It was by pure accident that Suzaku found the bo. Aurora had deemed today a bath day for Bannock. Although she wasn't foolish enough to ask the dog if he wanted to take a bath – as most hounds were smart enough to know the word and act accordingly – he knew what the thunder against porcelain through an open door meant. Ban was well-behaved enough not to snap or growl, but it was quite a sight to watch Aurora drag her enormous dog into the downstairs bathroom by his collar. When he obstinately refused to lift his legs to step into the tub, though, Aurora and Suzaku had been forced to bodily lift Ban into the warm, soapy water.
They might as well have been lowering him into an acid bath, considering the way he stared at them with wide, dejected eyes, shivering a little despite the perfectly comfortable temperature of the water. Instead of howling or fighting them, Ban just groaned regularly, a long, drawn-out sound of misery, often paired with repeated attempts to squash his face into the corner. It didn't matter how Aurora cooed as she scrubbed the shampoo into his coat or how Suzaku murmured sympathetically as he carefully rinsed the dog's head, Ban still apparently thought this was tantamount to execution, and felt devastated and betrayed about the entire ordeal.
Once he was clean, however, an enormous change overtook the hound. As soon as Aurora sat back on her heels and told him he was done, Bannock smiled his odd doggy smile, then leapt from the tub like a dolphin from the ocean. The only thing keeping him from bashing his dumb, delighted skull against the door was Suzaku's quick snag for Ban, hooking his arm around his neck, as they'd removed his collar once he'd gotten into the bath. Between that and the tidal wave that followed in Ban's wake, the two of them ended up soaked. After drying Ban off as best they could and mopping up the worst of the damage, it still looked like the site of a naval battle, so Suzaku volunteered to get more towels.
As he rooted through the downstairs hallway closet, trying to assess whether these were appropriate towels to be used for mopping up dog bath water from the floor, a shimmer of lacquer from the corner, tucked behind the shelves, drew his attention. Slowly, Suzaku ran his fingers along the polished wood, tilting it a little to bring it more truly into the light.
It was red oak, if he wasn't mistaken, just a little shorter than Aurora's leggy height, and thoroughly, lovingly polished. A little dusty, maybe, but of quality. But what exactly was a staff doing tucked in a storage closet? When he heard Aurora call her dog a numbnuts through the closed bathroom door with the husky laugh that seemed to ripple down his spine, Suzaku refocused on his assignment, hefting a tall stack of towels back to the scene of the crime.
With the arrival of reinforcements, they set to their task, Ban regularly interrupting any sort of progress with his insistence of inserting his damp self anywhere they were. He wasn't a dog particularly prone to licking, but Ban was determined to apparently snuffle his humans to death, his wet nose often buried against a cheek or a neck. Suzaku barely managed to swallow the yelp when Ban nudged his cold nose against the small of his back, a stretch of skin revealed as he tried to tackle the pool behind the toilet. When the dog began to shake, Aurora leapt on Bannock like she was attempting to shield Suzaku from a hand grenade.
And yet, despite it all, laughter rang and echoed against the tiled walls. He had to admire Aurora's good-natured serenity, her innate ability to find humor when it would be easy to overlook.
Funny that Aurora should think the same thing of Suzaku as he diligently set to the thankless task of helping her clean up after her dog, a task that he'd volunteered for without being asked, and had made himself invaluable through the entire thorny process. He'd never complained, never ducked out, never got impatient or snappish with her or Bannock, even though the dog's antics would have certainly warranted it. If anything, he'd been almost inhumanly patient with him, and Aurora briefly tormented herself with thoughts of what Suzaku would be like as a father. They were shiny enough, poignant enough, to have her nearly dreaming as she hung up the bath mats. The rhythmic banging of Ban's tail against the door, however, snapped her out of it.
Foolish. Desperately, embarrassingly foolish.
Finally deeming Bannock dry enough to wander around the house without causing any permanent destruction, she let him loose. Like a racehorse lunging out at the slam of a starting gate, Ban leapt into the hallway, careening towards the front of the house with long strides made ungainly by the narrow quarters. Aurora stood in the doorway of the bathroom, her head cocked towards Ban's trajectory. She winced at the distant bang, then smiled at the joyful howling coming from the front parlor. No doubt he'd propped his paws on the window sill and was announcing to the world that he'd survived his water torture.
