Phoenix

by TakesTwoToTango

3 years after Lelouch's death, Suzaku is drowning. He's intent on self-destruction as much as his order allows, burning his life to ash. Betrayal poisons the palace & Suzaku is forced to heal in secret after nearly dying in an attack on Zero. He'll have to rise again, but can he be redeemed? It all depends on the woman who saved his life, & could save his soul - if he lets her try.

18. Galway, Part II

Turning the key and starting the engine with a roar, Aurora zipped away from the curb before Suzaku had a chance to blink. She navigated her way to Father Griffin Street, crossing Wolfe Tone Bridge at a fairly sedate pace.

"Say hello to the River Corrib."

Suzaku turned his head dutifully, and stilled when he caught sight of the river they passed over that bisected Galway. Corrib was in fine form today, glittering and shivering, a trail of blue-gray velvet crowned with diamonds, framed by dense green shores and sturdy stone. He was still studying the ponderously moving river even as they touched down on the other side of the bridge.

Turning along Flood Street, Aurora wiggled her way through the crowded, tight lanes until she cruised along Middle Street, the spires of St. Nicholas' Church gleaming in the distance to the northwest. Swinging into a just abandoned parking space, Aurora finagled her car into the spot with an almost brazen disregard for competitors. As she got out of the car, she was pleased to see that Suzaku was still moving well enough to forgo the cane. She wouldn't have minded hoofing it across the bridge to get to Shop Street from the Claddagh, but Suzaku was far from full power, and she had to be careful how much she pushed him today.

Their next stop wasn't even half a block away – dodging through the hustle of downtown Galway, the pair eventually came upon Busted Boots. Suzaku lifted his brow at the odd, colorful sign above the shop's door, glancing over at Aurora hesitantly, dogging her like an anxious shadow as she led the way in. Aurora was a little worried at how uneasy he had become at the pressure of social cues, but reminded herself that his interaction with others had been anything but normal over the past few years.

"Doesn't exactly lend confidence, does it?" Suzaku murmured in her ear as they patiently waited in the lobby, Aurora waving away an employee with a smile. She was cashing in on Connor's brother's debt, and for that, she needed the man himself. Quirking a smile at Suzaku, leaving the surprise of the meaning of the establishment's name until he met the owner, Aurora silently waited, eyeing the goods with vague interest. Connor sold accessories on the side, socks, gloves, hats, and the like. But the man's passion was shoes.

When he flounced around the corner, Aurora was almost a little disappointed. He was dressed surprisingly conservative today. A tight – very tight – forest green button down shirt strained against Connor's lean chest, tucked into black checkered slacks that were just shy of being painted on. A gray vest was streamlined against his ribs, and instead of a tie, a black and white striped scarf was wound around his neck. Connor's pretty chestnut hair, which he was wise enough not to tinker with the color, was meticulously, almost viciously, styled. Striding over in wingtips that probably cost more than her first ball gown, Connor flashed a devilish grin that covered the burst of alarm in his eyes before sweeping her up in a hug. Returning his enthusiastic, yet automatic, kiss of the cheek, Aurora mirrored his firm grip on her wrists, noticing the anxiety that lurked behind the gold-shot brown of his eyes.

"Rory. What can I do for you, dear?"

Although her dealings had been with his wayward brother, Aurora shouldn't have been surprised that Connor was worried about her intentions. Fynn may be an idiot, but he was Connor's accepting, loving idiot. She smiled soothingly, nodding her head in Suzaku's direction.

"Just here to get some shoes, love. All I'm asking for is your discretion."

He gazed at her for a moment, his well-plucked brows slightly raised. Then his eyes drifted over her shoulder, and she knew the moment his gaze landed on Suzaku. His brows undulated in a way that shifted his expression from wariness to appreciation. And just like that, Connor's charm switch was flipped into overdrive.

Sweeping past her like she was a statue, he herded Suzaku deeper into the store, Aurora drifting after them, struggling not to shake with laughter. Connor was flirting so quickly in such a heavy brogue that she doubted Suzaku caught even half of what the man was saying. When Connor fluttered his enviously long lashes at him, Suzaku just frowned at him and asked him if he was alright. Connor laughed heartily after a shocked, wide-eyed pause, patting Suzaku's cheek and telling Aurora that he was adorable before seating Suzaku on a comfortable chair and kneeling to slip off his boots.

The rest of the appointment passed mostly as would be expected. Connor was relentless, juggling fitting Suzaku for two new pairs of boots and a pair of black and red runners and flirting with him mercilessly with a frightening sort of ease. As for Suzaku, he oscillated between looking embarrassed and confused, and didn't manage more than twenty words the entire time. Aurora more often than not filled in the blanks from where she sat nearby, her voice tight from restraining the laughter.

She'd known that Connor had a penchant for lean, pretty men, but she hadn't expected he'd be so persistent. As for Suzaku, well… honestly, she wasn't all that surprised. Leaving him to lace into one of his new pairs of boots in peace, Connor hefted the three shoe boxes back to the front to ring them up. When he glanced over at her from the corner of his eye as they rounded a stack of women's sandals, Aurora knew that Connor's charm switch was pushed firmly off again now that Suzaku was out of hearing range.

"He in some kind of trouble?" Connor asked casually as he wielded the scan gun like he was a cowboy with a Colt .45 – with confidence, swagger, and deadly aim. Aurora eyed him for a moment as the machine beeped. He was a good guy, and had dealt with some serious flak to get where he was now.

But he obviously didn't trust her, and was clearly a little frightened of her. Aurora wasn't surprised, and it only made her a little sad. However, that in no way made her likely to divulge anything beyond what was necessary in order to gain his trust. She'd never be able to no matter what she did, and that was simply the price she paid for the life she'd once led.

"A bit. But he'll be alright. Thanks for this, Connor," she said sweetly as she handed over her card, linked to one of tens of bank accounts that held her money. She knew better than to leave her wealth like a lump sum in some obvious account with her name scrawled across it, just begging for attention. In the eyes of the money watchdogs, her average accounts belonged to very different people all over the globe. But in the end, the money could only be accessed by her and the Andrews. It was a veil of protection that was part of her inheritance from George.

"I hope so," he murmured kindly, his eyes drifting to the part of the store where Suzaku sat. Looking back at Aurora, his pretty mouth firmed. "Look, Rory…"

"It's OK, Connor," she said quickly, cutting off the words she knew were inevitable, but desperately didn't want to hear. He looked pained, but determined.

"It's just-"

"Connor," Aurora said firmly, risking touching his forearm. "It's OK."

It wasn't, not really. Fynn had gotten mixed up in some nonsense with the EU, and Aurora had tried to do her best for him when he contracted her, but unlike most other jobs, her hands had been firmly tied. Connor's brother was alive – that was really the only success she could claim from that job. It had either been in Britannia and alive, or back home and dead or in jail. Either way, it was beyond hard for Connor, whose parents had exiled him at the tender age of seventeen. For the longest time, Fynn had been his only family. Aurora may have saved his life, but Connor would be lucky if he ever saw his brother again.

So she understood. Because it wasn't OK.

He looked miserable but relieved as he ran her card. Asking her not to come back to his store again was probably painfully similar to how his parents had barred him from the home he'd grown up in. If she could give him anything, at least she could spare him from that.

Suzaku joined them in a pair of sturdy yet stylish boots that actually fit him, pulling on the baseball cap onto his head and fiddling with his sunglasses while he waited for her to finish the transaction. Aurora nodded and smiled at Connor – understandingly, she hoped – and almost laughed when Connor winked saucily at Suzaku, nearly back at full charm. Suzaku just looked stunned, then color stole across his cheeks as he shoved on the glasses and nearly ran Aurora over in desperation to get out of the store.

They broke out into the sunshine and turned back where Natasha was parked, Aurora easily hefting the bag of shoes. Suzaku made a move to carry the bag, but she just narrowed her eyes at him before dropping her sunglasses on her nose, satisfied when he subsided with a sigh. Just when she'd nearly recovered from the depressing episode in Busted Boots and opened her mouth to say something, Suzaku spoke.

"Well, that was weird."

She glanced over at him. Surely he knew.

"That's just how Connor is. He was only having a bit of fun."

Suzaku stuffed his free hand in his pocket, slouching his shoulders as his brows ducked down in confusion.

"But it was odd. Almost like he…"

Aurora carefully dragged him to a stop, swallowing frantically against the laughter that welled.

"Suzaku. Connor's bent as a nine bob note."

He just gazed at her uncomprehendingly.

"Suzaku, Connor is as gay as they come. He was flirting with you." She couldn't see his eyes fly wide with shock, but she could see his brows shooting up to his hairline. His mouth worked silently for a few seconds before he clamped his jaw shut.

Fighting valiantly to breathe regularly and not let her laughter escape, especially in an unattractive snort, Aurora dropped a consoling hand on Suzaku's shoulder, speaking in a slightly strangled voice.

"Don't worry about it. Just take it as a compliment." She quickly turned away and strode for the car before she did something that would embarrass him even further. Such as cackling like a loon.

By the time Suzaku joined her at the car, the shoes and her laughter were tucked away. When he spoke, however, Aurora finally lost it.

"Well, that was still weird." His tone wasn't derogatory, just… bewildered. Clapping her hand over her mouth in an attempt to muffle the noise, Aurora chuckled as quietly as she could manage. Suzaku just glared at her.

