CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Thalia knelt beside her beloved and looked into his bewildered face. “So it is, Tetsu,” she said, “in the end, you are your only true accuser. You’re the only one here who believes you deserve punishment.” She reached out and caressed his face, his lips, his ear, his neck. “No one else wants to punish you,” she reiterated, looking into his eyes.

“You should not touch me,” he said, but now it was more out of habit than conviction, and he did not pull away.

She brought her face up to his, brushing his lips with hers. “You should know by now you can never stop me from loving you,” she said against his mouth, then kissed him.

“What will you do?” he asked. “Will you release me?” He was not certain if he wished her to or not.

“I will love you back to life, you stupid, stubborn man,” she said, running her fingers again through his thick, silky black hair. “I cannot rid you of these thorns. You were bound this way as a child, and continue to punish yourself; only you can release yourself now. But what I can do is give you what you need to break free.”

“And what is that?” he whispered, overcome by the touch of her fingers and her lips on his skin.

“The opposite of fear – can you remember?” she asked, turning his face to look at her, really look at her. He let himself fall into her eyes, and found no judgment there – no fear, no rejection; only love.

“Love,” he said, still uncertain that it could be right, could really belong to him.

She nodded, tears filling her eyes. “Yes; love. I see you, I know you, there is nothing in you left hidden from me, and I love you.” She kissed his mouth again, deepening when she felt him respond.

“You refuse to pass judgment on me?” he asked, trembling with emotion when at last she broke the kiss.

“I have already passed judgment. You are guilty of grave injustices against yourself, Harada Tetsuya; my judgment is that you are worthy of love, of a life with joy, at peace with yourself. My judgment is that you must learn to accept love given freely in order to be free yourself to give it in return. So I repeat:" With this she ran her strong, slender hand down his chest and abdomen. “I love you; I have loved you for thousands of years, and will love you for millions more. You are my mate, my twin flame, the lover of my soul, and you are as divine, as full of light and beauty and life, as any of the gods. I adore you.”

While she spoke she undressed, smoothly, steadily, never letting his gaze drop even when she knew he felt shame for looking and lusting. He stared at her breasts, awed by their smooth perfection; let his eyes trace the graceful line of her collarbone to her shoulder, down her bleeding arms, into the valley of her waist and then up onto the peak of her hip, down the elegant shape of her thigh and calf. He filled his vision with the beautiful lines of her body, resisting the old anger at himself for wanting what he should never have, reminding himself that she had seen the worst in him, yet she did not find him guilty save of self-hatred.

“Will you let me love you?” she asked, her hand poised over his sash. His pants were tight now; he wanted her fiercely.

“I can’t stop you,” he said, knowing it was not the right response, but not quite able to do better yet.

“Yes, you can,” she said. “You can always stop me by refusing me. Love will never force itself in where it is not wanted.”

“You must know how much I want you,” he said, clenching his teeth. The vines remained viciously tight, thorns still piercing him with every breath and movement.

“But will you allow yourself to have me?” she asked.

He gazed at this woman, who somehow loved him beyond reason, in totality, with nothing held back or hidden. How could he ever deserve something so beautiful? No one in his life before had loved him this way; hardly anyone had loved him at all.

“I can’t look at you without wondering how you can love me. I know you do; I know too that I don’t question your judgment. But I don’t see why; I don’t deserve you.”

“Then will you let me show you why you do deserve love? Will you accept my love for you as a gift I can give to no other?”

“I treasure your love, but I cannot bear to see how the thorns hurt you,” he said, surprised to feel tears stinging his eyes.

“They’ll pierce me as long as they pierce you, whether you try to keep me at a distance or not. You don’t get to decide to suffer alone; you and I weren’t made alone. We’re in it together always, thorns or not,” she said, reaching to tuck her hand into his and nestle close to him, heedless of the thorns tearing at her skin.

Freedom seemed more and more like an impossible dream the closer he approached it, until now when he could almost taste and feel it, so close it was frightening. His fingers found the strength to grasp hers in return.

He shuddered at the little beads of blood forming on her skin everywhere she was pierced, hating the thorns for cutting her; but she lifted his chin and kissed him long and deep, willing him to forget that, to lose his pain in their love. Slowly, he responded, opening up to her and giving back.

She broke the kiss to look into his eyes, which were as full of tears as hers. “Do you see? Love is bigger than pain. It makes you stronger, not weaker. You taught me that long ago, but you forgot it somewhere along the way.”

“I taught you that?” he repeated, astonished. She nodded, and moved her hand down to his waist again.

“Let me love you,” she urged.

“There’s nothing I want more,” he said, his eyes steady on her face, achingly vulnerable but gaining strength.

She smiled, then untied the sash, freeing his straining sex. She cupped him in one hand, using the other to stroke the length of his shaft with agonizing gentleness.

His hands clenched behind him, newly pierced as finally he strained against his bonds, his body lifting almost involuntarily closer to her. She brought her mouth to his once again, and he responded to her kiss with his own – fevered, uncertain, but passionate.

