By the time a few days had passed, Suzaku was sure he'd stamped out any insane inclinations before they'd taken root. He even managed to convince himself that the dream had never happened, that his heart's alignments remained exactly the way they'd always fallen. Perhaps he was still reluctant to revisit memories of Euphemia, but maybe he wasn't so militant in holding them off. He was even starting to feel… normal. As normal as he could ever hope to feel. And a sense of control was slowly trickling back, so welcome that Suzaku hefted it like armor.
The rain from earlier that morning had burned off, leaving the air fresh and crisp. Aurora had wandered off about an hour ago, leaving Suzaku to his own means. While he didn't normally mind it, and could keep himself entertained alone perfectly well, thank you very much, he did feel a little at odd ends after lunch. Ban was staring out the kitchen screen door, his ears half-cocked and his tail very slowly wagging back and forth in a steady metronome of nerve and bone. Taking pity on the dog, Suzaku snagged a pear before opening the door.
"Shall we?" he asked the hound, who arrowed outside without a second glance. Galloping out onto the grass, he spun on his haunches in three delighted circles, yipping and rooing like he was singing. Apparently, Ban was feeling dandy, and had just been waiting to be released. Suzaku laughed at his antics, playing with the dog in a way that, although never taught, came naturally to him. A false start would send Ban manically running in one direction. Once he realized that he wasn't being chased, however, he'd pivot with bizarre speed and come racing past, whizzing by Suzaku's legs with maybe a few inches to spare. With a puppy, it would have been funny; but when it was a dog within sneezing distance of a hundred pounds, it was a little more intense. Occasionally, if he pulled a wicked turn in tight, Ban's bony tail rapped against his calf like a whip. Seconds later, he'd come roaring back. When he came to a panting stop, he only waited for a few words from Suzaku before another fake lunge set Ban off, rocket-fast and clumsily eager.
Some light mock wrestling had them play-growling in unison, the hound's eyes lit with a happy, almost crazed glee. Like a child, he thought, Bannock played hard, and with zero regret. Suzaku had been like that, once.
With his green rain boots and yellow bucket, Suzaku would tramp out into whatever wilderness could be found on the Kururugi estate. There wasn't much, but he dug up whatever he could find, most of the time with his bare hands. The maid he'd precociously decided he was in love with at the tender age of three had proclaimed him King Frog-Catcher of All Japan. Even as a toddler, he'd been fast, and dogged, two important qualities when it came to corralling amphibians.
The moment his lessons ended, he was aimed for the door. His nanny used to bemoan that he didn't need to so much as breathe and he'd become splattered in mud. There were trees to climb, dirt to dig, forts to build. Long before he'd ever trained with Todoh, Suzaku had faced down countless hordes, shining sword in hand, cutting through foes like a song. Of course, his sword had been a knobby stick, but the battles in his head had been very real. And always fought alone.
His brothers had been in each other's confidences since the womb. Part and parcel for a pair of twins, apparently, even if they were fraternal. That paired with Suzaku's much more independent, straightforward personality didn't inspire much in the way of brotherly love. And even from a very young age, Jirou and Saburou had been their father's sons, picking up indirect cues from Genbu as to how to behave towards their older brother. And Genbu had never really cared for Suzaku.
Stroking the panting, striped dog in the Irish sunshine, Suzaku came to that stunning realization. As his brain clicked through memories, the source of it became clear. Then again, maybe he'd always known it, but never truly wanted to admit it. His mother, Tora, was a Yoshino by birth, as was her younger sister, Kyoko, who was Kaguya's mother. They hailed from the main branch of a well-bred family that had held power in Japan for centuries, one of the Six Houses of Kyoto. One of the reasons the family was so stable, however, was because it had brokered good will with Britannia on a regular basis. And one of the easiest way to cement that good will was through marriage.
Suzaku wasn't pure Japanese; far from. He was close to a quarter Britannian by blood, but unlike his brothers, who had looked like miniature Genbus practically since birth, Suzaku manifested the impurity physically – he had his grandfather's eyes. His mother's were green, too, but more truly hazel. Simpler, easier to forgive. Suzaku, however, carried the stamp of Britannia, bright and impossible to miss, in his face. It wasn't all that uncommon. There were hardly any families left in Japan that were purely Japanese – it just so happened that the Kururugis had been one of them. Until Suzaku's birth had tarnished that title.
Marrying Tora had been a sound political choice – she was well-bred, well-trained, well turned out. But it grated against a core of hatred towards Britannia that Genbu had nursed long before the threat of invasion had ever became something remotely resembling reality. She was obedient, though, and respectably fertile. Suzaku, however, had the unfortunate luck to be the obnoxiously colored first-born, the hard-headed failure that couldn't listen, couldn't display even a modicum of discipline, and couldn't master any of the respected Japanese arts. He was thin as a reed, a delicacy his father believed was proof of the weakness of Britannian bloodlines. But, perhaps worst of all, Suzaku was like his father; opinionated, bone-deep stubborn, and the one thing he truly failed at was learning how to keep his opinion, often far too brutally honest, to himself. All this made him a very easy target for Genbu's displeasure. In a last ditch effort, Suzaku was sent to Todoh when his brothers were leaving toddlerhood, where, through a brutal training regiment, he managed to prove that he had something of value. He was a fighter, a warrior.
He should have known better, but seeking praise from his father had been like trying to make a rock bleed. Genbu's general lack of reaction to Suzaku's success drove him harder, pushed him farther. Not just with Todoh, but with all of his studies. Any skill it was felt a political figure's son should know, Suzaku tackled it ferociously with a single-minded determination that shaped his personality for the rest of his life. He even bowed to the order of his betrothal to Kaguya, even if the thought made the eight year old boy want to howl. There had to be some way to earn his father's respect, to secure his attention. And the harder he tried, the more short-tempered and aggressive he became. Suzaku had no excuse for his behavior, but it had contributed to why he'd been so ugly with Lelouch in the early days of their acquaintance. Though he hadn't been able to hold out long. And even his innocent, trusting friendship with Lelouch and Nunnally had become another aspect of Suzaku for his father to disapprove of. Hostages were tolerated, not befriended.
