The old tradition of a witch riding her broom was a disrespectful product of many years of religious assimilations and overwritings, mostly by Britannia's order of priests working under the Emperor's wishes. It stemmed from an ancient convention of a woman of power using a carefully crafted broom to sweep out negativity from her home. Aurora had been around enough interesting company to learn of the old tale, and although she wasn't a practitioner or of any particularly blessed bloodline, the superstition blended with her natural tendencies towards occasionally manic cleaning. So, although she was content with the resolution to their titanic explosion of a disagreement, Aurora felt the need to gain a little personal closure.

So, as politely as possible, she kicked Suzaku and Bannock out of the house not long after breakfast the next day. Although she'd been cleaning the house on a regular basis since they'd arrived, a deep cleaning would alleviate any last bruises she carried and also give her and Suzaku some time to regroup privately. There was a great deal of information she was working to absorb, and mopping the floors and dusting practically every surface of the house would help her do so. She also hoped with a great deal more investment than she knew was wise that Suzaku was also considering what they'd talked about.

With her music plugged in and booming loud enough to rattle the panes in the windows, she set about her task, starting in the upstairs study and making her methodical way down. Ban had protested the banishment, sulkily following Suzaku down the steps and out into the garden, still a little prickly from all the emotion that had swirled through the house over the last few days. He usually knew what to do on cleaning days, but Aurora wanted some time to herself and him out from underfoot. There had been a memorable instance in London when she'd chased him out of the house like a slightly deranged avenging angel armed with a still-dripping mop and a dusty broom when he'd trotted across her just-mopped floor with muddy paws – that was not an episode she wanted a repeat of today.

Following her baking spree yesterday, the kitchen was the area most in need of her attention. Aurora worked her way through the battlefield she'd indulgently left behind the day before. Once the mountain of dishes had been tackled and the counters set to rights, she turned her attention to the floor. A solid week of grubby paws and walks outside in any weather only to return to the kitchen had left her with some serious work. But after more than a month of emotional challenges, physical work was something she could get her teeth into with relish.

When a particularly ridiculous song clicked on, Aurora felt her mouth quirk as she swiped the mop across the floor, the suds cutting through the grime as the first chords rippled across the air. She was humming along before she knew it, the quick words tripping off her tongue, the roll to her hips and quick steps in time with the beat instinctive. With no regard to form or technique, she whipped around, using the mop as both ballast and support, singing loud and with zero regard to how closely she hit the notes about the preposterous attributes required in a man. As she managed to erratically clean the floor while gleefully bouncing around the kitchen, Aurora relaxed, her shoulders going soft as she struck out her hand, running seductive fingers through her messy, brutally bundled hair.

Surrounded by the song, alone and free of judgment, Aurora greedily gripped the fun she'd been struggling to keep alive since she'd come to this house. Until her entire world had collapsed like a house of cards, Aurora had never realized how much it mattered to her, how it kept her heart safer than all the walls she'd spent entirely too much energy building. With a dependability that had never once disappointed her, the music swept Aurora away, rinsing the worry and strain from her muscles and leaving a shine, both sweet and bright, in its wake.

Suzaku was celebrating his final removal of the sling he'd worn for over a month with a solid romp over the hills with the gray hound at his side. Aurora hadn't exactly been subtle, both in her exile of them from the house and her refusal to his offers for help. But it was hard to complain; he still found it bizarrely easy to take comfort from the land, from the quiet breeze that ruffled his hair and the rustle of leaves that seemed to move along his skin. A simple walk certainly had never been this restorative back in Aurelius. And Ban's muted, kind presence either at his side or the edges of his awareness kept any loneliness he might feel at bay, his eager explorations urging Suzaku to walk just a little longer. After his relapse following Galway, Suzaku had been pushing himself, walking farther every day, demanding a return to strength he didn't always know if he could achieve.

