Part I:  Words Not Spoken...

   He couldn't possibly have come back, could he?  There was no way, yet still the hope flared and seemed to devour her.  She flung open the doors to the dojo.  "Kensan!"
    But that was not who she saw.
    The silent figure turned towards her.  No, that was definitely not Kensan.  Ice shot through her spine, the touch of fear that threatened to overwhelm her as surely as hope had mere moments before.  She'd thought him gone from her life.  How had he gotten back here?  And why was he here?  Was he looking for Kensan!?  And what was happening to her....  Why couldn't he just have gone and never come back?
    She knew one thing.  Kensan had saved her from this dark man with all his silence and mystery.  She would rather risk death once more at his hands than give up Kensan...
    Even to him.
    She choked on his name as her knees gave out beneath her.
    "Shinomori Aoshi."

    Megumi sat up, gasping in shock.  She hadn't had that dream in a while.  It had been so long since that frightening day, so much had changed.  While she couldn't say she and Aoshi ran and played with the carefree casualness of children, their relationship had vastly improved since he'd run off after Kenshin, back to Kyoto, back to where it had all begun for him.
    She touched the tiny scar near her eye.  She'd fallen in the woods nearly a year before and hit her head.  It hadn't been too serious, but Aoshi had found her on his way home from meditating.  He'd even brought the herbs she'd been gathering.
    It hadn't been much of a fall, but she'd hit her head on a torn branch and the small but deep cut had left enough of her blood on the ground to worry the silent man.  He'd carried her back, supporting her head carefully the entire way to the Aoiya, though he ran quickly.  She'd been embarrassed later, but all she remembered was falling, and later the vague image of a darkly concerned face floating over hers.
    A day of rest and she was fine, though if one knew where to look, the scar could be seen.  That had been most of a year ago, and she tended to forget it was there.
    Five years ago, she'd met Kensan and the others.  She was twenty-seven now.  Kensan and Kaoru were married and had a child of their own.  Sano was... well, somewhere.  Last she'd heard, he'd been thinking about trying his luck in America.  Misao had gone after him, having given up in frustration on Aoshi.  He was still very much into meditation, even after all this time, though it no longer interfered with his running of the restaurant as it once had.
    Suzume and Ayame had moved in with Kenshin and Kaoru after Genzaisensei's death.  It was not long after that when Megumi had decided to move to Kyoto, to stay at the Aoiya and offer her assistance.  Without her mentor, and the hope of Kenshin, Tokyo held very little to keep her.  She had occasionally entertained thoughts of going back to Aizu to track down her family but had not yet firmed her resolve enough.  Plus there had been the added attraction of her old flame, Sawagejo Cho.
    He, of course, was still a private detective but had shocked very many people when Kamatari had moved in with him, and they'd told Megumi together.  She wasn't deeply hurt, though surprise had been an understatement.  Kamatari had come back from his espionage with the strong desire to do nothing but play house and become a teacher.  Spying was an interesting life, he said, but home was where the heart is.
    Okina still had his boundless energy and kept things lively at the Aoiya, but Omasu had confided to Megumi that she and Ochika were both grateful that the doctor was there for him -- his energy may have seemed boundless, but his health was not.  After the battle with Aoshi and then the Juppon Gatana, he'd been acting a little more his age.
    In some respects, anyway.
    "Ah, Megumisan, wake up!  I'm hungry!  Oh, you're awake, good!  Can I help you dress?"  He waggled his eyebrows.
    She sighed and smiled to herself.  This had become almost routine.  "Of course you can.  First, leave the room and close your eyes."  She'd been glad that Ochika had warned her, though Jiya had had a few black eyes her first weeks living there.
    Once she'd dressed (without his assistance,) Megumi slipped outside to start breakfast.  The kitchen wasn't empty.
    "Aoshisan," Megumi blinked.  He didn't often make breakfast for them.
    He nodded and looked back at the soup kettle.
    She sniffed.  "You cook for us so rarely, I forget sometimes how good your miso shiru is," she sighed appreciatively.  "If I'd known you were up, I'd have given Okina his black eye and gone back to sleep"   She smiled but Aoshi didn't turn away from his pots, so she didn't see his own faint smile.  "You know, one of these days you're going to have to say something," she teased.
    "Something," he said softly, smiling a little more to himself.
    Megumi blinked.  And blinked again.  "So you do remember how."
    "There's no point in saying what need not be said," he looked over his shoulder as he stirred.
    "You and your word games," she sighed.  No wonder Misao had gotten frustrated.  "It's amazing how many of those you play, though you speak so little."
