Hello! A bit early this time, since my schedule is a bit messed up lol.

First of, thank you for the kind review! NoRoleModelz, yeah, I figure it might seems a bit off to some people, but I'm a bit pressed since if it goes any slower, the plot won't budge. It already kinda is slow so lol XD

Well, don't let me keep ya! Enjoy!

III: The Empty Empress

Empress: Motherhood, Fertility, Nature

Reverse Empress: Dependence, Emptiness, Insecurities, Overbearing, Indulgence

He still couldn't get rid of the nightmares.

But… at least it's less during nighttime now, so Makoto supposes it's a good thing.

What's more surprising, however, is the fact that he wakes up from his bad dream to see Aigis, of all people, standing over his bed. In his room!

It takes him a second before he springs up and headbutts her so hard that he recoils and sees white for a solid minute.

"Ow, ow, ow…"

"Makoto-san! Are you okay?" The android asks, tilting her head slightly. He puts up a hand, the other cradling and rubbing at his forehead. That reaction is… really a bit over the top, but he forgot that she is not made of flesh and blood, so in the end the only one ending up with an injury is him.

"I'm fine," He groans, rubbing at the sore spot. He blinks until the blacks dancing across his visions are gone before he continues in a low voice. "…Why the hell are you in my room?"

"Yuuki-kun? Did you see Aigis?"

As if on cue (the comedic timing is just perfect), Takeba knocks on his door and twists the handle open. The three of them just look at each other, before Takeba flushes and points at Aigis. "Why are you in here, Aigis!? This is unlawful entry, and it's against dorm's regulation!"

He just cuts out the rest of the conversation from his senses, still confused and perhaps doesn't care enough to listen. He just gives an offhand comment before Takeba forcefully pulls Aigis out of his room and closes the door behind her.

He takes a moment before getting up and opening his drawer, pulling out three small pills containers, the white labels still sharp. He sighs. He really hates his "condition", as the doctor labelled it, but the contents of his nightmares and the frequencies of both his panic episodes and flashbacks are getting ridiculous, to the point of almost making him scream in the middle of their vacation at Yakushima. He shivers at the thoughts.

He's just glad they have psychiatric department at the hospital.

Before he gets anywhere with anything, the door of his room swings open again (do people here not care about privacy?) and Takeba walks back in, still heaving slightly. He just stares at her, then at the containers in his hands, then at her again as she stares back. After a moment, where she still hasn't said a thing, he says, a bit annoyed. "Why are you in my room?"

"Huh? Oh! Uh, I forgot to mention," She quickly mumbles out, a bit embarrassed. "Um, I meant to tell you that, you know… I can accompany you… if you want."

"To where?" He says with a slight frown.

"The hospital."

He pauses. Well, he already knows that she knows about his PTSD, but he has never said anything about going to the psychiatrist to anyone. But then again, this isn't the first time Takeba has been strangely perceptive of him.

He only offers her a small smile before shaking his head. "It's fine. I can go by myself."

I don't want anyone else to see.

"Okay, then…" She slowly retraces her steps out of the room. "See you at school?"

"Mhm," He mumbles. "See you."

When she's out, and he's left with the deafening silence again, he looks down at the bottles of pills and starts pouring out its content into his hands. He traces their outlines, feels their textures, and just plays with them rolling between his fingertips until his racing heart has calmed down somewhat. He exhales, then, in one swift motion, puts the pills inside his mouth and swallows.

He hopes that this would help, because he doesn't like the feelings of helplessness and seeing the flashbacks of the things that he should've forgotten a long, long time ago. He doesn't want to relive those moments.

He doesn't want to feel anything.

He doesn't dream anymore.

That doesn't mean taking all the antidepressants to take care of the nightmares are risk-free, though.

"Yuuki, are you sure you're going to be alright?"

Kirijou asks, her arms crossed over her chest. She's called him for a private chat, and he really doesn't want to get watched this closely. He's told her about the drugs, yes, but to think that the side effects would actually be noticeable during the Dark Hour…

"I'll be fine, I won't jeopardize the party's safety," He says flatly as he tries to suppress the restlessness he's feeling. He hates akathisia, and to think he'd draw the short end of the stick and get that as one of the symptoms. He inwardly sighs. "I might be a little restless, but I'm not tired. I can fight, and I can think straight."

"That's not what I meant," Kirijou murmurs, looking straight at him. It takes Makoto a moment to realize that she's concerned not about his performance, but about him, in particular. He shakes his leg a little to get rid of the little tingling feelings as she continues. "I know you're trying your hardest to make sure you can fight, but please, take care of your mental state, too."

