Aurora just stared at him, too shocked to say anything. He laced those long fingers together, pressing them against the back of his neck as he dropped his forehead to his kneecaps.
"I didn't... How is this even possible? It must be some sort of joke," he muttered into his lap, his voice and shoulders still shaking from deranged laughter.
She didn't find it very funny. In fact, she was still completely furious with him. And afraid.
Horribly afraid.
Because what was to stop Suzaku from rolling up to his feet and striding right off that cliff edge she'd barely managed to drag him back from? Absolutely nothing except his own will to live. And Aurora trusted that about as far as she could throw a Knightmare.
Lurching awkwardly to her feet with the steady support of the oak, thrown painfully off balance by her wrenched shoulder, Aurora limped over, movement making it blatantly obvious that she'd literally put her back into saving him. It hurt like a broken tooth all the way down beyond the curve of her spine. Pissed and in pain, in more ways than one, Aurora nudged her toe against his hip, none too gently.
"Knock it off, Suzaku," she snapped, attempting to stride off her rage even as every step made her shoulder and spine weep. "Man, I should hit you so hard right now." Not that she could, of course. He could be injured far worse than her, and too brain dead from that crazy revelation to be feeling it. Besides, she was feeling her injuries just fine, and a solid punch would cost her far more than it would be worth. Even if it would make her feel better.
Suzaku raised his head at her bitter words, his expression one of confusion and brain-scrambling shock.
"Why?" he finally managed to murmur. Aurora stared at him savagely for a second before resuming her stilted pacing.
"Why? Why do you think, you asshat? Because we both almost fell to our horrible deaths, splattered against rocks like sludge, and all you can think about is that stupid Geass command. Don't you fucking dare," she snarled when Suzaku barely opened his mouth. "Don't you dare tell me I shouldn't have saved you, that I didn't have to. You cannot imagine the damage I will cause if you dare say that to me right now."
It was slowly filtering through Suzaku's hazed brain that Aurora was genuinely angry, angrier even than when they'd had the fight about the history of his heroin use. Riding on that thought's sluggish tail was the realization that something was wrong with her.
"So why did you?" he asked, still returning to his brain, piece by piece. The fragments were too scattered to urge him to be wise enough to hold his tongue. Aurora rounded on him, her eyes glazed like molten glass while flags of color rode high on her cheekbones.
"Let me think. Because Kendra and I have invested God knows how much time and effort and money to salvage your sorry hide. Because if I stack one more lost life that I could have saved on my soul, it might just crumble under the weight. Did you ever think what would happen to Nunnally if you had your way, hot shot? Can you imagine what it would be like for me to contact the sister I haven't seen in over a decade to inform her that her guardian angel literally slipped through my fingers to plummet to his death? 'Whoops. Sorry,' doesn't quite cover it."
The dreams would be the worst, Aurora knew. She would remember that moment for the rest of her days, when she realized what exactly was happening, the way Suzaku had tumbled over the edge like the void was swallowing him whole. If she hadn't been fast enough, or strong enough... The shudder that ran through her was easily mistaken for cold or anger.
"Because I'm your friend, you moron."
But she didn't sound particularly friendly. She sounded furious. Suzaku didn't protest her veiled accusation that he'd wanted to die; he didn't know the answer himself. And that silence drove Aurora's temper even higher.
"You cowardly son of a bitch," she snarled, the sheer aggression in her tone and face driving up Suzaku's brows, made that much worse by the whisper that delivered it. Unlike her, he didn't yet have the energy to straighten his legs, certain they'd fold underneath him like a new colt's. So he just sat, watching Aurora lunge back and forth like an enraged lioness, the promise of blood in her eyes. "You're so stupidly selfless about everything else except this. Why does it always have to be your way, huh? What makes you so special that you have to take all the blame? How come you get the easy out?" She was gesturing wildly with largely one hand, the implications of which were starting to dawn on him, helped along by the recollection that Aurora wasn't naturally left handed. "Jesus, Suzaku. You know what it's like to be left behind. Why in the world would you wish that on people who care about you, who would be hit hard by losing you? And don't be obtuse enough to think that there's no one like that - you know better than that."
"You're injured," he said frankly, too rattled to respond to her questions and points. Instead, he latched onto the one thing that had become stunningly clear - Aurora had gotten hurt trying to save him. She suddenly froze at his words, staring at him stonily for a long moment.
"I need my phone," she bit out, stomping over to the car. Curious and finally having gathered enough calm to take to his feet, Suzaku lurched up, cautiously trailing after her. The smoke of her temper drifted through the air behind her, a sharp tint to the smell of rain and earth.
With more force than was strictly necessary, Aurora typed out a text to Kendra. It was only one word: Tsaritsyn. It was the site of the bloodiest battle from the massive war over sixty years ago, and the doctor would know exactly what she meant.
Shoving the phone in her pocket, Aurora stalked around the hood of the car to the driver's side. Suzaku, however, loped around the trunk, beating her to it. He latched onto the door handle, looking down at her with a weird expression in his eyes.
"I'll drive," he said quietly.
"Please," Aurora mocked with a roll of her eyes. But he didn't release the door handle, nor did he move out of the way.
"I mean it, Aurora. You'll have trouble steering, and the last thing you need to do is agitate the injury." He quirked his brow a little – yeah, it was ironic. She'd been throwing that crap in his face for months. Now it was her turn.
Aurora scowled, but he was proving oddly impossible to cow. Huffing in resignation, she bad-temperedly tromped to the other side of the car, trying to twist and finagle herself into the passenger seat without whimpering. By the time she got herself buckled in, her vision was a little gray. Taking deep breaths, Aurora tried to resist the urge to drop her head between her knees.
As Suzaku got into the driver's seat, his brain reached its first moment of clarity since before the fall. Old instinct had taken hold, and it was almost habitual to function, to move through the stress and shock. Just do what needed to be done next. And what needed to be done was that Aurora needed to be kept safe. Now that he was paying attention, it was easy to see the way she cradled her arm close to her stomach, the clammy pallor under the color of temper. He had to get her home. Without tossing her around the car, of course.
Concentrating with immense intensity, Suzaku went through the motions he'd learned only a few days ago, carefully, and smoothly, shifting into gear and pulling out onto the road to head back to the house. When it had been his pride and fear on the line, Suzaku had driven horribly. But when Aurora's comfort and care was at stake, the motions and transitions came quietly. Not instinctively - the first few miles required a level of focus he hadn't really used since combat. But he had yet to bounce her against her seat belt, and that was the important part. Apparently what he'd been lacking was the right motivation.
Aurora rested her forehead against the cool, rain-beaded window, turned away from him in a blatant refusal to talk. After her rampage by the tree, Suzaku already had a pretty good idea she'd said what she wanted to say, anyway. The thing now was picking his way through what had happened, and how exactly he felt about it.
The best he could compare it to was a light switch. You go your whole life, and when a switch flips, a light goes on. Then there's a moment when the switch is flipped and no light goes on that your brain just blanks. Eventually you gather yourself up enough to test it, to determine if the bulb is dead or the wire faulty. But his realization had been so huge, his blank moment so monumental upon noticing a lack of the telltale fizzle that had always alerted him that the Geass command was taking over. He'd been so completely floored, it had frozen him like a blast of ice, beyond reaction or comprehension. So he had dangled from Aurora's hold, utterly incapable of understanding what was happening to him. Because it should have been impossible.