There was no excuse for his sin of patricide, but even Suzaku could admit that it would have been much harder to kill his father, even in a fit of frightened, desperate anger, if Genbu had shown him even a flicker of genuine interest beyond the ways Suzaku could further his father's ministry. And a ten year old couldn't do much, which translated to a hell of being politely ignored. Because whatever Genbu did, his dutiful wife and favored sons emulated. It was no surprise really that Suzaku had clung so desperately to their royal hostages; his own family had slowly and steadily ostracized him under his father's leadership. Even after Genbu's death, Suzaku's remaining family had remained loyal to their late patriarch.
It had been Kirihara, not his mother, who had orchestrated the cover-up that had saved Suzaku's young life. The final insult had been when he'd joined the Honorary Britannian Service in a recklessly drastic attempt to atone for what he'd done. Upon his return that night to the family estate, he'd found the grounds deserted, the house echoingly empty. There hadn't even been a note. It was only later that Suzaku found out his mother and brothers had left the country using Tora's maiden name. He'd been so numb, it had taken him months to realize that he hardly knew them well enough to miss.
The last thing his mother had ever said to him was, "You killed Japan's only chance of victory. You shame me, Suzaku, and your lineage."
Suzaku came back to himself in stages, blinking against the sun as the feeling of cold slowly flaked off his skin. It was an old sensation – the feeling of his family's disapproval, the weight of their disappointment that dragged him to his knees, the supplication and begging from years of reparations doing nothing to diminish his sins. But he was tired of it; tired of feeding his contrition with his family's disinterest and disapprobation. So Suzaku gritted his teeth, dragging ragged breaths through his nose until the feeling faded, his skin relaxing and his stomach eventually settling.
Ban had apparently run himself out; he sprawled, exhausted and resplendent as a smoky tiger, out in the grass, his broad ribs heaving up and down like a blacksmith's bellows. Shaking himself free of his depressing thoughts of his version of family with a determined force, Suzaku focused on Aurora's goofy dog. But just as he walked over, Bannock took one look at him, lunged up to his feet, shook off any lingering clumps of dirt and blades of grass, trotted in one happy circle around Suzaku, then pranced away. Watching him go with laughing perplexity, the sound a little rough in his throat, it was only when the dog stopped and looked back at him expectantly that Suzaku realized he was being led. Where, he wasn't sure, but he was fairly certain it would be a merry chase.
Biting into the pear he'd forgotten about, Suzaku followed Ban with more faith than he showed the majority of the human beings in his acquaintance. Together, they investigated the bushes that ringed the house like a shaggy necklace, tiny white blossoms strung along the branches like pearls. Ban flushed two rabbits, who had to be chased to his version of the perimeter before the hound felt like he'd done the job sufficiently. Suzaku tried to repair the flowers the dog trampled in his initial launch, with mixed results. He explained to Bannock that he wasn't afraid to tell Aurora who had mucked up the blooms, but the dog seemed totally unrepentant.
After a few failed attempts, Suzaku resigned himself that Ban was a complete failure at the game of fetch. He could lift weights if he wanted to exercise his arm, which was all the more he was doing by throwing sticks for Ban to retrieve. He'd just watch them sail over his head, then look back at Suzaku with an indulgent expression. Like he thought the silly human was being rather cute. Apparently, only fast prey and tasty food would motivate Bannock to utilize his incredible, inherent speed.
So instead, they slowly made their way around the house, stopping and inspecting the grounds the way Ban insisted, as if he'd never seen it all before. Idly, Suzaku trailed after him, munching on his pear and watching the clouds skip across the sky. There was a sweet breeze humming through the hills; that's what he thought it was at first, the breeze. But as he and Ban approached the southern edge of the house, he was able to make out faint strains of music.
As they rounded the corner, Suzaku managed to recognize the notes, and pinpoint the source. The studio's windows were wide open, letting the song bleed into the air outside. Moving closer, he struggled between leaving it be or catching Aurora's attention. He inched close enough to hear the song clearly, realizing that he'd guessed the tune correctly. That proximity resulted in something he hadn't necessarily intended; it angled Suzaku just right to see the bank of mirrors covering one wall of the studio, but still obscured him from view within the room. In the mirrors, he could see Aurora. Drawn to a stop, he just took her in, as he so rarely allowed himself after his disturbing dream.
Suzaku had only seen her like this a few times before – lean and lithe like a panther in black leggings and a snug tank top, this one the color of the violets bobbing their heads in the sun to his right. Most of the time her braids were comfortable, just snug enough to keep the thick banks of golden hair out of her face. But this was the most severe he'd ever seen Aurora's hair, sternly woven and tightly under control. Her black athletic shoes were minimal – they weren't designed for hard runs, but pin-point athletics.
Shaking her hands loose, rolling her shoulders, and bouncing on her toes like she was jumping an invisible rope, Aurora lightly swayed in time with the opening notes of the song. At the first word – We – she suddenly snapped to attention, her body curling like a wave into a stance that was somehow both graceful and electric. As Aurora moved her body in time to the music, Suzaku finally comprehended what she'd told him all along. It wasn't just that Aurora could dance or that she was skilled at it; Aurora loved to dance. As she exploded with the flaming intensity of the song into heightened motion, Suzaku felt the epiphany bloom not just through his mind, but deep in his bones and blood. It was more than her technique, polished to a diamond shine; it was the instance of her heart made manifest.
And, God, she was amazing. Smooth and supple with the trembling high notes, wicked fast and creatively flexible in the valleys of pounding bass, she became this vessel of emotion, of poetry given physical form. Aurora burned like the lyrics described, a moving tongue of flame that drew the eye, igniting admiration and passion just by watching her move. And how she moved. Aurora displayed a unique combination of polished training and edgy instinct. There was a sinuous glide to her muscles, a swing to her hips that was somehow primitively sensual even amidst her smooth style. She was a dancer first, but there was absolutely no doubt that she was also a woman. An exquisitely beautiful woman.
Suzaku could see now why Aurora cultivated her athleticism – it was to help calm her, yes, but she needed it, needed her body to respond like lightning not to protect her life, but to supplement her soul. Because she didn't just sway and turn; she leaped and twisted, displaying a natural physical ability that rivaled anyone else's Suzaku had ever seen. Probably even his own. Because he knew, without the embarrassment of even trying, that he could never do what Aurora did in the studio, never move with such eager elegance and power to something as human as music. Even as she slowed to the delicate a cappella, tracing the back of her right finger over her left jawline, she was now refined and poised. Stretching up, raising her hands and pulling her entire body into an agile, powerful line, Aurora was water waiting to tumble, held in a brief moment of breathless measure.