"The drugs are doing that for me," He says, tilting his head.

"Are they truly?"

He pauses. He doesn't dream. The side effects are also easy to ignore, especially when adrenalines are replacing them. What else could she have meant? "Yes. I don't have nightmares. I don't have any flashbacks—"

"That's not what I meant," She repeats herself, stressing the word again. It looks like she wants to put her hand on his knee, but she thinks better of it and pulls the hand back. After a long-suffering sigh, she murmurs. "It's not about the dreams, Yuuki. Let me rephrase my question; how are you feeling?"

How is he feeling? He's a bit restless (because of the damn drugs) and a little jittery, from time to time. But he's fine, he can move however he wants. His jaws would clamp up, sometimes, making them a bit painful when taking a bite out of something hard. But that was it, he doesn't feel anything—

He's feeling—

"…Nothing," He says quietly, his eyes widening slightly in realization. "I'm feeling… nothing."

Kirijou is giving him a look as she finally and carefully places her hand on his knee. He could feel the warmth of her hand, the weight she's pressing his knee with. He could feel his body as it twitches a little, listless. He could feel his chest constricts. He could feel his breath hitches.

But his mind is feeling nothing. No joy, no fear, no sadness, nothing.

It's empty. He's empty.

"I—" He tries, but he couldn't think of anything as he digs his own nails into his palms, turning his knuckles white. He's disconnected from his own emotions.

Oh, a tiny voice in his head proclaims as he screws his eyes shut and hugs himself. He faintly feels Kirijou moving in a bit closer and pulling him into a hug, but his thoughts are too haywire to fully care about it.

I'm dissociating.

Two things happened.

One, he's forced to go to the psychiatrist for therapy sessions three times a week. That's the easy part.

The other thing is the hard one; Kirijou said he must bring someone else with him at least for the first few times.

This is just great.

Today is the first day of his many appointments, and he has to wonder who he'll bring with. He doesn't want anyone to see him like that, but he supposes that it's too late now; if Kirijou's issuing that kind of order, it means that everyone must at least have an idea of what's going on. He doesn't like it, but then again, he thinks this is better than him trying to deal with whatever it is on his own.

He sighs to himself and leans against the backrest of his chair, eyes looking up at the ceiling. He isn't sure who he should be asking to accompany him. He doesn't want to burden Kirijou more than he already is. Sanada is… it could turn out to be either a good thing or a disaster, so it's a gamble. He isn't close with Yamagishi, and bothering someone who has to keep tabs on them during the Dark Hour all the time already is just cruel. He's now left with either Junpei or Takeba.

…Takeba, huh?

"Takeba," He calls quietly, partly hoping that she's not here, so he might not have to think about it.

But then, she hums, and he looks down to see her leaning over the backrest of her chair, her brown eyes looking intensely at him. He flinches a little as she cocks her head to the side. "What is it?"

He slowly forms the answer in his head, weighs it, then speaks it aloud. "Does the offer still stand?"

It takes Takeba a few moments to actually recognize what he meant. He doesn't really blame her, since it looks to him like she spoke about that on the fly. But then her eyes widen, and she promptly nods at him, an understanding look on her face. "Yes."

"Are you free today?" He continues. A part of him hopes that she isn't, and maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to get away with going there alone. But another part wishes that she'd be there.

"What time is the appointment?" She asks as she pulls out her phone. He blinks stupidly as she scrolls down the contact list.

"Uh… 5.30 pm," He replies, still looking at her, confused. "What are you doing?"

"I'm telling the girls from archery club I'll make up another day," She says.

"Hold on, wait, you don't have to—"

"Yuuki-kun," She cuts him off, and he swallows back whatever he is going to say at the intensity of her gaze as she looks at him in the eyes. He wants to look away, but he's glued to the spot. She puts down her phone and says, loud enough for him to hear clearly, but not enough to reach anyone else's ears. "I want to do this, so shut up."

"…Okay," He nods, and lets out the breath he was holding.

There's a short pause, where she just taps away at her phone, sending SMS, while he remains there, unsure of what to do or feel.

He's still dissociating slightly, somehow, and that really irks him. He suppresses the urge to sigh at his stupid mind for not doing what it's supposed to do. He's like a damaged good that's still good enough for some things, but a burden and an unfortunate baggage on the others more than half the time.