Turning back, she began stacking the used towels, smiling at him when Suzaku added his to the pile. As their hands brushed, Aurora congratulated herself for not stiffening, for behaving normally. Especially when she really just wanted to slide into his arms and snuggle against his broad shoulder, awkwardly wet clothes be damned. Pretty dumb reaction to a guy helping her wash her dog, Aurora sternly lectured in her head. She was lecturing herself so intently, in fact, it took two tries for Suzaku's words to actually make contact with her brain.
"Sorry, what? Woolgathering," she said with a bland grin. Suzaku just smiled uncertainly before repeating himself.
"The staff. In the closet, where I got the towels. Is it yours?"
Aurora's brow wrinkled as she gathered up the towels. She wasn't so thrown by the question, however, to manage resisting being charmed when Suzaku smoothly took half the pile from her as they headed towards the laundry room. As they walked down the hall, shoulder to shoulder, however, she remembered.
"Oh, the bo! Yeah, it's mine. Got it years ago from an old instructor, and somehow the thing managed to stay with me on all my journeys. It's an antique, so I didn't really want to keep it in London. Besides, I don't get much use out of it. I know bojutsu, sure, and can and have used a weapon comparable to it. But I preferred a good Glock or a decent edged knife when I was in the business."
"Then do you mind?" Suzaku murmured as he handed her towels to load into the washer. He sounded hesitant, but not as achingly unsure as he had in the past. It still hurt her, way deep down, that he was so uncomfortable asking for help or favors. So afraid to request even the tiniest, easiest acts of kindness, when he was so willing to offer his own. It spoke of destroyed trust, a destroyed heart. Aurora wondered if a lifetime of generosity would be enough to mend things long and badly broken.
"If you use it? Of course not. The thing could certainly stand to be used, and I have no doubt you're more than capable. Have at it."
He smiled and murmured his thanks, but there was still an edge of discomfort to his shoulders. Their time together had taught Aurora that Suzaku found peace in fairness. A favor wasn't as dangerous when it was a bargain.
"It's the least I can do after your help with Ban. The whole thing would have taken twice as long if you hadn't given me a hand. I really appreciate it." She also decided to cook him a nice meal, something hearty and a bit decadent, as thanks for earlier.
Pasta, maybe. She had the rosemary bread she'd baked that morning, and enough tomatoes to whip up a decent red sauce. Which reminded her the herb garden needed some attention. So, she thought to herself, mentally calculating, she'd dedicate a few hours out in the gardens while the tomatoes simmered once the skins were removed. By the time she'd gathered what she needed and seen to the weeding and tending, the sauce should be ready for the herbs and garlic to be added in. She'd found a very decent sausage at the market, and thought veggies would do very nicely sautéed in the grease and olive oil. Some eggplant and mushrooms, peppers and onions. The peppers could be green, but not the onions, she thought to herself with a dreamy little smile. Maybe a few olives for garnish, and a nice savory finish.
And then her darling dog frolicked in, and her plans threatened to topple. Bannock was always a bundle of energy and affection after his bath, as he'd already displayed. The mood wouldn't dissipate for hours, and it would prove all but impossible to accomplish what she'd planned with him underfoot. Not to mention, he was just goofy enough to make any sort of lone expeditions on his part likely a bad idea. Aurora bit her lip as she stared at her clean, absurdly happy dog.
Suzaku may not have been sure what had so completely taken Aurora's attention since she'd offered him use of the bo, but her current expression was easier to read, thanks in part to the months he'd spent trying to decipher her layered, occasionally sphinx-like expressions. By comparison, this one was simple – Bannock presented a problem.
"Why don't I take Ban for a walk?" Suzaku found her delighted reaction out of proportion to such a simple, minor favor. But he couldn't help the small coil of pleased heat that bloomed in his belly at the smile breaking over her face like the sun. She aimed those eyes up at him, and the knowledge that he'd do anything within his power for those eyes, and the heart that glimmered in them, echoed faintly under the heavy thud of blood in his ears.
