraordinary.
"You made his day," Suzaku murmured as he joined her, glancing over his shoulder at the man she'd spoken to, drifting down the sidewalk with a glazed, happy expression in his eyes and a dopey grin across his face.
"Eh. Maybe his hour," she shrugged, threading her hand into the crook of his right elbow, steering him without really seeming to. He caught their shared reflection in the window of a shop, and winced. They couldn't be more poorly matched if they tried – her polished and him ragged. Several clothing stores and boutiques went by, and when Suzaku tried to suggest one of the cheap, large-brand stores, Aurora just nudged him with her hip and kept walking, forcing him to stride longer to keep up with those ice-pick heels.
He began to wonder if she was just taking him for a stroll around the town when she ducked into a sheltered, dark doorway, the gilt letters scrolled into the wood above the door proclaiming, "MacNeilan's Fine Essentials." Above it was a gray stone bearing two coats of arms split by a line. The letters carved beneath them were faded by time and illegible. Aurora trotted up the stone steps, following his gaze when she noticed Suzaku wasn't directly behind her.
"It's a marriage stone," she said. He met her gaze questioningly. "In 1749, Aisling Murphy married Trevor MacNeilan. The house was gifted to the couple by the girl's father, and a marriage stone was placed above the door, proclaiming for all to see not only the new owner of the home, but the bloodline behind the marriage. Come on," she invited, opening the door to a cheery tinkle of bells somewhere deep in the shop.
Suzaku wasn't sure what he expected. Probably not cobwebs and cold stone realistically, even if the building was centuries old, but he hadn't expected the front area to be bathed in warm light, several comfortable, slightly worn arm chairs plopped down amid racks of thick, soft sweaters in an array of colors and tough pants that looked capable of withstanding hurricanes. There were shirts and ties, coats and belts. If they were looking for clothes, apparently they'd found them.
"Jenna!" Aurora called out, running her fingers over a silky scarf of icy pale blue as she waited once she'd shoved her glasses up to the top of her head. A brief moment of silence was interrupted by a thud, a curse, the sound of something scattering over the floor, then another curse. Quiet briefly followed before the trot of footsteps heralded the woman Suzaku assumed to be Jenna.
She was hardly five feet tall, her dense mahogany hair exploding from its tail in tight, messy curls. Her bright brown eyes seemed happy, and a little mischievous. As she and Aurora eagerly hugged, exchanging the usual girl greeting scattered with Irish idioms he was mostly at a lost to translate, Suzaku was struck by the image of a squirrel. Her front teeth were even a little large, her cheeks charmingly round. As Aurora extricated herself, she gestured towards him.
"Jenna, this is Suzaku."
The little woman's eyes suddenly went serious, her fingers thoughtfully going to her lips as she circled him, measuring him up and down. Feeling like a total idiot, he stood stock still, running through all the condemning thoughts that must be going through her head about him. Miserable, Suzaku found that he could hardly blame her. He'd hooked his sunglasses on the neck of his shirt when they had stepped inside, and desperately wished he could put them back on his face to mask his expression without looking awkward. Jenna stopped her circuit right in front of him, gazing at his face with that somber expression. Tapping her finger on her cheek once, she spoke.
"Deadly."
Before he could wade his way through the confusion to say anything in response, she was talking to Aurora.
"The works?"
"The works," Aurora agreed, looking at him with an odd expression when she wasn't making eye contact with Jenna.
"Right, then. I'll get set up, then I'll have you two bobble on back." Without another word, she scurried away into the depths of the shop. A few seconds passed before Aurora spoke.
"What was that about?"
Clearing his throat and tugging at the brim of his cap, Suzaku tried to find a way to avoid the question.
"What was what about?"
She just hummed in her throat.
"Really. Answering a question with a question. OK," she murmured, straightening from where she'd been leaning against an arm chair and stepped closer. Suzaku couldn't be sure if his heart was pounding harder because of her proximity, or if he simply became more aware of it when she was closer.
"Why did you look like you were expecting Jenna to judge you and find you wanting?"
Suzaku tried to shrug it off since it hit a little too close to home.
"I'm not exactly at my best. Why wouldn't she?"
Aurora tilted her head, her eyes iridescent and solemn.
"I never have."
The silence between them hummed in the aftermath of her quiet words, only dissipating a little when Jenna called out for them. Hooking her finger on the cuff of his sleeve, Aurora tugged Suzaku after her, leading the way into the rear of the shop. He obediently followed, still struggling to accept what she'd said. It took a bit before he was able to focus on what she was saying now.