    He shrugged again, smiling faintly, and turned back to the pot.
    I don't think I've ever seen him smile so much, she thought as she watched him.
    Moments later, Shirojo stuck his head in.  "When do we ea--oh, Aoshisama, I didn't realize you were in here!  Will we be eating soon?"  He blinked slightly as he looked from Aoshi to Megumi.  Aoshi nodded silently, not turning to the door.
    "I'll get bowls," Megumi said.  "Shirosan, while you're here, you can help me carry things in."
    "I wasn't, er, interrupting anything, was I?  I mean, er, I apologize if I was.. I mean, interrupting..."  Shirojo blushed more as they carried bowls and napkins and such back to the dining area.  Megumi had never seen him so off balance before.
    "Shirojosan, how long have I lived here?  You should know that there's nothing to interrupt."  She looked at him askance, but his own expression told her clearly that he thought otherwise.
    "Only when you know Aoshisama's language as well as those of us who've always followed him, can you decide you know when he thinks he's being interrupted," he said wryly.
    "We weren't talking at all," she said slowly, staring straight ahead.
    "Aoshisama rarely does."  Shirojo looked at the woman beside him.  He could never get over how beautiful she was.  Her skin was almost translucent, and though she rarely wore makeup anymore, her lips were naturally deep pink.  Her hair flowed long and full, close to her knees now.  Once more he wondered how such an ethereal creature had come to live with them and call him friend.  He reminded himself also of what his own girlfriend had once said: that Megumi was destined for someone who wouldn't know better until it was almost too late since "that kind of woman usually was."  When he'd asked what "that kind of woman" was, she'd only said, "the one everyone is afraid to want."
    Reflecting on that, he'd decided it made sense.  So why was it almost too late for Aoshi?  He was only, what, thirty now?  Megumi was twenty-seven.  They weren't THAT old.  And why, Shirojo asked himself, did he suddenly think that Aoshisama and Megumisan were meant to be?  After all, Misaocha-- er, Okashira Misao (was she Okashira still, having gone off like that?)  Well, anyway...  Misao would come back eventually, right?
    Of course, she could always end up with Sanosuke, or someone else she met on her travels.
    He blinked.  Megumi was no longer next to him.
    "Shirojosan?"
    She almost never called him that unless she was serious.  "Hai?"  He kept his tone carefully neutral.
    "I think it's time I stopped imposing on all of you.  I've enjoyed living here with you," she said as she sat on the porch, balancing bowls on her knees, "but I think...  I keep wondering if I do have any family still alive in Aizu.  I know it's not likely, but the Takani family has always had doctors there.  Maybe it's time I claimed that heritage."
    "I don't think -- you're not serious, are you?  Megumisan, please don't leave.  Okina needs you.  We all need you."
    Megumi said.  "I wouldn't be leaving yet.  But soon, I think.  I'm not getting younger as time passes."  She said it so quietly, he wasn't sure he'd even heard her.
    "Let's not worry now, Megumisan.  It's too early, and Aoshisama's made breakfast.  You'll eat and then I don't doubt you'll change your mind."  He grinned, wishing he was as confident as he sounded.  Still, no one could deny that Aoshi was an amazing cook.
    Shirojo led the way back inside and they set the table in silence.  she was nearly as quiet as Aoshi himself for a change.  Since Misao had gone, meals had always seemed quieter, but breakfast that morning seemed more so than usual.
    Often, once breakfast was done, Aoshi would go to meditate for a few hours before business got heavy, and Megumi would make rounds or shop and search for medicine.  She was surprised when she saw him waiting by the door for her.  Gently, he laid aside her basket.
    "Come with me," he said, and led the way off towards the woods on the path Megumi often took on her own trips.  He led her to a clearing she'd seen before but never visited alone, where four stones marked four graves.
    "Aoshisan," Megumi hung back, now nervous.  What was going on?  But as he knelt to pray by those graves, she understood that this was not his destination that morning.  Kneeling to his side at a little distance, she bent her head and tried to remember the four who were buried there.
    Hannya.  Beshimi.  Shikijyou.  Hyottoko.  The faces of the four Oniwa Banshu who had died that horrible day, years ago, flashed before her eyes.  She had finally realized that they had not been so bad after all, as she'd once feared.  Just as their leader was not so dark.  His faith was strong and his soul burned brightly at times like these.  Though he still felt their losses and seemed to hold himself responsible, he seemed to be moving towards forgiving himself.  No one else doubted that they already had.
