"Doctor…" the girl's voice came out barely as a mumble, sweat all over her little body. "So—rry…"

"Pinoko" Black Jack caressed the little head, combing her messed hair in the process. The fever was finally over and the surgeon's tired eyes reflected some relief at last. Now he had to change her clothes lest she caught a cold in her weak condition.

"Sorry…" she muttered as he finished changing her shirt.

"Enough of that." His voice was firm, but gentle. "Now, try to have some sleep."

"But…"

"No buts." He was already re-arranging the bed sheets and cover.

"Will you stay?" The little voice sounded half asleep.

"Yes. I will stay."

A faint, but happy smile appeared in her lips upon hearing him. Her eyes had remained shut, her eyelids being too heavy. It wasn't long enough before his young assistant was asleep.

He let out a heavy sight and rested his forehead on his hands. Around them, the place looked very much like the rests of some sort of battle field. Medical instruments lay all over the floor and some of the cabinets had been trashed or were left hanging poorly from the walls. The lights would need replacement, each and every one of them. Honestly, he couldn´t care less. His only worry at the time was the small sleeping form in front of him and whom he had no idea how to help. He had no idea…

Two weeks later, a very talented – yet tired – surgeon was entering top secret facilities, ready to meet his next patient. He had almost declined, given how troubled he was concerning Pinoko, but the money was too good to simply refuse and the case… A five-year-old telekinetic boy, victim of human experimentation? Seriously? The more he had looked at the medical file, the more he felt the urge to do it. And his wife had practically ordered him to go – he couldn't help to smirk upon remembering the whole thing – so here he was, his back aching after a fourteen-hour flight, wondering if sedatives had been the best course of action concerning his daughter and if Tezuka would truly be able to manage her in his absence. He didn't have much time to worry, though. Soon he was received by a woman who politely thanked him for his presence there and proceeded to guide him to his quarters so he could refresh before the surgery, filing him with the latest developments all along.

At the monitoring room, the chief doctor finished updating him on the boy's condition while his eyes pierced each x-ray, cardiogram and medical exam he was presented with. How come he's still alive? That was the question roaming the surgeon's mind. It would take several surgeries to revert the physical damage caused by the atrocities he had been subjected to – experimental machinery attached to his spine being the main reason for his presence there – but he doubted anything could be done concerning the chemical damage. Or so would have been the case if he hadn't seen an almost faded, but stable sleeping boy through the panel glass. People moved all around the room to keep him that way, but one person among them all – a woman wearing glasses – stood up as the one in control of any drug entering – or leaving – his small organism. He had more than one question for her, but they would have to wait. Right now he was already changing into his surgery outfit lest the infernal thing finally crashed his patient's spine, causing massive organ failure.

Yet another fourteen hours later, Black Jack was resting at the doctors' lounge, next to the recovery room. After all the unslept nights of the last days, combined with the travel and surgery hours on a boy whose spine had been on the brink of being severed and whose organism was so messed up that it no longer responded to traditional drugs or dosage, his back was more than glad to be lying on a couch. He laid there, eyes closed, but very much alert to the changes of his surroundings. So when he was addressed by a female voice, he wasn't startled at all. He had sensed her from the very beginning.

"Impressive work, Dr. Black Jack." The woman in question had black curly bobbed hair, gray eyes and wore glasses. A mug of coffee was in each of her hands, one being for him.

"I was going to say that to you," despite being the first time he had a real look at her face, the surgeon remembered her perfectly from the operation and before. She had been the woman he had watched through the glass and the one in charge of watching the boy's vitals and keeping him stable during the whole procedure, so he could focus solely in operating. And the duo had been impeccable. He sat on the couch and thankfully received the mug from her. "Thank you, Dr. …?" Things had gone so fast – and he had been so tired after them – that they hadn't been properly introduced.

"Borgia," she supplied. "Vanessa Borgia. Thanks and welcome. I'm no actual physician, though. A researcher would be closer to what I do", she didn´t care to elaborate.

"Excuse me if I have problems believing that, but then, I'm unlicensed, you know?" Rhetorical question. He knew there was no way she wasn't aware of his bad reputation.