"…and Jenna's family has been in the tailor business for a few centuries now. They make high-quality work clothing worn by the fisherman and workers this side of Ireland. Basically, they make superior casual clothing."
Reaching the end of the long, paneled hallway softly lit by old-fashioned sconces, they entered a room that looked like it'd been the scene of a giant disgorgement of fabric. Bolts of cloth, in-progress projects, completed pieces, and much, much more were all packed into the room in apparent chaos, clearly the industrial heart of the charming store up front. From what little he could see and what little he knew, Suzaku could discern no obvious means of organization.
Assuming they'd hand him a pile of clothing to try on and point him towards a dressing room, or even a closet, Suzaku was a little surprised and resistant when Aurora steered him towards a block in the center of the room in front of a merciless three-way mirror. He stepped up onto it cautiously, and Aurora stayed next to him for a moment, a supporting hand on his elbow to make sure he was balanced before stepping away. She removed a stack of patterns and fabric scraps from a chair, sitting like a queen. Briefly distracted by the thought that, in another timeline, she could very well have worn the crown of Britannia, Suzaku jumped when something wrapped around his waist. Looking down, he saw it was a tape measure, wielded by agile little hands at the ends of small, chubby arms.
"Make sure to give him a little room in the waist. He's still got some weight to gain. Same goes for the shoulders."
Jenna nodded, dutifully changing what she had written down on a notepad with a pencil hardly bigger than her pinky, which she swiftly tucked behind her ear. The notepad went into the pocket of her blouse, and she shifted, measuring from the point of his hip down the outside of his leg, the bubble and spark of her expression dampened into a concentration that didn't seem to fit her cheery face.
"Shouldn't I just try on some clothes? I don't want to be a nuisance…"
Aurora opened her mouth to answer, but Jenna beat her to it.
"The last thing I want to do is make you try on a bunch of clothes when you've got a bum arm, boyo. I imagine getting in and out of that sling, let alone your shirt, is a right bitch. I'll get a shirt and some trousers ready that you can wear the rest of the day, then you can come by after your stroll about town and I'll have the rest for you ready before supper."
Suzaku didn't know how to protest, and barely swallowed a yelp when Jenna professionally measured his inseam. He was dismayed to feel a blush burn along his cheekbones and up to the tips of his ears. He tipped his head down to hide his expression with the bill of the hat, but both women suavely ignored his embarrassment.
As Jenna trailed the measuring tape over his right arm from shoulder to wrist, Aurora stood, poking and perusing the insanity of texture and color, clearly bored from just sitting there observing. Their eyes met in the reflection, and Aurora smiled a little reassuringly. When she glanced away and asked Jenna about her brothers, Suzaku kept looking at the straight, confident, poised form of Aurora. He'd once been that self-assured, that comfortable in his skin. Hadn't he? Looking at the shadowed, drawn face in the mirror and what was left of his eyes, it seemed likely that he'd hardly known himself at all.
Striving for something to distract himself from his own state, Suzaku listened to Jenna speak of her three older brothers, tailors the lot of them. All of them were married and had children, Jenna the last of the brood to find a spouse. Apparently, this was a matter of contention between her and her mother, who, from what Jenna said, longed for nothing more than to see her daughter married and breeding. He almost snorted at the archaic and somewhat derogatory word, stopping himself just before the sound escaped, assuming it would be rude. From Aurora's resounding laugh, it appeared that he needn't have bothered with the restraint.
"I would have thought you'd be used to this," Aurora murmured from his side where she suddenly appeared, clasping her hands behind her back as Jenna dragged over a small step stool and climbed aboard to measure the breadth of his shoulders. He winced from the firm pressure of her fingers as she marked the length along the points of his shoulders, brushing against bruises that were still exquisitely sore. Aurora must have noticed, her expression tightening with worry, but before either of them could say anything, Jenna was descending from her stool and flipping open her little notebook, muttering under her breath as she examined the numbers she'd noted.
"It's… been a long time," Suzaku finally said once he got his breath back. She was right; many of his more notable outfits over the past few years – his Lancelot pilot suit, the formal white uniform as Euphie's knight, his garb as a Knight of the Round, both Seven and Zero, and finally, the costume he wore as Zero – had all been carefully tailored to exactly fit him. But that all seemed like it had happened to another person, maybe another Suzaku. And with his nerve endings highly sensitized from injury and healing, contact was that much more intense, and often painful.
