Author's Notes: Thank you EggDropSoup for reading it over and helping me name it. As promised, some progression with Tsusoka. Hope you like. :3

Two weeks since his stitches were removed, Secret was getting into the motion of things again, working out his schedule so he wouldn't try more strenuous things unless Tsuzuki was there.

Dr. Reeve had cleared him for independent movement in the wheelchair. However, his physical therapist, Karen, had warned him that pushing himself too hard would get his right arm wrapped up and immobile until each physical therapy session. Since he really didn't want that, he did his very best to follow their orders.

Besides that change in routine, Tsuzuki out of the blue had asked to work on the homework with him. Ever since, nightly Secret would read the assigned passages out loud—at Tsuzuki's insistence—and then they would discuss the information that was given. His Weapon knew so much, complementing what, apparently, little information the textbook gave that completing the assignments night after night became a breeze.

It seemed kind of suspicious that his Weapon hadn't passed a test since his first Meister's death. Maybe he had been so dependent on her to help study for them that he didn't know what to do? But it made no sense if his head was filled with all this information when he was asked. The only conclusion that Secret could come up with was that he flunked on purpose—but even that settled wrong with him. Tsuzuki was genuinely concerned about passing.

However, he didn't let that bother him when Tsuzuki left to go do whatever he did when he skipped class. Secret mostly enjoyed the solitude with reading, mental exercises, or quiet meditation. After his interactions with Tsuzuki, he was often left exhausted. Worse yet, Tsuzuki kept taking him by surprise, despite his soul ability.

Their friendship had progressed so well that sometimes Secret was a bit scared. He'd gotten used to the kindness and mutual respect that characterized their relationship... so much so that he'd blurted out that he'd stick with his Weapon no matter what. Maybe he shouldn't have said that, but Tsuzuki was so relieved to hear it... He wouldn't ever take it back. Still, with all their conversations Secret wasn't much closer to really understanding who Tsuzuki was even though a month had passed since they first met.

Jerking his head up at the knock on the door, Secret dropped the blanket and slid into his wheelchair, rolling himself carefully to the door. He opened the door after some logistical maneuvers. By then, whoever had come by was gone. A letter had fluttered to the ground. It read 'Kurosaki Hisoka'.

Disquieted to see his real name in his native language, Secret put the brake down, bent over, and picked it up. He stared at it for a long moment. He saw a flicker of who wrote it after feeling the unmistakable trace of madness.

Tearing through the paper around the seal of the envelope, he pulled out the card with a deciduous tree filled with bright yellow, orange, and red leaves on it. Its background had many more trees of that type with the dirt ground littered with these leaves newly fallen.

He opened it. 'Come see me in Recovery Suite #119.'

Tossing the envelope in the trash, he tucked the card beside him. Unbraking, he wheeled back until he could shut the door again. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. He still had three hours before Tsuzuki came back. Unhooking his jacket from the coat-tree, he slipped it on, checked for keys, and then left. His right arm burned a little from the extra effort it was doing but it wasn't bad like it became after a session with Karen.

He made his way over the bumpy pedestrian path, past the brick-walled apartments directly adjacent to the hospital, and down the concrete path leading to the recovery suite. A Meister nurse at the counter looked at him coolly, though she actually had quite a warm personality underneath the professional facade.

"Hello, I received a letter from #119." He pulled the bent card from beside him and showed her the scrawl inside of it.

"Oh! He'll be happy to have a visitor. He doesn't get to go out much ever since the doctor put him on the watch list." She came out from behind the counter. "This way."

There was a stretch of hallway which split into three directions. He followed her past the evenly spaced doors staggered on each side.

She led him to a door with the numerals 119 on it far in the corner of the suites. "I'll leave you to him. He's not too happy with me." She tapped parts of the door, and Secret felt something. "When you want to come back out, just buzz the intercom, okay?" She walked back down the hall after that, and Secret tentatively opened the door and wheeled himself in second-guessing himself. The door swung shut behind him.

Dr. Franken Stein glared coldly at him from his position in the bed. His hip-to-foot cast was hanging from a hook on the ceiling and his left arm was in a supported shoulder cast. "Look at us. How frail we are."