A small burst of energy later, they were prepared to divide and conquer. Suzaku had changed into jogging attire, equipped with the bo, music player, and headphones. Aurora was startled, then enormously enchanted, when Suzaku flashed her a charming wink before he got Ban's attention and the two of them galloped across the yard, over the stone wall, up the hill, and out of sight.
It roused something primal in her – his sleek, strong build, offset by skin that was starting bronze from the sun and hair that was beginning to streak and curl. Lithe agility and a weapon in his hand – oh God, nothing else made her engine rev quite like that. But, Aurora, reminded herself with a weary stubbornness, this was neither the time nor the place to act on that attraction. It worried her a little, though – how insistently her instincts yearned for Suzaku. It wouldn't do to dwell on the possibilities that could spring from the failure of her willpower.
Drawing her mental faculties about her like a shield, Aurora settled a black ball cap on her head, pulling her tail of hair through the opening at the back and gathering the gardening tools.
As she set to the soothing task of tending the herb gardens, Aurora hesitantly let her mind wander. A dangerous thing to do, when the image of him bracing a hand on the stone wall to leap over it at a swift run had her heart beating a little faster, a wistful sigh threatening to drift out of her. Surely she could think of something productive, Aurora chided herself with a huff as she began to weed.
Like yesterday, for example.
She was so glad, so relieved, that it had gone well. Because it could have gone so terribly wrong.
Aurora didn't like to admit it to herself, but she'd been nervous. Which was largely the reason why she hadn't volunteered the idea of sparring when Kendra had first cleared it. Nervous that she'd punch the wrong place a little too hard, and hurt her friend in a way it made her nauseous to imagine. That everything they'd been working towards the last several months could be incinerated in the heat of battle. And it would all be her fault.
There'd been so much riding on a good-natured exchanged of bare-knuckle hits. Aurora knew she had exceptional balance – she'd certainly used it for the tight-wire she'd walked yesterday.
On the one hand, she'd understood that, at the end of the day, Suzaku needed to win. Needed to re-establish his self-worth with something he believed in. If it didn't cement when he was fighting, it never would. She'd seen him be a good loser, a fair player in other instances. But when it came to the thing that defined the man he'd been and the legend he'd become, this wasn't some silly card game, and there was no way he'd take multiple losses with a shrug and a grin. No, it would get ugly, and there'd be no going back. Suzaku's ability to fight was the core of his mental construct, and it could all come crashing down if she rattled the cage too badly.
And yet, as soon as they'd exchanged the first few strikes, it had become flagrantly apparent that Suzaku was doubting himself, and, by extension, her. That rankled, she was forced to admit, brushing a stalk of rosemary over her cheek thoughtfully. Though it was perfectly natural for someone coming back from prolonged medical rest, especially someone with the fragile mental health and ingrained chivalry/misogyny Suzaku dealt with. But Aurora had found herself without the luxury of time. She had one day, one span of hours in the studio, to make or break months of effort. So, in a gamble that had nearly made her vibrate with nerves and fear, she'd pushed. She'd battled not the Suzaku in front of her, but the man from four years ago. The man people still whispered about, the figure grudgingly used as an example to this day in Knightmare pilot schools. If Aurora honored him with the caliber of skill she believed him capable of defeating, then he could rise to the occasion. If she had to beat him to drive the point of his own value home, so be it. And yet, Aurora had to somehow avoid hurting him, too. No wonder she'd been so wired. Even now, as she trimmed leaves of thyme and yanked weeds, her hands trembled the tiniest bit at the memory of it.
A small part of her, snarling and petty and impossibly competitive, had thrilled at the first win. A bigger part of her was simply delighted to have an opponent she could get her teeth into. The rest of her had shaken, trying not to ruin everything by bursting into guilty tears or begging his forgiveness. Aurora had known Suzaku would need time to absorb, to assess. She'd initially planned on sitting quietly with him before trying another bout. But nerves had crackled between her fingertips like electricity, the incessant need to tap her toes or her fingers nearly driving her mad.
How could she sit still, when she could so clearly see the battle going on in his eyes? When she wanted so badly for him to win, and was so afraid he would lose? When the burn of battle still shot through her veins like acid? So Aurora had done what she did best – she moved.