"It just doesn't make sense." He hadn't meant to mutter that out loud, but Suzaku was still surprised when Aurora stirred and responded.
"What doesn't?" Her voice was cool and distant. He was a little taken aback by the way his chest ached at the change in tone.
"Lelouch's Geass is impossible to break. It was absolute obedience that only ends upon completion of the order or the target's death. There are those besides myself living under those commands to this day, regardless of when Lelouch died. They never stop. Except..."
"Except for a hard reset," she offered, her voice hollow.
"Like Jeremiah's Geass Canceller," he agreed with a nod. "But I was never exposed to that."
"That's not the only way to reset a brain."
"The heroin withdrawal?" Suzaku guessed. Aurora just shrugged.
"Or a solid blow to the head. But, yeah, that's probably what did it."
There was a silky edge to her voice that made it obvious she'd be more than happy to deliver that blow. Now that Suzaku thought about it, and not Aurora's sudden inclination to smack him, it made a sort of sense. The stress of the withdrawal had reset his memories of Euphie. What was to say the experience hadn't done so to other parts of his brain, as well? And until today, he'd never been in enough danger to test it.
That brought a whole other point to bear. He'd been living for two months without any idea that his life was again his to take. And he hadn't had a clue. Besides the rare, almost rote wish to end his life these days, Suzaku hadn't been driven to walk to the edge of balconies or play any more than necessary with scissors or knives. He'd done it all the time right after Euphie's death, when he'd simply refused to believe that he couldn't follow her into death. He'd tested for a chink or falter in the order, an escape clause or expiration date. But not now. Not here. What did that say about him?
Did he really want to die?
Suzaku almost bobbled the wheel, and focused fiercely to make sure the car stayed smack in the middle of its lane. Once it again steadied, he cautiously approached the thought again. When he'd been hanging there, ribs and arm screaming, the surf pounding far below, Aurora's hand cool and wet from the rain on his wrist and her eyes drilling into his, the shocking quiet ringing through his head, had he wanted her to let go? He didn't know.
Once she'd saved him, a show of magnificent strength that made him want to hug her and quite possible never let go, had Suzaku regretted Aurora's act of immense power and courage? Would it have just been easier, even preferable if she'd failed? He didn't know.
With a rising sense of frustration, Suzaku realized that he didn't know much of anything. Certainly not about himself.
There was a part of him still that stubbornly refused to believe the command was gone, that he was free. With all the wonderful, terrible things it implied. As agonizing as it had been, the command had been as close to immortality as humanly possible once Charles zi Britannia was erased. With it gone, the cliff had given Suzaku his first, tangy taste of mortality in years. He'd been horribly invincible for so long, he hardly knew how to deal with again being merely human.
As they curved around Gallagher and aimed for home, Suzaku snuck glances at Aurora, who was growing paler by the second, her face tight with pain and fury. Even an idiot could figure out that she was immensely angry with him. The real question was, why, exactly?
He was guilty in a sort of second-hand fashion at his complete uselessness during the episode – really, it was embarrassing, life-altering realization notwithstanding. But he'd still put her in danger, caused her injury. Though Suzaku didn't think that was really the root of her anger, even as the shame of it stung him. There was something else that was infuriating Aurora, and he just wasn't getting it. Like a thin layer of mist had covered his brain, and he just couldn't wrap his hands around the thoughts well enough to wrangle them into some sort of submission and understanding. He was being pulled in so many different directions, he couldn't be sure which one deserved, or needed, his attention.
And considering the expression on Aurora's face, he was a little reluctant to ask. Her right arm, the one closest to him, may be injured, but her left one was just as strong and fully capable. As he pulled into the gravel drive, awkwardly rubbing the door against one of the hedges but shifting relatively without incident, Suzaku could hear Ban's welcoming howls through the soft patter of rain. He felt a little bad for the dog – the state of his mama would be drastically different than the one she'd left in. Because of him.
Wincing at the lance of guilt, Suzaku parked largely in the middle of the open area by the front porch, unwilling to try parking by the barn with the precious duchess inside, and thinking it would be better if Aurora had to walk less of a distance. Once he's turned off the ignition, Suzaku hopped out of the car, racing to open the door before she could struggle with it. He beat her to it, pretty much pulling the handle out of her hand. She sat glaring at him through the drizzle, her eyes jagged and sizzling hot in the pale planes of her face.
"Thank you. For saving my life," Suzaku said quietly, more sincere and genuine than he'd ever been when it came to the gift and burden of his own life. He couldn't give her answers, but she deserved his gratitude. Offering his hand to help her out, Suzaku hoped the olive branch would make a difference, even in the slightest. She looked from his face, to his hand, then back again. Finally, she tilted her head in a way that should have translated consideration, but instead just made Suzaku feel small, even though he towered over her.
"That would mean a lot more if you hadn't given up." For the briefest of seconds, the fury drained from her eyes, replaced by a pain and godawful disappointment that made Suzaku want to crumple to his knees before her and beg forgiveness for a crime he hadn't even known he'd committed. Then it was gone, and Aurora was again coldly livid. Gripping the door frame with white, angry knuckles, she heaved herself out of the car without his help, limping to the house like she was escaping something, not returning to something.
More confused than ever, he shut the door and silently trailed after her, careful not to touch or get too close. What could he possible say to that?
Aurora knew that if she didn't get into the house, into her room, in the next sixty seconds, she was going to toss her lunch up onto her shoes. Her shoulder was an anvil, her blood a hammer strike against it with every heartbeat. As soon as she ripped open the front door, Ban immediately stopped howling. It was part of his training, but she could tell by the look on his face that the realization that something was very, very wrong had dawned on him, and he was suddenly scared. Tucking down in a standard stance of submission, he slunk to her side, eyeing Suzaku with curiosity but refusing to move from his spot leaning against her leg. Murmuring nonsense in an attempt to comfort both of them, and largely failing, Aurora lunged up the stairs, the swirling dizziness making it a dangerous, desperate task. Suzaku said something – she had no idea what through the buzzing in her ears – and slammed her bedroom door closed behind her. Without shrugging off her coat or even trying to make it to her bed, she pressed her back against the door and slid down to the floor, dropping her head between her knees as she sucked in huge, shuddering breaths.
Ban sat next to her, draping his head over her back, gently licking her ear in comfort when a shuddering, strangled whimper rattled her whole frame. Finally, Aurora was under control enough to raise her head, dislodging Ban's comforting weight. He gazed solemnly at her for a long moment with his wise, innocent eyes before breaking into a grin and panting his dependably rank breath in her face. With a weak, smiling grimace, she nudged his face away, running her fingers over his ears to compensate.
"Oh, Baby Ban. I thought it was going to be a good day."