The music ended, and Aurora dropped to one knee, her head curled down, the air humming in the wake of all that movement and sound. Still somewhat shell-shocked, Suzaku nearly jumped when the song, still not over, suddenly swept high again, Aurora following the swell of sound by springing out of her crouch, curling back in a series of handsprings that echoed the music's beat. She moved almost too fast to see, fast enough to have Suzaku's breath shortening unconsciously in reaction to the heightened pace. Twirling just shy of a ballerina's rigid perfection, eventually Aurora spun herself down to the floor, her long legs forming artistic triangles as she leaned back on her palm, eyes demurely downcast as the last twinkling notes faded away.
The rhythmic softness was already bleeding from her frame; Suzaku could almost see her returning to herself, see the thoughts of a drink of water, a towel, and the next track tripping through a brain that had just been consumed by the music and the way she could move to it. Still immersed in the magic of it, self-preservation flared in Suzaku's brain just as Aurora was raising her head. Any moment now, her eyes would meet his in the mirror, and he would be seen standing outside the windows of the studio like a mute moron, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open, floored by Aurora's performance. Before anything else could occur to him, Suzaku took a giant step back, taking him out of the mirror's line of sight.
As soon as Aurora disappeared from his vision, Suzaku became aware of himself in pieces. Considering he'd been standing still, he was breathing entirely too hard. And though Ireland's sun was gentle, soft even in the height of summer, he was flushed, his skin overheated and stretched tight. Creeping in like kudzu in damp June heat, Suzaku struggled against the desire to touch Aurora, to feel the pound of her blood under his fingertips. Angry and frustrated, certain that he'd rid himself of such thoughts, he glanced down at his hand.
And saw the pear, not even half eaten, brutally crushed in his fist, juice dripping from between his knuckles as the fruit oozed through his clenched fingers.
Suzaku felt the panic stinging his nerves, the animal in him lunging against its chains. Because he still wanted, more than he could understand, to know what Aurora tasted like. He imagined it would be something like caramel – sweet as candy, a little salted from sweat. Muscles locked so tight, wound so taut from restrained need, his fingers creaked when Suzaku forced his hand open, the mangled carcass of the pear falling with a splat to the grass. Ban's obliging tongue started to clean his fingers, making him jump, nudged out of his whirling confusion.
Swiping his tongue over Suzaku's palm one last time, Ban had apparently had his fill. Rubbing his head against Suzaku's thigh, the dog yawned, dropped down into a deep stretch, then trotted away. Watching the hound, coat gleaming like steel in the sun, slip around the house's corner rounded by a drain pipe, he forced a sigh out of clenched lungs. Then, because he could hear the next track starting in the studio, Suzaku cut a quick escape, spinning on his heel to follow Bannock to relative safety. Although he was unsure how he could find any refuge from his own urges. Where the hell were they coming from?
And how could he get rid of them?
Kendra was late.
Kendra was never late.
Suzaku really had no idea what time to expect her, but Aurora did. And, despite dancing herself into near exhaustion, she was twitchy, watching the doors more than whatever she was doing with her hands. Confused by the out-of-character behavior for both women, Suzaku tried to content himself with a book. But by the time Aurora had dropped a potato in the sink with a loud bang for the fourth time, an echoing thud he could make out even in the parlor, he set down the book, which he was struggling to engage with enough as it was, and massaged the bridge of his nose. Suzaku could feel the tension gathering there like a knotted muscle, for too many reasons to really make sense of.
Kendra was running late, which was making Aurora upset.
Aurora was upset, which was making her clumsy.
And if Aurora was clumsy, she tended to make a great deal more noise than her norm.
When yet another potato she was peeling squirted out of her hand to smack against the sink wall like a wet fist, Suzaku leaned his head back against the chair with a windy sigh. He'd learned the hard way that straight avoidance of Aurora did not end well; she was tenacious, sensitive, and entirely too clever to successfully duck completely. So Suzaku had instead opted for a milder distance; if he kept her within earshot, he could both lessen her suspicion and his discomfort. Because she was driving him bloody crazy.
All he could do was hope Kendra would arrive soon; she was being uncharacteristically uncooperative in that regard, however. Checking his watch for the third time in half an hour, Suzaku tried not to sigh. Because under all the niggling irritations, he was starting to get worried. Worried that someone in Kendra's condition was schlepping across an ocean and a country to check on him. Maybe this could be his last appointment. Maybe Aurora knew an underground doctor here in Ireland that she could blackmail into obedience – it wasn't that impossible of a supposition. He carried enough weighty guilt without burdening a pregnant woman with his care, especially when he was rapidly approaching a point when he would no longer need it. At least, he hoped he was.
Suzaku was struggling to logically argue that thought to its end when the porch creaked, Ban's answering gallop to the door dependable as the sunrise. He stood and turned in time to see Kendra enter, looking pale and immensely exhausted. His guilt coated his guts like hot tar.
"Suzaku, could you be a dear and grab my bag from the car, please?" Her voice was quiet, a little breathless.
"Absolutely." And with that, the panicked male was off like a shot. Wiping her hands on a towel, Aurora met Kendra in the hallway, zeroing in on her less than stellar condition.
"What's up, pretty mama?" she murmured, her caring demeanor and soft pass of her palm over Kendra's hair sending the doctor's brows winging up.
"Nothing much. Just a headache of colossal portion that I haven't managed to shake for four days, heartburn that is searing its way up to my eyeballs. Oh, and I lost my lunch at four different points along the way. Just the joys of pregnancy." Even as she spoke in her patented cynical tone, Kendra rubbed her mound of a stomach, which had distinctly expanded since her last visit. "Little one's just been in a bad mood for the last couple of days."
"Not… restless?" Aurora carefully broached. Five months was right on the border of fifty percent infant survival rate. If Kendra went into labor now…
"No, no. She's not coming anytime soon. Just grumpy as all get out."
"What in the world do we have to be grumpy about?" Aurora murmured, aiming her question at her friend's belly, relieved but still not completely without concern at her friend's reassurances.
"A lot of growing happening right now. Got to be hard on her."
"Hard on you, too. Why don't you sit down before you fall down, Kendra?"