"Easy for you to laugh at. I've never…" he trailed off awkwardly, dragging off his hat to scrub at his hair before roughly tugging it back into place. Finally, Aurora managed to get herself under control.

"Connor has an eye for handsome men. Like I said, don't worry about it. He just thought you were a hell of a fine fella." Breathing extravagantly through her nose to dissipate the pressure to giggle, Aurora returned her hand to the crook of his elbow, trying and failing to dim her smile.

"Come on now, you heart breaker. A couple more stops, then we'll grab lunch." For a moment, she thought he'd argue, maybe defend his manly honor or clarify that in no way, shape, or form did he find Connor attractive. But instead, his mouth twisted slightly before nodding in acquiescence and moving along with her, her thoughts quietly percolating through the soft sunlight as they crossed over to the next block.

Aurora had yet to meet a man who reacted in any way less than definitively when faced with advancements from a sex he was not attracted to. The morons were violent, but even the most accepting and relaxed of straight men were usually very firm in clarifying their orientation. Yet Suzaku had just been awkwardly vague and confused.

Did that mean he was gay?

Boggling over this possibility, Aurora walked arm and arm with him in silence, a part of her brain still able to guide the way while the rest of her mind tumbled over the implications.

He couldn't be gay, not completely. After all, the love of his life had been a woman. So was Suzaku bisexual? Was he open to attraction to a man? Lelouch immediately came to mind, and Aurora struggled to keep her face from screwing up at the sheer weirdness of the thought. God, how unhealthy could that pairing had possibly been? Aurora loved her brother, but she'd known, even before his death, how far Lelouch had fallen, and how completely he'd destroyed himself. Suzaku may have once been his best friend, but their faults were entirely too similar for an intimate association between them to be anything but , maybe, but destructive as all hell.

As they trotted across the road and Aurora steered them towards High Street, she glanced covertly at Suzaku, noticing the way his jaw hardened, then forcefully relaxed as his shoulders rippled at the sight of the milling crowd of pedestrians they were swiftly absorbed into. She could feel his muscles tense under her fingers, and quickly adjusted their direction so that he was safe against the front of the stores, his battered arm protected from the random bump that could undo all their hard work and leave Suzaku writhing in agony.

And then she got it.

She couldn't say whether or not Suzaku was attracted to men, but she realized, or reaffirmed what she'd suspected, had thrown him during his exchange with Connor. It wasn't that he was gay or not – he was completely sexually inexperienced.

Considering how much difficultly he had around people in a neutral setting, it wasn't much of a stretch to realize that he had no idea how to relate to someone in an even more intense fashion. He could hardly associate with people at all, let alone with hormones and attraction scrambling his brain. Knowing how tightly controlled a royal's life was and how little time Suzaku and Euphemia would have had for even an inkling of intimacy, if he wasn't a virgin, then Aurora was the King of the bloody Fairies.

For some reason, the thought made Aurora sad. Christ, he wasn't even twenty one years old, and he'd become some sort of penitent monk. It stirred a fury in her that she immediately squashed – she knew better than most just how dangerous her temper was, and it had no business here today. Today was for him.

Suzaku didn't know what Aurora was thinking about, but it was serious enough to carve the small line that appeared between her brows when she was worried or puzzled. He'd noticed it before, and it always seemed to be when she was looking at him. He hoped he wasn't the cause of her worry now. Then, with a suddenness that still took him off guard, her face smoothed and her mouth softened, her shielded gaze flicking to his before she smiled, just coyly enough to have something wriggle in his stomach. He was pretty sure it was nerves.

"Since you've been such a champ, how about a little fun?"

He had no idea what that meant, and he was already protesting when she tugged him into a shop that smelled like turpentine and chalk. Slowly pulling off his sunglasses, Suzaku struggled to keep his mouth from dropping open as he took in the store.

Aurora disengaged from his arm, but only stepped a little away, part of Suzaku's shocked brain catching her slim waist and straight back as she turned. But he was equally distracted by Proper Task, a quaint art supplies shop situated on the very busy High Street.

He'd never before considered if he'd enjoy going into such a store– it wasn't like he'd ever had the time or opportunity. But now, his brain raced with possibilities, cataloguing and wondering and guessing. It was overwhelming, imaging the colors that he could produce, the lines he could wield with the equipment around him. Suzaku drifted towards one of the aisles, and found himself in a veritable cornucopia of pencils, the sheer array of colors dazzling. He sensed Aurora behind him, and was barely able to drag his gaze over to her

"This is great," he managed to croak, his words stuttering under the weight of overload. Apparently, it was his day for massive understatement. Aurora laughed warmly, rubbing her hand affectionately over his right arm as she passed him, continuing down the aisle. The shiver that raced through him had nothing to do with the pencils – he'd forget how tactile Aurora could be, and it was a pleasant, if unnerving, surprise every time.

"Alright, Suzaku," she said from down the aisle, perusing the cooler section of colors, "time to stock up."

He blinked at her, wondering if he'd heard her right. She just raised her brows a little, in that challenging, determined way of hers that made it hard to argue. If he'd been jerked between want and propriety with the clothes before, he was hammered back and forth with the force of a trebuchet now.

"But-"

"Nope," Aurora said firmly with a toss of her head, cutting off his protest before it could even begin. He wasn't trying very hard, but Suzaku had to give it one more go before his conscience allowed such an offering to be accepted.

"I can't just-"

"These are provisions, Suzaku." Her voice gentled before continuing. "Don't think I don't see how much you love it, how much you need it. You're almost through that old sketchbook at home. We've been buying you physical necessities all day. But this is about your mental necessities. God knows I have mine. It's time we addressed yours."

It was a sound argument – Aurora seemed chock full of them. And Suzaku yearned for the supplies too deeply to argue any further. He nodded, and was surprised when Aurora bobbed her head in response before turning on her knife point of a heel and striding away.

He hadn't quite worked through the implications of that before she returned, but not alone. Following her was a stout woman about sixty years old, her sleek, beautifully silvered hair piled on her head and anchored by two pencils, both smudged with dark fingerprints. She eyed Suzaku was muted interest, her eyes silver like her hair.

"Moira, this is Suzaku, a talented beginner who is looking for a little help getting started. Suzaku, any questions you have, ask her." Another sharp nod, and she disappeared before Suzaku could muster any words. Hesitant now that he was on his own, he returned Moira's gaze as respectfully and carefully as he could.

"Ma'am," he murmured, struggling to resist the urge to duck his chin, resting his knuckles in the curve of his spine in a habitual gesture when he couldn't decide what to do with his free hand. Moira returned his gaze stonily for another moment before her eyes warmed like quicksilver and her mouth tilted in a smile.

"I like a boy with manners. So, pencils then?"

Aurora didn't think of it as spying. She ghosted around the shop, poking at the displays and fingering the tools that she thought seemed too complicated for their simple tasks. But then, what the heck did she know? That was why she was staying far away from Suzaku, who conversed brightly, if a little shyly, with Moira Green, the proprietor of Proper Task. This was something that he didn't need to share with her, a private joy that she could facilitate, but had to skirt on his terms. At the height of her career, she'd felt the same way about dancing. When you dedicated yourself to something so fiercely, it exposed your soul. That's what made the art real, but it made you vulnerable, as well. The wise artist was careful about who, if any, they drew into their inner circle.

So she gave him time, watching Suzaku carefully from a distance, although she sincerely doubted he'd come to any harm. She flirted lightly with the young chap working register just enough to see him blush, and eyed the impressive artwork that lined the walls, much of it signed with a flourished MG. When Suzaku and Moira joined her at the counter, a basket in both their hands and his face bright with excitement and tinged with a little embarrassment, if she wasn't mistaken, Aurora just grinned brightly, handed her card to Ian, and waved to start the show. Honestly, it was less than she'd expected.

Suzaku couldn't believe he'd gotten this much. Moira had urged the woodless graphite pencils on him, and apparently one could never have too many sketchbooks, all of which were acid-free and of varying weight and tooth. She'd also dumped the books on sketching she'd caught him flipping through into their baskets as well. Along with charcoal pencils, artist grade colored pencils, copic markers that Moira had included a book of instruction for, India ink pens, and kneaded erasers, Suzaku could feel the protest that it was too much riding the tip of his tongue like a lemon tart.

But Moira's eyes glittered with the righteousness of fueling the passion she lived by in another, and Aurora looked on with the eagerness and curiosity that came from talentless interest. He knew he shouldn't accept this, but how could he possibly say no, especially to these two women?

Before he knew it, his selections had been neatly bagged and the transaction was completed. Aurora was arranging something with the cashier as Moira pulled him slightly to the side.

"I'd like to see what you come up with, if you don't mind," she murmured softly, pressing a business card into his hand. It was much more artistic than the usual run of the mill square of cardstock, and Suzaku carefully slipped it into his pocket with a nod.

"Thank you, so much, for your help," he said, genuine and a little overcome. Moira just smiled as he cleared his throat, her eyes straying over his shoulder to Aurora, who laughed affectionately at the dazzled cashier, beautiful in white and crimson.

"That's a right lovely girl you've got there, Suzaku. Take care of each other, you hear?"