He tucked his nose under Aurora's chin, burrowing against her chest in the way he'd done when he'd been about sixty pounds lighter, trying to crawl into her lap. With a groaning laugh, she attempted to shove him away, but the hound was utterly adamant. So she just relaxed as much as she could, the giant dog draped over her, her shoulder still painful enough to make breathing a chore. She was wet, tired, and in a considerable amount of pain. But Aurora couldn't quite find it in herself to push him away. She could say, with absolute certainty, that Bannock would never give up on her. Never break her heart into tiny shards with disappointment. Suddenly, she was petrified to go downstairs, to face what had happened on the cliff edge and what it was doing to her. Her shoulder wasn't important. But her heart? Her heart was in serious, serious trouble. And nothing had ever made her quite so furious.
By the time they'd both dried off and changed clothes, the rain had worsened. Now pounding instead of pattering, it still barely rubbed a notch into the heavy silence that had overtaken the house. Neither party was willing or able to talk, and Ban was in the middle, confused and uncomfortable. In reality, they all felt that way. Aurora sat at the kitchen table with a curtain of simmering fury around her, a forbidding and dangerous animal just waiting for the excuse to strike, staring obstinately at her largely untouched mug of tea. She'd ignored his offer of help earlier, and had snarled at his suggestion that her injury needed attending. So Suzaku stayed at the counter, scrubbing the mud out of his jeans. Since he felt like there was something he had to make up for, he had snagged Aurora's jeans and jacket when she'd tossed them on the floor in the laundry room. They were bundled on the counter along with his coat, waiting their turn. It might have seemed odd for the son of a premier taking a scrub brush to muddy jeans, but he'd spent enough time frantically cleaning his uniform to pass inspection to be surprisingly competent at the chore.
The bang of the front door distracted a miserable Bannock. Aurora hardly moved, but Suzaku approached the doorway, surprised and relieved to see Kendra and Chandler tromp inside, both soaking wet and looking scarily determined. A part of his mind boggled when Kendra opened her coat then shrugged it off, revealing a sizable belly bump that made her look incredibly fertile and a little terrifying. She swept down the hallway, leaving behind mud and spraying water, Chandler making his leisurely way after her, his buddy Ban plastered to his side as he grunted and chattered out his side of the story. As she entered the kitchen in all her maternal grandeur, Kendra's eyes swept over Suzaku and Aurora, the lenses of her glasses slightly misted.
"All right. Who died?"
In lieu of an answer, Aurora just jerked her thumb over her shoulder towards Suzaku. Like adjusting the coordinates on a missile, this sent Kendra immediately aimed towards him, dumping her bag on the ground and running her fingertips over his collarbone.
"Wait, I-"
"What happened?" Kendra demanded sharply. Over her shoulder, he could see Chandler brushing the water from his hair, patting Bannock as he took in the room with quiet, surprisingly sharp eyes. Suzaku looked down at Kendra, and it occurred to him that her aggression was a front for worry.
"Suzaku fell off a cliff." Aurora words broke the air like dry twigs, harsh and apathetic.
Chandler's jaw dropped a little, his eyes gleaming in what could only be described as the expression of an impressed male.
"Seriously?"
Kendra's eyes widened, her fingers suddenly clamping around Suzaku's wrist, betraying her fear and doctorly instincts to check his pulse.
"What?!"
Finally gathering himself, Suzaku rested his palm lightly on Kendra's shoulder.
"I'm fine. I slipped; Aurora saved me. Actually, she's the one who needs your attention."
"No, I don't," Aurora snapped into her tea mug. Kendra took a step away, looking back and forth between the two of them.
"Who's hurt worse?"
Simultaneously, they both pointed at each.
"He is."
"She is."
Chandler snorted at their perfectly in-sync words. "You saved him, Aurora? What, you pulled him back over the edge where he helplessly dangled?"
Suzaku almost snorted at Chandler's joking tone, smirking a little when he answered.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, she did."
That kept him quiet for a few seconds, then Chandler looked over at his friend with approving nods and eyes glittering with appreciation.
"Holy crap, Stretch. You some sort of superhero?"
"Shut the fuck up, Chandler." Pointed silence fell in the wake of Aurora's words. They weren't joking; they weren't even sarcastic. They were just this side of vicious, and cuttingly cold. The politician's brow rose a little.
"A pissy superhero," he muttered under his breath. Aurora's outburst had Kendra stepping closer. The blonde still hadn't moved from her determined contemplation of her nastily cold tea. After a few long moments of studying her friend, Kendra spoke.
"Strip." Her eyes went to Suzaku. "Both of you."
Chandler's wolf-whistle competed with Suzaku's splutter.
"What? Why?"
The doctor just rolled her eyes.
"Take off your shirt, you big baby." She nudged Aurora's chair. "You too, grumpy butt."
In silence, they both slid off their shirts. Suzaku shed his long sleeved t-shirt and undershirt with relative ease - his ribs and back ached, and his shoulder was a little sore, but he'd gotten worse from kendo practice. However, Kendra's eyes grew increasingly sharp as Aurora struggled to free herself from her button-down shirt. She hadn't even stripped off her tank top when Chandler's breath hissed through his teeth. Utterly horrified, Suzaku's head felt weightless, the blood drained from it so fast.
Aurora's shoulder was swollen to almost twice its normal size; where it wasn't red and throbbing, it was already turning purple with bruising. The dark splatters blurred all the way out from the point of her shoulder around to her chest, up above her shoulder blade onto her neck, and back towards her ribs and spine.
He'd had no idea it was that bad - how could she be spitting mad with that mess pounding under her jacket? How could she not tell him? Suzaku instinctively made to go to her when Kendra halted him with an upheld hand, her eyes warning. She slowly approached the table, squatting down by Aurora's chair with the slight awkwardness induced by her passenger.
"Rora-"
"I'm fine, Kendra." Aurora had finally looked away from her tea, gazing at the doctor with frighteningly unyielding eyes. Her jaw was like granite, her skin still pale. In reality, the doctor thought she looked like shit, and was had obviously taken a heck of a beating. But something in Aurora's demeanor warned it had nothing do with the possible subluxation she was pretending wasn't a concern. Deciding that Aurora was too pissed to respond well to a firm manner, Kendra gently rested her palm on Aurora's cold cheek.
"Honey."
Tears swam into Aurora's eyes, and Kendra's heart sank. This was bad.
"Let me take care of you."
Finally, she nodded, and Kendra made to stand, Chandler stepping forward to offer his wife his hand. Together, they helped Aurora to her feet, Kendra draping the discarded shirt over the chilled woman's shoulders. Miserably, Aurora looked up at Chandler.
"Sorry for being such a bitch."
Chandler just flicked a finger over her wan cheek as he smiled good-naturedly.
"Aw, sweetheart. Why apologize for something you're so good at?"
Aurora chuckled, the noise a little choked, but nonetheless an improvement over her intense rage. She rose to her toes and pressed a wobbly kiss to his cheek.
"Gee, thanks, Senator." She stepped past them to head back upstairs, her gaze never landing on Suzaku, who watched her leave with drowning concern. The married couple took worried notice of both of them.
"You. Sit," Kendra commanded Suzaku, concerned that any more of her patients would be ridiculous and try to wander around without supervision. "Chan, could you get Suzaku an ice-pack for his ribs, please?"
