Aurora didn't know what woke her. All she knew was that one moment, she was deeply asleep, vividly dreaming of driving Natasha over hills the color of Suzaku's eyes, distant ruins and wreckages only blots on the horizon. The sun was a bright, shining coin in the sky, glinting off the duchess's sparkling cobalt paint. Out of nowhere, though, a forbidding curtain of clouds slammed down, killing the light just as Aurora's eyes snapped open. It took only seconds to orient herself; when she did, a puzzled frown stole over her face.
Bannock wasn't on the bed, in his usual spot to her left. Nor was he by the bedroom door, or even on his baby blanket. He stood next to the bed, his head all but resting on the mattress by her face, staring at her with the spooky patience of children and animals when they wanted something from a sleeping parent. As Ban looked at her, so solemnly and silently, that for a moment, a crushing sense of apprehension stole over her. Then he tilted his head and panted right in her face, spurring Aurora into normalizing action.
Shoving aside the sheets, she swung her legs over the edge and dropped her face into her hands as the memories that had made it nearly impossible to sleep careened through her mind again. Oh, God.
She'd kissed him. Aurora had kissed Suzaku. Kissed his brains out at the base of the stairs, with the lame excuse of it being a birthday present. When the truth was she'd wanted him more than the next breath. Aurora just couldn't bear the thought of never having that moment, that memory as the future and its demands pressed down on them, so she'd grabbed what she yearned for so badly, and held on for dear life on the ride that followed. He hadn't protested, but he had been blindsided – Aurora hadn't been quite so taken with the kiss to avoid seeing that.
With a bracing breath, she pushed to her feet and tried to mangle her hair into some semblance of control. It was done. The reality of it was, they'd shared a few kisses, which had been, in all honesty, incredibly innocent. She should probably regret it, but she didn't. She refused to. Breakfast would probably be awkward, but they would be fine. Aurora could always depend on her and Suzaku being fine.
Ban had slipped through the ajar door, trotting downstairs to the kitchen. She followed, dumping food in his bowl as she prepped her tea. The dog stared at her for a long moment, long enough to have her frowning at him, before finally dipping his head and eating his breakfast. Shrugging, she gazed outside at the blankets of mist, the thick wadding of clouds pregnant with rain. It was going to be a wet day, and it would make things miserable for anyone traveling. Aurora took her first sip of tea as she approached the table to sit and think through what the hell she was going to say when she saw Suzaku at breakfast. She paused, however, confused, at what already was on the table.
It was Suzaku's pocket watch.
With hesitant fingers, her mind already racing, her muscles tensing in defense against a blow she refused to believe was descending, Aurora picked up the watch, running her thumb over the engraving on the lid. It sat on top of a note, extraordinarily simple. It read:
Thank you. For everything.
枢木 スザク
He'd signed his name in kanji, her knowledge of Japanese flailing as she fought to translate, to understand the intricacies of his name in his native tongue. The air in her lungs evaporated as the extent of what this meant slammed down over her. He was gone. Suzaku was gone. Suddenly, panic gripped her heart like a vise; still clutching the watch, Aurora shot upstairs, sprinting to the study as her breath scored her throat like razors, where he had spent so much time drawing and dreaming and deciding.
Heavy medical texts slammed to the floor like cannon fire as Aurora tore her way to the safe. It seemed to take an eternity to dial the combination, and she nearly screamed at the twisting dread burrowing into her bones. Finally, it clanked open, and she took quick stock. Suzaku's medical file and go box were gone. She drooped in sudden, draining relief. He'd listened. Thank all that was holy, he'd listened.
Time slowed to sludge as Aurora made her way downstairs, all but blind as she tried to wrestle with what this meant. Her mind was mired in too much of a haze to realize she picked up the note; all she knew was that abruptly, violently, she needed air.
Trudging outside, she suddenly froze on the porch, staring at the empty space where the rental car had been. Of course he'd taken the rental, she sluggishly rationalized, her brain struggling valiantly to catch up. What had she expected – that he walk all the way to Shannon? With slow deliberation, as if her bones were made of cracked glass, Aurora lowered herself to the porch steps, staring out into the muted light of a coming storm.
She didn't know what she'd expected. A goodbye, perhaps. Something painful and tragic that would end up doing more harm than good, she supposed. It was cleaner this way. Aurora figured if she told herself that enough times, perhaps she would eventually believe it. A goodbye had already been exchanged, when she could admit it to herself. Earlier that morning, as the sun had slipped over the horizon like a disk of fire. That was one of the reasons why she'd kissed him; because they could both feel that the sand had run out, and every second was selfishly borrowed from fate. So she took what she could, while she could. Aurora just hoped that Suzaku took something from it too, something he could carry without shame or guilt. Because there was so little in his life that was truly his without that sort of caveat.
Helplessly, Aurora read the note again. Nothing changed – no letters magically rearranged themselves to change the meaning into something she could stomach. However, in this murky light, she noticed a sort of shading, like colors bleeding in the paper. Flipping it over, she stared.
It was the dragon – his dragon. The black one that Suzaku had nearly discarded, and the one she'd suggested he color red. It was beautiful, fierce and forbidding and the shade of a warrior's heart-blood. Upon leaving, he'd left her a fragment of himself. Carefully, she stroked her fingers over the dragon's head, the high-quality paper almost deluding her that she was actually touching skin.
Finally, though, she set it aside. Then, the watch still clutched in her hand and the chain trailing, Aurora curled up, defensive and fetal, buried her face in her knees, and wept. Wept wildly with stormy, choking sobs eventually muted by the growing patter of rain.
She stayed there a long time. Ban came out at some point, squeezing through the door she'd left open. He laid himself down next to his crying mistress, staring stoically out into the gathering torrent as Aurora sobbed out the fractured pieces of her heart.
He'd had a bad morning, too. Suzaku had woken up early, after only a few hours of sleep. Ban had smelled the sad and scared on him, so he'd gotten up as well, following Suzaku around as he packed some clothes and a few notebooks. The bag had been little, like the ones his mama took on trips. Because he didn't like that bag, Ban had whined softly and rubbed his head on Suzaku's leg, asking him not to go. Suzaku had knelt and petted, rubbed and murmured. And then, he'd hugged Ban, and cried a little into his neck, the salt reminding Ban of Aurora's bad days.
Then he'd stood up quick, like Ban had bitten him, not stood quiet and still, and was gone, leaving behind the scent of trees and charcoal, ocean air and rich earth. He'd cried at the door for a while after he heard the rev of the car engine, but Suzaku did not come back. And now his mama was crying, holding the copper watch still smelling like its previous owner. Even the sky cried.
With a heavy sigh, Ban dropped his head into his paws. Still, he looked out into the rain. Maybe Suzaku would come back, if he waited long enough.
And so our days in Ireland end. Phew. Over 20,000 words in one week. That was a beast of a project, and I'm very glad to get through it. I'll be taking a short break before we resume our programming. Now, the focus will be where we go from here.
Hope you like it!
Love, Tango