He could only nod as Moira bussed his cheek and escorted him back over to Aurora. They gave their farewells and walked out of the shop to pick up their purchases later than afternoon, and it wasn't until they were on the sidewalk that Suzaku realized he hadn't even thought to protest that Aurora wasn't "his" girl.

The breeze coming off the river they'd crossed lifted the warmth of the day and the crowds, the scent of the ocean the strongest he'd smelled in years. Completely foreign and slightly uncomfortable, a sense of peace settled over Suzaku as he walked along the busy street, arm in arm with Aurora, music from surprisingly talented buskers floating over the chords of incredibly lyrical speech, the smell of warm bread and cool beer wafting through the air. This felt… normal. This felt…

Right. The panic sizzled and snapped as it burst into Suzaku's blood like firecrackers, and his hand clamped into a fist as he wrestled with the emotion scorching along his nerves. Was that acceptable? Was it OK for him to feel right and normal, happy and relaxed? God, he didn't even know anymore. His breath was starting to quicken when he felt a soft touch. With her other hand, Aurora stroked from his shoulder to his elbow, eventually resting her palm high on his forearm. She never looked at him, her guarded eyes trained on the crowds around them, tipping up slightly to look at the aged brick building and busy storefronts. He could faintly hear her humming under her breath, in time with a bright and brutal piece done by a man practically dancing with his fiddle. The anxiety slowly ebbed, and as Suzaku drew a deep breath, Aurora gently patted his arm.

"Well done," she murmured, still without looking at him. He didn't know what to make of her quiet support when Aurora suddenly brightened, tugging him after her as she made a beeline for a small establishment. He barely caught the name as they darted inside: Besprinkled.

It was a cozy antique shop, selling everything from furniture to jewelry to fountain pens. It smelled of cedar and polish, and reminded Suzaku of his maternal grandmother's house.

"This would be a perfect place to get a little something for Kendra and Chandler. See what you can find for the big guy, alright?" Aurora lightly commanded before dancing away, already perusing the stand of necklaces and bracelets that glinted in the light. Suzaku wanted to protest, but the hush of the store would hardly allow him to shout after Aurora. He didn't know where to begin; after all, he hardly knew the man.

Then again, at least she hadn't asked him to find something for Kendra. Trying to find a gift for the female doctor who'd saved his life and yet he hardly knew would have been all but impossible. But perhaps he could manage for another man.

It only took about five minutes of searching before Suzaku admitted that he was equally out of his depth when it came to finding Chandler a gift. He had no idea what the politician preferred – Suzaku himself could care less about a set of silver cufflinks, but maybe that would delight Chandler. About to admit defeat and search for Aurora, Suzaku spied a twinkle in one of the glass cases that littered the store. As he approached, a zing approaching pain shot down his spine.

It was a collection of pocket watches.

Most were hunting watches, their lids sprung open to expose the faces. All of the hands busily, industriously, pointlessly ticked away, marking time for no one. All of them were in carefully restored condition, and some were truly glamorous. But Suzaku's eye was drawn to one near the back. It was an open face watch, the brass casing slightly weathered but thoroughly polished. There was a small scratch on the glass face, just next to the Roman numeral marking seven. A tiny amethyst was embedded in the twelve, faint engraving of feathers around the rim. It was a beautiful but sturdy piece, masculine with an air of refinement.

Suzaku jumped from his pointed study when he sensed Aurora next to him, straightening like he was guilty of spying on something sacred. But her eyes just roved over the watches, and if he wasn't mistaken, landed on the one he'd been looking at.

"It's a gorgeous piece," she murmured, her voice lowered in what he suspected was reverence. Forcefully, Suzaku relaxed his shoulders.

"It is. I thought Chandler might like it."

Aurora straightened, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. Suzaku felt his face mirroring her confusion.

"Chandler? Suzaku, this watch should be yours."

For a moment, Suzaku allowed himself to agree. Yes, he wanted that watch. It was exquisite, and had caught his eye with a firmness he'd once believed meant it was fated. But the last watch he'd owned… Suzaku's stomach lurched like it had been shot off a cliff, and his vision went gray for a terrifying, fleeting moment. As it faded back to normal, he felt his head throbbing in time with the ache in his shoulder and arm, and quite suddenly, he was exhausted.

"No," he whispered, his knuckles whitening on the edge of the table he'd gripped. Aurora had that mulish, cajoling expression on her face that had already worked more than once today. But not this time.

"But Suzaku, it's-"

"Aurora. No," he said firmly, just barely avoiding saying it through his teeth. She looked ready to argue her point, but then her eyes narrowed as she looked at him closer. The consideration made him feel queasy, and he tried to bear up under the weight of her gaze. Finally, Aurora sighed.

"Fine." But she raised her hand, catching the attention of an employee and nodding towards the case before Suzaku could be too shocked by his victory. The thirty something man, average except for the shocks of white at the temples in his otherwise brown hair, scurried over, sorting through an enormous ring of keys until he produced the one that unlocked the case. Following Aurora's directions, he retrieved the watch in question, murmuring knowledgeable details Suzaku couldn't hear over the buzzing of static in his ears before nodding and returning to the depths of the store.

"Aurora, what are you-"

"I understand, Suzaku. But whenever you're ready, the watch is yours. Until then, I'll take care of it." With the lovely watch clasped carefully against her palm, she turned and walked away. It took a moment for Suzaku to decide if he was angry with her. He didn't want the watch, dammit, but after all she'd done today, how could he possibly hold a grudge against her over something so small? In her own way, he was sure Aurora thought she was being kind. Well, the watch wasn't his, and as long as she remembered that, there shouldn't be a problem.

He joined her at the counter just as the watch, nestled in a black leather case, was slipped into a bag. Eyeing the items left to be rung up, Suzaku couldn't help the huff of approval. The cabochon was small for its kind, a rich, dark emerald nestled in carefully wrought gold. Hanging on a sturdily woven chain, Suzaku assumed it was for Kendra, and easily envisioned her wearing the necklace. The small brass monkey, a maniacally silly expression on its face as it cavorted along, was the ideal gift for Chandler.

She hadn't really needed his help at all, and Suzaku wondered how often Aurora bought those kind of gifts. It wouldn't surprise him in the slightest to find out it was something of a habit of hers. As they made their way out of the shop and back onto the street, Aurora moved to a bench, setting down her purse and small bag of gifts next to her as she braced her hands on the seat, leaning back as she stretched out her legs. Slowly, his joints creaking like poorly oiled hinges, Suzaku joined her. They sat like that in silence for a while before Aurora inevitably broke it.

"Are you mad about the watch?" She didn't sound worried or afraid. Just calm, as if she were asking about the weather. Suzaku sighed through his nose, trying to ignore the conflict raging in him. Part of him ached for the watch; another part clenched at the mere thought of holding it.

"No. It's alright, really," he added when Aurora looked over at him, her brow slightly lifted. Finally, she nodded.

"Alright then. Come on," she said. Suzaku found a tired smile quirking across his lips at her eager words. It was as if today had been one merry chase after another, Aurora dragging him from one strange adventure to the next, finally showing him first-hand that indomitable energy she'd mentioned. He'd have thought it would exhaust him, terrify him, or enrage him. But strangely enough, all Suzaku felt was a weary sort of triumph. He was real, and he was here, and these were memories that would remain unscathed for the rest of his life. It was a small but necessary comfort in a cold time.

He stood to join her, and like a hawk homing in on her target, Aurora led him to a tall, old brick building tucked away from the main thoroughfare. She'd slipped the small bag of gifts into her purse, threading the thin loop over her wrist as they approached their goal. There was no sign, so he assumed it wasn't a shop. With utter confidence, Aurora trotted up the steps to the door, her skirt whirling and dancing as she moved. Suzaku watched in complete confusion as she opened the door just enough to get her hand in, then reached through the top of the door, going to her toes to get the height. When she pushed the door further open, her hand remained above the jamb, and she jerked her head as a sign for Suzaku to enter. She raised her brows when he didn't move.

"Come on," she said in a stage whisper, still stretched in her strange position. Finally giving up on trying to make sense as to what the hell was going on and glancing around to make sure no one else saw this bizarre episode, Suzaku slowly made his way up the steps, his instincts tingling. Not like in the presence of danger. But like in the presence of mischief. No one since Lelouch had ever elicited that response from him, and those were old, slightly tainted memories, both from a time before the revolution and his first stint at Ashford Academy.

Stepping through the door, he realized that Aurora had snagged the string that rang the bell upon the door opening, silencing it while she maneuvered herself in after Suzaku. Carefully shutting the door quietly behind them, she finally released the string, searching the lobby for anyone else. However, it was deserted.

Well, not completely.

Through a slightly cracked door marked "Office," triumphant, trumpeting snores could be heard. Suzaku saw a small plaque that read "O'Donnell Estate Museum" on a counter that ran in front of the office door. The rest of the space was a parlor, furnished how he assumed it would have been in the early 1800's. Thoroughly bemused, he turned to see Aurora sneaking down a corridor, somehow silent despite her heels. She gestured for him to follow, and, caught up in a strange sense of fun, Suzaku hesitantly followed with the modicum of stealth he could achieve in his waited until they headed up a steep, narrow staircase to speak, trying to pay attention to the antique surroundings instead of the sway of Aurora's hips right in front of him.

"What are we doing here, Aurora?"

