Title:  Night and Day
Author: Ysabet MacFarlane
Pairing: Sohma Hatsuharu and Sohma Isuzu (Rin)
Fandom: Fruits Basket
Theme: #13 (excessive chain)

Disclaimer: Fruits Basket belongs to Takaya Natsuki and Hakusensha;
English-language versions by FUNimation (anime) and Tokyopop (manga).

Notes:  Spoilers for ch. 106-107 (manga vol. 18).


********

A month after Rin was carried from the Cat's prison, after he's back to spending
most nights in his own bed instead of hers, Haru wakes in the night and can't
quite place himself.  The shadows of Rin's room (a tiny nook in Kazuma's house,
her own sanctuary since she was eleven, but rarely slept in until this spring)
loom strangely without her curled up beside or on top of him.  (Sleeping with me
must be annoying, she says in daylight, embarrassed by the way she clings to him
while she dreams.  It's an adventure, he replies, and she smiles.)

He waits for her to come back, raising his hands over his face and counting
minutes on his fingers, starting with the smallest finger on his right hand. 
When he reaches the finger that he's taken to leaving bare, waiting for a
plainer ring than he usually wears, he lets himself worry enough to go looking. 
(Don't worry so much, she whispers, not pretending that there's no cause, but
not up to carrying the weight of his fear.  Not now.  Not yet.)

The only light in the house shows between the cracks around the bathroom door, a
softer guide than the sound of her weeping.  (I never cried in there, she says,
almost in wonder, two weeks after her release.  Sprawled across his lap, she
stares at the light filtering through the leaves of the tree they're resting
under, while he uses his hands to distract her from the tears on her cheeks. 
Never, she repeats, and he shivers.)

"Are you ok?"  Nonsense words to fill in the empty air until the door slides
open, silhouetting her for an instant before the light goes out and drops them
back into newly-blinding darkness.

"Bad dreams.  Made me sick."  Her forehead rests against his shoulder, heavy
with her weariness, and her wordless refusal to elaborate enlightens him--he's
been with her through enough bouts of sickness that it doesn't embarrass her
into silence anymore, but crying until she throws up is another matter.  (As if
I needed another way to mess my stomach up, she muttered after the first time
she admitted to it, and he watched her run her tongue over her teeth.  An
article about eating disorders had frightened her with its descriptions of the
damage stomach acid could do to enamel; ever since, the frequency with which she
checks her teeth in the mirror has been a way to gauge her health.)

Haru scoops her up and holds her close, a comforting double-armful of warm,
breathing woman nestling against his chest.  Since she came back into the
daylight, the two years dividing them seem crisp and obvious--not a girl
anymore, his lover.  The nightmares that wake her now are all of creeping
darkness at the edges of her mind, rather than her father's violence and her
mother's blind eye; one set of chains exchanged for another.  (He doesn't feel
like a boy anymore, either, but he can't be sure he's ready to call himself a
man.  There's only holding her and praying he won't fail her again.)

Five slow breaths--he counts them now, when he's not close enough to count her
heartbeats, tries to memorize every sign of life--and Rin slides out of his arms
to stand on her own.  "I'm sorry you woke up."

"Guess I don't have to be awake to miss you."

"I guess not."  Understanding softens her eyes, a bittersweet reassurance that
her bed feels as empty as his does, with only one body to fill it.  (Good
morning, she mumbles into her pillow when he kisses her goodbye, leaving her to
sleep in a pool of sunlight while he goes to school.  She looks unbearably tiny
in the expanse of blankets, curled up like a sea creature stripped of its shell,
and he kisses her again.)

She doesn't let him carry her back to bed, but once they're settled again, she
burrows against him, so close that he can feel each beat of her heart as if it
were moving in his chest.  Counting, he falls back into sleep.