"Kind of heard of it," she almost smirked.

There was so much he wanted to ask her, but their chat at the lounge was then interrupted by some ruckus coming from the recovery room. "So much for coffee." She left her mug at the nearest table and hurried to the room along with him. When they rushed into it, they met with several nurses doing their best to keep medical instruments from falling to the floor or flying right through a cabinet or person.

"Here we go again!" he dodged a tray just in time.

"I should've seen this coming." She somehow managed to get to the boy's side and was adjusting his drugs' dosage. "Poor thing." Whatever she did, it worked, for the objects immediately fell prey to gravity. "Good. Everyone ok?" She left the patient to assist the nearest nurse on the floor.

While she helped the other woman to her feet and checked on the rest of the staff, she couldn't help noticing that Black Jack was already at the boy's side, taking care of him – never mind the disaster his young brain had produced all around them. Hadn't been for the still shaken nurse in front of her, she would have probably laughed. Talking about focus! But as things stood, she first ordered the medical staff out to prepare a spare room for the boy. Thankfully, everyone was in one piece and no other patient had been at the recovery room at the time, but they couldn't run the risk of another 'accident'. And she better gave the poor nurse a relaxing infusion. By the time she was back, Black Jack had the boy's vitals practically normalized.

"Quite impressive, doctor." She approached the small sleeping form and checked him herself. His breathing was normal and his whole organism was far less agitated than when first entering.

"You really thought I was not taking mental notes of your work during the surgery?"

"Well, it was difficult to tell with almost no talking." She adjusted his drugs dosage only a little, every step followed by his penetrating gaze. "I wasn't planning on having a student, you know? Especially not one threatening to overshadow me this fast."

"Never my intention" he checked his pulse and pupils' reaction to light. "Quite a show for someone so sedated."

"Not really. Not after all the stress he's been through."

"Indeed." Had she not been there, he would have probably yielded to the impulse of caressing the little head. He was so like Pinoko. The whole situation had stirred his apprehension for his adoptive daughter more than ever.

Only a few seconds later, a pair of male nurses was back to help the move the boy the new room. There were no instruments scattered around, and everyone was working as if nothing unusual had ever happened. The rest of the staff retired to clean the recovery room or do some lab task ordered by Black Jack's current partner. They were the only ones who stayed to take care of the boy.

"You should go and have some sleep now," recommended the woman. He could read the medical chart, question her or make all the notes that he wanted, but she was a keen observer – just as him – and as alert as he acted, it had become only a little obvious to her that he was dead tired.

"No." That was simply not an option.

"It was a fourteen-hour surgery," she began to reason, "you really think you're in the best conditions for this?" Probably not the best choice of words. As good as her intentions were, Black Jack was simply too stubborn – and tired – to not interpret her words as a challenge.

"He's my patient. It was a delicate surgery and he has some more to go through." He shifted his position on the chair to one that clearly meant to state that he was the one in control. "I'm staying." He barely managed to keep his head up.

She let out a heavy sigh. "Unbelievable." She walked to the closet in the room and retrieved something. "You want to stay? Fine. Stay." She was back with him and had just set a folding bed at his feet. "But I won't have you around like a zombie about to dismember, genius surgeon or not." Grey eyes confronted red sleepy ones. "There, you can rest your back and watch him at the same time. Supposing your eyes manage to stay open."

Silence. And then laughter, his laughter, invading the room.

"See? Sleep deprival is already affecting your behavior." There was no way the laughing man in front of her was the dead serious and frightening cold surgeon every one pictured upon hearing his name. "That or you have a severe personality disorder."

"Ok. Ma'am, you made your point." His body felt very heavy as he lifted himself from the chair and sat on the bed. "Sorry for that. I will accept your offer." He didn't waste time to make himself comfortable.

"Good. I'll wake you up if anything raises."

"Don't think it will soon." He was on his stomach, his arms pillowing his head. "You're really good at your thing."

"Now you praise me? You really needed to lie down, didn't you?" She ventured to joke, sensing the mood change.

"You have no idea. But that's not why I said that." He had watched her closely during the surgery and after it, and was more than impressed. "I saw the file. A drugstore could be opened with all that he was injected. Yet, save for the medicines, his organism is almost clean of foreign substances. You insist in being just a researcher?"