She shushed him quickly, pressing her finger to her lips that did nothing to hide her impish smile.

"It's a surprise. You'll see."

Suddenly envisioning Aurora at five years old leading Lelouch and their siblings on spirited adventures through Aries Plaza, Suzaku couldn't help the sad smile. He tried to dispel the melancholy by asking another question, careful to lower his voice to Aurora's standards.

"Why did we have to sneak in?"

As they reached the second landing, Aurora led the way down the corridor. They passed beautifully decorated rooms boasting furniture that probably cost a fortune. Small plaques were scattered everywhere, explaining items and giving brief histories.

"Because-" Suddenly she stopped, her index finger again pressed to her lips as she froze. Suzaku did too, and it only took him a moment to realize what she'd heard – the snoring had stopped. They stood like that for a moment, awkwardly paused mid-step in a museum they weren't supposed to be in for some reason, waiting for the snoring to start again. When it did, Aurora relaxed with a sigh before making a face at Suzaku.

"Because old Tom Grady down there and I don't get along, and this is my favorite spot in the whole city. He's not exactly a Level 4 Styx security system, but he can be a real arse once he gets going. Come on, this way," she urged, continuing on. As they reached the end of the corridor, Aurora turned right, heading straight for another set of stairs that were roped off.

"Um, Aurora, maybe we shouldn't," he murmured with trepidation, but she just rolled her eyes at his reluctance and tugged up her skirt, revealing a dizzying amount of leg as she stepped over the rope. He thought to look away, but was too dumbstruck by the expanses of soft skin to quite manage it in time.

"Don't be a party pooper, Suzaku. Some rules are simply begging to be broken. Just trust me."

And he did. Strangest thing ever, really, considering he didn't trust anyone anymore. So he finagled his broken limbs over the rope, Aurora helping him as she kept a careful eye on the hallway and a sharp ear out for Tom's snoring.

They headed up the second staircase, Aurora relaxing enough to allow the faint click to her heels. It led to some sort of attic, Suzaku realized, used for storage, he assumed. Aurora plowed through the dusty piles like a beam of light, heading for an angled wooden step ladder that seemed to lead straight into the ceiling. He followed closely behind her, then immediately stepped back as she started to climb. Then stepped back again as she got higher. Suzaku told himself he was being chivalrous, even as his throat seemed to close.

He was offered a merciful distraction when Aurora pushed open a trap door in the ceiling, lithely climbing through until she disappeared. For a moment, standing in the silence of the attic, Suzaku felt utterly foolish. Then, Aurora's head popped over the edge, her long hair falling forward in a curtain of old gold silk, her eyes glittering and a huge, unrestrained grin spreading across her face.

"Come on, Suzaku. I'm telling you, it's worth it."

Sighing as he eyed the obviously disused stairs, Suzaku made his careful way up, grasping Aurora's hand when she stretched to offer it after a moment of being irritated that she'd offered it at all and becoming distracted enough to wobble. Their palms slapped together, and she just looked at him archly in a way that said she'd known exactly what he had been thinking, and thought he was a goofball.

As he clambered up the last few steps, time seemed to slow. His gaze swung up just in time to see Aurora straighten and look away, her hair brushed back over her shoulders by a breeze as the afternoon sun blossomed over her skin, sweeping gold over warm cream. Her eyes caught the light, liquid silver glazed with bronze. Her skirt rippled in the air, warm fabric against soft flesh. For just a moment, she was a goddess. Then, as he stepped up onto the tiny balcony, Aurora glanced over at him with a cheeky grin, and somehow, she was even more beautiful when simply a woman.

"Suzaku. May I present the city of Gaillimh."

Vaguely, he noticed that she pronounced it like "Gahlyuh" as she swept out her arm in a dramatic, graceful gesture to indicate the view. But that was just a fleeting thought as he stepped forward, grasping the rail with his good hand as he took in the city spread before him. How this view existed, he had no idea. The museum wasn't that tall, and here, in the heart of the city, he should have been surrounded by walls.

But instead, Galway was spread before him, a trick of slight elevation and the perfect place to peak out over the city with a view shared only by the birds and storms. Glittering glass flashed in the sun, the deep green of the ubiquitous grass a soft counterpoint to the cool gray of stone and steel. The Corrib gleamed to his left, slicing through the city like a knife. It was stunning, and almost sacred.

Aurora proceeded to point out landmarks – the cross of St. Nicholas's spire, the Spanish Arch of times long past, the university across the river erected during Ireland's famine centuries ago. To the distant north, he could barely make out a blue haze on the horizon, which Aurora informed him was Lough Corrib, the birthplace of the river.

But his favorite view was the ocean.

They circled around the building, little better than a small gazebo tacked onto the top of the museum, and suddenly, there was the Atlantic, lapping at one the last shores until it bumped against New Cador in Britannia. Today, the water was crystalline blue, calm and quiet and just waiting to be whipped up into a frenzy. For now, the clouds were soft and white where they flowed in the sky counterpoint to the waves below, tame and unaggressive. Suzaku didn't know Ireland's weather very well, but he knew the sea. And no matter where you went, it was a generous, capricious, incredibly cruel creature. They stood for a while in silence until Suzaku's curiosity proved too much.

"How did you find this place?"

Aurora glanced at him quickly before returning her eyes to the view, crossing her arms as she leaned back against one of the pillars. Her mouth twisted slightly, and Suzaku couldn't quite read her expression.

"I didn't. Chandler showed it to me."

Not sure what to say to get her to explain further, he just remained silent. With a sigh, Aurora leaned forward, propping her elbow on the rail and cupping her chin in her palm. Faintly, around the curve of her fingers, Suzaku thought he could see a tiny, self-deprecating smile on her face.

"When I first came to England, I was a mess. I'd lost my family, my home, my career. I didn't have to worry about money too, thank God, but I was beginning to doubt the validity of the path I'd always followed. I wasn't grieving right, and I'd hardly grieved at all when I'd first lost George, the closest thing to a father I ever had. Needless to say, I was a pissy wreck, and I don't know how Kendra and Chandler put up with me." She laughed huskily – it didn't seem very funny to Suzaku. In fact, it sounded disturbingly familiar.

"So what happened?"

"Well, London was still intact at the time, and the biggest thing on the pairs' minds, besides my angsty antics, was whether or not Kendra would say yes to Chandler's proposal of marriage. So Chandler got it into his head that we should all go to Ireland. Give the girls a change of scenery. He hoped it would jog a decision out of Kendra, and give me the gigantic fucking attitude adjustment I needed."

As he listened, Suzaku watched the bay. A fishing boat was scooting back to the docks – considering the time, it was either in need of repairs, or had pulled in a spectacular haul. It struck him how much harder Aurora was on herself than him, even when her past mistakes were so minor in comparison to his.

"Well, it turned out the guy's a lot cleverer than I gave him credit for. Three romantic moonlit Irish nights and a few cynical, sarcastic comments from me later, Kendra was hefting around this honking engagement ring that was apparently Chandler's great-grandmother's. She doesn't wear it now – London is not the place to sport that kind of ice. But whenever she gets a chance, on goes the mini sun." Despite her slightly scathing tone and relaxed language, Aurora's eyes were achingly soft, her smile that of a romantic's.

"And what about you?" Suzaku prompted when she seemed lost in remembering the amorous beginning of her friends' marriage.

"Still mopey, angry, and rude, unfortunately."

He shifted, embarrassed at how closely that described him much too often these days, but Aurora didn't look his way.

"Kendra kicked us out of the house one day, so Chandler dragged me to Galway. Took me for a day around the city, and it helped a little. But I was stubbornly refusing the opportunity to get better, because I truly believed that I never could. And honestly, I was so goddamn mad at the entire world, dynamite couldn't have knocked me loose. I had done nothing to warrant being screwed over that completely, so what was the point of even playing the game if the universe itself wouldn't follow the rules? Finally, after flashing that politician's grin to get us in and sneaking away from the rest of the tour group, Chandler brought me here." Aurora straightened somewhat, her hands lightly resting on the railing, her face tipped up to the sun as her hair moved on the breath of air. Her spine now a sinuous curve of bone and muscle, Suzaku worked to keep his eyes from tracing it, determinedly returning his attention to her face.

"And, well… I don't know. I wasn't suddenly better in a flash, and happiness didn't come rushing in like a flood. It wasn't a sudden snap of the fingers. More like the unclenching of a fist, just a little. But there was something about this view that made a difference. Shifted my position just enough for me to realize something." Her long fingers speared through her hair, her voice dropping to an intensity that pressed against Suzaku's skin.

"Yes, I'd lost the things that had once defined my life. Due to circumstance, and my pride. But the amazing thing was, if I tried, I could have them again. Families aren't always bound by blood, and homes can be made anywhere. It's not the location that really matters, anyway. Not at the heart of the matter. And my career? Well, I still had my training, my drive. I'd liked being able to help people when I could before; maybe I could do it again. For practically my whole life, I'd done what was expected of me, what I had to do to survive." Aurora's gaze met his, and Suzaku's mouth went dry at the way she looked at him, the way her eyes seemed to reach inside him.