Huffing her hair out of her face, Kendra tried for a glare, but exhaustion made it fall desperately short.
"Fine. Five minutes. Then Suzaku has an appointment I need to see to."
Aurora just hummed as she escorted her friend to the couch, promising to return with some water. By the time she came back from the kitchen, Kendra was plopped sideways on the deep sofa, sound asleep, her glasses dangling from her fingers by one of the arms. Turning as the door opened to admit Suzaku, still a little spooked, Aurora set the water and the doctor's glasses on the small table by the couch and put her finger to her lips. After settling a blanket over Kendra once she'd carefully hefted her legs up onto the cushions and removed her shoes, Aurora jerked her head towards the kitchen. Setting down the bag by the umbrella stand, Suzaku silently followed her, his wide eyes seemingly plastered on Kendra's sleeping form for as long as he was able to keep her in sight.
As soon as they entered the kitchen, Suzaku stepped closer, crowding Aurora in a way that she had a suspicion he had no idea he was doing. It brought him close enough for her to catch the hint of soap and shaving cream on his skin, to see the gold sparks in his green eyes fringed by thick, coal black lashes. Aurora swallowed, and demanded that she keep her mind from such silly things. Lovely, silly things.
"What's wrong? Is Kendra alright? She doesn't look good – she didn't look like that the last time we saw her."
"Building a person is tough work. All that material has to come from somewhere – babies just don't magically pop into being without some sacrifice. Kendra should be fine once she gets a nap in." At least, Aurora hoped she would be. Something, maybe a woman's intuition, maybe desperate hope, whispered that the little Andrews wouldn't be making an early appearance any time soon. Suzaku seemed to relax as he absorbed what she said. But Aurora could tell almost to the second when he realized how close they were standing; his eyes blinked wide, and he shrunk back, looking a little stung. Feeling insulted despite her best efforts to reason his reaction away, Aurora turned neatly towards the sink, aiming her attention away from her worry for Kendra and her irritation with Suzaku. Stupid, but what was his problem?
His problem was that she smelled gorgeous – like springtime and sunshine. Like all things sweet and warm and bright. Aurora unknowingly triggered scent memories of his childhood; cherry petals falling in banks of delicate, snow-like pink. Of Lelouch staring open-mouthed at his first Japanese spring, Nunnally giggling as Suzaku filled her outstretched palms with handfuls of soft petals. He wondered if Aurora's mouth would be as soft before remembering all the ways that idea wasn't just bad – it would be damaging.
So he took refuge at the kitchen table, quietly greeting Ban as he walked through his recent thoughts, and tried to delete all of them, passing the white brush of his determination over each longing until his mind was a blank slate. But no matter how many coats he swiped over them, the ghosts, outlines of needs that he had no idea what to do with, still lingered.
"I'll go check on Kendra," he murmured, standing and fleeing to the hallway before Aurora had a chance to say anything in response. Striding down the hallway, Suzaku paused at the doorway to the parlor. Because there was apparently no need to check on Kendra; she had a guardian already. Bannock had slipped away and now stood by the couch, watching the sleeping doctor with scarily aware eyes. After a morning spent playing the clown, Ban stood by Kendra like a silent, somber shadow.
He stepped closer to the couch, and Suzaku opened his mouth to call the dog away so he didn't disturb Kendra, who looked fatigued and undeniably pregnant. But the dog just lightly snuffled Kendra's outstretched fingertips before slowly lowering himself down to the ground, laying his head down on his paws, his ears slightly lifted and his eyes wide with attention. If he didn't know better, Suzaku would say that Bannock was safeguarding the expectant mother in her vulnerable state. He looked very noble, and terribly wise.
Recalling through a haze of pain, Suzaku was pretty certain there were lingering memories of Bannock standing watch over him during his early days at the cottage, lying next to his bed like a sentry, peering at him over the edge of the mattress with those intent, liquid eyes. Even raising the call when he woke up twisting with a bone-deep agony and a thirst that seemed to evaporate his blood. It was an ugly time he had no interest in remembering, but Bannock's patient presence had left an impression.
As had Aurora's.
He heard her, careful, quiet steps as she crept up next to him and peered over his shoulder. Even though he knew it was a bad idea, Suzaku turned his head, studying her from a disconcertingly close distance. She wore stars on her ears – glittering, faintly blue stones at her lobes that held fragile silver chains supporting twinkling gems, calling attention to her long throat and the curve to her collarbone. His fingertips itched, so he shoved the offending digits into the pockets of his jeans in defense.
But her soft scent was inescapable, and Suzaku was battling back increasingly heated urges when Kendra sighed. It was a tiny sound, but in the trembling quiet, it tore through the strands of Suzaku's quivering, unwilling thoughts like a prizefighter's punch. Bannock levered himself up, greeting the awakening doctor with small, snuffling kisses. Kendra had just pushed herself up, rubbing her fingertips over her closed eyelids, when Aurora snagged Suzaku's arm and yanked him after her, slipping down the hallway back into the kitchen.
"But-!" he protested in a whisper.
"Kendra does not like to be fussed over. Much prefers to do the fussing. Frankly, we were lucky to have her behave as long as she did. Hush, here she comes." Aurora spun away, quickly busying herself with the mess of potatoes in the sink. Suzaku had only a second to realize he looked awkwardly out of place just standing in the kitchen, and curse Aurora for leaving him high and dry.
He turned in time to see Kendra come shuffling down the hall, in the process of tugging a hair tie free from her mane of gypsy-dark hair. She yawned, digging her fingertips into her lower back as she peered at Suzaku with slightly narrowed eyes from behind lopsided glasses.
"I'm fine," she muttered, almost curtly.
"I… didn't say anything. I mean, of course you are." Suzaku knew he was floundering – he didn't need Kendra's feline eyes and raised brows to tell him that. He stole a glance at Aurora, but she was still innocently scrubbing potatoes. "You look great," he blurted out belatedly. Kendra just tilted her head and looked at him disparagingly.
"You're adorable." Without moving, she slid her eyes over to her blond friend. "Stop torturing your potatoes, Rora. I know you're the captain of the nanny brigade."
Aurora, who had been scrubbing the spud in her hand like it was due for inspection, slowed, then turned, leaning back against the counter, trying to look cool and unaffected. Oddly enough for her, she was largely failing.
"Can you blame us, Kendra? You were looking a little rough around the edges. We just wanted to make sure you were OK."
