Author's note: Two chapters...in the same year? That's better than I've done in ages, LOL I had this partially typed up last week, and then we had a power outage and my hard drive never came back. Luckily I had everything backed up in multiple other locations - everything except the first half of this chapter. But typing it up again took no time at all, and this time I managed to finish the chapter *and* save it to all my storage spots, so that's good. As far as personally, I'm kind of sort of coming back, I think. I feel more mentally together than I have in a long while, and so I decided to celebrate by posting this chapter (finally). Enjoy!:)

He stared out the window as the limo pulled from the curb and began its roundabout journey to his home via a number of stops to drop off the other hosts. In the midst of the twin's chatter, Honey's joking responses, and the general jovial atmosphere, Kyoya was the quickest to notice the blond's preoccupied air.

"What is it, Tamaki?" the Ootori son asked evenly. His words cut through the conversations, effectively causing everyone else to cease talking and all eyes to turn to the Host King. Tamaki shrugged, then sighed.

"I'm just coming to understand how much time I've wasted," he murmured.

"How so?" his dark haired lover asked.

"I've finally managed to find a somewhat respectable middle ground with Haruhi's father, and he's...dying."

The atmosphere turned solemn, subdued. After a moment Honey spoke up with determination in his voice.

"We're not going to let that happen if there is any chance at all to prevent it, Tama-chan."

"Yes," the younger blond said quietly, "but what if there really is no chance? What then? And what will happen to Haruhi?" His voice rose steadily in volume, betraying his worry and increasing panic. "What if Haruhi becomes an orphan? She could be adopted by someone! Someone unkind – someone who would take her out of Ouran! Oh, our poor darling in a public school – alone, unloved, un-"

*THWACK!*

Kyoya calmly settled his notebook back on his lap, meeting Tamaki's surprised gaze with his own calm one.

"Kyoya?" the Host King questioned slowly, his voice unsteady.

"Tamaki."

"Why did you smack me with your notebook?"

"Because you were being an idiot."

"I'm just really worried. I can't help it."

"I understand that," the brunet said coolly. "But you know very well that we would never, ever let Haruhi suffer." The steadiness of his expression worked wonders on his easily agitated friend, who finally sighed and slumped with unintentional grace against the back of the seat.

"I know."

"So, instead of panicking, you should calm down and help us think of ways we can keep Haruhi from slipping into depression over the coming months. Regardless of the outcome this isn't going to be easy on her."

"And we all know she doesn't know how to ask for help," Kaoru chimed in. With another sigh Tamaki nodded, giving in to the rational thoughts of others.

The rest of the ride was filled with quiet conversation, conjecture, and brainstorming. Eventually one by one – or two by two – each of the hosts was returned to their own residences and Tamaki sat in the limo alone, pondering all of the revelations that the vacation had introduced into his mind, the changes that their time had brought forth, and wondering what they would all be facing in the days ahead.

The minute the door closed behind her friends, her father scuttled towards his room with a hasty-sounding "I'm going to change my clothes and then I'll be right out!" Looking at the bedroom door as it slid shut, she shook her head and chuckled while she started to pick up the cups and plates that were scattered around. By the time she'd stacked them neatly in the sink and settled in place on the couch once more her father had reappeared, dressed comfortably in a pair of drawstring pants and a threadbare t-shirt. Without a word he took a seat on the couch beside her, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor.

"Dad?" Haruhi asked softly, slightly concerned by her serious mien.

"Haru...I've been thinking about...well, about what – what's going to happen. What could happen." He leaned back, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling.

"You're worried about what will happen to me if...if..." She couldn't finish. She didn't have to.

"Yes."

"Dad, you should be thinking about you right now, not me. I'll be fine."

He rolled his head to the side, meeting her eyes with his own, their depths full of pride and sorrow.

"You will be fine, I know that. You always are. But I'll always worry nonetheless."

"Don't. Dad, I -" she began, but he cut her off with a smile and a shake of his head.

"It's a parent thing. You'll understand one day." He chuckled briefly and tousled her hair. All was quiet for a long while before he continued in a much more somber tone.

"Haruhi, if...well, if it becomes necessary...if...if I...I've asked Carrie to be your guardian," he finished in a rush, the words tumbling from his mouth like rocks down a hillside. She felt his eyes on her, knew he was waiting for a reply, for some sort of response, but she suddenly couldn't say anything. She had known what was happening, known that there was a very large possibility that her father was going to die. But hearing his words brought everything crashing down on her in a way nothing else had managed, and the reality of the situation froze her like marble.

"Haruhi..?" the okama queried carefully, turning fully to face her. He placed one hand on her cheek and turned her head to meet her eyes, and everything in her mind and her heart, all of the pent up rage and helplessness and pain that she'd kept so tightly under the surface, exploded in a fiery blaze of words.