"But this time, I'd do what was right for me. What made me happy, what made me healthy. It was my inalienable right and solemn duty as a human to at least take the chance to try, because damn if I hadn't paid my dues. My anguish didn't gain anyone anything, and my happiness would hurt no one. So there was no reason to keep punishing myself and the world when it solved nothing, and every reason to fight for myself, for once. And it would have been all but impossible to do alone. Luckily enough for me, I wasn't alone." Finally, she broke eye contact with him, glancing over her shoulder at the traffic on the bridge, and Suzaku felt a little limp, like he'd been chained to a comet. Aurora just had to have those Britannian royal eyes, that seemed to cut through the bones and nerves with just a glance.

"What happened after?" he managed to murmur. Aurora shrugged, an elegant ripple of muscle under her quaint sweater.

"Like I said, nothing overnight. But I had made the conscious decision to be less angry, less sad. Now that I had a reason not to be, it was easier than just wishing for an alleviation of emotion without a goal. But eventually, it worked. Kendra and Chandler, two people who'd been all but strangers not six months before, were there every step of the way, making every ounce of difference. Kendra started training me as a nurse, and I began volunteering at a homeless clinic. It was going rather amazing, and I was considering getting my own place, although the lovebirds practically lived at Chandler's townhouse anyway. Then, London fell into the river."

Suzaku stilled, distinctly remembering the battle at the Sword of Akasha. He'd known there'd been aftereffects around the world, but hadn't put much thought to it.

"Something happened in one of the caverns in the thousands of underground rivers that riddle London. Considering what you've said, I'd say it's a pretty good bet that it had something to do with what happened on Kamine Island right before Lelouch took the throne – after all, it happened the same day. It was really only luck that kept the three of us alive. Kendra was at the clinic where she worked. It survived the initial collapse, but eventually came down about a week later. Chandler would have died if he'd been at Parliament like normal, which tumbled into the river like a bunch of bricks. Instead, he was south, in Sutton on business. As for me, the shelter I normally worked folded like a deck of cards. I'd been running late, so I watched London fall from the driver's seat of my Jeep. It was a bit dodgy for a while, but we all finally got to Kendra's clinic."

Suzaku remembered the terror that day had brought, but for an entirely different reason. He'd never quite considered how badly the world had been affected by Charles' plan, thwarted though it may have been.

"It took time, but eventually, we crawled out of the rubble and shook off the dust. With the clinic she'd been working at gone, Kendra decided it was high time to open her own, with me as her main employee. There were others more qualified, but none that she trusted as much, which made up for my general lack of experience. Almost the entirety of the English government had ended up in the river, so Chandler was suddenly one of the most senior members of Parliament. There wasn't exactly an outpouring of global support, especially considering a certain Emperor had just taken the throne. So, we were on our own, and it was going to be up to us to pick up the pieces. It proved to be the final kick in the ass I needed. I had my friends, I was alive, and I could help. It was time to pay back the universe for all the near misses it had granted me over the years." Fully straightening, her face composed as she faced the horizon, Suzaku allowed himself to marvel at Aurora and her journey.

In the distance, bells began to toll, the numerous churches in the city marking the hour. Aurora looked startled when the bells stopped after only two chimes.

"It's already two o' clock?" she murmured incredulously. As if on cue, Suzaku's stomach rumbled plaintively. They looked at each other for a long moment, then easy smiles stole over their faces in unison.

"Food it is, then." As Aurora began to descend the stairs, she paused about a third of the way down, her face tilted up as she looked at him. She was sculpted by shadows, the light glittering in her eyes.

"I know you don't believe it, Suzaku, but you're not alone either."

Before he could say anything in denial, her eyes dropped, and she continued down the ladder. Suzaku tilted his head in thought as he waited to hear the click of her heels on the floor. For so long, he had been alone. In his secrets, lies, and shame. And he'd been so certain, so determined, that the weight of being that alone would do what he actively could not – it would end him.

But as Aurora stood glowing like a pearl in the dim light of the attic waiting for him to join her, Suzaku had to wonder. How many times would she extend her hand before the temptation to take it would be too great to resist? How long until he actually accepted the amazing faith she so easily placed in him? It was getting difficult to remember why he couldn't justify it, why allowing her to make him feel human was not only more than he deserved, but he feared it had be more than he could handle.

As he carefully descended into the attic, Suzaku foolishly allowed his mind to wander, and wonder. Could he do as Aurora believed, and strive for something more, be something other than a hollow legend, a faceless shadow? The mere thought made every muscle throughout his entire body clench, and Suzaku almost whimpered from the pain, coming to an awkward, swaying halt midway down the ladder. His brain fried in the roar of blood, his eyes clenched shut as his jaw worked frantically. It felt like a concrete band had tightened around his chest, his blood sapping the oxygen in his system shockingly fast.

Why, why couldn't he just be OK? Dammit, he'd all but forgotten what that was even like. Faintly, he could feel the soft press of Aurora's hand against his lower spine. With enormous effort, he managed to focus on what she was saying, his eyes still locked shut against the dizziness that crawled through his brain from lack of oxygen.

"Breathe, Suzaku. Come on, hon, suck one in for me. Just give me one. That's it," she encouraged warmly when a sip of air managed to trickle its way into his lungs.

"Alright, I'm going to count out loud, and I want you to try to breathe along with me."

For some reason, Aurora making the decision about his air intake made the whole process manageable. Eventually, air leaked into his lungs at something resembling a steady rate, his heart slowed, and his muscles loosened. It felt almost like the cessation of an electrical shock. As she helped him down the rest of the ladder back to the floor, Aurora gazed at him with assessing, sad eyes. Carefully, almost cautiously, she cupped Suzaku's face in her hands.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted you to know that I'm here, and I'm on your side."

Quite suddenly, Suzaku was seized by the urge to drop his forehead to her shoulder, and just believe. To shed his shame, his pride, and his hate like a heavy cloak in summer. Because nothing dragged at his soul more than the searing loathing he had for himself.

But he restrained himself, and instead dredged up a reassuring smile he did not feel. His face felt like old, cold leather being stretched and twisted, and by the look on Aurora's face, she agreed.

"Nothing to apologize for. I'm just a little tired."

She didn't believe him – they both knew it. But she just nodded and took his arm.

"I bet. It's been a long day, and you need some food."

The way his stomach was folding itself like a paper crane, Suzaku didn't think that was a good idea. But Aurora was locked onto him like a barnacle, and he needed all his attention to attempt the stealth necessary to get them out of the museum undetected.

Aurora worked to restrain herself from looking over at Suzaku every few seconds. He'd scared the ever-living shit out of her when he'd gone still as stone on the ladder, every inch of him painted with tension. Like a serious bout of temper, Aurora was doing everything she could to head off a full-blown panic attack – she sincerely doubted Suzaku could handle the physical demands of a ten minute meltdown. It was an extremely common aspect of PTSD, but she had yet to figure out what his triggers were. She knew it was inevitable, but Aurora prayed she could delay it until his bones could handle the tension without snapping like twigs.

She'd apologized for what she'd said, but didn't really regret it. Suzaku needed to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was in his corner, no questions asked. It had been way too long since someone had granted him that kind of absolute support. By the time they reached the ground floor, Suzaku seemed at least somewhat recovered. Deciding that he needed a good laugh and they could both use some cheering up, Aurora carefully repeated her method to open the door without ringing the bell.

At the jerk of her head, Suzaku slipped past her, limping slightly as he made his way down the steps. Once he hit the sidewalk, he turned back, waiting for her. But Aurora flapped her hand, and after furrowing his brow and tilting his head in confusion, Suzaku understood, and crossed the street, now on the other side of the narrow cobblestone path. Deciding he was close enough to the alley, Aurora slowly shut the door.

Taking a deep breath and burying the last whispers of fear that had saturated her system not ten minutes ago, Aurora yanked open the door, the bell jangling madly. A startled snort and grunt told her old Tom had been jolted from his pleasant dreams of large Guinesses and busty women.

"Hey Tom, thanks for the view! I'll let you get back to sexy little Cathy now!" Aurora bellowed at the top of her lungs, an impressively loud volume considering her slim frame. Tagging on a shouted, snotty insult in Gaelic that compared Tom's lack of sexual prowess to that of a goat, Aurora slammed the door behind her as hard as she could and raced down the steps, sprinting across the cobblestones and grabbing Suzaku's arm on the fly. Pulling him into the shadows of the alley, they waited a few seconds before carefully leaning over just enough to peek around the corner of the building to see the steps leading up to the museum. There stood Tom Grady, every kid's nightmare of an evil headmaster.

Tall, flabby, and imposing, Tom had a steel gray comb-over and mean, narrow eyes the color of mud. The museum had been in his family for years, and he ruled over it with an inordinate amount of pride. And Aurora held a special place of honor amongst the expansive list of people he thoroughly despised. Scowling out across the small street with narrowed eyes, since he'd forgotten his glasses in his rush to catch the intruder, Tom crossed his arms across his chest.

"Rory Seven, so help me God, if you come near my establishment again, I'll beat you within an inch of your sorry life!" As the echoes of his roar faded away, they could make out the heaving hiss of his infuriated breathing. Finally, deciding that Aurora was already long gone, Tom turned and banged the door shut behind him.

Aurora clapped her hand over her mouth, muffling her laughter as she scoffed. "As if! That man couldn't catch me if I was in a full-body straight jacket." She glanced over at Suzaku, who seemed to be struggling to hide the smile tilted across his lips as he furrowed his brows at her, shaking his head.