Kendra humphed, looking immensely unimpressed. Slowly sitting at the table, waving Suzaku away when he jerked forward to help, the doctor began to work her hair into a thick braid. Offering a small smile when Aurora retrieved her water from the parlor, Kendra gestured across the table, watching Suzaku move with a carefully cataloguing gaze as he obeyed and sat down on the other side of the table.
She peered at him as her fingers wove inky black strands of hair in a smooth rhythm, an enormous diamond flanked by sizable emeralds sparking from its gold seat on her left ring finger. Suzaku recalled how Aurora had told him the ring was Chandler's great-grandmother's – too valuable and tempting to be worn in a place like London, but Kendra took any other opportunity when she could wear it safely. It suited her; a little old-fashioned, magnificent and powerful.
Briskly winding a black band around the end of the dense tail, Kendra settled back, resting her left hand on her belly as she sipped her water. Suzaku mirrored her shift in posture unconsciously, his eyes drawn to the flash of stones crowning her womb. He tentatively called on powers of observation that had been deadened over the last few years, considering possibly reproducing the picture Kendra made. Tired, penetrating eyes behind vintage-style glasses, a thick braid draped over her shoulder, her slim hand, almost too delicate to bear the massive ring it bore, draped protectively over the baby. While she usually wore simple blouses with classic lines and dark slacks easy to clean that wouldn't show stains, Kendra was now wearing a gray hoodie a little too big for her and jeans that were baggy enough to not strain across her stomach.
Before he could control it, Suzaku's gaze slid to Aurora. If he was looking for someone who looked as different from the expectant mother as possible, he need go no further. And it wasn't glamour compared to informal; Aurora was wearing jeans too, albeit significantly less baggy. The soft, worn plaid shirt matched her eyes – blue shot through with silver, dulled to a misty gray by washing and time, rolled up to the elbows. Messily pulled up in a half ponytail, the rest of her slightly damp hair tumbled around her shoulders, matching the gold chain and pendant of a Druid's sun, moon, and tree that hung around her neck.
Kendra cleared her throat, and Suzaku's eyes swung back to her, realizing with a spreading dread that he'd been caught staring. Quite obviously, too. Terrific.
Her expression was largely unreadable, which Suzaku could both appreciate and feel alarm dripping down his spine in reaction to the doctor's sphinx-like face. Finally, though, Kendra tilted her head towards the hallway, her face softening.
"Shall we?"
Suzaku didn't even bother to nod – he was at her side, taking the hand she'd flung out into space to off-balance her bulk as Kendra hefted herself up. The doctor just pinned him with an odd little look that was almost approving before swinging her eyes to Aurora.
"When we come back down, I want to take a look at that nasty nip Natasha gave you. I trust you've bandaged it up snug?"
If Kendra's expression reminded him of a sphinx, Aurora's smile definitely had shades of impish mischief.
"Suzaku bandaged it up for me. It's as good as you or I could have managed."
He couldn't quite tell if she was lauding him or throwing him under the bus. Kendra just sniffed at both him and Aurora as they strolled out of the kitchen and down the hallway arm in arm. It wasn't disapproving, necessarily, merely the mark of withheld verdict.
"I suppose I'll be the judge of that. Best give me room, Suzaku. I'm still not quite used to the added bulk. And if you could grab my bag, I'd much appreciate it." Latching those slim hands, strong, trained, and marked by the manic sparkle of her ring, onto the railings on either side of her, Kendra began the task of industriously hauling herself up the stairs. Suzaku opened his mouth to offer moving their appointment somewhere downstairs, but reconsidered. Kendra was in what could be politely termed an interesting mood, and could all too easily turn fierce if he wounded her pride. Suzaku could appreciate that – he knew a thing or two about bruised pride. So he merely snagged her bag and shadowed her studious progress up the stairs, ready to spring into action at the slightest misstep.
But Kendra got herself to the second level without incident. She turned and studied Suzaku as he joined her, a very soft hum sounding in her throat. Readjusting her glasses, Kendra held out her hand for her bag, which Suzaku reluctantly handed to her.
"Why don't we chat in the study?"
"Er, alright." Suzaku was taken aback – why the change in location? Was something wrong?
"Nothing's wrong," Kendra said as they headed to the other side of the house. Suzaku twitched; that perceptiveness she shared with Aurora, and sometimes exceeded, was disconcerting at best. "But you've been here for over two months, and I want your bedroom to feel like yours, not some hospital room that I can tramp into without pause. Boundaries are healthy, and freely granted privacy is incredibly important, both as a stepping stone and a sign of faith. Besides, our talks from now on will be largely focused on your psychological health, and that's better conducted on something a little closer to neutral ground, while still private."
Delightful, Suzaku thought, trying not to be sour. Discussion about his emotional well-being usually made him slide helplessly into a state of fight-or-flight, especially with people who carried letters after their names like banners of authority. Kendra, however, was not some military doctor easily held off with rank and understated discouragement. This could be unpleasant.
However, Suzaku schooled his face, something he was gradually relearning to do ever since coming to Ireland. For years, he'd been free to react facially without pause or concern; no one knew how Zero's face might twist given any situation. His only tell was his voice, which Suzaku had learned to strictly control. Now, however, things had tilted into an opposite set of social cues. His face gave away more that his words to these exceptionally observant women. Even Chandler could read him more clearly by the look in his eye and the way he spoke instead of what was actually said.
Following the doctor to the study, he hung back in the doorway as she set down her bag on the desk amidst his neatly catalogued drawings and supplies. Clearly, Suzaku pictured his quiet dissolution into tears and murmured songs exactly here only a day or two ago. It took him a moment before he managed to struggle past the memory of his own phantom.
"Where do you normally sit?" Kendra's question surprised him, both out of his internal struggle and by the oddness of the subject.
"Beg pardon?" Suzaku managed.
"You normally sit here, right?" she said, gesturing to the desk below the window. The doctor softly laughed at Suzaku's taken-aback nod.
"These are obviously not Aurora's work, and the volume of them tell me you've spent a significant amount of time here. I want you to be comfortable, Suzaku."
Still, he didn't advance to the chair she'd been talking about.
"What about you? Would the sofa be best? Do you want a cushion?"
Kendra shook her head with a little chuckle at his slightly frantic questions.