But it was getting easier, even if the changes seemed too minute to matter. At the very least, he could move his shoulder now, if he was extremely careful. Aurora had been creative with her threats when she'd warned him not to push any part of his upper left body too hard, too fast. And she made the drill sergeants he'd endured as a youth seem downright delicate in comparison to how she drove him through physical therapy, always with an encouraging smile and a steely glint in her eyes. Any inkling of ignoring her warnings was all but incinerated under the punishing exercises she yanked him through – it was miserable, frustrating work, but between her determination and his desperation, the pair of them were dragging Suzaku back into fighting condition. Because he knew – dreaded or anticipated, he wasn't sure – that there was a fight waiting for him back in Britannia. And if Suzaku was going to avoid failing Nunnally again, then he needed to be able to win that fight, decisively and without hesitation. In order to do that, no matter how much it grated, he had to follow Kendra and Aurora's instructions to the letter. Because reinjury wasn't even an option. Not after the misery he'd suffered so far.

So Suzaku contented himself with walking the property, wondering how far he could go before he left the land belonging to Chandler and Kendra. There were no fences but ancient walls to speak of, and it was difficult to say if those were accurate. When he'd brought it up to Aurora, she'd just shrugged with a smile, saying that if he wasn't supposed to go anywhere, there'd be a current-enough fence to warn him.

After making his way north for some time, Suzaku cut back down in a southwestern direction, moving in an arc around the house. He'd become fond of the oak tree on the western half of the property. Deciding to take the time to enjoy the dappled sunlight, a gentle hint of approaching summer, Suzaku carefully sat next to the trunk, Ban trotting over and curling at his side without encouragement, like he knew that was where he was needed, where he belonged. Suzaku couldn't help but envy the dog's simple certainty of his place.

He often found himself sitting here after a walk to rest up before heading back to the house, or just to achieve some time alone. Even when he wasn't in Aurora's company, the house seemed to breathe with her, reverberating with her movements and radiating her energy. Even when she wasn't physically around, it was as if Aurora was always there. Suzaku found it comforting most of the time, and supposed it was a testament to her strength of will that even her environment had no choice but to mirror her incredible vigor. But it could be downright exhausting, living in the echo of that power, especially when he was still struggling with his enduring sense of inadequacy. Never had Suzaku felt so dark than when standing in the presence of such a bright light.

Yet Aurora had given him a choice. To languish in the darkness he'd assigned himself, thrown into shadow by her. Or, perhaps, to take in the light she so eagerly shared. It was terrifying, but tempting. He still didn't know what path to take, caught between the options in a sort of paralyzed indecision. But more and more Suzaku had caught himself yearning for something he'd believed lost. Something he'd long ago sacrificed for a cause he'd since forgotten to force himself to believe in.

He caught himself wondering, though. Aurora's certainty, her intense belief, was seductive, enough so that he contemplated if there were parts of himself not yet dead. Just dormant, like seeds surviving a nuclear winter. His hand paused from its smooth strokes over Bannock's ridged spine, balling into a fist over his shoulder blades. Suzaku tipped his head back against the rough bark of the trunk, waiting for the wave of nausea and chills that took him in its sweaty grip every time he allowed himself to consider her positivity, to consider himself something not necessarily worthy of swift euthanization.

But it never came. Maybe a quick shadow of it, but it passed almost before he felt it. It left Suzaku blinking into the mottled sunlight in its wake, breathing a little hard as his skin prickled. He had no illusions about his future, but he wondered how his time here could be, this brief sanctuary from his duties, if he allowed himself a chance to be something other than a penitent sinner.

It was too much to consider, a boatload of hope and risk that he simply couldn't grapple with right now. But it didn't have to be dismissed just to keep him from losing his mind. Maybe, in time, Suzaku could face those questions with the personal honesty Aurora was adamant he owed himself.

But for now, he just sat, breathing in the smell of grass and wood and the faint, sweet tickle of the flowers from the gardens. With conscious command, he loosened his hand, resuming his slow strokes over Ban's fur. The dog had raised his head and gazed at Suzaku during his mental wrestling, but now dropped his head back to his paws, his eyes drifting shut as Suzaku smoothed his fingers over the dog's brows, following the whorl of hair around his ears and under his navy collar. As he rubbed the juncture of Ban's neck and shoulder blade, the dog leaned into the contact, grunting quietly as his eyes drifted closed, slightly glazed with happy, greedy comfort.