"What in the world is wrong with you?"

Instead of answering, Aurora began to howl with laughter, leaning against the wall behind her as Suzaku unwillingly chuckled. When they quieted enough to stand, Aurora led the way back down to Shop Street, heading for a pub she preferred.

"He really doesn't like you," Suzaku murmured, his voice almost lost by the increasing volume of the crowd as they emerged onto Shop Street again. Aurora just shrugged, a wicked smile curling her lips.

"Well, Tom used to be married. He was about as faithful as a stray tomcat, a fact his well-bred, wealthy wife was unaware of. I just relieved her of her ignorance," she said lightly with a shrug. "And, I may or may not have set his hair on fire."

Suzaku stared at her for a moment, and Aurora just glanced over out of the corner of her eye, regal and mischievous.

"That explains his current unfortunate hairstyle."

"If you're saying that he looks like a mangy cantaloupe with a rim of mold, you're spot on."

Suzaku laughed, and as they walked past shop fronts and milling crowds, something caught his eye. Earlier that morning, he'd noticed their reflections in the windows, and had felt ridiculous. He'd looked drab next to Aurora's brilliance. But now, with a smile that felt more real than it looked and clothes that actually fit him, Suzaku almost wondered that maybe…

No, that was ridiculous. Even if he was only slightly more physically on par with Aurora, he still had eons to go until he could possibly earn someone like her. The gulf between them may appear shorter, but it still yawned between them mercilessly.

Before Suzaku could depress himself any further, Aurora ducked around a large crowd that had gathered around a trio performing on guitars and an energetic tambourine. She descended down a very old set of stone stairs. They were steep and smooth with age, the gray rock torn from Ireland's very heart. After nearly tripping, Suzaku clamped his good hand on the railing, old oak dark and polished with age and the countless passing slide of hands. Aurora watched him like a hawk from the foot of the stairs, her hand resting on the broad door's knob patiently. Above the lintel, the pub's name was carved into the wood, and Suzaku had to squint his eyes to read it. Darkened by time and smoke, the establishment was called "Morgan's Stag." Smiling a little at the name, wondering who Morgan was and why he'd wanted a stag, Suzaku followed Aurora into the pub, the smell of hops, yeast, smoke, and sweat instant and ubiquitous. Despite encroaching summer, a fire burned in a hearth massive enough to house a pony, no doubt to combat the chill of the stone walls.

Combined with the crowd, it was rather toasty. Despite the off hour, the pub was pleasantly busy, at least a third of the booths occupied and half a dozen men – one of whom revealed herself to be a stunningly beautiful, if sturdily built, woman when she turned her head to soundly punch her neighbor's shoulder – were arrayed along the bar. Nodding at the sharp-eyed waitress and flicking up two fingers, Aurora led the way to a cozy booth situated under of the few, high windows the pub boasted. It was a small but beautiful collection of stained glass panes, pulling a bit sunshine into the smoky pub. The rest of the place was lit by old-fashioned lamps hung along the walls and a heavy-boned iron chandelier that was barely related to the frothy creations of crystal, gold, and light that lit the Imperial Palace.

As Suzaku sat down opposite from Aurora, he noticed that almost every patron's attention was locked onto the TV screen behind the bar. Since they sat across the pub from it, Suzaku couldn't quite make out the sport. Something that involved striped shirts and lots of physical contact. The crowd collectively groaned, and Aurora chuckled.

"Ireland has a shot to make it to the Nationals this year. Britain's been in the toilet since the collapse, and Germany's team is lucky if they can find the ball. I guess we'll just have to see," she said with a shrug and careless smile. Aurora glanced over her shoulder, and when Suzaku followed her gaze he realized that the waitress had been waylaid by a harried-looking family of tourists with two small children who looked millimeters away from a melt-down of magnificent proportions. Shaking her head kindly, Aurora stood, her skirt shifting around her knees.

"Be right back," she murmured. But before she could disappear through the crowd, Aurora shrugged out of the sweater she'd worn all day. As the fabric slid down her arms, it revealed white straps and lean, strong shoulders, and once she'd tossed it onto the bench, Aurora reached back and twisted her hair forward over her shoulder. But what made Suzaku's jaw drop a little was when she turned away, and Suzaku realized that Aurora's back, almost all the way down to the small of her spine, was bare.

His mouth dried a little at the acres of warm, pale skin gilded by the brassy lamplight, her shoulder blades sharp edges against delicate skin. His guts, which had just finally loosened, tightened again with a sweet sort of pain that made his blood thunder frantically. If he'd been standing, his knees would have wobbled. And when Suzaku pressed his fingers to his mouth, he found his cheeks to be warm. Dammit, how could she do this to him so easily, fry his control like a circuit charged with too much power? Was there something wrong with him, a heart condition, perhaps? However, before Suzaku could marvel much more about Aurora's beautifully bare back or scare himself any more thoroughly about his trampled health, a pair of blokes draped themselves over the backs of the booth. They were much too similar in appearance to simply be brothers, and they had the mischievous, if slightly drunken twinkle of identical twins on the prowl.

"That's a bloody gorgeous bird, mate. She your mot?" They smelled of lager, a day's work, and eager pursuit, blinking at him in unison. Suzaku was somewhat surprised by how little he felt threatened by them. Just vaguely confused and indulgent.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked quietly, at a loss for what they actually asked of him. The pair, in their late twenties with the hefty build honed by physical labor, exchanged glances.

"That bitta fluff. The girl you strolled in with, she yours?" they clarified when Suzaku continued to look at them blankly.

"Oh, no, she's not my…" Why the denial, while true, felt bitter on his tongue, he wasn't sure. "She's my… friend," he finally managed to choke out lamely. Could he call Aurora that? It seemed like their relationship was much more complicated than a simple friendship. While Suzaku felt odd and confused, the men brightened almost childishly

"Right then. So you don't mind if we give it a go, yeah?"

Before Suzaku could say anything, be it yay, nay, or otherwise, the brawny pair swaggered, stumbling only slightly, across the pub to where Aurora stood leaning against the massive polished mahogany bar. She was chatting with the bartender, her warm smile flickering like a flame. The two men, who had obviously employed the dual-pronged assault their whole life with success, flanked Aurora. Suzaku had to give them credit despite the fact that his teeth had started to grind – they were pretty smooth. When the first flash of the men's' flirtatious smiles sparked something vicious and cutting inside him, he was a little shocked by his instinctive, aggressive reaction.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Suzaku reminded himself that Aurora was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Against two brutish thugs, who had lost their initial harmlessness in an eruption of hot, sticky emotion Suzaku couldn't identify. Probably.

Rhythmically tapping his fingers against the table harder than strictly necessary, Suzaku watched the exchange unfold by the bar. When the men had first started their pitch, Aurora hadn't even looked particularly surprised. She had a calculating, cunning look in her eyes, and after saying two sentences that left the men gaping at her like she'd just kicked them in the nuts were her wicked heels, Aurora strolled across the pub back to their table. Her slightly smug expression made Suzaku want to laugh. He'd been right that morning. Man-killer.

As she sat down across from him, sinking down like a beleaguered victor after an unnecessary battle, Aurora rolled her eyes with a grin once she caught his gaze. Now that her lovely back was safely tucked away, Suzaku's synapses were actually firing.

"Coupla bloody gits. Right arses, the pair of them. And didn't they look gobsmacked, like I'd belted them in the bollocks. Least the pair of those plonkers deserve."

Since he was getting used to her cadence of voice, Suzaku was able to follow at least most of what Aurora said. But her easy use of the slang and sudden, flawless Irish accent threw him a bit. Nodding in agreement to whatever it was that she said, he gazed at her a moment before giving in.

"Do you usually do that?"

Aurora tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"What? Deal with horn dogs in a swift, efficient manner?" she asked, her voice back to her normal inflection, her Britannian, with the slightest whiff of English, accent.

"No," Suzaku said with a shaky laugh because, God, that's exactly what she'd done, "affect an accent that easily. You've been doing it on and off all day, but that was quite a mouthful just now."

Aurora blinked at him twice before looking slightly embarrassed and contrite, rubbing the back of her neck as she looked away.

"Sorry. Honestly, I didn't even notice."

"Is it habit or training?" Suzaku asked, puzzled why she seemed ashamed of it. He found it rather fascinating, personally.

"Both," she admitted with a sigh. "My linguistics tutor was delighted that I had an ear for accents; however, I drove him nuts by my compulsion to copy the ones I hear. In a way, it made my job much easier."

Curious, Suzaku leaned forward slightly.

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged eloquently.

"It's the same reason I was trained in classical subjects and dance and music – people are more likely to share their secrets with you when they think you're one of them. Proving yourself one of the herd, tearing down as many "outsider" walls as possible, makes people that much more inclined to tell you secrets, confide in you. Sometimes it's easier to simply wait for the truth instead of working to steal it."

"So what's bad about it?"

Aurora's mouth twisted, her eyes taking on that look of resignation and disappointment when she talked about one of her flaws. But he couldn't fault her in the slightest for being so honest about them.

"Whenever I took a cover, I had to be exceptionally careful when I came across anyone accented. If I started mimicking them unconsciously, it could blow everything, and it was a good way to get myself killed. That, and sometimes people would just think I'm making fun of them, or were exceptionally confused since my language manipulation is pretty sharp."

