Text in Italics is spoken in English.

Chapter Thirteen

Of course, Ayase was extremely grateful to finally see Kanou. So was the harried-looking doctor. "You know this young man? Thank god, we don't have anyone here on this shift who can speak Japanese. Can you translate for us? We're going to need to have him able to understand us so that we can tell him what will need to happen now."

"Yes," Kanou replied abruptly. "But tell me- is he going to be alright?"

"Your friend was very lucky in one regard," The doctor said, carefully wording his sentence. "In cases like these, it is very common for the victim to have internal tearing. Your friend only experienced a minimal amount of tissue damage. But I'm afraid that he might not have been so lucky in another way."

"What do you mean?" Kanou asked suspiciously, looking from the doctor to Ayase's terrified and confused face. The doctor nervously shifted from foot to foot, looking like he would rather be anywhere but in that room. He always hated having to tell families and friends of the patients bad news... and this guy didn't look like he would take it particularly well.

"Well..." he began, stalling for time. "There's a chance... a chance your friend contracted syphilis. It's too early to tell, however. I'm afraid that your friend will not be able to return to Japan until we can give him a clean bill of health."

"WHAT?" Kanou roared, causing Ayase to jump in fright and the doctor to shrink back. He took Ayase's hands in his own to comfort him, but it didn't help much, not when he began yelling at the doctor. "What makes you think he got an STD? Can't you treat it right now? If he dies, I'll kill you all!"

"We've already administered an anti-biotic, and like I said, it's too early to tell. He might not even have contracted it in the first place," the doctor said quietly. "It's just that two weeks ago, Logan Truss came here complaining of chancre sores on his genitals, however, he received a phone call and ran out of here before we had a chance to test him. If indeed he had it, and your friend was infected, it could be anywhere from a week to a month before the sores show up. In light of this, it's best if your friend stays here until we can pronounce him cured. Also, it's the police chief's feeling that Mr. Yukiya here get psychiatric treatment. As we speak, someone in the psychiatric ward is trying to find a doctor who speaks Japanese. It's quite likely that Mr. Yukiya could develop post-traumatic stress disorder."

"Post-traumatic stress disorder?" Kanou's voice was deadly calm. "You're worried about post-traumatic stress disorder right now? Shouldn't you be focusing on treating the disease?"

"Like I s aid," the doctor replied, "we don't know. We certainly will do our best to make sure that he's healthy."

"What's happening?" Ayase asked, panic creeping into his voice. "Can I leave yet? What's happening?"

"Ayase." Kanou seemed calm, but even Ayase could hear the slight tremor behind it. "I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter what you might have, I love you." I love you. It wasn't every day that Ayase heard those words, even from Kanou. He opened his mouth to respond. Evidently, however, he didn't know a way to respond to that, because he didn't actually say anything. Kanou squeezed his hand reassuringly. "The doctors say that you might have contracted syphilis." At that, Ayase began to cry softly. It wasn't fair, he though. Why was it that hundreds of millions of other people could go to New York and not end up in a situation like this? Why was it that no matter where he went, he became a target? It was tempting to blame Kanou's involvement, but if he stepped back from the situation long enough, Ayase could see that this had been a pattern long before his life with Kanou began.

"Am I going to die?" he finally hiccuped.

"No, you're not!" Kanou said fiercely. "You might not even have it in the first place. The doctors have already given you anti-biotics, so if you were infected, it's already being fought." He sighed, unwilling to say the next part. How would Ayase take it? "But the doctors want to keep you here until they can be sure you are not infected, or no longer infected." Ayase lowered his eyes.

"Alright," he whispered. He, Kanou, and the doctor all sat in silence for a while, and then Ayase spoke again. "Is Sharon going to be OK?"

Kanou was tempted to respond with "who cares?" After all, it was her fault in the first place. If she hadn't decided to try the suicidally stupid plan to get the paperwork that would reveal that she was being cheated. If she had just waited, or at least not tried to use them as a distraction, none of this would have happened. But to put Ayase's mind at ease, he asked the doctor how she was.

"The shooting victim?" the doctor replied. "She should be in surgery right about now."

"Surgery?"

"Well, they have to get the bullet out of her somehow." Kanou immediately paled. When he had last spoken to her, she had seemed about as well as someone bleeding all over the floor could. She hadn't said anything about the bullet still being inside of her.

"Where is her room?" Kanou asked sharply. The doctor looked taken aback. What was this guy's issue? The doctor briefly allowed the thought that this guy needed a psychiatrist more than Mr. Yukiya, but didn't say anything.

"Room 912," he answered. Kanou leaned down to give Ayase a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"I shouldn't be gone more than half an hour," he promised. "Try to get some rest now."

The ninth floor of the hospital, however, proved to be quite a bit creepier than the rest of the place. It seemed to have bad lighting circuitry, as the lights flickered on and off, and the floor was dimmer than the rest of the building. The light did not seem to penetrate into the darker corners of this floor. On his way to find Sharon, he passed an ashen-faced, glassy-eyed woman staring blankly at a television screen in a sort of common area. He passed a seemingly infinte number of beeping medical devices, and every so often, he would cries of pain from the rooms he walked by.

When he found room 912, he noticed it was closed up tight and with no nameplate on the door. While he stood there wondering what could have happened to Sharon, a nurse approached him.

"Excuse me, sir, can I help you?"

"Where is the woman that was in this room?" Kanou asked.

"Considering that she's dead, most likely in the morgue," the nurse replied indifferently. Kanou felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

"Dead?" he whispered. The nurse shrugged.

"Yeah, apparently she passed about an hour ago. Not surprising, honestly. She was in terrible shape when they brought her in."

"How did she die?" Kanou felt stupid for asking. Sharon had been shot. Any idiot would know that was how she died. Still, he felt he had to ask. Again, the nurse shrugged.

"Meth is a hell of a drug... that woman had pretty classic symptoms of an overdose." As horrible as it was, Kanou couldn't help but feel some relief. There was no chance that Sharon would have died of a drug overdose, unless she somehow managed to get ahold of something since she was shot. There was a chance she was still alive.

"I think I must have the room wrong," Kanou managed to keep his voice steady. "The woman I am looking for was shot, not on drugs. I was told she was in this room."

"Oh, you mean that finance lady? She was moved to the psychiatric ward after his surgery was finished. Doctor thinks she's likely to attempt suicide... she kept screaming about how it was all her fault, how she should have been the one to die." Kanou shuddered. Suicide? Sharon might be a lot of things, but he'd never though she would attempt to take her own life, no matter how badly she had screwed up. He might have been very upset with her, but he didn't think she should kill herself...

"Where is that?" He asked harshly. The nurse looked at him, and unreadable expression on her face.

"Sixth floor. I don't know room though."

"That doesn't matter," Kanou replied. "Thank you."

To Be Continued