"Sure thing, sugar plum."
Rolling her eyes at his new, utterly embarrassing endearment for her, Kendra patted his arm before heading after Aurora, knowing that the doofus would try to attempt the stairs without her.
The doctor cursed her meager equipment as they staggered up to the second floor. She had only her basics, not expecting a code omega text to be coming her way today. With the level of swelling she was showing, Kendra was already worried about possible fractures, and wanted to groan at the absence of her x-ray machine. Aurora tipped a little dangerously once they reached the top of the stairs, Kendra subtly muscling her back into balance. The way she frowned made it obvious Kendra had not been as covert as she'd hoped.
Ban, who had been following them hopefully, loosed a pitiful whine when Kendra gently, but swiftly, shut the door in his face. After a moment, she heard the sigh, grunt, and thud signaling Ban had folded himself down outside the door, refusing to budge. This was all typical behavior for the dog whenever Aurora was hurt.
Turning around with a heavy sigh, Kendra set to work, the worry for her friend making her hands shake the faintest bit. Without the ability to x-ray, Kendra had to depend on her experience and Aurora's incredibly high pain tolerance to diagnose what exactly was wrong. As Aurora stripped off her shirts, getting down to her bra this time, Kendra took in the full extent of the damage. Considering she'd dragged at least one hundred sixty five pounds of solid flesh and bone back over a cliff freehand, it wasn't all that surprising. It was much more shocking that she'd managed to do it at all.
After five solid minutes of sweating torture for both of them, as Kendra struggled to figure out through the blood and fluid just how badly Aurora's shoulder was damaged and Aurora worked valiantly to keep the screams and tears locked in her chest, the doctor was millimeters from calling it and taking Aurora to the A&E in Galway. But it only took one incident to make defensive thought habitual, and the consequences tumbled through Kendra's head.
She didn't know what ID Aurora was using, and didn't know how to explain this without including Suzaku, and, of course, bringing him into this mess was impossible. Coming up with a lie on the fly wouldn't be too terribly difficult, but Aurora had already spent almost two hours with her shoulder potentially out of joint. It could still be in the socket, but with major muscular damage that the A&E couldn't really do anything about anyway. Just as her brain was calculating the odds and risks, Aurora heaved a breath.
"I don't think it's dislocated, Kendra."
The doctor wanted to dismiss it as Aurora's habitual minimization of her injuries, but consciously checked herself. Aurora was experienced enough, and hopefully calm enough now, to make those kind of judgment calls.
"OK. But does it feel kind of loose, almost clicky whenever you move it?"
"I'm trying my best not to move it," she said, her smile more of a grimace. "But, yeah, close enough."
OK, Kendra thought to herself again. The likelihood of a dislocation, and the need for an emergency trip to Galway, was dissipating. Nodding, Kendra guided Aurora to lay down flat on her back, carefully manipulating her so that her upper arm was flush against her side and her forearm was laid out at ninety degrees.
"Aurora," Kendra said firmly, speaking in her no-nonsense doctor tone to be certain she had Aurora's full and absolute attention. "Relax."
She huffed, a sarcastic laugh at its most quiet.
"I mean it. Deep breaths, and relax, muscle by muscle." Keeping her hand on Aurora's wrist in preparation, Kendra waited until her friend did as she asked, gradually unclenching muscles tightened by pain and stress. Then, as gently and smoothly as she could, Kendra nudged Aurora's arm up, slowly sliding it over the comforter until her loosely curled fingers pointed towards her head. Although she was quiet and unresisting under her hands, Kendra could see the pain flickering on Aurora's face, no doubt due to the stretch of damaged muscles as opposed to the flexion of her shoulder. Just as she was almost close enough to touch the back of her neck, there was an infinitesimal click Kendra could feel through Aurora's arm.
Aurora didn't really move – it was more her entire body tightened like a fist, very little in her expression changing. Kendra didn't chide her for it as she comfortingly ran a hand down her injured arm. The subluxation seemed to have been pretty minor, so her clenching was actually for the better – it was locking that bone back into place. Kendra had been focused on the bone trauma, but had known since she'd first put eyes on Aurora that the majority of her injuries were muscular.
Kendra stroked Aurora's still-damp hair in silence, comforting both of them as she deliberately unlocked again. Once Aurora was relatively limp on the bed, Kendra straightened, pressing her fingertips into her lower back before sliding them forwards to stroke her palms over her belly. The baby stretched and wriggled, thankfully having been patient enough to wait until after the worst part of his aunt's first aid to get restless. The action drew Aurora's attention, sending the first real smile moving over her face since Kendra had arrived.
"How's the little one doing?" she murmured. Kendra grinned, still unaccustomed to the swelling of love and pride that swamped her every time she even thought of the life inside her.
"Growing like a son of a gun. Swear she'd gonna have her papa's height."
Aurora eyes immediately brightened.
"It's going to be a girl?"
Kendra shrugged, sliding her hand to the bottom of her belly and patting in a comfortable rhythm that was pretty effective at quieting the wee babe down.
"Not sure. I'm positive it's a girl, but Chandler's dead certain it's a boy," she said with a grin.
"Aren't you far enough along to find out?"
Kendra couldn't help her raised brow. Since when was Aurora familiar with prenatal infantile growth?
"Someone's been doing research."
Aurora just shrugged, then winced at the motion.
"Yes, we could find out, but we decided to wait, make it a surprise," Kendra clarified as she helped Aurora slide a hugely baggy sweatshirt over her head, carefully settling it over her wounded shoulder.
"Hell of a surprise," Aurora murmured with a cheeky grin.
"One of the best. Now," Kendra said briskly, returning to the task at hand. "Where is Suzaku's sling?"
The light that had glittered in Aurora's eyes immediately dampened, although nothing else in her expression changed.
"Across the hall in the linen closet."
Tucking away Aurora's reaction for when there was time, Kendra just nodded.
"I'll be right back. You stay there and rest a minute."
Before Aurora had a chance to say anything in return, Kendra strode out, nudging Ban out of the way - she'd nearly forgotten he was there. Since he had an unfortunate tendency to jump on beds, a behavior she knew for a fact was encouraged by Aurora, Kendra snagged his collar before he could weasel into the room and jostle his mistress around. Dragging him after her, Kendra stopped at the stair railing that overlooked the entrance hallway.
"Chandler! Toss me up a few ice packs!" she called down to her husband. After a few faint pops from the freezer door opening and closing, Chandler appeared below, a trio of soft, blue plastic packs in his hands. He lobbed them up to her one at a time, all of which Kendra grabbed with cautious, studied precision. She couldn't snatch them out of the air like a fox the way Aurora could, but she'd be damned if she dropped them. Bannock, who stood at her side with his head through the railing, watched the procedure with vaguely interested eyes. He considered fetch too dumb of a game to bother getting excited about flying things, even if they were food. Which he quickly figured out the cold blue blobs weren't. Once finished, Kendra leaned back over the railing.
"Thanks, babe."
He just smiled at her, then tucked his hands in his pockets.
"How's Stretch doing?"
Kendra just held out her hand palm down, then wiggled it back and forth with a little shrug.