"Ouch, that was mean. Careful, I won't save you from the research team if they go after you."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I know. But I'm afraid I'll disappoint you. I am a researcher."

"Not an average one."

"I'll give you that. Now… I'd really appreciate if the head surgeon was fully rested before opening him again, please?"

"Ok, ma'am, got it. I'll resume the questions later, though." He suppressed a yawn. "I'm not used to have a partner-"

"Really?"

"-and I want to know all-"

He dozed off almost immediately. Next time he opened his eyes, two hours had passed and the woman was on a chair, her back reclined and a new mug of coffee in her hands. "Welcome back, doctor," she greeted him after blowing some of her drink's steam. "There's coffee in the lounge, also tea and other infusions if you prefer."

Soon, he had joined her with his own mug. "No changes, I see." He took a good sip of coffee, enjoying the strong flavor and the effect the hot liquid had on him as it passed through his body.

"No, nothing yet. But it won't last." She took another sip, perfectly aware of his questioning eyes. "People with his type of abilities wake up faster. He's young and weakened for all he's been through, but we have an hour at the most before he begins regaining consciousness." She was tracing circles along the border of the mug with her finger. Black Jack placed himself next to the child somewhere in the middle of her explanation. He was bent over his slim neck. "How do you see his spine?"

"He reacted extremely well considering everything." She chuckled. That was an understatement and he above everyone knew it. He had seen many things throughout his career, so he was no stranger to the atrocities humankind was capable of. He was well aware of what a mad genius could perform on another living thing. He had been witness to the effects of chemical and biological weapons more times than he was willing to recall. Yet, this case made him discover that he could still be shocked by all of it. He didn't let it show of course – keeping a cold mind was essential in his line of work – but he was enraged. The spine had been subjected to severe damage, first by the placement of the devilish thing around it, almost strangling it, and then by the effects of its weight on it. He had managed to release it without further harm, but what would come now, he couldn't tell.

"You're worried that he'll try to move as soon as he wakes and hurt himself, aren't you? That's why you sent everyone else off." He could hear her heavy tired sigh.

"It'd be a normal reaction. For all he knows, he can't trust others. You saw what happened at the recovery room. That was a defensive reaction and he wasn't the least conscious. In other conditions I would have him sedated a couple of days more, but…"

"You don't think his body will be able take it anymore," he finished for her.

"No, I don't," was the flat response. "And you said it yourself, I'm good at what I do." A resigned smile appeared on her lips.

"Yes, you are. And so am I." Something in his voice made her gaze in his eyes. And there it was. The same determination she had seen during the surgery. "This boy is strong. He won't desert us if we don't desert him."

And they didn't. They had both been there when the boy finally awaked from the anesthesia – his scared distrustful little eyes scrutinizing them from head to toe. Vanessa had been right, as dizzy and shaky as he had been, he had wanted to run. Thankfully, she had made sure that his body wouldn't respond him, at least not immediately. It was the same as being paralyzed. His terror was almost palpable.

"Easy, boy." Black Jack was kneeling in front of him. She observed the almost paternal air he was giving away. "You are not in the lab anymore, but they hurt you and we are trying to help you." They boy eyed him carefully. "Your back and neck are injured and you won't be able to move for a while if you want to get better." His young patient didn't even blink, but one of the chairs in the room began trembling. Then the other, and the other. He sighed. "I know it's difficult, but you have to trust us." Both adults saw that he wanted to, but was not willing to yield. The chairs kept shaking in what was surely an attempt to intimidate them. So young and already trying to turn his heart into stone.Black Jack could feel the growing tension in his jaw and back's muscles.

Vanessa sighed heavily, with a pained expression. "I see why you can't trust, but I hope this will change your mind." And like that, without a warning, the medical chart hanging from the feet of his bed began levitating and landed gracefully on her palm. She didn't dare dart a look at the surgeon, her eyes fixed on the boy. The chair had stopped and she held his full attention. "That's better. Now, the man here is one of the best doctors in the world. He has given his best to make sure you recover, so please don't fear him." She was the one kneeling in front of him now, Black Jack standing right beside her. "Please, we will help you…" tears had begun forming in his eyes, "if you let us." She caressed him, very lightly. He closed his eyes, small drops rolling from his eyes. "Now, what's your name?"