She just nodded, accepting his statement before moving away to run her fingers over a bolt of royal blue velvet as she was updated about Jenna's nieces and nephews. The seamstress absently told Aurora that she had a quare bit of talent there before disappearing through a door Suzaku hadn't even noticed. As he frowned at the doorway, then at Aurora, it took her a moment to realize that he had no idea what Jenna meant. She giggled, and failed to beat back the teasing grin that lit her eyes.
"She said that you're a very good looking young man."
He stared at her open-mouthed for a moment before turning his eyes to the door Jenna had disappeared through, shocked by the woman's easy, and odd, way of complimenting him. Aurora just chuckled as she helped him step back down to the floor, his cane long ago forgotten in Natasha.
Hardly minutes had passed before Jenna returned, handing a pile of clothing to a still shell-shocked Suzaku and pointing him towards a door tucked in the corner behind three mannequins. He wove his way through somewhat precariously, tugging on the dangling string above his head to light the bare bulb once he squeezed into the narrow space and shut the door behind him. He'd been right – it was a closet.
Going through the ponderous process of removing his sling and clothing with a resigned sigh, Suzaku then held up Jenna's offerings to the dim light, peering at them with interest. She'd given him a sleeveless black undershirt, thick charcoal gray jeans, and a dark red button-down shirt. He appreciated the simple fare, taken by surprise by the quality of cloth as he carefully rubbed it between his fingers.
The clothing seemed deceptively humble, but the excellence was subtle. The undershirt was soft enough to induce a sigh. The pants actually fit him, both at the waist and the length, sturdy dark denim that could almost stop a bullet. They were a little loose as per Aurora's orders, but as he tightened the black belt provided, he only had to notch the third hole to secure the pants to his hips. As Suzaku carefully shrugged on the shirt and slowly buttoned it up, the smooth slide of good cotton against his skin managed to extract a little of the tension that never seemed to leave the muscles of his shoulders and back.
After tucking in the shirt with some creative twisting and a few winces, he re-applied his sling, the black ball-cap tucked in one of his back pockets and the glasses hooked on the v of his shirt. As he opened the door and reached up to shut off the light, Suzaku realized that the sleeves were actually long enough for him – a challenging combination of long limbs and thin lines that had become more prevalent of late.
Winding his way back into the center of the room, he halted awkwardly when Aurora's eyes looked over from Jenna to meet his. She took in his appearance slowly, her eyes tracing him up and down, and Suzaku told himself that it was stupid to think his skin tingled under the brush of her eyes. When her gaze met his again, Suzaku was at a loss to translate what he saw there, what she unknowingly showed him. Approval, appreciation… sorrow? And something else, something deep and wrenching that made his heart lurch and his breath quicken.
The weight faded when Jenna stepped around Aurora like she was just a tree, tugging him to the center of the room with warm, firm hands. She chattered her praise of his appearance with a happy, lilting brogue, and he felt himself start to blush a little, oddly embarrassed and pleased by this stranger's approval. But something under Suzaku's sternum bloomed and curled when he could make out Aurora's soft words as she slowly – clumsily? – stepped forward.
"Well, look at you."
He glanced over, their eyelines level as she closed the distance between them. But she wasn't looking at him; not at his new clothes, at least. She was looking at his eyes, which was odd. The only part of him that had changed in that closet had been what he was wearing. The power of her gaze made his stomach twist, so Suzaku looked away, his eyes landing on his reflection in the mirror. He tilted his head in puzzlement, almost surprised when the man looking back at him in the mirror did the same.
Yes, that was his shaggy brown hair, curling on the ends in utter defiance of taming. That was his gaunt face, still a little skeletal around the cheekbones and eye sockets. And his eyes, green as grass and haunted by dense purple shadows. All of it exactly the same as when Suzaku had stood in the hallway that morning. Yet Aurora looked at him like he was something different. Something more.
As he allowed his eyes to travel fully along his frame in the mirror, Suzaku began to notice the subtle changes Aurora's sharp gaze had probably picked up on as soon as she'd seen him. Not much was immediate beyond the flattering cut of his new clothes, but after mourning his broken posture this morning, Suzaku noticed that he held himself a little straighter, his shoulders a little squarer, without the scream of pain from his muscles that normally accompanied the better alignment. Maybe he wasn't exactly soldier-straight, the bearing he'd carried all through his life, but at least he didn't look like a slumped-over prisoner-of-war. After all, he reminded himself with a weary sort of resignation, the war was over, and he was the only one left prisoner.
