It was raining again; the constant patter on the roof doing little to soothe the nerves of those inside. Instead, each splash against the shingles, each crash of the waves on the rock below, seemed to call out 'hurry!' with their pounding.

The caphony was as if nature itself was wailing for the infirmed within. Fitting, as he so cared for it.

Tiny hands struggled with a serving tray of tea and biscuits, trying their best to keep most of the liquid in the old china cups. Normally, in situations like these, Pinoko would grouse loudly that it was Black Jack's fault, since he made her so small.

She didn't, today.

Luckily, larger hands gently eased the burden, placing the ladened tray on the small folding table next to the bed. "Ah, thwank you, Dr. Kisawagi! Is he…?"

The young-faced doctor, normally all smiles for the tiny girl, shook his head. Even in low light of the room, dark circles could be seen below his eyes, complementing the small, sad smile he now wore. "No, Pinoko, he's still asleep. But his charts are still fairly normal, at least. Just the usual light fever. But if he wakes up, I'll call you."

"Promwise?"

Both of them looked to the bed; if not for the medical equipment around them, the sleeping form of the unlicensed surgeon known as Black Jack would look as if he was simply resting peacefully after a long surgery. The black and white hair was tousled, framing the two-toned skin and thick lashes that the two observers adored, and mouth gently parted as his chest rose and fell. A sleeping beauty, in his own, exotic way.

"Promise."

Rumors were the bread and butter of those who worked outside the borders of normal society. Mafiosos, drug cartels, prostitutes, back alley surgeons, even death benefited from the free flowing of information, even if it helped to grease the wheels with a well-placed stack of money. Whispers lead to jobs, and jobs lead to getting paid, so most thought it was a decent down payment to hear the reliable snitches out, when they came knocking.

Right now, those who dealt with rumors had a juicy one: Doctor Black Jack wasn't taking patients.

"Ridiculous. Probably the fee was just too small, or the sob story not good enough; the fool's too much of a good doer to really turn down a patient." A single eye read the newspaper in front of him, catching up on what he'd missed during his last overseas 'patient.'

"I dunno, 60 million yen for a liver transplant isn't something to sneeze at; particularly when it's Don Atlas money." Hammond the snitch smirked when that got his client's attention. "And the doc hasn't shown his mug in weeks. His last client said he looked b-worse than usual."

That didn't seem to grab his mark as he had hoped. "So the 'great' Black Jack is sick. He's human. People seem to forget that. If it's truly bad, he'd have checked himself into a friendly hospital, if he could find one." Silver hair shook at what was probably an inside joke.

Hammond weighed his options; he'd hoped that his palm would have already been well greased before giving anything else away for free, but if he didn't, he might not get anything at all from this deal. Deciding to take his chances, he dived further. "True, Black Jack didn't… but sources said someone else has been calling around, asking about rare diseases, syndromes, or disorders with specific symptoms… calls coming from the Doc's house."

Hammond's gamble paid off. The newspaper was quickly folded and forgotten, while a small but hefty stack of yen slapped into his hand. Doctor Kiriko was on the hook. "Was it the pipsqueak?"

"Nah, my sources put the voice older… possibly a soft spoken man, though they couldn't be a hundred percent sure."

The deadly doctor frowned at that. He made sure to keep tabs on most of his rivals, and Black Jack's companions were few and far between. There were a few that might fit that description, but none who he'd think would be willing to keep such secrecy. "Do we know the symptoms?"

The snitched grinned, and a bit more yen 'fell' into his hand. "Not everything, but a light fever, a coma-like sleep that onsets for days at a time… and something that makes surgery nearly impossible. How, they won't say."

Surgery, impossible? That would be a blow to the unlicensed surgeon. The way he worked, you'd think all the answers were at the end of a scalpel. "He must be suffering so, if he can't even operate. Perhaps I should stop by and call on my old 'friend.'"

Hammond gulped his coffee, hiding his nerves. No doubt what Kiriko had planned. The snitch didn't have any skin in this game, though he'd sold a fair share of secrets to the back alley doctor over the years. There were always more people willing to pay for a lead.

Kei raked a hand through his hair, trying to keep the frustration from distracting him as he poured through all the test results. They'd cost an arm and a leg to rent out the equipment from Kaisei Hospital, but Dr. Tezuka had been extremely helpful in keeping the secrecy.