"How's Suzaku?" she returned.
"I'm fine," she heard from the kitchen before Chandler could answer. He grinned in the other man's direction, then looked back up at her.
"You heard the man."
Kendra just nodded with pursed lips, knowing for a fact that Suzaku's personal judgment of well-being was as skewed as Aurora's, if not worse.
"Uh huh. I'll be down in a bit. Put those ice packs back on, Suzaku!"
A gusty sigh confirmed her suspicion, and Chandler looked up at her with a wide, proud grin.
"You're awesome, Doctor."
She just winked at him.
"I know. You're not so bad yourself, Senator." Kendra then turned to root through the linen closet, quickly finding the neatly folded navy blue sling. Carrying her supplies back to Aurora's room, Kendra glared at the dog that tried to nose in after her.
"No, Bannock."
The whine he sent up sounded like she'd just ripped his leg off.
"He's fine," Aurora managed almost airily with a wave of her uninjured hand. Kendra just jutted out her hip.
"He can't come up on the bed. He doesn't know how not to bump. That's the problem with a snuggler," she informed Ban, who stood in the doorway like a condemned prisoner deprived of last visitation rights.
"He'll just lay on his blanket. Right, Ban?"
Kendra had a feeling that she'd be developing that tone in the coming years - that arch, irrefutably warning tone of a mother. Apparently delighted despite his less than stellar greeting, Ban agreeably trotted to his baby blanket, plonking down on it like that was exactly what he'd been wanting to do all along. Kendra just eyed him, perfectly aware he'd be going for the bed first chance he got. The dog just gazed back at her innocently. If he could have, Ban would have whistled. Sighing, she settled down next to her friend to organize her acquirements.
"Only you and Chandler would make yelling at each other so adorable," Aurora observed wryly. Looking up from ace bandages she pulled from her bag, Kendra just let a cocky half-smile move over her mouth.
"Yelling? That was teamwork. It doesn't count as yelling unless fur flies. Speaking of which," Kendra said with what she thought was admirable subtlety as she helped Aurora sit up, cupping the sling around her folded forearm. "What's going on with you and Suzaku?" If she hadn't been touching Aurora, she wouldn't have felt her sudden tension.
"Nothing," she replied coolly.
"You know, I'd believe you if I didn't know you so well. You wouldn't even look at him downstairs, Rora. What really happened?" Even as she talked, Kendra fixed the sling onto Aurora, taking care to adjust the straps so they'd be comfortable.
"Just what he said. We had a good day, and were bored. So we went for a drive. Headed west towards the cliffs. Stopped to stretch our legs, get some fresh air. We talked. Turned to go back, and he slipped. I grabbed him, and yanked him back over. Then we came home."
"If it was all so blasé, why did you send me such a high-priority code? I thought I was going to get here to find one of you sporting a GSW, at the very least."
"You're so sexy when you use acronyms," Aurora teased. It wasn't, of course, enough to deter Kendra. With the sling now settled, she focused on securing an ice pack to Aurora's shoulder, while a part of her brain actively waited for an answer. Finally, Aurora sighed in surrender.
"When I caught him, he bounced off the cliff face. I'm worried about his ribs and shoulder. Not to mention, the impact could have popped something loose."
Kendra just hummed. Aurora was the far more injured of the two, and, objectively, she knew that. So what had made her panic so badly she called in the cavalry? Kendra made agreeable, inviting noises, waiting for Aurora to get to the crux of the problem.
"You know how you warned me that I'd see a suicide attempt from Suzaku?" It was incredibly rare to hear Aurora's voice that small, that sad. Kendra lowered the hands she'd raised to pin the ace bandage in place, gazing at Aurora with smoldering intensity, her eyes almost metallic behind the glint of her glasses.
"It was intentional?" Kendra asked carefully, her voice nearly mechanical. The searing disappointment surprised her. It seemed forever before Aurora sighed and shook her head.
"No, I don't think so. Not the fall, at least."
Silently waiting for her to clarify, Kendra returned to her shoulder.
"But when he was hanging there, he just..." In lieu of a shrug, she waved her hand lamely before dropping her head and pressing her fingers to her forehead, shielding eyes that Kendra suspected had filmed over with tears.
"He just gave up on me."
The way Aurora's voice thickened warned Kendra that she wasn't just approaching an edge; Aurora was dangling over it more precariously than she imagined Suzaku had.
"What do you mean, Rora?" Kendra asked gently, running a calming, soothing hand down Aurora's back still knotted with damaged muscles. Aurora just hunched over more, her right arm curled against her as she dropped her face into her left hand.
"There was... a thing keeping him alive. It wasn't really a reason; it was more of a barrier. He thought it would never go away, and it wasn't just something he hated; he despised it for refusing to let him go. Especially for forcing him to live when losing Euphie gutted him down to the spine."
"He wasn't doing a very good job of living," Kendra pointed out quietly, fighting to keep the question of just what this thing was from leaping to her tongue. Aurora just shook her head.
"It didn't matter. As long as he was alive, he... fulfilled the terms of this contract. The fall, well. It made him realize the contract was null and void. He's free." Aurora raised her head, tears silently dripping down her cheeks.
"What kind of person am I, Kendra? What kind of monster would fear Suzaku's freedom? I'm a terrible fucking person."
Scooting closer, Kendra carefully gathered Aurora in, smoothing the ragged pieces of hair away from her face.
"You're not a terrible person, Aurora. You just want him to be safe. And this... contract kept him safe."
"Maybe," Aurora mumbled into Kendra's shoulder. Finally, she raised her head. "But it was also killing him inside. I knew he'd never be able to move on the way he should as long as that thing had a grip on him."
"And now he has that chance," Kendra said with a nod.
"But will he take it?" Aurora countered quickly, almost desperately. "Or will he finally do what he's wanted to do all along and chuck himself off a building, or take a long bath with a razor blade? God, Kendra. Do you have any idea how easy it would be for Zero to get a hold of a pistol and paint the walls with his brains?" She dropped her face into her hand again.
"I get that it makes you sad and scared. But why are you mad?"
Aurora's shoulders stiffened at Kendra's gentle words. When she raised her head, she glanced away, unable to meet the doctor's eyes. She looked up, blinking rapidly, the tears only strengthened by the surge of fury.
"Because the bastard tapped out," she whispered.
"Come again?"
"He gave up, Kendra! I saw it," she snarled. "I saw the light go out in his eyes. He figured out that the Geass was gone, and saw his chance. He bet on me losing grip, letting him go. Like hell I would. Like hell," she repeated, her snarl fading into sobs. Gathering her up again, Kendra settled in as Aurora began to cry like she'd been shattered, then ruthlessly scattered. She knew this was the shock from earlier manifesting, knew Aurora's reactions were always late and hit her like a bullet train. She tucked away that weird word Aurora had mentioned, sure it sounded vaguely familiar. Now Kendra just held her friend, her sister of the heart, as she cried out all the worry and fear and pain that had been poisoning her over the last hours.