Suzaku took his time, consciously enjoying the gorgeous weather and pleasant company. As he continued petting the deliriously contented dog, Bannock flopped over on his side, Suzaku wincing at the way his head thunked against the ground. He moved his palm over the dog's broad ribcage, garnering a lazy stretch of long legs hard enough to separate long toes and curling long, broad claws. Dropping his head back against the sturdy oak, Suzaku continued passing his hand over Ban's silky coat, drawing up his knee to shield and support his injured arm as his eyes slid shut. A soft breeze scented with the earth and air stirred his hair and brushed against his skin like silken fingertips.

When his eyes flickered open again, Suzaku could tell by the position of the sun that at least an hour had passed since he and Ban had plopped themselves under the shade of the oak's leaves. Ban know sat pressed against his side, Suzaku's arm draped over the dog's strong, bony shoulders, looking out over the hills and house with a quick gaze the color of his mistress's tea. When Suzaku straightened slightly against the tree, Ban whipped his eyes around, suddenly panting in a dog's facsimile of a grin. Smiling at the happy greeting and grimacing at the faceful of dog breath, Suzaku gently nudged Ban's face away as he creakily made his way to his feet.

"I suppose we better go check on your mama," Suzaku murmured to Ban as he cautiously stretched, who immediately howled low in his throat in agreement before dancing back and forth in encouragement. A low, gravelly laugh tripped from Suzaku's throat as he affectionately scrubbed his hand along the hound's spine. He'd laughed more here while recovering from critical injuries than in the last five years. It seemed pointless to wonder what that said about his life.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Tucking his hands in his pockets, marveling at the fact that he could now do it with both hands, Suzaku headed back towards the house, Ban trotting ahead with his gazelle-long stride. As he rounded the banks of flowers and carefully hopped onto the gravel path, Suzaku paused when he caught sight of Ban again.

Instead of standing on the step by the kitchen door, wagging his tail and nudging the door frame with his nose or paw, maybe even barking in that low, lilting voice of his, the dog instead sat, his tail draped over the steps as he silently peered through the screen, his ears up and his eyes wide.

Suzaku furrowed his brows as he smiled at Ban, surprised by the uncharacteristic behavior. He hadn't yet reached the bank of windows when he could make out Aurora's voice over the pounding drive of the music. As Suzaku drew nearer, the appreciative grin stole over his face without conscious control, easily reading the eager power in her singing. As he cleared the corner of the house, though, and finally caught sight of her through the screened kitchen door, Suzaku stilled in blank shock.

Aurora was grace personified, in Suzaku's opinion. Elegant, lethal, and achingly beautiful. Yet the woman dancing in the kitchen… wasn't. She was grubby, vaguely ridiculous, and so ecstatically oblivious that she didn't notice Suzaku and Ban peering at her dumbly in the doorway. She swayed and rocked, her face twisted into exaggerated expressions that mirrored the lyrics, popping out of her mouth so quickly they almost stumbled over the tails of each other. The words darted through the air like crazed sparrows, Aurora occasionally losing pace, making up for it with an especially fierce expression as the singer listed her dubious requirements in a man.

Whirling around her mop like it was an unwilling partner, Aurora proceeded to scoot backwards across the floor in time with the music, leading with her butt and tugging the mop along with her. It was terribly hilarious, and Suzaku pressed his fingers to his lips to hold back the barking giggle that wanted to burst out. It was enlightening – beautiful, skilled Aurora danced like a loon when no one was watching. He had no doubt she could be smooth and sinuous when she wanted. But now, Aurora moved with spastic abandon.

The singer's range was too brassy and high for Aurora to follow faithfully; that, however, did not encourage her to hold back on volume or vigor. She was singing with everything she had, regardless of tone or accuracy. In a way, Suzaku had to admire the uninhibited manner in which Aurora obviously enjoyed herself, the forceful push of sound from deep in her lungs as she wiggled and bounced seemed to purge her more than any blood-letting or bone-breaking. In that silly glitter of pleasure, Suzaku could almost see her remaking herself.