Rationalizing it as a chance to keep herself warmed up, burn off some of the engulfing fear that she'd just made a terrible mistake, and give Suzaku an opportunity to observe his opponent, Aurora had really afforded them both time to get their shit together. Because the next time they'd faced each other, it was for keeps.
That second bout… It had been quite a thing, witnessing the reemergence of a part of Suzaku he'd believed dead, or maimed beyond repair. Seeing fragments of him become whole, watching him come into his own as he'd fended her off, then chased her onto the ropes. Of course, he'd been trying to kick her ass the entire time, but as a fellow fighter, Aurora could appreciate it nonetheless. In fact, she'd had the time of her life, pouring herself into a bout that called upon her skill in a way it hadn't been accessed in years. Even as her options began to dwindle, as the panic of the hunted animal in narrowing quarters stung her muscles, Aurora had felt a perverse sense of peace. Her escape routes disappeared, but the knife edge they'd been teetering on began to dull, to soften. Because he was winning.
Suzaku had reclaimed himself as a warrior, and Aurora'd never been so happy to lose a fight in her life. She'd given him her best, which she hoped meant the win was all the sweeter, that he could trust it was something he deserved, had utterly earned. And her insatiable need to win could stuff it.
Adding a bundle of silvery sage to her harvesting basket, Aurora sat back on her heels, smiling to herself as she yanked on another clump of weeds. She was so proud of Suzaku, so happy for him. And yet, the tang of it was a little bittersweet. Because every step he took forward was another stride away from her. Yet how could she do anything but encourage him, which would inevitably lead to him walking away?
Aurora considered herself self-aware and strong, but she wasn't sure what exactly she would do when Suzaku left Ireland. She wanted to think she had enough spine to avoid hurting him in reaction to her own pain when they inevitably parted. Somehow, she'd survive it, with the skill and poise George had demanded of her. Aurora would accept nothing less of herself.
Suzaku had no idea where Bannock was taking him, but it appeared to be somewhere new. He'd never trekked to this span of the hills before, but how could he complain? As the pair of them loped through the dense, verdant green under the soft cup of opalescent sky, Suzaku drew a deep, healthy breath into his lungs, luxuriating in the ease of it, the way that inhalation could make him feel potently alive. Trees and hedges stood in ragged clumps or stately groves, the grass thick with the height of summer, not yet cropped by a farmer's herd of livestock. It swished against his calves, clustered around the base of craggy rocks, long ago uprooted, then carelessly abandoned, by the inexorable march of ancient glaciers.
They flushed birds and rabbits, and Suzaku even caught the crimson flash of a fox, the coin-like glimmer of eyes reminding him of Kendra until it disappeared. Bannock barely had a chance to lift his ears before the small canine was gone. Unperturbed, they moved on at a steady run, occasionally taking on the challenge of a rock outcropping or a thick bank of trees. Suzaku discovered that his parkour was a little rusty, but serviceable. Ban, like his mother, was slick as an eel, and good-naturedly game for just about anything.
The smoky dog shot ahead of him, cresting a ridged hill with a certainty Suzaku decided to heed. He stuttered to a stop when he saw what Bannock had apparently been leading him to. The glen was sheltered by oaks and rowans, the green of the vegetation so deep, he ached with it. Settled in the dip of the land, though, was a small pond, reflecting the sky above like a jewel set against velvet.
Slowly, Suzaku picked his way down the hill, breathing in the view much the same way he inhaled the air. Ban was industriously sniffing his way along the bank, and Suzaku managed to rouse himself from his stunned regard in time to call the dog away from traipsing into the water. As Ban returned to his side and Suzaku drew under the shade of nearby trees, their trunks and lower branches furred with moss, he could make out that the water was blue like the sky only at a certain angle. In reality, it was the color of Aurora's tea, of Bannock's eyes.
"Somehow I don't think Aurora would appreciate you taking a dip just after you had a bath," he explained to the dog. He almost felt embarrassed, talking to Bannock with the quiet reason one usually reserved for humans. But the dog just panted agreeably before rubbing his cheek along Suzaku's thigh and moving off to a row of hedges, which he plowed into like a bull. Shaking his head with a small, tilted smile, Suzaku leaned back against the trunk of the alder, the cool, damp moss pleasant against the heated back of his neck.