Like a child, Aurora eventually tired herself out. Settling her down under the blankets with a few more ice packs, Kendra took her time getting Aurora as comfortable as possible, the woman miserably silent now that the gale was over. Finally, the doctor dared to speak as her friend curled in on herself, almost as if she was trying to compress whatever was aching so badly inside her into something manageable. Something survivable.
"Have you talked to Suzaku about what happened?"
Aurora averted her eyes, covering the movement by slightly turning her face into the pillow.
"I'll take that as a 'no,'" Kendra murmured ruefully. "You do know that's what needs to happen, right, Rora?"
She just turned her face further into the pillow, but did eventually nod. The doctor gently massaged Aurora's tense spine, trying to silently encourage even a minute amount of relaxation. When that didn't happen, she switched to the one temple Aurora had left exposed. That didn't get much of a reaction, either, but Aurora's brows did loosen a little.
"Do you want a codeine?" Kendra broached reluctantly. Aurora shook her head, miserable and as pathetic as Kendra had pretty much ever seen her. She was smart enough to know that it had little to do with Aurora's shoulder and everything to do with the situation that had damaged it.
"Do you want half a codeine?" Kendra ventured, worried about Aurora on so many different levels that she couldn't pick just one to focus on. After a long moment, so long that it had Kendra entertaining the unlikely notion that Aurora had fallen asleep, she nodded, her face almost completely squashed into the comfort of the pillow.
With practiced motions, she split the pill and got a glass of water, nudging Aurora over enough to get the medication down. As her patient tossed back the tiny pill with a sharp jerk of her head, Kendra conversationally continued with her medical advice.
"You know the deal with the ice packs, and you'll need to wear the sling for a week."
Aurora set aside the glass with narrowed eyes.
"Two days."
"Five," Kendra bartered with a crisp, adamant tone. Aurora frowned as Kendra continued. "At the very least."
Finally, Aurora sighed, burrowing herself back into the blankets as she muttered her agreement. Illness and injury always tended to make Aurora a little grumpy, but this situation was making her a pouter of magnificent proportions. Kendra could only hope it wasn't a symptom of heartsickness, an ailment she was woefully under skilled to cure. The doctor propped her hip on the bed, rubbing her palms over Aurora's back and the mound of her belly with matching movements. She knew this wouldn't take long.
"I'll never forgive him for this," Aurora muttered, her voice slightly slurred by fatigue, allowed to actually be voiced by the influence of the strong pain killer. "Not after all this. Not when it matters this much, and he just doesn't care."
Kendra didn't know what to say, or if she even could say anything. This was something that would have be repaired between the two of them, and there was nothing an outside party could really do. Aurora's eyes drifted slowly open and closed, and Kendra knew that the drug was already swimming through her bloodstream. She struggled around a little, and eventually met Kendra's eyes.
"Never mind," she said with a small, weak smile, a last ditch effort at cheer. One hand wormed its way out of the blankets, managing to make it no farther than to the top of the blanket. "It's time to pick out names." Her voice was rapidly losing precision and volume, her eyes fluttering as the drowsiness closed in. Kendra just waited her out. "What are your guys' favorites?" Aurora had started to say something else, but it faded away, her eyes gliding closed as the drug sent her drifting into sleep. Gently pressing the back of her fingers against Aurora's forehead, Kendra leaned forward with a small, crooked smile to press a kiss to her friend's hair.
"I'll tell you next time, sweetpea," she murmured, smoothing out the fly-aways at Aurora's temple one last time.
"You heard the lady," Chandler said with a winning smile as he made his way back to the kitchen. "Ice the ribs, ASAP."
Suzaku's face twitched in a way that betrayed an urge to roll his eyes that he managed to control as he snagged one of the packs from where they'd been relegated to the table and pressed it against his right side. Chandler dropped down across from him, the expression on his face a cross between humor and sympathy. It was patently obvious that he'd been on the other end of that good-natured medical command before. And he knew there wasn't much that could successfully be said against it.
"You know that if you don't have that on when she comes down, Kendra's going to hit a level of frightening you've never even considered before, right?"
Suzaku shrugged awkwardly, both of his shoulders now mildly compromised.
"I was in the military. I'm sure I've seen worse."
Chandler just shook his head with a grin at Suzaku's quirked brow.
"You've seen Aurora pissed, right?"
Suzaku nodded, his eyes widening slightly in appreciation of a woman like Aurora infuriated.
"Yeah, take that with an even heavier dose of snark and an ice-cold intellect paired with a ruthless streak. Kendra's subtle, but that almost makes her scarier. So I'd recommend you keep that ice pack on and try to be honest when you tell her what happened."
"Aurora already told you both what happened," he hedged, trying to keep his voice from stiffening. Chandler didn't even try to control his expression as he rolled his eyes.
"Uh huh. And the Rebellion was a disagreement. Massive understatement, my friend. Not to mention, Aurora's giving you the cold shoulder. Which from her, can get positively glacier. To be fair, though, it's never totally unwarranted. So what's got her wrankled?"
Suzaku wanted to shrug again, but he had a feeling Chandler would latch onto the non-answer like a well-bred dog would lock onto a bone. Like a Doberman, maybe – strong and clever. That, and his shoulders were a little sore for such a nonchalant motion.
Suzaku wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say, not until the moment he started to speak. And honestly, there wasn't much to tell, not until the questions swirling around his head had answers. Answers he couldn't even begin to grapple with. But it felt good, to hear the events out loud, to try and see them from a point of view not tainted by fear, carefully skirting around the topic of Geass as best he could. Chandler listened quietly, with a patience Suzaku would never had credited him with. When he was done, the politician just eyed him a moment before loosing a long, slow whistle.
"Sounds like you two had a busy day."
"You could say that."
"Did you mean to?" Chandler's casual words didn't immediately grab Suzaku's attention; when they filtered through, however, Suzaku's gaze whipped to the other man's. He didn't look away or shrug. In fact, the relaxed set of his face belied the intensity in his eyes. Finally, Suzaku shook his head.
"No."
Chandler hummed as he sipped the milk he'd ferreted out with relative ease. It was, after all, technically his kitchen.
"Then it's the other bit, then."
Tilting his head slightly in confusion, Suzaku waited for Chandler to elaborate. After slouching down in his chair and lacing his fingers over his belly, the politician watched him with clever, knowing eyes.
"Let me tell you a little about Aurora, and, by extension, Kendra too. That is a pair of women who have fought and struggled and survived practically since the cradle. They've witnessed the dark much more than the light, and both have sacrificed more than their fair share not just to get to where they are now, but just to survive. There are a great many things they can forgive, Aurora especially. It's easy to forgive others when you've done some pretty nasty things yourself. But there is one sin they cannot forgive – and that is the sin of surrender. Giving up is practically blasphemy to Aurora, and it's a sure fire way to piss Kendra off worse than sticking a porcupine up her butt."
In a way, Suzaku had known this, but hearing it spelled out so plainly made a great deal of sense.
"Now, I don't know one way or the other what went on by that cliff side. And frankly, son, it sounds like you don't, either. But I can guarantee you this – Aurora's going to be a viper until you say your piece. Because she thinks you forfeited the game, and there's little quite as infuriating and insulting to her."