Well, the best he could do for now is to try to fix that.

"So," Takeba murmurs, snapping him out of his thoughts. He tilts his head slightly, and she continues in a low voice. "How many times a week, and when?"

"…You don't have to come every time—"

"I just told you I want to help," She snaps, cutting him off completely. "Just tell me. Of course I'm not going to make it every time, but at least let me sent you to the station whenever I can, okay?"

He chews on his own tongue until he could taste blood and steel, the foul smell reaching his nose. He grunts at himself and works his jaw for a bit before reaching inside his bag and pulling out a small pocket book. He searches the contents for a while before he finds his assigned sessions and just shows it to her. She looks at it, then up at his face.

"That's a lot."

"Yes," He mumbles. "Sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? This isn't your fault, you know," She says, tapping the dates down into her phone. He doesn't know what he's feeling, but it's not a bad thing, so he lets it slide. "It doesn't matter how long it's going to take. If it helps, then it helps, right?"

"I guess," He says. When she's done, he puts the book back where it was. "So… meet you where?"

"We're in the same class, you idiot," She says, pushing at his forehead, eliciting a yelp out of him. He rubs at the sore spot (that's the same place he headbutted Aigis with, too) as she says with a slight frown. "We can go there together. If I have to go somewhere first, I'll tell you."

"…Okay."

She's unusually quiet during their train ride.

He has thought that she might begin asking questions, given how lively and talkative she usually is. Much to his surprise, she isn't saying anything, only commenting on maybe the weather, or the wait time for their train. He doesn't mind the silence much, but it's still strange to see Takeba being mindful and wordless like she is.

The train ride to Port Island station is unusually serene, even by his standard. There aren't that many people around, so they have the seats to themselves. He's sitting in the middle, with Takeba right next to him. He glances at her, to see that she's hugging her own bag to her chest, with her knees firmly pressed together, as if afraid of brushing his.

He looks out the window, at the ocean as it glistens in the afternoon sun. After a while, he murmurs, maybe a bit too quietly. "Thank you."

He could feel her eyes on him, and for a moment he thinks he might've earned himself a slap. In the end, all he gets is a warm smile he rarely sees from her. "You're welcome."

They don't say much else for a while as the train glides along the rail, rattling ever so slightly. Unfortunately for him, his MP3 is dead (he forgot to charge the thing, damnit), so the usual company of his music is gone. But, to be fair, he really doesn't mind it much. It wasn't like the songs are going to help against the hollowness in his chest or the sense of detachment, anyways.

"Say," She begins, drawing his attention to her. Her eyes are looking at his hands, and his gaze follows. He's not trembling. "How are things?"

He opens his mouth, about to say that everything's all well and good…

…But the look on her face is saying that if he dares lie like he plans to, he's really going to get his ass handed to him.

He takes some time to rearrange his thoughts before answering, a bit unsure. "I… don't know."

"You don't know? What do you mean by that?"

He frowns. "It's… weird, I guess. There are no more dreams, but… I don't feel anything. I can't."

She takes a good, long look at him before turning to the window, her mouth presses into a thin line. She then says quietly. "When did that start?"

"After Yakushima," He mumbles, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Not sure exactly when, but I think… maybe after I started the medications."

"I… see," She pauses before saying slowly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not now," He replies instantly, shaking his head. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Okay," Takeba says, looking him straight in the eyes. "I'll be here. Just tell me if you need anything, I'll listen."

"That's one thing I don't understand about you," He says, playing with the MP3 on his neck.

"What thing?"

"We aren't even that close. Why are you doing all of this?" For me?

She smiles slightly. "Because you look like you need it. Is that not enough a reason to stay?"

Not usually, he thinks, but dares not voice it. Instead, he settles for a small smile, and lets himself relaxes into his seat as he murmurs.

"Thanks."

"As I said, you're welcome."

He hates it.

He hates reliving the memories, he hates the psychiatrist for bringing it up over and over like a fucking machine. He hates experiencing drowning and breaking and screaming all over again.

He slams the door open and stomps his way through the hallways, ignoring the calls from the therapist as he feels himself falling apart. He can't do this, he just can't. If he's pushed one more time, he's going to feel his fingers around a person's neck again, he's going to feel that person's life ebbing away through his fingertips as he squeezes the life out of—

He chokes and stops mid-way, hands over his own chest as his heart beats loudly, thumping inside his skull, pumping adrenaline through his systems. He's shaking, again, and again, and again, and he doesn't know how to stop it as he's feeling nothing and everything, all at once.