"Lord, no. If I sit down in that thing, I'll never get out. This will work nicely," she murmured as she rested a hand on the back of the rocking chair tucked in the corner next to the book shelves. It took Suzaku a moment to recognize it – it was the chair where Aurora had spent so much time at his bedside during his first days here. He hadn't noticed when it had been moved out of his room, only that Aurora wasn't there as much as she used to be. Before he could move to help, Kendra dragged the chair closer and plopped down, busily scratching something in a notebook, a thick manila folder balanced on her thighs. Slowly, Suzaku took his usual seat, spinning so that he fully faced the doctor. As she continued to swiftly write, he murmured the first polite thing that came to mind.
"How do you know those drawings aren't Aurora's?"
Kendra looked up without tilting her head, peering at him over the rims of her glasses, a small, knowing smile moving across her mouth.
"Because they're very lovely, and Aurora draws like a badly distracted toddler."
Suzaku couldn't help the heat the seeped across his cheekbones and down his neck at the compliment, glad when her gaze dropped back down to whatever it was she was writing.
"Now, then," she finally said, waggling her fingers in a come-here gesture. "Let's get your vitals, and we'll see how you're doing."
Scooting his chair closer, Suzaku patiently waited through the now-familiar process of Kendra checking his pulse, lungs, lymph nodes, and eyes. It was almost soothing to give her the breaths she asked for, to feel her firm fingers gently probing under his jaw and down his throat. Once her stethoscope was looped over her neck again, she used those dexterous fingers to assess his arm and shoulder, asking for rotations and stretches that he could do with only the faintest twinges of pain.
"Looking good. You could still use a few more pounds, but I'm chalking that up to your natural build. You've never been particularly beefy, have you?"
Suzaku shook his head, the random echo of Lelouch's old moniker for him – "the exercise nut" – bouncing through his brain. Until people saw him in action, they'd never believed it.
"It also has to do with your lost musculature, which you can start regaining back." Kendra reluctantly smiled when she caught the glint in his eye. "Yes, you can start exercising again. I'll talk to Aurora about a regiment for you. No sparring or hard contact yet, but I'm sure we'll figure out something. Make sure to keep up with the protein in your diet, and don't forget the water. You're still borderline dehydrated, and your kidneys need all the help they can get. Don't let up until you're peeing like a racehorse." Kendra said it with such deadpan ease, Suzaku felt the embarrassment peak and die before it ever even flickered across his face. "Now, then. How's your appetite?"
Suzaku shrugged, but Kendra's patient silence spurred him into elaborating.
"Better. It's not what it used to be, but I can usually finish whatever's put in front of me without difficulty."
"Still not really seeking it out on your own too much, though, right?" The doctor read between the lines like he'd actually said it out loud. Suzaku shook his head.
"It's about fifty-fifty right now."
She nodded, noting something on her pad.
"Fair enough. How about sleep? Still having nightmares, or worse?"
He shook his head, trying to formulate the way to speak truthfully without revealing the humiliating issues he was blindly grappling with.
"No more nightmares, not really. I usually get a decent amount of sleep." Suzaku must not have hit the right note at the end of his sentence, because Kendra still just patiently peered at him, her pen slowly pulled through her fingers, round and round.
"But I…" The words trickled out of him tightly, his lungs snug against his trachea. "I've been having these…. dreams." When he didn't continue, Kendra spoke quietly.
"What kind of dreams?"
God, how could he say this without sounding like some insane pervert? Because he had to tell somebody. It wasn't going away, and it felt like layers of Suzaku's brain were peeling away every time the impulses flared, which was entirely too often for comfort.
"Erotic ones," he finally managed just shy of a whisper, feeling the blush sizzle across the bridge of his nose. Kendra's face, however, remained completely impassive.
"What's upsetting you about them?"
A better question would be what wasn't, but Suzaku tried to find a way to get at the root without tipping his hand.
"I don't like having them at all, but the, uh, subject is uncomfortable."
Kendra just stared at him for a long moment, her leonine eyes tracing over his face like she was drawing a map of his expressions. Cautiously, he blinked, at a loss to guess what was going on in that brilliant mind of hers.
"You're dreaming about having sex with Aurora, aren't you?"
Suzaku just gaped at the doctor, who had spoken with such cool certainty, it took his brain a moment to catch up and surrender to utter humiliation.
"I… um…" He was startled when Kendra's features softened into a calming smile.
"It's OK, Suzaku. Honestly, I'm relieved."
If Suzaku hadn't already been sitting, his ass would have plopped to the floor. His lids shot wide, and he eyed Kendra like she was from another planet.
"What!?" he finally managed to choke out. Reaching forward, she patted his boneless hand, her mouth still a little crooked.
"This is better news than I was expecting. I imagine you're a little confused right now."
Mechanically, he nodded, still trying to figure out how the conversation had been so completely derailed when he thought he'd been exerting some form of control over the subject.
"There's actually a few reasons. One is that this is the evidence I was waiting for that the heroin has fully evacuated your entire system. The blush of a heroin high feels similar to orgasm, and the drug rides the same pathways in the brain that normally communicate sex drive and pleasure, so your system loses the need, and sometimes the ability, to feel those natural urges. When it's administered synthetically, your body no longer produces it naturally." She may have been speaking with the cool-blooded professionalism of a lecturing professor, but Suzaku still wanted to bury his face in his hands and bang his head off the desk. This was hatefully mortifying. He kept still, however, and forced himself to carefully listen.
"You may have noticed that you've hardly been aroused, whether willingly or not, since you started using."
Suzaku slowly nodded.
"Yes, but…"
Kendra's eyes narrowed on him with hawk-like intensity.
"It preceded the heroin?"
Reluctantly, he nodded again, feeling as though the skin of his face was about to burst into flame. Kendra, however looked triumphant.
"I figured. Which brings me to my second reason. You're coming out of hibernation." She said it so proudly, Suzaku almost felt his mouth twitch.
"Last I checked, I'm not a bear."
The weak joke didn't deter Kendra in the slightest, though. She bulldozed on.
"You might as well be. People with PTSD are proven to have lower, sometimes non-existent sex drives. When your body and mind go into survival mode, sex is that the last thing you're worrying about. And arousal of any kind, not just sexual, forces you to come out of the safe, numb shell you've become ensconced in. It hasn't been easy, but I'm delighted to inform you, Suzaku, that your shell has officially cracked. Which also means other behaviors might start to manifest as well, now that the blanketing symptoms are fading."
