Slaine stared at the wall opposite his bed. The snow had stopped at some point, though he hadn't any idea how many hours and minutes had passed since Inaho's departure. A guard had come in directly after, and checked the bag that had been left with him. Apparently Inaho had blazed past the initial check on the way in, as the guard seemed rather annoyed. Slaine didn't bother to look as the contents were removed and then deposited back in. He didn't want anything to do with it. If not for Yuki's food, he would have told the guard to dispose of the whole thing. Though, part of him wanted to keep it out of spite, simply because Inaho had assumed he would want to throw it away. Not that it would make a difference.

The days passed, one after another. Nurses and guards with medications and trays of food came and went. As per routine, they told him to sit up, to take his accompanied walks, threatened an IV and feeding tube, told him in various tones of frustration to stop sulking and cooperate. He ignored all of them.

The bag sat, untouched, beside his bed. He had thought he would feel worse, that he would cry at least, but there was nothing. Just emptiness. It was no longer a matter of wanting to live or die, there was simply a void. He existed, nothing more.

His eyes drifted to the bag. He watched it, not particularly thinking of anything, as the evening light made its way up the far wall. Eventually it disappeared entirely, and night settled in. The fractured moon bathed the cell in a ghostly blue, and he began to think, for the first time in a very long while, about the two years he had spent out amongst its wreckage. Not about the war, or Asseylum, but about the people who had been by his side, and all the little moments that had made that time bearable. Where were they now? Did they know he was alive? He was not even sure that they were alive. He had been too afraid to ask, and they were no longer part of his life, anyway. But, on the slight chance that they did know, he hoped that they would not seek him out. He would not be able to face them. Especially not Lemrina. She deserved so much more than the knowledge of his survival.

Those times were behind him now. His past only brought him pain, for even the pleasant memories were simply reminders of what he had lost. Now he would be diving back into that world, but only in its liminal spaces, part of it yet out of sight and unknown.

As time dragged on, he tried to pry his eyes from the bag, but the more his thoughts began to flow again, the more curious he became about it. He should remove the food, anyway, before it spoiled. He reached an arm down and pulled it up onto the bed before sitting up just enough to take a look at its contents. A faint scent wafted from it. It was only for a moment, but suddenly his eyes were stinging. It smelled like the house it had come from.

He may have been there just less than a full year, but he would only ever think of that place as home. The sunny garden in the backyard, his little bedroom at the end of the hall, tea at the kitchen table, the inimitable comfort of having someone sleep beside him. It was a peaceful and healing place. And though he had been ripped from it, he could not erase its memory. Tears slipped unbidden down his cheeks as he reached into the bag.

The first item was a container of food, probably something Yuki had grabbed from the kitchen counter. After it came a little bag of homemade cookies, more of the same she had brought at her previous visit, and two chocolate bars. A faint smile ghosted over his lips before it vanished at the sight of a small potted plant, nearly overturned in the bag. He carefully removed it, momentarily forgetting who it was from as he patted the dirt back in place and gently untangled its leaves. Putting a live plant in a bag with food was a bit bizarre, but then this was Inaho. Slaine briefly wondered how long it had been sitting, neglected, on a shelf before Inaho had finally decided to visit. Had he picked it out at the store or had Yuki? He set it on the floor and returned to the bag. Remaining were some pens, two of his notebooks, and one of his favorite botany texts. His fingers lightly traced the title before he shoved it back in the bag.

After dutifully nibbling at a cookie, he pulled the blanket over his head and closed his eyes.

The scent of roasted chicken filled the kitchen, where Yuki was scurrying about with vegetables and dishes. It was a delicious aroma, but as usual, he was not hungry. He slouched into a chair and watched her for a moment. The scene reminded him of his very young years, when she would often give up an evening with friends to cook for him, and read with him, and then tuck him into bed. He probably should have felt bad about it, but he was always too content in those moments to care. She was his big sister. She was the best.

Selfish. Perhaps he had always been that way. Yet if he was, no one had ever told him. Until the other day, that is. He was still replaying Slaine's words, trying to reconcile them with his own perspective. Yet that seemed nearly impossible. To his understanding, keeping Slaine with him rather than sending him somewhere safe with more freedom was the selfish choice. How could it be the opposite?

"You only ever do what you think is best, without asking anyone else their opinion."