Suddenly, the song shifted, and, using her mop's handle as a microphone surrogate, Aurora began to belt out what appeared to be the only substantial singing in the song. It still wasn't quite in her range, but Aurora nonetheless gave it an intensity that sent shivers down Suzaku's spine. Squeezing her eyes shut, demanding that her man stayed, singing about runaway heartbeats and their bass tempos, Aurora spun, her brow knitted and her grip on the mop like she was afraid where she'd end up if she let go.

For a moment, she was radiant. Stunning in her personal fire, fleet water tumbling over limber wood. Then, she gave an exaggerated twist of her hips, and she was once again twirling around the kitchen in a bad approximation of a dance he knew she was butchering on purpose. Because it was fun, and who would care?

In the closing beats of the song, she struck a glamorous pose made off-kilter by her spotted purple t-shirt, bright blue toenails, and listing, wild hair. She was breathing a little hard, the mop head sad and dirty like a grumpy cohort. Suzaku swallowed back his laughter, cleared his throat, then raised his hands and began to slowly clap.

She reeled around like he'd shot her. For a moment, her eyes flew wide, blank with surprise and assessment. Then, the flush in Aurora's cheeks doubled, staining her face and neck like spilled juice. Gingerly, she leaned the mop against the counter, rubbing her fingers through the hair falling into her eyes like it was its fault that she'd been caught. She trudged over the wet floor to the door with her face flaming and a weak smile hovering around her lips. Aurora opened her mouth to say something, but Suzaku beat her to it.

"Sorry. I didn't want to come in until you were finished. I'd hate to muck up your clean floor." There was a shimmer of laughter under the words, try as he might to control them. Aurora just laughed, weak and hoarse, before rubbing her hands dry on her dark gray sweatpants, her entire demeanor shrieking embarrassment.

"Ah… no problem." She couldn't seem to find it in herself to say anything else.

"Shall I head around front?" he offered brightly. "I can make sure Ban's paws are wiped off if you've got a towel handy."

Aurora bobbed her head in agreement.

"Sure. Let me grab one," she managed, her voice shrilly bright, still scrabbling to recover. Quickly hunting up an appropriate rag from the laundry, she trotted back to hand it to her uninvited audience. Suzaku stepped backwards with the towel in hand, patting his thigh to call Ban like he'd seen Aurora do, who seemed uninterested now that the show was over.

As Suzaku stepped away from the door, Aurora still scrambled to recover her wits. That had been… excessively unfortunate. She didn't mind dancing in front of people, she reminded herself when she finally trudged to the laundry room to get the towel to dry the floor. She'd built several covers on the fact that she didn't, and she usually liked it. But not like that, Aurora thought with a groan, pausing with the towel in her hands to bang her forehead off the wall a few times.

Treacherous floor. It didn't mind letting her dance all over it, but when she wanted the damn thing to open and swallow her, it had been stubbornly uncooperative. She couldn't quite figure it out – such a thing happening not even a couple months ago might have made her a little embarrassed, but she would have just shrugged and grinned and teased the other person until she felt they were back on even keel. So why did it freak her out so badly that Suzaku saw her not up to her usual standards, acting like an idiot and looking like a grimy chambermaid? Why did it matter?

Well, it shouldn't. She was certain of that. Almost. Kind of.

Whatever. Stomping to the center of the kitchen, she took a second to grab up her armor, her attitude, and slot it firmly into place. As she began to glide the towel across the floor with her toes, she looked up just in time to see the boys striding into the foyer, looking wind-tousled and gorgeous, the both of them. Looking away, she groaned, the noise so quiet it barely vibrated her throat, waiting until she was out of sight again before digging the heels of her hands into her eyes and dragging her palms down her cheeks.

Maybe if she just pretended like nothing had happened, Suzaku would just forget about it.