He felt her tears mingling with his, and the soft curtain of her hair falling over their faces. Something began to grow in him, to reach for the light at last, to try for life in all its terrible beauty.

She broke the kiss and looked into his eyes again. “Taste me,” she invited, and lifted her breast to his mouth. He licked her nipple, then closed his lips around it, then sucked on it a little. His teeth grazed it, and she gasped in pleasure; he grew bolder, and soon she was straddling him, both of them driven to the edge of desire. She gave him her other breast in turn, and when they were both nearly desperate, she poised his shaft at the entrance to her body, looking into his eyes.

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“I. Love. You.” She enunciated this deliberately, with tears streaking her face and her hair in a coppery cloud around them both, and then she impaled herself on him.

He went to a place of almost painful bliss as soon as he felt her body accepting his, embracing his, caressing his; all at once, he could remember what it was to be born of a star, that sudden vibrant explosion of light and heat and awareness in the vast cold darkness of the universe. He remembered awakening in this riot of glory, remembered that almost as soon as he was self-aware, he became aware also of a vivid spiraling phantasm of joyous beauty that both was and was not part of his own; the sentience that was Her, that would evolve with him, would choose the journey of the soul with him, would endure unbelievable pain and suffering with him, and would never lose the vibrance of her love for him.

He saw too his own unquestioning, unhesitating, enduring, fearless, and magnificent love for her; it was one of the most foundational parts of his soul, this adoration of all that she was and was not. Every detail that made her herself was to him a precious jewel made of stars and space, fire and darkness.

He remembered everything now, and all the power of the pure, intense love they had always shared made everything else seem small, even foolish.

“Ah, gods, Thalia – how I do love you,” he said at last. He felt his body around him again, and her body above him; he could not remember for a moment why he had refused to touch her, to embrace and love and worship her.

Then he felt thorns still cutting into his skin and remembered how foolish, fearful and blind he had been. Impatient, he twisted his hands and the vines gave way, disintegrating as if burned to ash; he sat up, and Thalia cried out in delight. When she threw herself against him in a joyful embrace, he snatched her as close as possible.

“Finally,” she gasped, weeping with joy. “You remembered!”

“How could I have forgotten?” he wondered in genuine amazement.

They sat for awhile, reveling in their embrace, Thalia snuggling as close as she possibly could. At length, she sat up on his lap and cleared her throat. “Well, that's enough histrionics from both of us for the next century or so," she announced, tossing her fiery hair over one creamy shoulder.

"Is it, though?" he murmured, eyeing her doubtfully. "I do remember you clearly now, so I have excellent reason to think not," he added dryly, his lip curling into a half-smile.

She laughed, and the joyful ring of it made their surroundings seem hollow. "All right, smartass, but we have to go back. There are many others who also love you, and we’ve all been worried sick.”

“But it was you who came in after me,” he said, tracing the line of her face with his hand. She was the first thing he had touched freely for longer than he could remember, and he marveled at the textures of her.

“Of course,” she said, and gave him a brilliant smile. “I will always come for you, just as you will for me.”

He kissed her, and the room around them faded out of existence.

***

He woke in a hospital bed wrapped in bandages, tubes protruding from various extremities. He was breathing on his own, thankfully. His eyes were blurry, unable to see much beyond bright light and shadows.

“Thalia?” he whispered. There were shouts from other voices close by, but Thalia was the one he wanted. She was already there, her arms encircling him. She bent over him, and he recognized her light, her aura, though his vision was still hazy. Lovely cloud of red hair; he could see that.

“I’m here, Tetsu,” she said in her soft, clear voice.

“Thalia. Love you,” he said, and smiled.

“I love you more,” she retorted, laughing through her tears.

“Thank you. For coming to get me out,” he said, and lifted her small but strong hand to his lips.

“I had to, you know,” she replied.

“I know,” he agreed, giving her a drowsy smile. “No one else could have.”

Saya came racing back with a nurse. The nurse exclaimed over him, then exclaimed over Thalia being in bed with him; Tetsuya insisted she remain, so the nurse shook her head and said it would be up to the doctor, but for now she wouldn’t make them part.

“You shouldn’t,” Saya put in. “It’s a very romantic story.”

“Harada-san,” Seizo said from beside the bed. Tetsuya hadn’t seen him there. “You look like a rainbow wrapped in toilet paper,” he remarked. Thalia laughed and Tetsuya smiled, but Saya punched him in the arm.

“Tch,” Tetsuya retorted. “Who cares? I have my girl.”

“You never lost her,” Thalia said, running her fingers through his hair again.

The nurse took his vital signs, called the doctors, and made a lot of medical fuss. Harada was sleepy, but willing to deal with the nonsense so long as Thalia was there. They kept the story simple for the staff. Thalia had been recuperating downstairs in her own room, but couldn’t sleep, so she came upstairs and slipped in while the nurses were tending another patient.