"Yuuki-san," Someone calls, and he turns to see the nurse who was with him in the office. She's reaching out, a hand mere inch from his skin. "Please, calm down—"

"How?" He gasps out, his voice broken as he trembles. He could feel the water washing down his windpipe, forcing his throat to close off, cutting off his only way to breathe. He punches his chest until he could breathe again and pants, trying to regain some control over himself. "How am I supposed to do that when all I'm feeling is water in my lungs and thumping in my head!?"

She pulls back, her expression neutral. But there it is in her eyes – fear. She's afraid of him.

You're a monster! Get away from me!

"Yuuki-san," She says again, and he flinches away from her hand as soon as it touches him.

"Get away from me!" He snarls, feeling like he's boxed in. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. He shakes her hand away again and screams, panicked and terrified. "Get the fuck away from me!"

"Hey, what's going on?" He hears Takeba from the distance, but his body isn't listening to him anymore as he feels himself losing whatever sliver of restraint he has left.

He backs away until he hits something hard – a wall, maybe – with his hands grabbing at his arms and trying to force himself to calm down. He needs to calm down, somehow, or he's going to hurt someone again, just like all those years ago—

"Yuuki-san—"

"I'm sorry!" He shouts out, to no one, to everyone, as his legs give out under him and he's down to the ground. Everything's falling apart. He can't do this anymore. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to feel anything. "I can't do this. I can't do this. Please, please, make it stop."

He doesn't have any control. Why is he so damn weak? He wants to have a semblance of reign over his own life, but there's nothing. He's going insane, maybe, and it scares him. He doesn't want to be alone, he wants to have something normal, to be normal, to act normal, so he wouldn't be casted aside and abandoned again.

He's gasping, he's shaking, he's tearing the skin off his arms as he curls up, trying to disappear, maybe. He doesn't know anymore. He doesn't want to feel or think again. It hurts. He just wants the physical and mental pain to stop—

He faintly hears shouting from the distant, from the therapy room, maybe. Someone is really angry, but his mind refuses to focus on it. The nurse is still here, but she isn't getting any closer. That's good (no, it isn't).

He doesn't know how long he's been staying there, in that position, and he doesn't know what to do. He clenches his jaws, grinding his teeth so hard it hurts, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Pain. Pain is going to drag him back down to the earth and be normal. Maybe pain would help, like it did before. Blade on his skin, drawing blood and insanity out—

"Yuuki-kun," He hears Takeba calls his name softly. He doesn't look up, but he feels his muscles twitch and tense, ready to lash out. When she doesn't do anything, he relaxes, even if it is only slightly.

He doesn't answer with words (he can't). Instead, he gives her a short hum, to acknowledge her presence.

He hears a small sigh. "Can I touch you?"

His breath hitches. He doesn't know. Maybe. Maybe not. He grips his arms harder until he couldn't feel his fingers as he tries to think. In the end, he nods.

"If you want me to pull away, just tell me, okay?"

He nods again.

Her fingers are callous, but her palm is soft. It's warm, and it reminds him of something he couldn't quite place a finger on. He feels himself slowly, but surely, relaxing further. His breathing is normal again, and the heartbeat he hasn't fully realize was fast and frantic until now is stabilizing.

Her hand slowly presses against his, and she's gently prying his fingers off his own arm. His fingertips are slightly wet — blood, a tiny voice in his head supplies — and they're cold. Then, her fingers interlace with his own, spreading reassuring warmth all over his hand.

He lets out a long, shaky breath and uncurls himself a little, to see Takeba smiling at him. She puts her other hand over his own, sandwiching it, warming it up. It feels… nice. And it's keeping him grounded.

"Do you want to move?" She asks softly.

He takes a moment to think. He then nods.

"Okay," She murmurs. "I'm here."

Slowly, a bit wobbly, he stands up. She helps pull him a little, but ultimately lets him have control. He finally gets to his feet, a bit unsure, his hand still in hers, the other one dangling at his side. He looks down, and sees her rubbing his knuckles with her fingers carefully. He likes the feeling.

She then tries to pull her hand away, and he instinctively squeezes on it, making her stop. He doesn't want to let go.

She smiles. "I won't let go, I promise. Just adjusting it so I can walk with you back to the dorm, okay?"

It takes him a full minute to ingest the information, and he nods again, relaxing his grip.