"You're saying I should lie?" Suzaku murmured, posing the question cautiously and a little skeptically. Chandler just snorted.
"No, because she'll see through it in seconds and is liable to tear you to shreds. You should be honest; I'm just letting you know what's making her so bloody mad. Mad enough to send a black-code text when a simple phone call would have sufficed."
"That's what brought you two here? A text?" Suzaku asked, shocked that so simple a message would have such support thundering to their aid. Chandler's fingers brushed his breast pocket in what seemed an unconscious gesture. When he saw Suzaku's eyes following the movement, he smiled wryly as he neatly refolded his fingers.
"I quit years ago, but today would be fine day for a smoke. Anyway, yeah. We were coming home from a conference in Edinburgh when Kendra heard from Aurora."
"I thought you couldn't get texts on a plane," Suzaku said with furrowed brows, quickly gathering that the pair had been flying back to London. Chandler just smiled.
"It's all about who you know. And when you know Aurora Sterling, you're more than connected – you're platinum edition."
Too true, Suzaku mused, always slightly puzzled and impressed by Aurora's reach.
"You should have seen the poor pilot's reaction. When Kendra got the text, she sort of just sat there a second. She then proceeded to demand that the pilot re-route to Galway. He rattled off a whole string of excuses. Poor man seemed to lose his train of thought, though, when Kendra informed him that not only was she trained in all the best ways to inflict bodily damage on people who pissed her off, but that she was pretty handy with a scalpel, too. Doesn't have one, but that poor sap didn't know that. Should have known better than to sass the hormone concoction that is a pregnant woman."
Suzaku smiled at the story, but his brain was busily clicking through that information. As entertaining as it was to imagine Kendra calmly threatening a pilot with a non-existent blade, that shouldn't have been enough. A commercially booked craft couldn't just re-route without some sort of threat, like inclement weather. So how did that Andrews manage it? Suzaku rested his chin on his free hand, tapping his cheekbone as considered the mystery of the couple's sudden appearance.
"What, do you play poker with the Minister of Defense every Friday?" Suzaku joked. Chandler just bounced his fingertips against his knuckles once, his jaw moving almost like he was tucking his tongue in his cheek.
"Billiards every other Tuesday, actually."
For a long time, the two men just stared at each other, Chandler looking like he was choking back a smug smile while Suzaku struggled not to goggle. It wasn't that he was unaccustomed to connections of power; after all, he served the empress of the largest empire in the world. He just hadn't expected it from so… normal a source. With the force of a thunderclap, Suzaku realized something.
There was no doubt that Aurora and Kendra's actions had saved his life. But Chandler was equally to thank, simply for his inaction. He'd never appreciated the power the young, ostracized nobleman actually wielded in England. If Chandler had deemed Suzaku too much of a threat to his wife and friend, a few whispered words would have been all it took to throw him to the wolves, keeping those he cared about safe from the threat of Zero's presence. But instead, both Kendra and Chandler had trusted Aurora to do the impossible; to save a ghost. He was still accepting this when Kendra made her steady way down the stairs.
Chandler turned his head in time to see Kendra round the carved newel post, grinning wide in appreciation at the reappearance of his wife. Suzaku was trying to decide if Kendra was humming, or muttering to herself under her breath when her husband greeted her.
"Hi, baby." His gaze then dropped to her stomach as she approached the table, setting her bag down next to Chandler's glass of milk. "And baby."
Kendra rolled her eyes, but tugged on his ear affectionately before turning to her attention to Suzaku. He must have been getting accustomed to her inspections; he hardly flinched when she peeled away the ice pack from his side and set about studiously inspecting him for breaks both new and old. Meanwhile, Chandler spoke like his wife wasn't busy looking over a refugee political figure for any maiming injuries.
"So. How's Aurora doing?"
Kendra just shrugged as she gauged the mild bruising along his ribs, none too gently prodding them for any shifts in bone. Manfully, Suzaku swallowed back the wince that wanted to tip across his face.
"Her shoulder was partially dislocated, but it's all back in place now. She's got some pretty impressive muscle damage in her shoulder, back, and chest, but that's to be expected. All in all, I think she'll be back up to speed in about a week. I'll be lucky if she keeps the sling on that long, though."
Suzaku frowned down at Kendra's bent head.
"A week? Surely it'll take her longer than that to recover?"
Kendra spared him a glance while switching over to his left side.
"For an average person, certainly. But Aurora heals uncommonly fast," she explained as she nudged at his collarbone.
"How'd you keep her upstairs? Chain her to her bed?"
Kendra didn't even look over at her husband's sarcastic tone.
"She's asleep," she answered simply. Chandler's brow quirked.
"And how'd you manage that?"
Rather determinedly, Kendra kept her eyes on Suzaku's shoulder.
"I gave her half a codeine."
Suzaku was almost startled by Chandler's groan.
"Jesus, hun. That's like giving Aurora horse tranquilizer."
Suzaku's eyes flicked back and forth between the couple, trying to comprehend how such a small amount of pain killer could down a healthy, adult woman. Still confused, he carefully snagged Kendra's attention.
"Is Aurora sensitive to drugs?"
She looked up at his briefly before returning to his arm.
"Drugs, alcohol, caffeine. Pretty much anything even slightly recreational hits her about ten times as hard as the average bloke. So half a codeine for her is actually more like five pills. She'll be out the rest of the night, and probably most of tomorrow morning, too. I suppose it might have something to do with her very fast metabolism, but I honestly can't be sure."
"Suzaku has a high metabolism too," Chandler idly observed. Suzaku instantly wondered how he'd come about that particular bit of information. Kendra made a face as she checked the flexion of each of his left arm's joints.
"True, but Suzaku's many injuries have repeatedly exposed him to strong chemicals. In fact, he's harder to drug, and slower to heal, because of it." Apparently satisfied, Kendra straightened, patting his shoulder gently. He couldn't help but notice Kendra was being terribly diplomatic by not mentioning his addiction to heroin. "But that's pretty much irrelevant, because you're fine. A little bruised and banged up, but nothing fatal. Take some good, long hot showers, make sure you're doing your stretches, and get plenty of food and water. You're always a little dehydrated and underweight, anyway."
"Thanks," Suzaku said as he put his shirt back on, Chandler standing to shoulder his wife's medical bag. Suddenly, Suzaku was saying more. It felt like it came out of nowhere, but this rock of unexpressed gratitude had been weighing on him for weeks. He'd been unsure if there was really anything to be grateful for. But apparently, it was just waiting for an opening, and had suddenly found it.
"Both of you. I'm fully aware that I'd be dead right now if not for your help. All of you, Aurora too, have been more than generous. I wanted you to know that I appreciate what you've done. You're good people, and you do good work."
Chandler and Kendra stood frozen, staring at him like he'd started speaking in tongues. Suzaku swallowed, suddenly feeling clumsy and vulnerable. The smile that tipped over Chandler's mouth was the first time Suzaku had ever seen an expression like that on his face; genuine, and calm, and understanding. Kendra, however, looked slightly panicked. She rounded the table as quickly as her bulk would allow, her eyes intense and her brow furrowed.