That didn't seem particularly problematic to him. He had always been absolutely sure that his decisions were the best course of action, or he would not have carried them out. What could anyone possibly have to disagree with? Asking other people's opinions was pointless, as they'd either simply agree, or be wrong. But supposing Slaine was right, he would have to think differently from now on. There were, after all, often multiple solutions to one problem. He'd never really thought it made much of a difference which one he decided on, but perhaps it did matter to some people. And he was, slowly, realizing that not all problems needed fixing. Some were not problems at all.

Pros and cons were such a solid aspect in his decision-making process. When one outweighed the other, the answer was clear. But what if he was missing something? Were there pros he was unaware of? Emotions had always seemed irrelevant in these instances, but perhaps some irrational things were worth factoring.

He looked up at Yuki again. Alternate opinions…

"What do you think I should have done?" he asked, forgetting she was unaware of his presence.

"Ah!" she jumped a bit, "Nao-kun, you startled me. What do you mean?"

"Do you think I made the wrong decision… for Slaine? What would you have…" he trailed off as her expression became increasingly surprised and concerned. It was only then he remembered he hadn't even asked her about this at all until now.

She set down the bowl she was holding, and came to sit at the table with him. "Nao-kun, how would you have felt, if I had forced you to stay somewhere safe during the war? Somewhere far, far away, that wasn't home, and that you could never leave again, not even to see me?"

The answer was simple enough. Miserable, probably. There was no denying he had felt restless and useless during those long months of rehabilitation. To be in that position for the rest of his life would probably drive him mad. He stared down at the table. Yuki always had a clearer view of things like this.

She put a hand gently over his and leaned across the table to look him in the eye. "Do you understand now? I can't really give you an answer as to what decision is best. I don't know that, and maybe it isn't even for you or me to decide. But I think a good place to start, is to try to understand how he feels. You should consider yourself, too. Those things are both very important, even if it may not seem like it."

Inaho stared up at the shadows that sprawled across the ceiling above him. They were cast by the small night light that had mysteriously appeared in his room several days ago. He had not removed it. In the past it would have kept him awake, but now it had the opposite effect. It was not that he particularly had anything against the dark, but waking up in it was rather disorienting. The light was grounding. Yuki was always quietly taking care of him these days. For now, he would accept it, along with her advice.

He pondered her suggestion. She had already hinted at Slaine's perspective, and he did have some understanding of how he must be taking it. But his personal feelings about it were something he was actively ignoring. He did not want to think about it, especially since lately he never knew what effect certain thoughts would have on him. Last time he had ended up crying and worrying Yuki. It was all so absurd and exhausting.

As usual, Yuki was right. He was thinking too objectively about Slaine. Even after the past several months, it was hard to undo the years of considering Slaine as a case needing a solution. Or maybe even a puzzle with various missing pieces. But Slaine was a person. He had his own wishes, his own feelings, and, as he had recently experienced, his own opinions.

He stretched out a hand towards the ceiling, watching its shadow move on the curtains. He hadn't actually confirmed the plan with Asseylum yet. They had only discussed it briefly. And, as Slaine had easily guessed, it had been her fervent request. He generally found it difficult to refuse her on any front, which was what had gotten him into this in the first place, but perhaps he had subconsciously been hoping someone would give him a reason to tell her it was unnecessary. That Slaine would be best off on Earth, under his and Yuki's care. That was not likely to happen, though, because it simply wasn't true. In his current condition, he was not suited to take care of or protect anyone. Especially not Slaine. He had not had any major adverse reactions during their last encounter, but the entire time he had felt the distinct urge to get away. Some instinctive part of him did not want to be near Slaine, as though his brain had been rewired to link him with imminent danger. Logically, he knew nothing would happen, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of an immediate threat, even without the horrific flashbacks.

His hand fell back to the pillow beside his head. He had taken Yuki's advice and dropped out of every one of his courses that semester. He still went to work, as he needed something to keep him busy, but the lightened schedule had given him more space to focus on sorting things out. Things were not sorting very well, though. Not yet.

As he rolled to his side, hoping his medication would stave off any disruptions to his sleep, his phone went off. He wondered who could possibly be calling him at this hour and reluctantly reached for the buzzing device.

"Hello?" he did not bother to hide his drowsy irritation.

He listened silently and then, without so much as a 'good bye', dropped the phone and stumbled out of bed. After about five minutes of knocking, a disheveled Yuki appeared in her pajamas, yawning excessively and rubbing her eyes as she clung to the door frame for balance.

"Nao-kun? Is everything alright?"

"Can you drive right now, Yuki-nee?"

She gave him a sleepy, quizzical look, and nodded dubiously. "Mm... why?"

"Slaine is sick."

a/n: *lays down* when can I write good times again...