True to her words, she pulls back only to readjust, allowing her more freedom of movement. She leads him towards the lounge and picks up both of their belongings, snuggling them under her free arm. He doesn't have the mental capacity to think, so he doesn't question it and lets her guides him forward.

When they leave the hospital, it's already dark out, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Instead, he focuses his attention of the feeling of her hand in his, and tightens his grip slightly, to make sure that what he's feeling is real. He keeps his eyes there, and sees a slight twitch in her fingers, before she squeezes back carefully.

And then they are standing at the station, waiting for the train. He finally looks up at her, and she's smiling at him, a bit sadly. He doesn't question why it looks broken. She then shifts her arm slightly, before reaching her other hand up to his face and wiping away something wet.

"You were crying," She whispers as she pulls back. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He contemplates for a bit. "I don't know."

"Alright," She hums. "Then tell me when you do."

"Okay."

"Are you feeling better?"

Thinking hurts, so he doesn't. A tiny voice in his head is whispering that he's still dissociating. He just accepts it as a fact. "I don't know."

Another sigh. "Are you in pain?"

"No."

"Do you want to sleep?"

"No," He answers a bit too quickly. His mind doesn't want to. If he does, he might dream. Dreaming now is not a good thing.

"What do you want for dinner?"

He frowns. "Not hungry."

"…A cup of hot chocolate, then?"

"Maybe."

"Alright," She hums again, and tugs at their joint hands as the train arrives. "We'll start there."

She doesn't let go, even when they arrive.

He sees Kirijou and Yamagishi at the lounge, with someone he recognizes as Aragaki Shinjirou. He doesn't pay them much mind as Takeba leads him towards the couch and sits him down.

She tries to pull her hand away, and again, he stops her.

"I'll be gone only for a few minutes," She whispers, her free hand cupping his chin and lifting his face up slightly. "We're home, Yuuki-kun. I'll be nearby, I promise, okay?"

He nods dumbly, and after a while, lets her hand go.

She leaves, but he could still hear her footsteps as she makes her way towards the kitchen. He's trying to focus on something. In the end, he chooses to keep his mind occupied on the lingering feelings of her hand in his. He closes his eyes and leans slightly forward, fingers curling into the same position they were in before she pulled away.

"Takeba, what happened?" He hears Kirijou asks. Her voice is slightly surprised, and maybe a bit concerned.

Sound of the cupboard opening and closing. Takeba sounds… angry? "The psychiatrist is a jerk, is what. He had a panic attack there after fifteen minutes of his session."

A pause. Then an angry male voice. "What."

"He's still dissociating," Takeba says. Sounds of the sink. Something falls. She curses a little. "Damn it."

"I'll look for a better psychiatrist right away," Kirijou murmurs.

"I know a few," Aragaki says. "They are some of the best 'round here. Used to help me before."

"Thank you, Shinjirou."

"Don't mention it," He says. "Oi, Takeba, you two have dinner yet?"

"No, and he said he's not hungry," She replies. There is a set of footsteps coming towards him. He resists the urge to flinch. She sits next to him, her leg and his touching slightly. He doesn't mind the feeling. A warm cup is then placed in his right hand, while she takes his left into hers again. "Here."

"I ain't listenin'," Aragaki mutters. "I'm making you two dipshits dinner, end of story."

"Shinjirou—"

"A good, warm meal will help," He says. Voice is unusually kind. Reminds him of his father. "Trust me on this. Been there, done that."

"…If you say so."

"You two should go back to your rooms," He says again, not pointing at him or Takeba. "Too many people now is a bad idea."

"Alright," Kirijou hums. "Goodnight, Yuuki, Takeba."

"Um, goodnight, Yuuki-kun, Yukari-chan."

"Night," Takeba murmurs quietly.

He couldn't bring himself to say anything. He just nods his head and tips the content of the cup down his throat. It's warm. It feels nice. He takes a few more sips before putting the cup down on his knee while his fingers idly play with the cup holder.

She's tracing his hand with her fingertips, maybe a bit reluctant. They're warm, and he doesn't mind it at all.

"I'm here," She says again, her other hand reaching up to his head and patting at his hair.

"…Okay."

"Everything's okay, Yuuki-kun," She murmurs softly. He finds himself leaning in against her shoulder. She squeezes his hand a bit more. "It's gonna be okay."

For the first time that day, he relaxes fully.

He trusts her.

And if she says it's going to be okay, then he's going to believe it.

Phew! That's done. How was it, folks? Hope you guys love the Hurt-Comfort!

Be seeing you around! :D Until next time!