That… wasn't what he'd been expecting to hear. Kendra must have seen the disconcerted look on his face, because she continued, in a slightly gentler tone.
"Now, if you were healthy, either a high or low sex drive wouldn't be cause for concern. After all, you are a twenty year old man – being horny over pretty much nothing is practically your duty. However, that's not the case for everybody. I mean, I'm demisexual."
Noticing Suzaku's blank expression at the foreign word, she elaborated with a small chuckle.
"I thought I was asexual for most of my life. Aurora doesn't know that's why it took me so long to decide whether or not I wanted to marry Chandler; he was different, and that was exciting, and scary. My husband is the only person, male, female, or otherwise, that I've ever been attracted to. Since I'm healthy, it's just a matter of how my brain is wired. You, my friend, have been anything but healthy. So it was a bit more concerning."
"I can appreciate all that, but…" Suzaku's face screwed up. "Why do I have to think about Aurora that way?"
Kendra shrugged.
"Man, who wouldn't? Even I can see that she's a stunning woman. You'd have to be deeply, thoroughly gay, or completely unaffected by women as a gender, to not appreciate how magnificent she is. In fact, knowing you're at least somewhat heterosexual, I'd be worried if you didn't find her attractive. At the very least accounting for your taste." Her lightly teasing tone, however, did nothing to alleviate the guilt that still hung round his neck like a yoke. Her expression melted into seriousness when she caught sight of his eyes. "Oh. I see." Kendra sighed hugely. "I can't tell you why your subconscious has latched onto Aurora as opposed to… someone else. It may be as simple as a matter of proximity and exposure. You two have been spending a lot of time together."
"And it makes life damn uncomfortable. Especially when certain thoughts just pop into my head like napalm. I can't even talk to her without thinking about… stuff, and I can just tell by her face that she either thinks I'm an idiot or relapsing." Suzaku blinked at the bitter words that all but burst out of his mouth unchecked. Kendra slowly nodded.
"I can tell you that's not what Aurora's thinking. All I can say is that there's nothing wrong with what you feel; what matters is how you act on it." Before she even finished speaking, Suzaku was already shaking his head.
"Oh, no. I can't do anything about this. I can't even begin to tell you all the reasons."
"I don't need you to. I appreciate enough of them, and am glad that I don't have to warn you away from acting on them. It sounds callous, but I don't want to see either of you hurt because you got involved in something that can't last."
That made Suzaku pause; he'd known it objectively, but hearing it voiced by someone he trusted hurt worse than expected. Least of all because it reminded Suzaku that his remaining seconds in Ireland were grains of sand, trickling swiftly through the neck of an hourglass.
"I still feel, well, guilty," Suzaku eventually managed through the emotion wrapping a sticky hand around his throat.
"I don't think you have anything to feel guilty about, Suzaku. No, I don't," she repeated when he opened his mouth to protest. "What you're feeling is natural, healthy, and pretty much unstoppable. What I care about is whether or not you'll treat Aurora with respect and courtesy, regardless of how this all plays out. That's what matters, at the end of the day. So my prescription is to stop beating yourself up over something that you can't control and exert yourself over something you can actually command; your behavior, towards both yourself and Aurora. Feeling desire doesn't make you bad. It simply means you're human."
He hadn't said anything in response when Kendra continued.
"And I swear, if you say feeling human is bad, I'm going to clock you."
The laughter that burst out of Suzaku was a little wild, but largely pure.
"No, I wasn't going to say that. Just that feeling human is… messy. And frightening."
Kendra just smiled slyly and tapped the end of her pen against her cheek.
"Welcome to the club, handsome. Any other questions?"
Mutely, Suzaku shook his head, trying to digest what Kendra had said. She'd said nothing about how to fix it or stop his attraction to Aurora, but that wasn't what was most striking. It had been the tone of understanding and lack of judgment, something that until recently, had been all but foreign in Suzaku's life.
"Good," she said crisply, tugging him from his puzzled, circling introspection. "There's something I wanted to discuss with you. This," she said, holding up the manila folder that had been resting on her lap, "is your medical file. It never mentions your name, only the patient number the system at my clinic automatically assigned you. And it's the complete detailing of your injuries and treatments. When you go back to Britannia, I want you to take it with you."
Slowly reaching forward to take the proffered folder, Suzaku locked eyes with the doctor.
"It is not my professional recommendation that you should return yet. There is some lingering weakness and fragility that could get you killed in combat. I know that Zero is largely a diplomatic figure, but someone's gunning for you, and I can't in good conscience send you back any less than fully operational."
Even as his guilt screamed that he get his sorry hide to Britannia this very instant, logic demanded that he listen to the medical genius who had saved his life with rather provincial equipment. And, perhaps, there was a small part of him that wasn't ready to give up what he'd found here. It frightened him to think that he might never be ready.
Flipping the cover open, Suzaku scanned the documents. Words like "hemorrhaging," "hypothermic," and "muscular disintegration" leapt off the page – the phrases "extremely chemically dependent" and "long-term critical condition" impressed on him just the kind of dangerously bad shape he'd been in, too injured to really remember. True to her word, Kendra never once mentioned him by name or title, simply "Patient #081010." The numbers were neatly printed in black pen along the small tab at the top of the folder.
"I've spoken to Aurora, and included a list of doctors she feels can be trusted to follow up with your care if there's none already on the royal Britannian payroll. That of course means that few of them are licensed, and more than one might have a malpractice claim on their records, but it ensures their silence." Kendra had included copies of his x-rays through every stage of healing, and it brought back a wave of anxiety to see the ghostly mess of his arm and shoulder as it had been only a few short weeks ago. He flipped through every page even as his nerves ratcheted tighter. By all rights, he should be dead. And that wasn't a relief, or a cause for frustration as it had once been. Now, he just felt vaguely ill. But he pressed on, and only flipped it closed when he'd dutifully scanned the last page, a sheet on his recommended nutrition. The bare bones of it was iron, calcium, and water.
Silently, he handed it back to her. Standing with a determined heft, she gestured for Suzaku to follow her. He stood as well, and as she approached the bookcase, he assumed she was simply going to slide it onto one of the shelves. Instead, she started grabbing books – thick, heavy medical textbooks bound in maroon leather – and moving them to an empty spot on another shelf. Suzaku helped her move the entire series before he realized what her target was; in the wall, previously hidden by all the big, boring books, was a safe. Glancing over her shoulder, Kendra started to twirl the lock.