"I've heard you speak Gaelic today. Are there any other languages you know?" As for himself, Suzaku only knew Japanese and Britannian Standard. It was really all he'd needed to get by. Aurora tapped a finger against her lips, and Suzaku told himself that he was absolutely in no way allowing his eyes to be drawn to her perfect mouth – it was rude. He was pretty sure he failed.

"Well, obviously besides Standard, I'm conversational in English, French, Spanish, and fair Chinese, although English is more a dialect of Standard. Gaelic is actually one of my weaker languages – I barely know enough touristy stuff to get by. The same goes for Swahili, Hindi, Russian, and Japanese."

Suzaku stared at her a moment.

"You… can speak Japanese?" he managed, his voice faltering. Aurora looked at him kindly. Of course she understood how much knowledge of the dying language meant to him.

"Not nearly enough," she said apologetically. Before he could say anything, the waitress appeared next to their table. Despite the apprehensive looks she tossed over her shoulder at the tourists and their children like they were a bomb set to detonate, she carried numerous plates and drinks with enviable ease. Trying to swallow back the sorrow that soured his throat, Suzaku sat back, demanding that he devote his attention to the food. That, at least, was probably safe.

"A pair of doorsteps and chips," she announced, placing two plates of sandwiches, nearly four inches thick in a cozy bed of thick-cut fries,in front of each of them. "A mineral," she added, setting a glass full of some sort of clear soda in front of him, "and a mug of Rosie," she finished, setting a mug of steaming dark tea in front of Aurora. "Anything else I can get for you folks?"

"No, this looks grand, Molly. You need anything, Suzaku?"

At the shake of his head, she smiled over at the waitress.

"Thank you, dear."

Molly smiled at Aurora's warm words, ran her fingers over a loose lock of Aurora's hair and winked over at Suzaku. Then, her wavy raven hair bound back in a low, loose braid, Molly turned, her cobalt eyes slightly narrowed as she approached the family of tourists like they were a grenade about to go off. In the way of those in her profession, Molly got the children laughing at least a little, easing the tension on the parents' faces.

A young man, broad of shoulder and clever of face, stepped up to a small stage by the fire and rosined his bow, sliding it across the strings of a polished fiddle and eliciting a sweet trill that immediately grabbed the children's, and most of the patrons', attention. As the music filtered through the chatter and tugged at the heart, Suzaku took his first slightly awkward bite of the sandwich, holding it one-handed.

Aurora had clearly known what she was ordering. The bread was thick and warm, slightly loamy in texture. Layered with thickly cut beef and lined with seasoned, obviously home-made mayonnaise, it was garnished with lettuce and tomatoes and pickles, all fresh and crisp. It was a hell of a sandwich.

Aurora was always a fairly determined eater, but watching her attack the sandwich like a starving wolf was… funny. Suzaku chuckled around his more modest mouthful of food, trying his best to hide his smile with the sandwich. She furrowed her brow at him, and after swallowing, she put her sandwich down.

"What?"

"Nothing," he assured her, unsuccessfully swallowing the chuckle. She frowned at him severely, but there was a gentleness, a sparkle in her eyes that softened the expression.

"What? I'm hungry."

Suzaku sniggered through his nose, and Aurora threw a tiny fry at his head. He dodged it, almost regretting it when his muscles twinged, then dropped his head when he saw the fry bounce off an unsuspecting man's head nearby. The man, pole-thin with eyes like a fox, whipped around, searching for the perpetrators with an accusing glare. Suzaku and Aurora stared down at their plates, their shoulders shaking with silent laughter. When they dared look up at each other again, Aurora mock-glared.

"Shut up and eat your food," she commanded, but the corner of her mouth twitched, and Suzaku decided to obey instead of making a very public idiot of himself by laughing like a crazy person. As he took another bite of the hearty sandwich, he tried another attempt at conversation without getting them into trouble.

"This is delicious." Suzaku almost winced at himself. That was about as pathetic a conversation starter as they came. But Aurora just smiled in agreement.

"Morgan does know his way around a fine sambo."

Suzaku paused in raising his sandwich to his mouth.

"Morgan? As in Morgan's Stag?"

Aurora nodded as she chewed.

"Kind of. The current Morgan was named after that Morgan. No one knows the story of the stag. Ask anyone in the family, and they'll tell you it's a secret of their bloodline. Which is a total load of crap. That particular story's been lost to time."

Quiet idle chatter followed as the young man plied his fiddle, and Aurora and Suzaku worked their ways through the remainder of their meal. With his stomach full, Suzaku leaned back slightly, working to relax his muscles one by one as he sipped the lemon-lime soda. Aurora rested her elbows on the table, nursing her tea, managing to talk to him with her usual wit and humor and observe the room without seeming to simultaneously. Not the mention, the way she held herself exposed the curve of her collar bone, her shoulders drawn forward and accentuating the subtle muscling along her arms and shoulders.

Suzaku found himself marking exits without the usual tension and apprehension; it was more by rote than anything else. Aurora had just begun telling him a story about Bannock's puppy years when she suddenly stopped, her eyes going to the small stage, slightly narrowed. Hesitantly, Suzaku followed her gaze, and saw that a young woman, only a few years older than himself at most, was settling on the stage, chatting with the man who was giving his fiddle a break. Her hair was a stunning red, startling crimson in large loops. Her eyes were very sharp, and the color of the sky, delicate blue. Suzaku wasn't sure what had caught Aurora's eye about her, but when he looked back, she'd deposited her tea cup on the table, leaning back and crossing her legs with a feline, anticipatory expression. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and faintly smirked.

The young woman on the stage settled an acoustic guitar across her knees and the man sat on a stool next to her. They chatted and nodded at each other, then the woman slowly began picking chords on the guitar. The melody, slow and deliberate, was faintly haunting, and conversation in the pub immediately died. Then the woman opened her mouth, and began to sing.

Goosebumps raced over Suzaku's skin as her voice filled the air. It was the faintest bit husky, but powerful and smooth. He knew without hearing that this was a voice of power. She sang of a woman's fidelity to her newly married husband, how seriously she took the symbolism of her white dress. She let out a sigh, and the soft, quite tone changed.

Not only did the man on the fiddle join her much more aggressive guitar, but almost every woman in the bar, every female who knew the song, raised their voices and joined her in the next stanza. Including Aurora.

She was relaxed, almost sprawled across the bench where she sat. Since he was sitting so close, her voice was the one easiest for Suzaku to hear. And it was impressive. Her tenor was flexible and bright, and she sang along with the rest of the women, of how the woman of the song warned that should she and her new husband ever part, the ties that bound them would hang them, that she'd die before she ever let him go.

Odd subject, but not the first angry female song he'd ever heard. If that was simply it. Aurora's eyes slowly slid to his as she sang, and a shiver ran down his spine. It was another facet to her, like a finely carved sapphire slowly revealing all its faces. Across from Suzaku sat a performer, a storyteller. She shed much of her warmth in favor of a cool charm that captivated. She was tantalizing, but Suzaku could admit to himself that this Aurora was extremely intimidating. The women, almost all of them Irish occupants, including the waitress, continued on, warning how, once buried, they wished for the world to know that they'd simply loved their man just a little too much, how they refused to live on without the man they loved.

How the man would be the last thing she thought of before death, how it would be heartbreak that killed her. The lyrics spoke of a woman dangerously attached to the man she loved. It he just went by that, it sounded like she'd take her life if she ever lost him. But as he looked at the singers' faces, watching Aurora's most closely of all, Suzaku realized that there was a subtext, a faint viciousness, in their expressions. Perhaps the wife wasn't just begging him to stay; it was a warning that if he ever strayed, she'd send him to the grave first, then follow him. The song was both a threat and a plea, and the ambiguity was seductively macabre. Suzaku wondered about the story; did she commit suicide, or murder?

The song was nearing its climax, and as the women hummed, a throaty note that seemed to quiver in the air, the young man furiously worked his fiddle, his earlier performances a mere warm-up to this much more complicated piece. The notes dipped and trembled, and lent a sort of frantic fragility to the song. They sang their way through the chorus, and everything slowed, voices that had been raised with such power suddenly growing soft and gentle. But the message was still the same – the vows were concrete to her, and if she lost him, there was simply no life for her. A drawn-out moment of silence built the tension, when every singer suddenly stomped their foot against the ground three times in unison, Aurora included. Suzaku jerked at the primal thrumming, the voices immediately ramping up to their previous aggression in demanding certain funeral arrangements. It was quite overwhelming, being stuck in the midst of all this power and determination that had nothing to do with combat and everything to do with tradition and familial balance. It was no contest as to which was more important here in Ireland.

The music again quieted, and only the red-haired singer on stage sang now, reminding the man of her vow on their wedding day to love him until her death, gently strumming on her guitar. As the final notes faded away, there was a pregnant silence, and Suzaku felt himself, strangely, a member of a brotherhood who was suddenly unsettled by their females, properly warned and vaguely, spookily, put in their place.

Aurora turned her head to face him, and smiled as applause roared through the pub like a wave. But it wasn't the smile she'd given him most of today – it was sharp as a blade, and, perhaps for the first time, Suzaku really acknowledged that Aurora could be a serious threat, and could do serious harm if called upon to do so. He was glad he hadn't seen such a transformation, yet a small part of him was oddly disappointed, too. Suzaku felt his brows rise, and reaffirmed something to himself.