"Really, Dad? Really? The first time you can bring yourself to even try and talk to me about all of this and all you have to say is that when you die you're giving me to someone else to raise! Like I'm some sort of dog that will need a new owner!"

"Haruhi, I -"

"No! You talk to me, Dad. You damn well talk to me!" Her eyes blazed with anger. "Why? Why didn't you tell me? Why did you lie? I thought we could talk about things! I thought you trusted me! I'm your damned daughter – I think I deserved the right to know that my father is dying without having to find out because I picked up the wrong damn phone!"

"I didn't want you to worry," he said softly.

"So you'd rather just keep me in the dark? For how long? Until I came home from Host Club sometime and found you too weak to move? Until I get pulled out of school by someone telling me you're in the hospital and won't make it through the night? Is that how you'd tell me? Is that how you wanted me to find out? From some stranger?" She was shaking with emotion, bright eyes glaring at the man sitting beside her, fury unabated as she let words fly like stones. "Or maybe you were counting on Kyoya to spill the beans – after all, he does know all of our medical information! Too bad someone blocked his access to this little tidbit, or I know he would have told me right away. Unlike some people." She paused to take a breath or she never would have caught his muttered comment.

"Someone blocked Kyoya-kun?"

The soft words, their tone of shock and bafflement, took the wind out of Haruhi's sails as her brain finally connected all of the things she'd learned at the beach with her father's oddly professional, male appearance when she'd gotten home.

"You spoke to Kyoya's father." It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway.

"I suppose you know why he called me in to speak with him?" That statement was a question, and she could see more of them spinning in Ranka's eyes.

"Kyoya told us. At the beach." Her reply was simple and blunt, and she found herself curious at the oddly amused expression that flittered over his features. His reply was dry.

"I can imagine that went over well."

"Not exactly," she responded with a shrug. "So that's why you were wearing a suit when we got home. Geez, he was cutting it kind of close, wasn't he? I mean, waiting until today to talk to you?"

"I'm assuming he wanted me to still be off-balance when you got back," he said. Haruhi sighed. In the wake of this derailment of her tirade she found that her anger had faded from a raging torrent to a trickle and decided to pursue the current topic rather than forcing those waters to surge again.

"So, what, he just asked you to agree to sign me over to married life, just like that?"

"Well, he did bring up some interesting points, such as the ways your future career would be assured, that you would in effect be set for life and have doors opened for you that you might not ever get a glimpse of otherwise." His voice was thoughtful and calm and Haruhi could tell that at least part of what the Ootori sire had said must have made an impact on her father. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, and her voice was as steady as his when she replied.

"So what did you tell him?"

"I told him that while the benefits were tempting and that I would be sure to discuss this all with you, in the end the decision of who to take as your future spouse will be yours and yours alone."

"Thank you."

"Of course."

The silence stretched on for a few moments, neither one knowing what else to say, or how to say it even if they did know.

"I'm still mad at you. And hurt." Her voice was smaller than she would have preferred, but there was so much weighing her down at the moment that she doubted she could have sounded more firm if she had tried.

"I understand. And I am so, so sorry. I just...I didn't want you to have to deal with...well, with something like this."

"But Dad, I would have had to deal with it anyway, don't you see? I just wish you would have trusted me enough to tell me." His stricken expression made her cringe inwardly.

"Haruhi, baby...no, never think that. I do trust you. I love you. And all I have ever wanted was for you to be happy. I didn't want you to spend your time worrying about me."

"I already worry about you -"

"I know you do," he broke in carefully. "You've always shouldered more responsibility than you should have had to. And it's been mostly my fault."

"Dad – it's fine. I don't mind. Really." Her protest was quiet, insistent, and sincere, and it made him smile a little bit.

"I know you don't, but I think of how hard it's been over the years, how much you've had to handle, and I just couldn't stand the thought of piling more on your shoulders. So I kept quiet until...well..."

"Until you couldn't anymore."

"...yes."

She sighed, unable to push any further, and leaned against him. Immediately his arms came up to hold her and she could feel it when his tears began to drip into her hair. His murmured apologies were the only sound in the room. For a long time she sat there with her father, so many things in her mind and her soul, a cacophony of emotions and thoughts screaming to be heard, but she forced them to silence. She knew the two of them would have more to say to one another – much more – but for right now she was content to let it slide. She'd vented a large portion of her anger, and at this moment that was good enough.

"I love you, Dad," she whispered, her arms coming to rest over his shoulders, her cheek on his shoulder. She could feel his breath hitching even as he held her tighter.

"I love you too, baby."