Komui was grateful he was a native Chinese speaker, because otherwise there would have been no communication at all between Allen and the cardiologist. They'd been able to get information from the defibrillator itself, but getting information out of Allen was another matter entirely. All he would say was that he'd been startled into an arrhythmia, and the shock to correct it had knocked his legs out from under him. The next thing he remembered was Fou. The more the doctor pressed, the less specific Allen became, until Komui felt like a ping-pong ball trapped between two cats. Finally, they decided to admit Allen for observation, to make sure he was fit for the flight home, and Komui gave a great, internal sigh of relief. He could take Lavi and Lenalee back to the hotel, and get at least part of a night's sleep.
"May I have a word?" the doctor asked as he ushered Komui into the hall.
"Please," Komui said.
The doctor led him to an empty room and closed the door. "This boy, does he have a history of lying?"
"He has very little history at all," Komui said. "He's new to the company. I've had fewer problems with him than with some of the others…"
"…but," the doctor said, continuing Komui's sentence. "This does not add up."
"No. I can't imagine what he'd see in a car park that would startle him that much."
"And it's inconsistent with the data from the ICD. He's right. It was an appropriate shock, but not due to a sudden fright, which is what he implied."
But didn't state outright, Komui thought. Allen had given them no details at all, acting dismissive and even embarrassed rather than evasive. "What do you think happened?"
"I think there may have been an altercation of some kind. Was he robbed?"
"No."
"Is there a girlfriend, or perhaps boyfriend, with whom he might have quarreled?"
"No," Komui said. "That's the funny thing. Allen gets along with everyone. I can't think of who would want to hurt him."
"I think someone did," the cardiologist said, turning his tablet on and giving it a few pokes. "Look here. This is Allen's heart at rest. You can see the delay in ventricular contraction, but it's slight and consistent." He swiped at the touch screen. "This is the record of his heart when he's dancing. It's elevated, but still steady." He swiped again. "This is Allen's heart shortly before the incident. Do you see?"
"This is completely different." Komui's gaze was drawn from the irregular, jagged peaks to the unnatural rectangular shape that even he knew was the ICD's shock.
"Yes. What you're seeing is tachycardia consistent with a prolonged increase in adrenaline, not a startle response."
"He was afraid," Komui said.
"Or angry. This could be fight as well as flight."
Komui stared at the screen, his mind racing. Only one person had enough investment in Allen to get physical with him, and that person had gone missing as soon as he stepped off the stage.
On the other hand, Cross would know better than to push Allen that far, which left Komui back at an empty square one.
"Should we involve the police?" the doctor asked. "If so, we should do it now."
"Before he has time to come up with a plausible story that doesn't contradict what he's already told us," Komui said. If Allen was protecting Cross, that story would be very plausible indeed.
"I'm afraid it might be too late for that," the doctor said. "I know you like the boy, but I think you should keep a very close eye on him. How much do you know about implantable cardio-defibrillators?"
"Not much," Komui admitted. "My understanding is that they're designed to do what Allen's just did, provide a shock to the heart when it can no longer regulate itself."
"Yes, but a heart that fails to regulate itself stops beating," the doctor said. "That's a heart attack. This should be treated as Allen's sixth heart attack."
"What?" Komui said, aghast, but he hadn't been thinking about it that way.
"There was the event that led to him having an ICD implanted, then five shocks from the ICDs, including this one. That's a lot of heart attacks for a boy his age, and each one increases his risk of premature death."
"I had no idea," Komui said, staring this time at the abrupt drop-off in the signal from Allen's heart right before the ICD fired. For that fraction of a second, Allen was dead.
"There's more," the doctor said. "Some patients don't feel the shocks very much at all, but for those who do, there's a tremendous amount of anxiety. Many beg to have the device removed, even though it just saved their lives. Allen's shocks are quite noticeable to him, but he seems to find them comforting. That's an extraordinary level of adaptation."
"I think it's why I hadn't thought much about it," Komui said. "Allen talks about it as if he were grateful for it, even touches it for luck before he dances. Should he be dancing at all? Is he strong enough?"
"Yes, absolutely. In fact, I'd say that the stress of telling him he can't dance would do more harm than dancing itself ever could. I doubt he would take that kindly. Also, the exercise is good for him. There isn't much we can do about the abnormal rhythm, but the heart itself is strong, and dancing will help keep it that way."
"What's going on here?" Komui asked. "Is this a disease or syndrome or something? Our doctor couldn't tell."
"I can't, either," the doctor said. "Without a complete history, there's no way to know why this is happening. How is he, by the way, as a dancer? Is he any good?"
"He's one of my best," Komui said.
"Then keep an eye on him. So far, the ICD has been able to re-regulate his heart, but each time it has to brings him closer to the time when it might not be able to anymore. Those shocks should not be taken lightly."
Komui thanked the doctor, and walked to the elevators that would take him to the lobby where Lenalee was waiting, a brand-new cast on her foot. He was right. She'd been dancing on a strained ligament, and when it gave way, the metatarsal broke. She was going to be impossible to restrain until she healed, normal dancer stubbornness exacerbated by the Order's unique pressure-cooker environment. It had crippled others permanently.
At least she would sit out the rest of this War. Komui was selfishly grateful for that.
"How is he?" Lenalee asked, trying to stand with help from her crutches while Lavi tried to pull her back down.
"He's spending the night here, but it's only for observation," Komui said. "He's fine."
"I'm glad he's all right." Lavi said. "I guess I never really thought about what happens when that thing goes off."
Neither had Komui, and suddenly he understood Allen better. What good would it do to have these two scared that he was going to die? "It did exactly what it was supposed to do. At this point, they're more worried about the concussion."
"Good," Lenalee said. "Did he say what happened?"
"Only that something startled him," Komui said.
"Probably a car alarm going off right next to him or something," Lavi said. "Scares the crap out of me, and I don't even have a bad heart."
Which was most likely what Allen intended them to think, Komui thought, but the ICD told a very different story, and Komui could imagine no reason for the discrepancy.