Secret shook his head. The doctor was deliberately sharing echoes of conversations with his nurses and doctors. "You're a doctor yourself. If you had stayed put, then you wouldn't have cracked your shoulder-blade and broken your ribs."

"You are quite the find, aren't you?"

He looked at the doctor not sure what he was getting at.

"It'd be a waste if you died..."

"You've said that before," Secret ground out. "When you and Spirit took me out of that hospital."

"Which is why I've decided to teach you how to protect yourself."

"Why now? Why didn't you say anything before?"

"There's no need to be angry, Cephy." Dr. Stein cupped his smirking face with his right hand, tapping a finger against his lip. "It appears that when you're terribly damaged, your soul doesn't stick out, much like a Normal's." The tapping stopped, and he slipped his hand off his face. "It was remarkable that such a supposedly dull soul survived such a trial." He turned the screw in his head and the smirk grew kinder. "Now, I assume your presence is an assent to my special workshop."

Secret scowled at him. Images of Stein perfecting a certain technique through hard practice flooded his mind. It had taken that crazed genius five years to perfect. Secret didn't know whether he should feel flattered by Stein's opinion of him or not. "Am I here to kill time for you?"

"You are."

"..." The young Meister had expected as much. "What do I need to do?"

"Synchronize with me."

"...We're Meisters."

"And haven't you been drilled before with the techniques for Team Synchro?"

With a disgusted noise, Secret reached his brakes.

"No. No need to come closer." Blank green eyes surveyed him behind those thick square glasses. "This distance should pose no difficulties for you."

"..." Secret made a face. He'd never tried to use his ability in that way before, but he decided to give it a shot anyway. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and mentally stretched towards Stein. He imagined he was holding Tsuzuki in sword form in his hand and then, "Synchro," he breathed out. For only a moment, they were linked up to react to one another's battle movements. Then it shattered, the veil of one splitting into two.

Amusement slipped its warm way through him. "More than I expected. This shouldn't take longer than I need to heal."

Secret held up a hand. "Look, I'd prefer if Tsuzuki didn't know where I was. We'll meet mornings before lunch."

The doctor smiled. "Whatever you like."

A few days later, after spending yet another hour training with Stein, Secret had returned home, so exhausted that he took a nap on the couch.

He woke up hot and disoriented. Sweat had chilled on his back, touching it over with phantom cold fingers on his skin. Feeling almost suffocated, he pulled the blanket down and noticed his arms were flush as well.

Thinking he heard a crash in the kitchen, he called out weakly, "Tsuzuki?"

No one was there.

He was suddenly slammed back into that trap of hair.

Gulping down air, he told himself that it was just a memory even while all his senses screamed that it was happening. The strands of sharp hair parted, and the silver man strolled towards him and stopped where the white clothes touched him.

"Don't you desire it, my pretty doll?" The words were whispered with the splayed fingers against his stomach. "This excites you."

Warm lips pressed to his cheek and moved when the towering Warlock spoke. "You want him, don't you?" The fingers slipped downward. "For your own entertainment."

Adrenaline surging, Secret jerked upright, freed from the pseudo-flashback. He remembered though, the words that that man had never uttered. Bile rushed to his mouth, and he tossed the blanket off going straight for the toilet. He lost breakfast. He guzzled water and threw that up too. With a noise, he dry heaved gripping the edge of porcelain. When it finally stopped, his head felt like a split melon, and the cold, hard floor caused him to curl up.

"Secret?"

He thought he was going to puke again when his groin twitched at the sound of his Weapon's voice. Secret forced himself up with his good arm. "I'm fine—"

Silently, Tsuzuki flushed the toilet cutting him off and then he wet a washcloth, kneeling next to him.

Secret shied from his touch when Tsuzuki came closer to wipe off his face. The cloth was offered to him instead. "Here."

Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes at Tsuzuki's tender concern as he took it and wiped his own face.

He heard the faucet turn on briefly, and when he pulled the cloth away Tsuzuki offered a cup of water.

He took it and drank too aware of Tsuzuki's watchful gaze. He didn't flinch this time when his Weapon's cool hand came up to rest itself against his forehead. "I think you have a fever."