Money was one thing, but it had also cost them the few hours of consciousness Black Jack had; if the pattern held, he wouldn't awake until at least tonight after 72 hours of unwakeable sleep. There was clear REM patterns, bowel control and beta brain waves, ruling out an outright coma, but nothing could wake him. Even Pinoko's attempts, before Kei could stop her, hadn't been able to rouse her guardian.

"What am I missing?" Again, he stared at the red cell sample under the microscope, only to swear under his breath. "Damn, let it sit too long." The blood had caked on the slide, dried to uselessness in his carelessness. Grumbling, he eased the pipette of distilled water to place a single drop on the glass surface, to see if he could continue his study without having to start all over again.

CRASH!

The pipette lay on the floor in multiple pieces, disregarded. Vaguely, his mind was aware Pinoko was screaming from the kitchen as he scrambled through the door of the clinic into the living room towards the noise.

In Kisaragi's panic, he didn't notice his patient's brows furrow, as if he could hear the noise.

The front door had slammed open with the wind, leaving the intruder silhouetted in the doorframe. Gaunt features were barely made out in the darkness, and silver hair whipped around with the wind made for a terrific sight, as if the very skeleton of death had come to the door. Only when the figure stepped into the light of indoors, revealing the sneering face of an eyepatched man at least a decade his senior did Kei realized the visitor was more likely human, though no less deadly.

"Who the hell are you?"

Kei blinked at the question, taking a moment to connect that the stranger was asking him who he was. "I'm sorry? Shouldn't I be asking you that?! The clinic's closed-"

The man stepped further into the house, ignoring the younger doctor and taking stock of the state of the house. "So it's true. The genius back alley surgeon has gotten himself at death's door." Catching sight of the child, sure she'd tell him what was going on, moved towards her.

"Excuse me," Dr. Kisaragi stepped between the intruder and Pinoko, blocking him from further menacing the obviously frightened little girl. "But who gives you the right to just keep barging in here? As I said, the clinic is closed! Who are you?!"

A pale eye narrowed at the obstacle in front of him, his features pulling further into a scowl, making the gaunt face even more pronounced. "Hmph. You must be new around here. Usually those who know Black Jack well enough are at least familiar with-"

"Dr. Kiriko!" The older man staggered into Kei as an IV pole slammed into his head from behind. Black Jack, still in his patient's gown, heaved the pole over his head to hit the deadly doctor again, until Kei dropped the intruder and grabbed his patient.

"Black Jack, it's ok! You got him." Smaller hands guided the grip on the pole down. "C'mon, I'm not having you pass out on me after just waking up." Dr. Kisaragi guided the larger man to the overstuffed armchair, checking as they went to make sure the IV line was still secure, and there were no other possible injuries. Pinoko trailed after, a bowl of tea over rice in her hands, ready to nurse her guardian back to health.

Dr. Kiriko groaned and sat up from the cold wooden floor, rubbing the swelling lump on the back of his head. "Given the rumors, I was not expecting you to be walking about, let alone still be swinging, Black Jack."

The patient in question tensed, ignoring Pinoko's attempt to feed him. "What, you were expecting me a death's door, begging for your brand of 'help'?" Black Jack relaxed slightly as he felt Kei grip his arm reassuringly.

The notorious 'Doctor of Death' didn't answer the question, but the guilty look on his face said it all. "I admit, I was curious what had laid you low."

"I nearly forgot! The test results!" Dr. Kisaragi skittered up and through the clinic door, grabbing all the print outs, charts and MRI scans from their place on the messy desk.

"Who's the new assistant?" Kiriko noted the protective way the unlicensed surgeon watched after the slight young man as he'd rushed out. The elder man tried to recall if he'd heard any rumors of a protege, or a particular case that might have left the doctor with another hanger on.

"None of your damned business." Hm. Touched a nerve. Unusual.

"SWUT UP AND EAT!" Pinoko was clearly done with being ignored.

"She's got a point, Black Jack. Even intravenous fluids can't replace three days of not eating." Kisaragi dropped the pile on the table next to his patient. "And as the only licensed doctor currently in this house, no one is arguing."

"Alright, alright." The low chuckle was a warm thing, so unlike the cool, biting Black Jack Dr. Kiriko was used to. The scene was so… domestic, making him nauseous, and instantly had this new 'doctor' make his potential euthanasia lab rat list.