Suzaku was certain that he'd never forget that afternoon for the rest of his life. Even now, in the quiet of the evening after dinner, he played it over in his head as the trio retired to the parlor. In what had become their habit, Suzaku folded his limbs onto the surprisingly comfortable brocade chair with the worn spots at the ends of the armrests while Aurora stretched out along the neatly recovered couch, Ban curled up at her feet. He scribbled out rough sketch after rough sketch, determined to immortalize Aurora's display of inelegant dancing. The sketches were never to be shown to anyone, least of all the subject, since Suzaku didn't want to test the extent of Aurora's creativity when it came to vengeance, as he expected it was expansive, and blood-chilling. But he was certain that any time he looked at them, they'd bring a smile to his face. To know that joy could be easy, and freedom so simple. And that such a stunning woman could be such an utter goofball.

Even now, he smiled to himself, rubbing a finger over the tip of his nose to hide the expression from Aurora's keen eyes. He really needn't have bothered, though. Aurora was thoroughly engrossed in her novel, quickly flipping through the final pages as she raced towards an ending she probably already knew but was deliriously eager to experience again. She made a small, excited keening noise, and Suzaku braced his elbows on the arms of the chair, intently watching the facial expressions flicker and fade across her face in rapid succession. He could tell when she was nearing the final resolution, as a huge smile began to edge across her pretty mouth, practically glinting off her glasses, it was so bright.

As her eyes skipped across the final sentence, Aurora softly flipped the book closed, pressing it to her chest and wiggling on the couch in a seated approximation of a happy dance, cheerful little trills sounding from her throat. Finally, she set the book down on the floor next to her, and with a huge sigh, laced her fingers together, inverted her palms, and stretched her arms out in front of her before arcing them over her head. Suzaku felt his eyes widen, however, when, instead of stopping above or just behind her head, Aurora's hands kept going, her upper body bowing back over the arm rest until her palms pressed against the floor and her ponytail pooled on the rug, her spine curled like a cresting wave.

Even as Suzaku's mouth went bone dry, he swallowed nervously. Every curve and muscle from Aurora's hips up was highlighted in stark relief. His blood pounded so loud in his ears, he could hardly hear himself think. Not that he had any idea what to think, really. Except damn, the woman was supple as a sapling. A stretch of delicate skin along her midriff had been revealed by her stretch, along with the silvered scar just under the left edge of her waist that was unmistakably an old bullet wound. Aurora's parting gift from Nikolai, the slug that had set her free. The undeniable fact that she was strong enough to survive it, to fight through it, made Suzaku's breath faintly wheeze.

It lasted maybe ten seconds, before Aurora easily righted herself, readjusted her glasses, and squirmed her toes under Ban's rump like she hadn't just bent herself in half. Suzaku, however, was no closer to gathering his thoroughly scattered thoughts, his pencil dangling from limp fingers and his pulse pounding like he was holding his breath. With a startled inhalation, he realized he was. Suzaku didn't have the faintest idea what all this meant, except that he'd rather face down an armed contingent with a butter knife than try to flop his way through this confusion and tension.

Aurora very slowly slid her eyes over to his without turning her head, her expression completely neutral behind the lenses of her glasses. But as she held his eyes for what felt like a year before looking back to Ban and cooing to the hound, Suzaku got an answer to at least one of his myriad of questions too sizzling hot to even consider. Aurora's version of revenge was brutal, sly, and impossible to predict. No doubt about it, the woman was dangerous. And, apparently, exquisite enough to turn Suzaku's brain to mush.

Shocked into a flurry of blinking, he realized with a dazed sort of dawning that there was a part of him, woven deep down in the bone where instinct pulsed, that liked it.

Oh, he was so fucked.

I'm alive! As some of you rock stars know, I moved me and the hound dog to a house this last month. It's little, old, and awesome. I have finally gotten enough of my life put back together to sit my sorry butt down and finish this chapter, which was started long before Moving Day. Bad Tango. Bad. I don't really know what to say about this chapter except that I love it. Been imagining it forever (the first part at least). The second part was inspired by a stretch I did on my couch during one of the last days I had it. So this is me, immortalizing my moment with my squooshy red couch.

My birthday's in five days. And you know what would be the best birthday present from you lovelies?

Reviews.

Hope you like it,

Love, Tango