Despite the water, Secret's tongue had dried up. All he could focus on was that caring hand as it moved to the side of his face and brushed the sweat-slicked short hairs back. It pushed the embedded cold away, but it also brought... His vision grew blurry as his mouth went sour again. Tsuzuki had no idea what affect his touch was having on him. Then his hand was gone. Secret swallowed thickly, not wanting to hurl again, and drank more water.

"Do you think you can move on your own?"

Secret's breath caught in his chest and he nodded. He weakly got to his knees but grew dizzy when he tried to stand. In his haste to the bathroom, he had left his wheelchair by the couch.

"Easy." Warm hands stopped his fall, and an arm wrapped around him for support, all while Secret wanted was to tear away from him. "I've got you."

His eyes were watery as he swallowed again. Everything was going fuzzy around him except for Tsuzuki who remained a solid, supporting presence. The next moment he came to, just as Tsuzuki laid him out on the bed and tucked the blanket up to his chin.

Twisted up inside, Secret wondered if that... Nausea rose until he stopped thinking of the Warlock. A damp, cool rag was placed on the topmost part of his face.

"Will you be okay while I make some calls for you?"

"yeah"

He took a clipped, chest-aching breath when Tsuzuki left. He suspected that his sessions with Dr. Stein had overdone it.

Maybe it was a good thing he got sick. He was supposed to go see Dr. Konoe that afternoon, and he hadn't felt like talking to him lately.

Even though Dr. Konoe had managed to make Secret feel safe at their biweekly meetings, Secret had barely uncovered his lesser fears. He often had been prodded into talking about himself and how he was getting along with Tsuzuki, but the topic hadn't gotten as deep as he expected.

Besides the frequent panic attacks that he never talked about, Secret's general anxiety of being attacked hadn't gone away either. He knew it was because he was a coward, unable to bring up the real reason behind his fears. Even thinking about uttering the Warlock's name into the room where he was beginning to feel the safest—other than by Tsuzuki's side—set his teeth on edge.

The psychologist had yet to mention or even allude to the Warlock. Apparently, the questionnaire really did count when he wrote that it was the only 'taboo' subject. But... Secret knew that he was going to have to talk about it sooner or later.

Slipping into a half-awake state, Secret's breathing sounded really loud to him. His face was hot again, like he was being smothered. He jerked upright when he thought he heard that voice that turned his blood to ice, but there was nothing in the spinning room with him. He laid back down, but didn't put the now-warm washcloth back on his face.

His nightmares were getting stronger, which was why he still had to take strong sleeping pills. He was starting to remember them, in bits and pieces. Even now he didn't try to fall asleep without taking them first, even when his eyes were very heavy from fatigue. The pills did keep him asleep for four to five hours, until the adrenaline pulsed so thickly through his veins that his brain was forced to kickstart itself to wakefulness to escape the dreams. The bags under his eyes had grown deeper and took on a bruised appearance as he gained weight, underscoring exactly how little rest he was getting. It was probably why he had gotten sick.

And who could rest with the curse of a powerful Warlock threatening to consume every last shred of their soul? Secret took another clipped breath and shivered, wishing his Weapon would get back soon.

And as if thinking him summoned him, Tsuzuki was suddenly there.

"Secret, I'm going to take your temperature."

He opened his mouth, and the thermometer slid in.

"The Chief said he'll see you next time and hopes you feel better, and I got an extension on the homework assignment from Tatsumi..."

The thermometer beeped, and it was removed. "That's pretty high. Are you thirsty?"

"no"

"Do you think you can sleep?"

"no"

A hand settled on his. "Do you hurt?"

"a little in my chest... hard to breathe"

It was exhilarating when Tsuzuki pressed his head against his chest, listening to his breathing which caught again and again. But, it was mortifying to realize how unhappy he was when Tsuzuki pulled away extremely worried.

"I'm taking you to the hospital." Wrapping him up in a blanket, he picked him up effortlessly and took him to that place he so hated. Secret didn't really remember much other than the warm pressure holding him up on the trip over.