Furthermore, Black Jack didn't look sick, even to the eagle eye of the Doctor of Death, who'd seen every type of death one could encounter. So much for gloating over his rival laid low. Instead, curiosity was biting at the heels of his motorcycle boots, wondering what stayed the doctor's hand. Was it a new form of cancer? Or perhaps a variation of trypanosomiasis…. The painful lump on his head nearly forgotten, he made his way to stand.

"You're still here?" The slight young man adjusted his glasses, frowning at the taller man. "In case you haven't noticed, no one here needs your ghoulish 'services.'" Dark brown eyes stared him down, stepping to shield his patient from Kiriko's view while lowering his voice. "Yes, I do know your trade, and if you think I am going to let you near Black Jack…."

"Hmph. I'm still a doctor, kiddo, and have seen a lot more than you have."

"Really? From my understanding, you couldn't keep your patients alive, so you just made that your living instead." Now the kid was on the top of his euthanasia for free list.

"Kisaragi, don't go poking the ghoul too much." Black Jack hadn't looked up from the charts, but he was still listening. "And as loathe as I am to admit it, we do need a fresh eye to look this over. Maybe he'll finally put himself to use-"

Pinoko shoved one last soggy spoonful into the poor man's mouth, cutting him off. "Stop twalking! Mowe eating! Wish out me, you'd bwe swin and bones!" At once, she was running the empty bowl to the kitchen, filling it with curry this time, before returning to her spot at her guardian's side. He grimaced, but indulged her when she poked his mouth with a laden spoonful (if nothing to keep it from spilling on the papers in his hands).

"Hm, I can't tell if you've gotten better, or whatever this is dulling my tastebuds-" Pinoko growled and shoved the next spoonful in with a little more force than necessary.

" I made the curry, so I can't speak to any new symptoms." This 'Kisaragi' rolled his eyes and handed Kiriko a small stack of write-ups. "There's the original write-up of my, Black Jack's and Dr. Tezuka's observations of symptoms. "5 to 8 hours of activity followed by approximately 72 hours of a coma-like state. Low grade fever that occurs during the 72 hour lethargic episodes, and absolute minimal reaction to stimulus, but gastric control, REM periods, and dream-like brainwaves. In addition-"

"You've checked for trypanosomiasis, I assume?"

"I'm not an idiot. First thing I checked for, after more common sources, even though he hadn't traveled near the African continent in the last six months. Both myself and Tezuka drew samples and looked for parasitic evidence on the lymph nodes, before having to abort the biopsy."

Ah, yes. The inoperable aspect of all this. "Surely you didn't manage to screw up a simple lymphatic biopsy-"

"Hardly. That's the last symptom I was getting to before you interrupted. It's… hard to explain."

The patient nodded from the armchair. "It's easier to show it." He raised a scalpel and a scarred forearm.

Kisaragi had grabbed the instrument before Black Jack could start the so-called practical demonstration. "No! Every time you do that, you fall asleep faster! You need to conserve your energy and stay awake." The slight young man beckoned Dr. Kiriko into the clinic, to the computer there. "We recorded our last attempted biopsy."

"-As you can see here, there is absolutely no swelling of the lymphatic tissue common with most variations of sleeping sickness." The camera was focused on the surgical opening, but there was enough of the skin around the opening to identify the patient. "The liver and spleen are completely untouched." There was a strange shiver through the patient's body around the incision. "Damnit! It's happening again! Get the lamnia spreaders out of there!"

Dr. Kiriko watched in horrific fascination as the doctors pulled back all the equipment. Around the spreaders and clamps, the shivering flesh was moving, closing itself back together like a non-newtonian fluid. One clamp was almost swallowed before it was pried from the body, the skin stitching itself back together almost instantaneously in its wake.

Kisaragi's shaking voice came over the speaker. "It's happening faster this time. Look; there's absolutely no scarring at the incision site. You can't even tell it was open a moment ago." Fingers indicated on screen where the cut had once been on the patch of unblemished skin.

Dr. Kiriko alternated between the final image and the younger doctor. "Impossible."

Notes:

I always did like the catfighting that went on between Black Jack and Kiriko, and I had to add another cat (Kei) into the mix.

While I have this sketch of the fic figured out, comments and kudos do go along to motivating me to keep writing this, as well as help me know what to work on. Help me out, please?