"Pietro," he mumbled.

"Very well, Pietro." Black Jack took his place next to her. "I promise the pain in your back will pass, but you have to promise me you will listen to me, okay?"

"'Kay." In the end, it turned out that he yielded to the impulse to caress him. And that telekinesis – even if feeble – was too much of an effort in the boy's current medicated state. Pietro was back to sleep, but for the first time in a long period, he was sleeping almost peacefully, like any other child. Black Jack smiled to himself as he updated his share of the medical data. He casted a side-glance to his colleague, who was doing exactly the same

"So… who's your paranormal person?"

"Excuse me?" He stopped writing and looked right at her.

"You didn't even blink an eye to what I did," she began to explain. "Even for someone who knew about him, you've been acting way too cool since the recovery room. I'm very much aware that you're no average doctor, but I have very good reasons to believe you're not a complete outsider to this world."

"He's not my first paranormal patient…" he had begun, "but…" after the line she had crossed to ensure the boy's trust, he felt compelled to do the same. "I have a little girl who's been showing the same abilities." Besides, she was the first telekinetic person he knew who had kept her abilities through adulthood. Who could be better to guide him? "Is this common for people with paranormal abilities?"

"I'd love to say no, but…" she bit her lips, "I'm afraid a good deal goes through this or worse. Still, it's difficult to know for sure the real number of experiments and people like us become good at hiding as we age, so…"

"I see…"

Black Jack ended staying a full month at the facilities. He called Pinoko almost every day to check on her and make sure Tezuka was still alive. She made a lot of questions about Pietro, but he always dodged them alleging his professional secrecy. License or not, he was always very careful concerning his patient's privacy and he saw no reason to make an exception with the boy. If anything, he became more secretive, if possible. He only let her know of the surgeries he was performing on him, nothing else. No mention of Vanessa, nor their conversations concerning Pietro's health or Pinoko herself. He never told her of his ever growing favorably impression on her, nor the idea that had slowly begun to form in his mind.

"Repeat that again, please." She blinked a couple of times at the Japanese man.

"I want you to come to Japan with me." He was careful to enunciate every word properly and with his most neutral tone.

"Don't you think that's a little extremist?" She had raised one of her eyebrows. "Given how possessive she is of you, the last thing you want is to have another woman under your roof. Trust me."

"Look, I'm aware it sounds like I've gone mad in more than one respect, but the thing is I won't be able to handle her alone." She could only imagine how beaten his pride was after saying that. "Not like you, anyway." He had watched her and Pietro and knew it was her who she needed.

"Is not that easy, Black Jack. Even if I want to help, I just…. I can't. I can't just leave. Not now. You should be able to understand that."

He let out a sound of frustration. She was right, what had he been thinking. He was no child; he knew better than this. "I do." No trace of rancor in his voice. "You're right. It was totally out of the question. Please, excuse me." He made his way to the lounge´s door. Vanessa had never seen him like that. Where was the confident – even arrogant – surgeon she had come to like working with despite all his bad reputation?

"Wait." She stopped him. He saw her biting her lips. "Give me a week." With that she had the rare pleasure of seeing a genuinely surprised Black Jack.

"A week?"

"Yes, a week. That will give you time to break the news to her, so she doesn't kill me first thing when I enter your house. Also, I need to settle some things here, first."

"So, you're coming, then?"

"In a week, yes. Under two conditions."

"Name them."

"First, I'm in the middle of research now. I know my team will be able to handle everything, but I need a place to work in case they need me to. Or if I feel the compulsion," she quickly added.

"I will grant you a working area and lab equipment. You can count on that. Next?"

"I want to be present at all the medical procedures you take part in while I'm there."

He hadn't been expecting that. "Don't you think that's a little too much?"

"Not at all, my dear doctor. So, what do you say? Do we have a deal?" She extended her hand to him.

He took and shook her hand. "Deal."

"Good. I'm looking forward to it."