This was one hell of a place. He'd seen some truly stunning landscapes in his time, during his extensive travels, but there was something about the lush, quiet serenity of this little pond that loosened knots in him that he hadn't even noticed were strung tight. It was a kind of magic, he supposed. Different from Geass and all the other pockets of mystery that still riddled humanity. This was creation and cycles, tucked away in a fold of land, privy only to the wildlife quiet enough, clever enough, to find it.
So this was what it was like, Suzaku realized with soft, slow wonder. To feel alive, to feel bright with the beat of heart and blood. It was stunning in its grandeur, in its simplicity. Like a man handling blown glass, he slowly, carefully took hold of it. OK. OK, he thought again. Now what do I do with it?
If Aurora was standing next to him, privy to this realization, he imagined she would have chuckled, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and grinned at him like an imp. Well. No point in doing something you don't like with the life and time you have left. With that in mind, Suzaku tightened his grip on the bo, stepping out into silvered sunlight and approaching the water line, the ripe scent of peat and vegetation, water and wood, tanging the air.
When the next track filtering through the single earbud he'd left in revved, Suzaku felt the grin move across his face with an edged anticipation he recognized as an aspect of his resurrection. No, even more than that. Because he wasn't returning to who he was before. This Suzaku, the one who'd survived a shattered arm and a shattered life, was something new entirely. He couldn't say exactly what yet, but maybe he could stand to find out.
Taking a moment to insert the other bud, Suzaku squared up, letting his eyes drift out over the water as he swung the staff, spinning it with an agility forgotten deep in muscle memory. Not bad, he allowed himself, sinking into a deeply rooted stance with a lunge, faceless enemies spilling from over the ridge and emerging out of the water. Not this time, he thought with grim determination. This time, he'd decimate his ghosts – he'd tear them to fucking pieces.
Aurora couldn't know what she had given him, Suzaku realized. He'd been drowning, without a single weapon or scrap of ammunition in his mental arsenal for years. From the very moment she'd found him, Aurora had been working to outfit him with the gear and tactics to save his life, his mind. And finally, he was able to use them. Suzaku couldn't say for sure whether or not he was worthless, but he wasn't helpless, not anymore. Baring his teeth in what approximated a grin, he leapt and spun, enjoying the dense give of soil under his feet even as he imagined ripping an imaginary combatant's head clean off with a swipe of the staff that had the wood whistling through the quiet air.
He liked the mechanical beat of the song, liked the rapid-fire words that only fed his energy, kinetic and spitting fire as it pulsed through his veins. When Suzaku planted one end of the bo into the soft ground in a vault, his left shoulder and arm dug in, and held on. Yes! growled through his head with triumph. Not broken. Not anymore. He landed lightly and with dark satisfaction.
Suzaku was ready. Ready to go back, to serve Nunnally as the guardian she deserved, not the one she'd been forced to tolerate for three years. Purpose renewed was a beautiful thing, pushing him through the pounding beat of the song, pushing him through the movements that had once defined him, and now enhanced him.
As he kicked and thrust his way to the end of the bout, Suzaku took a moment before straightening, the healthy mist of sweat cooling in the whisper-quiet breeze. It tousled his hair, wiggling the tips of Ban's ears as he watched from under the sweeping branches of a willow. All of his headlong joy was firmly reined back, however, at the sight of the dog.
Yes, he was ready to go back to Britannia. But, was he ready to leave Ireland?
Snowy days do wonders for writers. At least, they do for me. A blowing blizzard dumping a foot of snow effectively grounded me, so I thought I'd be productive and get this little beast finished. I had originally intended it to be much shorter, but a clever reviewer brought something important to my attention, so it got a bit longer, and a bit more intense. But hey, I like intense. As is obvious by this story, I should think.
Next round of VA reveals. Miss Jenna, who chipmunked her way into Suzaku's heart as their first stop in Galway, would be voiced by the lovely Jamie Marchi. You know and love her as the filthy Panty in Panty and Stocking with Garterbelt and the sweetly innocent Milk Callaud in Legend of Legendary Heroes. She's got the right mix of perky and no-nonsense.
Fluffing it up. Enjoy it while it you can. He he.
Drop me a line, and let me know what you think.
Hope you like it!
Love, Tango