"Listen up, Suzaku. I'll be back in a week, and if you're in any worse condition than you are now, I'm going to run you over with that beastly car I'm not even allowed to drive. And heaven forbid, if I get another emergency text from Aurora because she'd worried about you or something happens, I will sling you off those cliffs myself. I don't want to hear any bad news – not a broken spine, not a sprained ankle. Not even a hangnail. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"
Suzaku was so shocked by Kendra's insistent, almost hostile warning, so at a loss for how to respond, he reverted back to his training.
"Yes, ma'am." The quiet, formal tone seemed to do the trick, and Kendra deflated a little. "I'm not going anywhere, Kendra. I just wanted to say thank you," he warily clarified.
"Oh. Well, good," she managed with an awkward nod before striding towards the foyer. Chandler stepped closer, clapping a light, comforting hand against Suzaku's upper back, managing to avoid the myriad spots of mild injury.
"You heard the lady, Suzaku. Keep out of trouble, and we'll be back before you know it."
Nodding, he walked with Chandler to the foyer, feeling like it was his duty to see them off with Aurora was out of commission. As the Andrews bundled into their jackets, Suzaku asked after the baby, the rhythm of small talk unfamiliar, but not impossible. Just as they were about to leave, Kendra decided that she wanted one of the avocadoes she'd spied in the kitchen for the trip back. As she walked away, Chandler just shrugged and murmured something about pregnancy cravings. As he watched her walk away, a thought occurred to Suzaku.
"How are you getting back?"
Chandler just exhaled through his nose, a droll smile twitching around his mouth.
"Well, Kendra threatened to geld the pilot if he didn't wait for us."
Successfully covering the chuckle with a cough, Suzaku matched Chandler's low tone.
"You know he's long gone, right?"
The politician just wrinkled his brow and grinned, silently mouthing, "Oh, yeah."
"That's alright," he then managed in a quiet, mildly strangled voice. "We'll just charter something to get us home. The last thing I want to do is try and put my pregnant wife on a crowded ferry – just think of the casualties, man."
As Kendra returned with the green fruit and a packet of crackers, Suzaku struggled to reconcile Chandler Andrews with the calm power he wielded. It dawned on him that it wasn't the idea of the power itself that was so hard to grasp; it was the idea of it emanating from such casual kindness.
Kendra shocked Suzaku by drawing him into a firm hug, the bump of her belly making his chest tighten as she warmly rubbed his back.
"Take care of yourself, you hear?"
He could only nod as she lightly tugged on a lock of his hair. Chandler firmly shook his hand, smiling more with his eyes than his mouth.
"See you around, mate. Keep an eye on Stretch, yeah?"
"Yeah," Suzaku quietly responded. It was still raining as Chandler opened the door, Kendra turning around for one last bit of advice.
"Try and make sure Aurora keeps that sling on. Five days, at least."
Assuring her that he'd do his best, Suzaku stood in the doorway, watching the Andrews jog out to their rental car, green this time, through the downpour. As they drove away, he raised his hand to return Kendra's wave, watching until the car disappeared. Even then, he stood in the doorway, listening to the rain, contemplating a life without Geass.
Chandler didn't bring up Kendra's little melt-down until they were almost half way through Gallagher. Adjusting the heat, he idled at a red light, picking his moment.
"How come you never promise me bodily harm when I say 'thank you'?"
Kendra just sighed, one hand resting on her belly while she propped her chin on her other palm.
"Because your 'thank you's never sound like verbal suicide notes."
Even as his stomach lurched at the thought, Chandler's face stayed calm.
"It wasn't that bad."
"But it could have been. You saw his face – like someone was squeezing his heart in a fist, and he was managing to breathe through it. There's something they're not telling us."
"You thought so too, huh?"
Kendra didn't answer his question, though. Instead, she asked the one that was killing her friend, the one that had been haunting that house all afternoon, her voice painfully quiet.
"What if he does it, Chan?"
He didn't have to ask who Kendra was talking about, or what she meant. Instead, thankful for the automatic car in a way that would have made Aurora sneer, Chandler reached over and tangled his fingers through his wife's as he accelerated, their joined hands resting over the mound of their child.
"I don't know, baby girl. But that's not our choice. And it's not Aurora's, either."
Her fingers tightened, but Kendra's face remained impassive.
"When she brought him to us, I would have laid heavy odds that he wouldn't survive the month. I hated it, but it was the likely outcome."
"Being a realist sucks," Chandler murmured in a dry tone that almost made her smile.
"Like a freaking vacuum. But he did it. Suzaku survived, and he's healing. It's slow, hard progress, but he's making it."
"I remember, Kendra." And he did. Chandler remembered when Suzaku had looked more dead than alive, completely washed of color, all brittle bone and sharp joints. And he remembered the way Aurora watched Suzaku walk out of the room, her face a picture of hope and love and faith. All that was good in the world mirrored in the eyes of his friend, because of the corpse she'd somehow managed to resurrect back into a man. A complicated man, there was absolutely no doubt. But not one completely beyond redemption. Not the man he'd sat with that afternoon, still a little battered, but undoubtedly improving, even impressive. There was pride there, and humor, compassion and gentleness and fragility. There was immeasurable strength, and boundless heart. The thought that he could throw it all away, the mere possibility of such waste, made Chandler physically ill. A glance at his wife's face made it clear she felt much the same.
"Do you think he'd give up now, after surviving so much?" Kendra's soft question felt like a lance through his gut.
"I don't know. Everyone's got a line; maybe he crossed it a long time ago. Maybe he's inches from it. Maybe he's miles away. But that decision will ultimately be Suzaku's. Let's just hope your tirade put the fear of God in him, and he can manage to hold on. Maybe in the meantime, he'll figure out that's all any of us can do. We're all just managing to hang on."
Kendra raised the hand she held to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
"Listen to you," she murmured, the phantom of a smile moving through her eyes. "Let's go home, Chandler. The little one wants to go home."
He looked over at his wife, the tenderness, immense love, and shared heartache plain in his clever eyes.
"Anything for my girls."
Dude. I never thought I'd get here.
Let me just say that this was the start of it all. I wanted to create a journey of redemption for Suzaku, and I knew that was impossible as long as that Geass command controlled him. So I had to get rid of it. But how? That single idea spawned the odyssey that is Phoenix. The story is far from finished, but you could say we've jumped our first hurdle.
As per usual, it took a side project to get this honking chapter finished. Whereas before I've done post-Phoenix scenarios and drawn and researched symbolism to motivate myself, this time I finally nailed down my dream voice actor cast. I've been avoiding the task since casting Aurora always promised to be a nightmare. It did not disappoint. But I've done the whole crew. If you're curious, ask away. I'd also love to hear guesses. I'll start by stating the obvious – there is no Suzaku for me except Yuri Lowenthal. The guy is immensely skilled, always engaging, and enduringly intriguing. If he's in a show, five to one solid bet that he's voicing my favorite character. If he's a main cast member, it's pretty much guaranteed. Just something about him.
On a tiny, trivial note, avocadoes were my mom's pregnancy craving when she was carrying me. I LOVE avocadoes.
Let me know what you think of all this craziness.
Hope you like it!
Love, Tango