Jenna distracted Suzaku from his tired, bitter thoughts by tugging and plucking at his sleeve cuffs, slipping a finger into his waistband as she muttered her satisfaction at the fit without seeming to notice his jolt of shock at her nonchalant action, one side of her mouth quirking with approval.
"Sure, and you look fine, lad. Rora, let me scribble out your bill before I send you on your way."
That casual mention of money incinerated his blossoming relaxation, and as Suzaku slowly turned to face Aurora, he could feel his mouth hardening, his eyes turning flinty without his conscious command. He knew he had no money, but he wasn't a charity case, dammit. But before he even had the chance to open his mouth to demand that she allow him to pay for the things purchased for him, somehow, Aurora just stroked her hand down his uninjured arm, from shoulder to wrist. Unwillingly, his muscles fractionally unlocked at the contact.
"Suzaku…" she began softly. He rallied before she could lull him into accepting.
"No, Aurora. I've already accepted too much from you. I can't take this too. I-"
"I'm not Euphemia, Suzaku."
He actually heard his teeth click together at her quiet but firm words, mostly because his throat was suddenly locked so tight, he could hardly breathe. Aurora sighed, her stance and voice softening as she lightly gripped his bicep. It was odd, how she somehow lessened the overwhelming surge of brutal emotion coursing through him with a simple touch.
"I'm not taking you under my wing and raising you up as the face of a cause. I'm doing this because you need clothes, and because I want to. I want to see you as comfortable and happy as you can be. And if I can help you achieve even a fraction of that by footing the bill, I am more than game."
It made a sort of sense, but Suzaku could still feel his pride and pain battling acceptance. He balked, his fingers slowly curling into a fist as the familiar, sickening sensation of being beholden made his chest tight, his ribs stiff.
"Aurora, I can't," he murmured, rubbing his left thumb almost mournfully against the fabric of his shirt. "It's… too much," he finally managed.
"It's not school tuition, Suzaku. Just some necessities."
"This is too nice to be considered a necessity," he argued, gesturing towards his new attire. Aurora just rolled her eyes, the expression softened by a small, convincing smile.
"Just because it's nice doesn't mean you shouldn't have it. Necessity doesn't need to be a chore." She brushed the tips of her fingers over his shoulder, and Suzaku felt himself losing momentum.
"But, the expense."
Aurora sighed, clapping her palm on his sound shoulder as she stood square with him, her mouth straight and her eyes a little jovial.
"Suzaku, for heaven's sake, don't worry about the cost. You've got enough on your mind." She tilted her head slightly, her eyes warming to wicked cobalt. "Besides, I've got more money than God. A couple hundred is hardly a drop in the lake."
Suzaku looked at her askance, his brows slightly lifted, somewhat taken aback. He couldn't decide if she was exaggerating or being perfectly serious. Both, he decided were well within the realms of possibility when it came to Aurora Sterling. If she really was that wealthy, he had seriously underestimated her. Suzaku rolled his lips together, his innards still twisted at the thought of such an extravagant gift, but he was swiftly losing reasons to deny what was an extremely generous, completely unwarranted gesture.
"Are you sure?"
Aurora shocked him nearly boneless by leaning forward with a grin and pressing a kiss to his cheek. His skin seemed to sizzle at the simple brush of her lips, his cheeks instantly flaming with color. All he could think to himself was how impossible it was for something, someone, to be that soft, that beautifully warm.
"Absolutely. Come on," she commanded, leading the way to the front boutique, Suzaku trailing behind, still speechless. He took the opportunity to tug the hat back onto his head, grateful that the bill hid his face as he scraped together his exploded composure. They were shortly joined by Jenna, who spouted off pick-up times, kisses on the cheeks for both of them, and parting endearments Suzaku assumed were in Gaelic since he couldn't understand a syllable of them, only the tone, with her usual brisk enthusiasm.
A slip of paper made its way covertly from Jenna's hands to Aurora's, and Suzaku tried – he really did – not to worry about how heinous the numbers scrawled there could be. Aurora hardly gave him a chance to fret over it before she was hustling him out of the shop with a final wave to Jenna and turning him to the left, heading away from where Natasha was parked. Suzaku slipped on his glasses, his eyes watering at the powerful sun. His sight may have been unaccustomed to the light, but his skin enjoyed the brush of warmth.