    Before long he rose again and gestured her to follow again.  Silently, they walked through the dappled sunlight beneath the trees to another clearing, this one far more familiar to the doctor.
    "Do you remember?"
    Megumi blinked.  "This is where I often come to get medicinal herbs."  She stared at him a moment in confusion until realization dawned.  "It's where I fell last year."
    Aoshi sat with his back to a tree, closed his eyes, and said nothing.  After a while, the woman slid down next to him and listened to the sounds of the forest with him.
    Her mind began to wander.  A doctor must have patience, she mused, and smiled at the inadvertent wordplay.  However, how long could he sit in such utter silence?  She leaned her head back against the tree and closed her eyes.  Letting her thoughts meander where they would, she fell asleep to visions of her latest surgery.
    Aoshi waited silently as always until he was sure she was asleep.  He studied her, unmoving, watching the slow, even rise and fall of her breathing, the way her hair fell down around her face, stirring slightly in the breeze.  He concentrated on learning the lines of her face as though he'd never seen her before, his eyes lingering on the tiny scar near her eye before going to the spot where she'd fallen.
    He'd been so afraid when he found her, lying motionless on the ground.  Afraid like he couldn't remember feeling before, as though he was about to lose something more precious than his own life.
    He'd realized at that moment that he loved her, but there had never been any reason to change the way things were.
    Until this morning.  He'd heard all of her discussion with Shirojo -- how could he not, when he'd all but attuned himself to her?  After all, when one loves, one is there for the person one loves.  He could not help watching over her any more than he could help being human.  What he'd heard had struck fear in him again, the same fear he'd felt when he'd found her lying in the woods that day.
    He drank in the sight of her sleeping next to him beneath the trees for long minutes, losing track of time, until her eyes fluttered open.
    "Oh!  I must have fallen asleep.  I'm sorry, Aoshisan.  It's so nice out and so calm here, I just --"
    "No need to apologize, Megumisan."  He had not taken his eyes off of her since she spoke.
    "What is it?  Is there something on my face?"  As she reached up to touch her cheek, Aoshi stopped her arm and laid his own hand along her jaw line.  He let it rest for a moment, almost smiling before he leaned back and closed his own eyes once more.
    I don't drink sake.  Yet I could drink the sight of you all day, and get drunk happily on the sound of your voice alone.  He rose again, offering her his hand which she accepted, and he pulled her up gently.  He marveled again at the strength in her soft hands, powerful yet delicate, indicative of the woman herself.  What might it be like to have those hands touching him?  Not as doctor's hands, or the light touch of a friend...
    "I had a strange dream," she said as he held aside a branch, leading the way back to the Aoiya.  "More of a memory, from years ago."  They walked on a moment longer, and when he said nothing more, she continued.  "When Kensan had gone to Kyoto to fight Shishio, you had come to the dojo looking for him.
    "I always wondered why you didn't do anything to me then.  Even while I was captive to Kanryu, you never did anything to hurt me.  You could easily had done whatever you wished, and you never even seemed to want to.  You took me up to the tower when..."  Her voice trailed off, nd she took a deep breath before speaking again.  "When Kensan came after him.  You gave me the choice Kanryu wouldn't.  Aoshisan, I --"
    She stopped, looking down at the ground.  Alight breeze toyed with the leaves at her feet and those in the trees, causing the shadows to dance over  her.  He turned back to look at her and fought the impulse to tell her everything.  She looked so beautiful, young and innocent despite her years, despite everything she'd lived through.
    He said nothing.  Instead he stepped back towards her.  As the breeze died, she looked back up and he stopped moving.
    "Aoshisan, why?  I've never asked you why, no matter how much I wondered, but I'm asking you now."
    He took another step towards her.  He towered over her, and as she  looked up at him, he ached with the desire to hold her close, to pour out everything he'd ever felt from the day he'd first seen her to now.  She'd been so afraid that day years ago; afraid, angry, and defiant at Kanryu.  No less so than the day at the Kamiya Dojo when he'd sought the Hitokiri Battousai and instead found someone who loved Himura Kenshin.  Who might even love him still.  Here, now, alone with her in the woods, his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.
    Yet, Shinomori Aoshi's face betrayed nothing.  Silently, he lifted a hand to her face again and brushed away a wisp of hair which the wind had blown over her cheek.  If only...
    Later, he would acknowledge that he was making up excuses.  Later he would consider kicking himself -- at the very least -- for changing the subject.  Later, he would regret so much silence...  But only later.
    "I hear you're planning to go to Aizu."