Luckily, Dr. Reeve was on duty, and he didn't have to wait long before he was laid out onto the examination table. He was in a feverish daze and was having trouble tracking. The cold stethoscope against his chest felt good as she asked him to breathe deeply several times.

His breath kept catching, painfully, though he didn't feel like coughing.

Stepping back, the doctor looked at him calmly. "You have walking pneumonia, Mr. Blackriver. If you had come in any later, you might have been hospitalized. For the next two weeks, you are on strict bed rest. No more physical therapy until that rattle in your chest is gone. Of course, you'll have medicine to take until it clears up."

The doctor was talking too fast. Secret just wanted to go home. It was too bright in here.

She clucked her tongue against her teeth. "I'll send Tsuzuki after I talk to him about your condition."

He blinked at her dumbly, and then realized, when she had already left, that he had spoken his thoughts out loud.

Before long Tsuzuki was back in his vision, though Secret couldn't understand what he was saying anymore. He was relieved to have that warm pressure against him again, but was soon disappointed when he was set in a wheelchair. The blanket Tsuzuki had wrapped around him was tucked around his lap gently. Sitting in that stupid contraption, he felt abandoned, even though he could sense Tsuzuki behind him pushing it.

Another pain joined the other in his chest. Disappointment.

Why couldn't he have carried me back instead?

Secret's consciousness slipped away before he could berate himself over that, but he was soon in a nightmare.

He was trapped in a place full of indistinct things. When he looked harder, they were just mirages that faded away. No matter how far he ran, no matter where he looked he would always be alone... That is, save for the madman who breathed heavily behind him when he wasn't goading him on or laughing at him. "Run, little one. I am always right behind you... You belong to me and no one else."

He jerked awake, panting.

"Shh, Secret." A strong hand rested on his shoulder and eased him back onto the bed.

"I need the med—" Secret was wracked with a sudden coughing fit.

The smell of faux strawberries hit his nose as a very small container filled with syrup was offered to him. His arms wouldn't lift up to take it, though his hands hovered over his legs. It was placed against his lips, and he drank it. He let his hands fall. Then after the other was lifted away, a small cup was pressed against them. Water poured into his mouth, and he sputtered in surprise at how cold it was. It was taken away. "You okay?"

He swallowed and turned his heavy head away, curling up on his left side. He was feeling groggy after taking the syrup. He hoped he'd be able to sleep more without...

"Boy," the voice whispered against his ear as lips brushed his jaw, "I burned down that hated village of yours as a gift to you. There were no survivors just as I promised."

He struggled in the searing, hateful grip, paralysis magic holding him firm. He could barely breathe as hatred raged in his chest. Everyone was...

"Other than these two, of course. I couldn't very well let their deaths be so uneventful after making a nuisance of themselves letting you get away like that."

Two bright blue souls were brought in, and he choked as the tears streamed down his face. Mother and Father...

"How did you want them to die? Personally, I find the greatest irony to be the best revenge." The alabaster fingers snapped and a fiery Weapon, the newest servant of his father's, was brought in screaming and flailing. "Feed them to her."

"NOO—!" He screamed out before bowling over into a coughing fit that sounded like he was barking. It wasn't true. It was just a bad nightmare. Just a bad...Tsuzuki was there, waiting.

When the coughing subsided, Secret was shaking like a leaf and curled up tight on his side. Warm hands pressed him to uncurl and lie back on the mound of pillows that had been arranged behind him. "Drink this..." Tsuzuki's gentle voice told him. He drank more of that syrup and then the cool water.

"No one's going to hurt you while I'm here." A soft, damp washcloth wiped the sweat off his face and neck, and then a dry hand rested on top of his head stroking it lightly.

I want to believe that, but...

"If you want to, then believe, Secret."

His eyes were all bleary as he blinked. He had spoken again.

"I can't..." He coughed wetly. "I can't."

The hand brushed over his face when he shut his eyes again. "I'll protect you, Secret. I swear it."

I want to believe it, but I don't want to lose you to that monster...

He dropped into a deep, drugged sleep under the stroking fingertips.

To Be Continued...

Next time! Dr. Konoe drops in to check on his client... Oh, my! Things are heating up!