Aurora chattered at him about colors, a press of heat at his side that was as much support as direction, explaining how he was an autumn, whatever that was, and that he should stick to rich, deep colors, more warm than cool, like his claret red shirt. She was apparently a spring, which made sense for her, but not what she'd said about him, since his birthday was in summer, not fall. She continued on, oblivious to his confusion, explaining how she stuck to warm colors too, but bright and bold to bring out her eyes. Totally at a loss and struggling not to say something ignorant or rude, Suzaku just murmured that first positive thing that came to mind.
"That makes sense – it matches your personality."
She glanced over at him with a warm smile before bursting into laughter, hanging onto his arm as she almost bent double. People glanced their way as they passed, Aurora's gales of laughter dragging the pair of them to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk. Practically stuttering with embarrassment at the display the two of them had become and trying to subtly straighten Aurora so they could keep walking, it took Suzaku a moment to realize that no one was looking at them with derision, or irritation. In fact, almost every glance was indulgent and slightly smug, as if they were behaving as expected.
How that made any sort of sense, Suzaku had no idea, but he relaxed enough to softly chuckle with Aurora, her arm wrapped around her ribs while the other hand grasped Suzaku's forearm. He returned the grip instinctively, offering the support she so often gave him as her mirth subsided. She finally straightened, wiping at any tears or smudged make-up that dared trickle below her eyes. Fluffing her hair and straightening her skirt with a swish, she was back at his side, composed and smiling and, damn her, glowing like the sun.
They continued on their way, and eventually, Suzaku spoke.
"Are you all right?"
"Fantastic," she murmured with a grin, turning her head to meet his eyes, the silver dancing like snowflakes across the blue. She was stunningly close, and Suzaku licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. Even with the barrier of the lenses of his glasses, she felt too close, her mouth too pretty. Turning his gaze forward in a move of self-preservation, he cleared his throat before continuing.
"Mind if I ask what was so funny?"
She patted his arm as they turned at the corner of the street, following the line of quaint shops and noisy pubs, even the modern establishments maintaining a faintly medieval air.
"You. Trying so hard not to be such a male when I was talking about palettes. Don't worry, Suzaku, I didn't expect you to have any idea what I was blathering on about. And you were such a good sport."
He tilted his head, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, finding the indirect eye contact less… intimidating.
"Then why bother?"
"To distract you," she said with a clever little grin. "We're here." With a sweep of her arm, she gestured to a small shop. The sign was so faded, he could barely read it. Gentlemen's something. Feeling like a crippled shadow, Suzaku followed Aurora into the establishment. Unlike MacNeilan's, there were no items displayed in the lobby – it was instead populated by a grand, antique desk that acted as a counter, several chairs and couches surrounding a sturdy coffee table, the walls splayed with masculine, tasteful artwork. If he hadn't assumed it was a store, Suzaku would have thought this was simply some sort of lounge or someone's house.
An elderly man, seventy if he was a day, stood from behind the desk, neatly dressed in black slacks, a white shirt, and a dark green vest paired with a black bow tie. His head of white hair was thinning, his face softened with age and animated with thin gray brows. Gentle hazel eyes peered out from behind half moon glasses, smiling before his mouth did as he took in the pair of them. If Suzaku had to imagine a dapper elderly teacher, this man would have fit the image exactly.
He murmured something in Gaelic that Suzaku couldn't quite catch, but gathered it was some sort of greeting by his tone. Glancing at Aurora in hopes that she somehow knew the appropriate way to respond, he wasn't disappointed. She returned the soft greeting with one that was only slightly different, bobbing her head respectfully before gesturing to Suzaku.
"He'll be needing all that a man on a long journey might want, Master Owens. Suzaku here will try to tell you he won't need much. But I'm sure you know exactly what he needs."
They exchanged a long look, and Suzaku couldn't help the disgruntled huff at being herded about like an ignorant child. Although, he had to admit that if he had it his way, they wouldn't spend more than a hundred pounds today. He had a feeling they'd long past blown that limit just at MacNeilan's.
Master Owens eyed Suzaku closely, the wrinkles on his face slowly rearranging themselves into a grin as he shifted and gestured to a doorway that led to a long hallway.
"This way, sir."