“When I heard how he was, I had to come and be with him,” she explained, her eyes filling with tears she didn’t have to fake.

“We’re going to be married soon,” Tetsuya said, lacing his fingers with hers and looking dreamily at their joined hands.

“Indeed we are,” she replied, squeezing his hand gently.

“I heard Thalia’s voice,” Tetsuya explained to the doctors when they asked how he had experienced his awakening. “I felt her first, but as if from a long distance away. I had to find my way back to her, but when I woke, she was here.”

They were prevaricating, but it was close enough to the truth to satisfy the professionals. The nurses sighed over how romantic it was, and there was no further talk of making Thalia leave. Instead, they made arrangements to move him into her room, since he no longer qualified for ICU.

“She’s obviously the only medicine he needs,” one doctor said, smiling down at them both. “Keep her with him, he’ll mend faster.” So the patients were moved into Thalia’s room downstairs, and fell into a deep, healing, natural sleep.

Saya and Seizo were on excellent if awkward terms for once, both of them immensely relieved and happy for Thalia and Tetsuya. When Harada first woke up and said Thalia’s name, Saya had been so overjoyed she leapt into Seizo’s arms; in that moment, already full of emotion, something in her awoke to the fact that she did not dislike him; quite the opposite. This created awkwardness, but also relieved a lot of tension.

They sat in Thalia’s room, smiling far more than usual, until Seizo said he would go tell Yamamoto, who deserved to be first to know.

“I’ll stay here, don’t worry,” Saya agreed. “But then I want to go tell Kiri-san and Kyoko-nee. They’ll be so mad I was here instead of them!”

Yamamoto was so happy he nearly cried. He demanded the entire story in detail, and Seizo sat and gave it to him.

“Wait – so they’re definitely getting married now?” he asked, to be clear.

“It’s been announced, so they’d better do it,” Seizo said.

“Tell Thalia-san the cave rejoices in the waterfall’s happiness,” Yamamoto said. “She’ll understand.” Seizo grumbled about spies talking in riddles, but did not mind conveying the message. Thalia smiled when he told her, so clearly she did understand; Tetsuya happened to be awake then, and frowned.

“What the hell? Is he delirious, Seizo, or just high on pain meds?” he demanded, sounding more like himself.

“Neither, Tetsu, I’ll explain later,” Thalia said. Tetsuya and Seizo exchanged puzzled glances at this, but she seemed disinclined to elaborate, and they were unwilling to probe. Soon after Tetsuya fell asleep again, she went to see Yamamoto, having finally been given clearance by both doctors in attendance.

He was dozing lightly when she arrived beside his bed, but woke when she took his hand in hers.

“Thalia-neesan!” he exclaimed, grinning.

“Yama-chan,” she replied, teasing him. He blushed, but did not object. She pushed a few long strands of hair out of his face, then leaned over and kissed his forehead. “You’re my hero, you know,” she told him, smiling but serious. “Without you, Tetsu and I know we wouldn’t be here now. He’d come and visit too, but I’m not sure who’s in worse shape right now, you or him.”

“The Vice-Chief got much worse treatment than I did, for much longer,” Yamamoto said sadly. “I couldn’t get near him, even to give him something to eat or drink. I was barely able to get on the ship as cook’s assistant at the last minute.”

“You’re amazing for doing what you did,” Thalia said, looking into his dark eyes. “No one blames you for not doing more except you – so stop it. Whatever else happened, you did save us at great personal cost to yourself. I am so sorry for what they did to you; I wish I could have protected you.”

“You did protect me, you and the Vice-Chief,” he replied, choking on the lump in his throat. “Captain Okada told me what you did, though you were wounded yourselves. How is your arm?” he asked.

She held it out, demonstrating that she could squeeze her fingers almost normally; there was not much outwardly to indicate the artificial biotechnology that had replaced her shattered bone and shredded muscle.

Unnoticed, Sekiguchi stood in the hallway outside Yamamoto's room, looking in through the small square window at this reunion. He wore the uniform of an orderly, and attracted no unwanted attention.

He had been baffled and angry at the sudden, unexpected recovery of Harada Tetsuya, whom he now perceived as rival more than simply opponent. This man would still stand between him and the mystical, magnificent creature he desired with a raw hunger previously unknown to him.

Sekiguchi needed this Fury; needed her with a ferocity that clouded his vision and made it hard to breathe. Not merely to make war, though that would be part of their glorious union; he needed her in the basement of his soul and all throughout himself in a way he did not understand; he was afraid of her not for her fearsome power, but for the things she made him feel that were beyond his experience or comprehension.

But neither fear nor this rival would deprive him of her, he was determined. He had always found ways to acquire what he needed, and this would be no different.

Someday soon, somehow, Thalia Cairde in all her glory and all her fury would be his. She did not know it yet, but that was all right. Perhaps it was better she did not see him coming for her. She did not understand her place in the universe yet; and that place was at his side. Forever.