Spirited women were not to be trifled with.

Why he felt drawn to those kind of women, he wasn't really sure. Instead of answering his own question, he took a sip of soda and cleared his throat.

"You're a terrifying woman, you know that?" he asked in a low tone. Aurora just winked at him, and Suzaku felt the twin jabs of apprehension and something that felt like bubbles in his blood. Was there something wrong with his red blood count?

"Glad to see you're catching on. I was hoping Brenna would sing today – we were lucky. She's going to be famous one day, mark my words. Not that Jake doesn't play a mean fiddle. If their marriage can survive fame, they'll make a hell of a duo."

A little surprised, Suzaku glanced back at the stage just in time to see Jake the fiddler lean down and give his wife a soft kiss. When he looked back, the regular Aurora had slid into place once more, the performance over and the story told. Suzaku found himself relieved. It had been fascinating, but he was glad to have the woman he knew back, the silly one who pulled pranks on mean old museum curators.

"You ready to go home?" Her voice was gentle again, and Suzaku almost sighed.

"Sure, if you're ready."

Aurora smiled at him like she knew he was really exhausted, but let him be polite for the sake of his pride, standing from the booth and shrugging on her sweater. That brief glimpse of her spine almost knocked Suzaku back into the pub as he stood, but he managed a white grip on the table, hauling himself just in time to straighten when she turned around.

"Be right back," she murmured, striding to the bar on her fierce heels. In her usual brisk, warm fashion, Aurora waved to the bartender, bussed cheeks with Molly the waitress, and flicked a sentence and slightly terrifying look the twins' way. They paled, then blushed, then almost buried their faces in their Guinesses. Brenna and Jake caught her attention as she passed the stage to head back, exchanging brief niceties before gesturing towards Suzaku and walking away.

It was official. Aurora knew everybody in the world.

Snagging her purse, dropping a tip on the table, then sliding onto his arm, Aurora was towing him out of Morgan's Stag before Suzaku could blink. He didn't know if it was the good food or the strange, impressive performance, but suddenly Suzaku was so worn out, he could hardly keep his spine even mildly straight. He stood by during their brief visit to Proper Task in an exhaustion induced haze, watching blearily as Aurora hefted the numerous bags. They were told that Moira was busy painting, but was looking forward to hearing Suzaku. Embarrassed by his lackluster return visit, he tried to at least look sincere before trailing after Aurora out of the shop.

Natasha still scared the crap out of him, but as he awkwardly slid onto the leather seats, Suzaku found himself very grateful for the car's comfort. As Aurora stowed the bags, she passed him a water bottle that she'd suddenly produced like a genie, murmuring quietly to make sure he stayed hydrated. Suzaku had always thought of himself as steady and straightforward, but this rollercoaster ride of his condition was unnatural and difficult to tolerate. He was amazed that Aurora adjusted to him so quickly and easily. But then, that seemed to be a specialty of hers; molding and changing and bending. Like a sapling, she was supple enough to absorb any blow, and turn it to her favor.

When they stopped at MacNeilan's, Aurora told him to stay in the car. Suzaku very briefly entertained the idea of arguing, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. He was almost dozing when Aurora returned, carrying more clothes than he would have ever deemed necessary, but the deed was done. As she packed the bags away, humming lightly, he closed his eyes, his hat resting on the dash and the sunglasses drooping down the bridge of his nose. Suzaku almost jerked in surprise when Aurora ran her fingertips through the hair flopping over his brow, nudging down his glasses to get a good look at his eyes. She was very close, and Suzaku was shocked into stillness. He gazed at her with wide eyes, her expression considering as she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.

"Is anything outstandingly sore?"

Suzaku shook his head.

"You're sure?"

He nodded.

"So you're just tired?"

Again, he nodded. Her face was entirely too close to think of wrestling about his pride's need to lie.

"Alright. I think we'll skip tea with the O'Tooles. I'll call in a rain check – we need to get you home for some shut eye. You've way exceeded my expectations today, Suzaku," she said kindly when his brow furrowed at the change in plans. He didn't particularly want to have tea with strangers, but the idea of breaking plans on his behalf did not sit well. "So well that I forgot how precarious your condition is. You're a rock star, but you're not invincible."

How terribly true that was.

"Alright," Suzaku murmured before he realized what he was saying. But before he could take the word back, Aurora took the win, and straightened away from him. The tension bled out of him, and his head thunked against the car frame once she'd shut the door. As she started the car and headed out of Galway, Suzaku tried to keep his eyes open, to grab what final memories he could of the city. But before they'd even hit the northern borders, he was asleep.

Aurora drove much more sedately on the way home, taking into consideration her slumbering passenger. Suzaku was tired, alright, and she'd finally pushed him too far. Honestly, the day had been fun enough to forget that under that sling, he was stitched together at the seams, both physically and mentally. She was mad at herself, but not enough to cause any undue grumbling. Other than some faint shadows under his eyes, Suzaku was no worse for wear.

She tried to prepare herself for the inevitable low to pair with today's high – with Suzaku and his recovery, it would always be two steps forward, one step back. And when that step back hit, it was going to sting like lemon in a cut. But for now, Aurora glowed over the triumphs with the eagerness they deserved. Any improvement was worth praise. She'd pounded that into his thick skull enough over the last few days.

Stopped at a light, Aurora glanced over at a sleeping Suzaku. Loosening the leash just a little on the emotions that refused to wither away, she looked at him, and saw something that truly scared her. Something she wasn't sure she could live without.

Shaking her head at her foolishness, Aurora pulled away when the light turned green. This was a sanctuary, a safe place for Suzaku to heal enough to leap back into the fray. In no way, shape, or form could any of this ever be permanent. And developing feelings for one of the most complicated, dangerous, broken men she'd ever known – and that was saying something – was one of the stupidest things she'd ever done. Even more so than her last job, and that had almost gotten her killed.

Nothing could ever happen. Neither of them would ever survive it. But as she caught the way Suzaku's mouth softened in sleep, the way his brow finally truly smoothed as his hair fell forward, making him look terribly young, Aurora couldn't help but wish, just a little.

Suzaku was groggy when the steady thrum of Natasha's engines suddenly silenced, and as he blinked sleepily, the house swam into view. So this is what it felt like to come home. Aurora was already out of the car, sliding her seat forward to start unpacking. When she noticed that his eyes were open, she grinned.

"Good. You're awake. Since there was no way I'd be carrying you inside, I figured I'd wait until you finished your beauty sleep for now." The teasing melted away, leaving a calm kindness in its place. "Ban will take you upstairs. I know sleeping in a car isn't the most comfortable thing in the world, so why don't you get in a solid nap. Then we'll see about dinner."

Suzaku glanced towards today's purchases, and Aurora made a face at him.

"Don't even think about it."

The air that huffed through his nose may have been laughter. A little startled, and still bone weary, Suzaku gripped his cane as he levered himself out of the car, bracing an appreciative hand on Bannock's long back when he magically materialized at his side.

Somehow, the big dog got him inside and up the stairs, despite the fact that half of his brain had yet to function. Once in his room, Suzaku stripped, refusing to sleep in his new clothes. He had new pajamas, but Aurora hadn't unloaded them yet. Feeling guilty for relegating her to pack mule service simply because he was a gimpy idiot, Suzaku tugged on one of his hand-me-down sets, frowning as his arm stung and ached.

He all but fell into bed, and as he curled slightly on his good side, he felt the mattress bounce as Bannock joined him, circling in an ungainly shuffle before flopping down against his back with a contended groan. Smiling a little, Suzaku let his eyes drift shut.

Just as he was about to be truly claimed by sleep, a thought floated through Suzaku's head.

He hadn't thought about heroin, yearned for it, or even wished for it in passing, all day.

What had Aurora said about the ocean? It was something, alright.

---

I am so glad this beastly episode is finished. It's a giant monstrosity of varying emotions, but I'm rather proud of it. I've been planning that bit in the pub (namely the song), for, like, ever. Like I said before, let me know if you can guess the song. This one should be easier than the last one. When the story's finished (or someone guesses right), I'll post a list of the songs mentioned on my profile. Cuz, you know, they don't belong to me, and all that jazz.

There's a reference to a Nietzsche quote buried in here somewhere (I've actually done it before with one of his quotes, too). Really, there's too many hints and references buried in this thing – it's a Shout Out gold mine. I had really planned to write them meeting the O'Tooles, but, honestly, it's ridiculously huge already. And, so, I let Suzaku putter out on us. He wanted it, and he'd been such a champ all day, he was going to burn out eventually. The feeling was mutual, bud.

I have thought through a bunch of the tiny details in this story to a stupidly high level. If you have any questions, or are curious about them, don't hesitate to ask. I won't give away any spoilers, but I do have extra content planned for when Phoenix is finished. It's spoilerific, but super fun. Thank you to SilverTopHat for posting the couples meme that finally got this darn thing finished.

On a random extra note, I have a Pinterest board for both Suzaku and Aurora to give you an idea of some of my visualization. Here's the link:

I'll be taking a wee break, then diving back in. Some very exciting news coming up.

Hope you like it,

Tango