Stiffening at the address that had once carried so much weight in his life, Suzaku glanced at Aurora, suddenly at a loss how to appropriately respond, cemented by his own past. She nodded slightly, her eyes encouraging and her face soft. His instincts were torn to shreds, but hers were still sharp. He had to content himself to trust them.
As Suzaku followed Master Owens into the back of the shop, Aurora smoothed her skirt against her legs and sat, smiling at Owens' grandson – Liam, she believed – who scurried out to smile and serve. He was slim and short like his grandfather with the same gold-green eyes, soft and just beginning to earn that assessing glint. His hair was closer to mahogany than the stark black his grandfather had once sported, his smile jovial compared to Master Owens' more restrained expression.
Sipping the sweet peppermint tea he'd provided and chatting with the teenager, Aurora tried to manage the amount of times she glanced to the hallway Suzaku had disappeared through. She didn't think he'd appreciate her edging over his shoulder while shopping for underwear and shaving soap, and Master Owens was a kind and, more importantly, discreet man. Of course, that didn't mean her nerves collapsed into an easily swallowed ball, but it was something.
What she'd said that morning was true – she was itching for human contact, for that city sizzle. But she could tell by Suzaku's restlessness that he'd needed it more. Although he would never admit to what he wanted, what he needed, until he was pushed long past the point of control. Bloody martyr, Aurora though to herself as she sipped the cooling tea, smiling both at Liam's slightly fumbled but very earnest joke and her own thoughts.
So she'd put on a show. She hadn't felt quite so flattered by a man's reaction since Durai, and while it was utterly inappropriate, seeing Suzaku speechless and shocked was a good bit of fun. She'd brought Natasha out of hibernation, deciding that all of them could use a day in the sun and air. The Corvette was a relic from her past career, one of the few material things she hadn't been able to leave behind. Tash had spent a few dangerous months in London before a close call had almost destroyed the priceless car. In the aftermath, Chandler had offered to store her in Ireland, and Aurora, still settling into her life in London and with the Andrews', had reluctantly agreed. Now, whenever they were in Ireland, either Aurora or Chandler would bring her out and unleash the beast. Kendra, for all her brilliance, was a complete failure at driving a stick shift, and so had never been cleared to get behind the wheel of the muscle car.
Aurora was rather surprised by how intimidated Suzaku had been of Natasha. The man had been one of the premier Knightmare pilots in the world, after all. And zipping along in a coupe made him nervous? It had puzzled her, but she'd decided to let it go when he'd finally gotten into the drive. She'd suspected that seed, that spark of fun, still lived in him, and was exceptionally gratified to see if manifest.
She'd known where she was taking Suzaku before they'd even left the house this morning. Not only did she intend to take him to quality stores, but stores owned by people she could trust, people who were part of her vast network of contacts. Precautions had been taken, but Aurora wouldn't risk Suzaku's safety, not for one moment. Not while he still allowed her the power to protect him.
And hadn't Jenna's place been a surprise? It had all gone along rather predictably until he'd emerged from that closet. Looking at him had been amazing, and as painful as a broken rib. Dammit, this was what he should be, what life should have granted him. He still had a long way to go, but seeing Suzaku in those clothes, seeing the way he unconsciously held himself when given the chance and respect he deserved, had made Aurora want to grin like a fool, and cry like an idiot. Handsome, healthy, and happy. Was that really too much for him to ask?
Apparently, Suzaku thought so. She should have expected his resistance to her funding this little excursion, but it had been hard to temper the surprise and irritation. Why couldn't he just be happy? Smiling as Liam shyly told her about a girl named Meara who was apparently the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, Aurora gave that stupid question the simple answer it demanded.
Because he couldn't.
It was so frustrating, seeing parts of Suzaku carefully, cautiously, unfurling awake, seeing the man he'd once been shine through, and knowing, deep in her bones where it hurt the worst, that he still had such a long way to go. Her own experience told Aurora that so much of his soul, left to scab and sting with infection, had to be flushed clean, had to be given the chance to breathe and heal. And it would hurt, more than words could possible describe, more than Aurora or Suzaku had ever physically suffered in their lives. It was a terrifying prospect, but a necessary one. She wished he trusted her enough to believe it.
For now, she hoped today would help. Help make him feel normal and human, when she knew, as she'd once known about herself, that he felt like anything but. That he was deserving of simple gifts, and that denying himself of unpretentious enjoyment was neither necessary nor warranted.