"The combination's 3-7-20-0-1. March 7th, 2001. Aurora's birthday. She hates us using something so easy, but considering there's no longer any existing records of her birthday, we figured it was safe enough."
Suzaku gazed at Kendra a little uncertainly, confused as to why she was telling him this. The lock clicked, and the lever clanked as Kendra turned it and swung open the door. Setting in his medical file, she shuffled around for a moment, and Suzaku cautiously craned his head to see inside. There were at least half a dozen files in there, along with four small wooden boxes and what looked like a couple jeweler's bags. Withdrawing one of the boxes, she handed it to him, giving a small nod when he looked at her apprehensively. Flipping the lid open, he blinked in shock.
Nestled inside the plain little pine box was what could only be described as a treasure trove of get out of jail free cards. There were both English and Irish driver's licenses for him, using a picture that he had no idea even existed and names that, while different, both played on the S.K. configuration of initials. There was a passport – yet another S.K. name – this time hailing him as a native of Australia. Conveniently neutral, believably close to his home territory. There were three different credit cards, each a different metallic color. Gold, silver, and black, each tied to a different ID. There was also a scrap of paper that felt extremely flimsy in texture, and Suzaku realized it was meant to easily dissolve in water or fire. On it, four phone numbers were neatly printed.
"The passport is the best one to use – the name has diplomatic immunity tied to it in case you get into a jam. Each of the cards have $10,000 on them," Suzaku nearly bobbled the box as his eyes widened, "which should get you back home safely. That paper has one of Aurora's emergency phone numbers, me and Chandler's cells, and the private line of the English Minister of Defense. Just tell him you're a friend of Chandler Andrews if you can't reach any of us. And if you get caught with that paper, burn it, throw it in some water, or eat it. Won't hurt you beyond getting a little fiber in your system."
"How…?" Suzaku murmured, stunned by the extravagant show of generosity, care, and, honestly, paranoia. Kendra just shrugged, tucking her hands in the kangaroo pocket of the hoodie.
"Aurora has a bizarre obsession with fake ID's. Maybe it's a hazard of the trade. The fact that each of us have a go box, and that our detailed medical histories are all secreted away in here certainly is." She jerked her head towards the safe, and Suzaku realized that the other boxes were for Aurora and her friends. "There's another version of this at the clinic, which Aurora insisted on. Hard to argue with a woman who's seen as much shit as she has. I figure better safe than sorry. Aurora's first present to the growing baby Andrews will probably be a go box all their own." Her quirk of a smile softened the frankly disturbing thought, her palms patting her belly inside the shelter of the pocket.
"I don't need $10,000 to get back to Britannia," Suzaku protested, still overwhelmed. Closing the lid on the box, he handed it back to the doctor. As Kendra returned it to its mates, she leveled a sharp look at him.
"If you're being smart, you will. You can't just stroll into Shannon Airport and ask for a ticket to Aurelius. Ireland is neutral, but crazy stuff can happen on airplanes."
Unbidden, the image of Kendra coolly threatening an unsuspecting pilot to suddenly fly to Ireland flashed into Suzaku's head, and he struggled to kill the smile. After all, this was serious.
"Anyway, you're going to have to be creative. Any waves can ripple back to the people who tried to kill you, then all my hard work will have been for nothing. And that will tick me off like you wouldn't believe," she warned with a hard finger drilled into his chest. Suzaku nodded quickly – he believed her, this little mother with eyes like coins from a treasure chest, and a stern mind that hid a soft heart.
Moving on sudden instinct, Suzaku gathered her up in a soft hug as he whispered his thanks. He felt her go stiff with shock, and almost released her, already regretting overstepping his bounds, when Kendra returned his hold. She sighed, and Suzaku felt the press of the child growing in her womb against his stomach. He suddenly wished, fervently and with all he had, that the baby would be safe and well, that it knew, unequivocally and without pause, that it was loved. Because Kendra, her husband, and her friend would all give this wee babe the very thing Suzaku had hungered for all his life. The certainty of love.
And even he, a strange, temporary blip on Aurora and the Andrews' radar, loved the little guy, even though he would never see the baby laugh or cry. Because time, never his ally, was quickly running out. This strange dream of warm Irish days and good, solid people would end all too soon. And his days with this family, with the lovely woman patiently waiting for him downstairs, were numbered. Straightening, Suzaku gazed down at Kendra, memorizing the plump, well-bred lines of her face.
"You're a good lad," she murmured in a rare show of softness, patting his cheek before turning to repack her bag. Watching the straight line of her spine, he thought, "And you're an amazing lady." But he knew she would be as uncomfortable receiving the compliment as he would be in giving it. So instead, he politely took her bag, and escorted her down the stairs. Aurora fussed over her friend in that patented, subtle way of hers, convincing her to rest and eat before Kendra could quite catch on that she was being, as she called it, "shamelessly babied." Suzaku watched how Aurora stood by her friend's side, resting her hand on her hip before heartily laughing at something the doctor muttered.
The sound skipped across his skin, and Suzaku realized that he'd been a coward. Afraid of what Aurora awoke in him. When the cold reality was he didn't have time to be afraid. All too soon, he'd return to his limbo of living behind Zero's mask, and all this would be a memory. And he would hate himself more than ever for the rest of his days if he sacrificed his remaining time with Aurora to his stumbling pride. Even if he disgraced himself beyond all redemption, he was going to remain her friend. Until the bitter end.
That's my boy. Look at you go, making positive decisions, even if they're not entirely wise. I hope I scared you all a little with that last bit. Kind of the point. Everyone – myself, the readers, and the characters – have all gotten a little complacent. Before we have fun, I have to freak everybody out.
My mother cracked the song code. She might have been a little biased and/or remembered me talking about this in a long-ago conversation, but I'll take it. The list of the songs used will be posted on my profile, if you want to know which songs to listen to during certain parts.
There are a couple points of teeny tiny trivia if any of you catch those along the way. Cookies for smarty pants!
As per usual, I don't own the song mentioned in this chapter. I made up the backstory of Suzaku's family and youth. You guys are awesome.
Review!
Hope you like it!
Love, Tango