When Suzaku returned to the lobby and Aurora got a good look at his face, she knew they were in for the long haul. He looked confused, anxious, and a little angry. Angry at what, she wasn't sure. Certainly not Master Owens – the man negated hostility like a base negated acid. As she stood and approached the antique Burl pedestal desk, polished mahogany topped by black leather, she saw the way Suzaku's lips tightened, his brow furrowing as he turned away to slip on his glasses when she produced her card.
Ah.
It was her. It was the money.
Squaring her shoulders and letting the irritation slide off like water on greased feathers, she smiled brightly at Master Owens as she paid and accepted the tasteful bag full of wares. She should have known he'd still be twisted up over it, but she could bloody well handle it, and him. Winking at Liam as she turned, she snagged Suzaku's elbow, calling a goodbye in Gaelic over her shoulder, and steered him out of the store with a grip that brooked absolutely no argument. As they made their way back to Natasha, she gave it about thirty seconds before speaking.
"I'm not going to change my mind, you know."
"About what?" he returned, that tight, husky tone of his voice communicating his uncertainty and discomfort more clearly than any words he could muster.
"I'm footing today's bill. Every bloody step of the way, and you're not going to get me to change my mind. I don't care, and it makes me happy. So you shouldn't care, and let it make you happy."
He stiffened, a human stone of distress at Aurora's side. Finally, his shoulders slumped, his breath puffing past his lips in an explosive sigh. He glanced over at her, and his brows disappeared beneath the rim of his glasses in what she knew to be a worried frown.
"I really can't persuade you otherwise?" he asked tentatively. She smiled at him sunnily.
"Nope. Not an inch." She let him think that over in silence as they closed the distance to the car. As she popped forward her seat and stowed the bag in the surprisingly spacious trunk, Aurora glanced surreptitiously over her shoulder at Suzaku. He stood awkwardly by the car, his free hand buried in his jean's pocket with his head tipped down as he stared at the concrete. It was almost a stance of rejection, but as she paused with her chore, she saw the tips his left fingers slowly rubbing over each other, a slow, graceful tic that she'd noticed over the past few weeks.
He was thinking. Thinking was good.
With everything stowed, she straightened, waiting for him to come back from whatever subspace of thought he'd drifted off to. When he did, she regretted giving him those damn glasses. They hid his stunningly green eyes from everyone, including Aurora. She'd gotten accustomed to reading him by those eyes, and didn't like the taste of flying blind when it came to a minefield like Suzaku.
He sighed again, and managed a short, painful shrug.
"I apologize for my behavior. It's just…"
"It's a sore point," she supplied for him when he drifted off into a silent awkwardness he couldn't seem to recover from in a tone gentler than her words. "I get it. We've all got them. But life has a way of poking at your sore points with a sharp stick. Best to pick your battles. Everything can't be a sore point – it's impossible to live that way." She expected he would argue, or get that hard, bitter look on his face that slid on like a mask whenever talk or mention of the concept of actually living came up. But he just sighed again before minutely nodding.
"I know."
It wasn't much, but Aurora would take it. He glanced over the top of his glasses, and sparks shot through Aurora's blood at the self-deprecating smile that stole over his eyes before tilting his mouth in a tiny curl.
"Sorry for being a jackass."
So not the time or place, but, hell. She cleared her throat and reached for a saucy grin.
"No worries. You've got a ways to go before you reach 'jackass' status. If you ever want lessons, ask Chandler. He is the king of jackasses."
They both laughed softly, and Aurora sensed the truce solidified. She gestured for him to get in, sliding into the car that had saved her life on multiple occasions.
"Are we heading home?" Suzaku asked as they buckled their seatbelts. It was faint, but she heard the note of hopefulness of a man ready to be done shopping. Physically, though, he was still in good shape, and Aurora was far from done with him.
"Oh, my dear Suzaku. We've only just begun."
I'm sorry guys! I just couldn't do it anymore!
I've been working on this chapter on and off ever since I updated back in October (bad, bad author mom!). In reality, this is roughly half of what I had planned to update. I'm almost done with their day in Galway, but I just couldn't justify such a gigantic chapter. I kept telling myself that it would just be a honking big update, but 20,000+ words is just ridiculous. So, I gave up and split it. The good news is, I'm almost done with the next chapter, and will be posting that very shortly. On my honor, I won't make you wait three months again. Two weeks at most.
Hope you like it!
Love, Tango