Chapter 3: The Ghost in the Examining Room
Megumi was moving at lightening speed from one patient to the next. The office was over-crowded from the recent flu epidemic and she barely took time to dispense more than a prescription or two and to reassure each patient that they'd get over the flu quickly. She grabbed the folder off the door, flipping it open to skim the symptoms as she flew into the examining room. The gentle smile faded from her face, and her eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape route, like a bird trapped inside the garage being tracked by a patient cat.
Flustered, she looked down at her nurse's preliminary notes, trying to regroup, to refocus. How long had it been? She shook her head, and lifted her eyes above the folder. He hadn't changed much: graying around the temples, wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, slim and fit as if he still worked out every day.
Professionalism her shield, she scanned his chart. "Losing hand strength, hummm. Both hands?"
"Megumi," he said. His voice hadn't changed either, his deep tenor sent chills down her spine.
Foolish schoolgirl reaction, she thought, scolding herself. She set down his chart and walked toward him. "Both? Right or left? When did you first start noticing it?" she demanded.
He held out both hands towards her. She took his right hand in hers, prodding gently. "Open." He obeyed instantly. "Make a fist. Tighter."
He shifted uneasily on the table as if he was uncomfortable by her touch. She couldn't meet his eyes. The calluses from his sword work hadn't faded away, and his hands were chilly to the touch. She took his left hand and felt him wince and pull away at her prodding. She held it tight and drew it back, tracing the nerve damage, focused on the problem and not the man with azure eyes at the other end of it.
"The nerve damage may be," she didn't finish the sentence. He'd pulled her toward him, into his chest, into his arms. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips. She found herself responding to his touch and yielding to his kiss in spite of herself. Reluctantly, she pulled herself away, patting his cheek gently, regrouping herself mentally.
"Supper?" he asked.
She shook her head no. "It looks like you have some nerve damage. I think we need to get an MRI at least and maybe send you to a specialist," she continued professionally as if he hadn't just made her cheeks burn from the closeness of his presence.
"Megumi," he interrupted her spiel. "I never hated you."
Tears she forgotten to cry years ago flooded her eyes and she turned away, unwilling to hear him after all these years.
"I never hated you."
She moved to the door and opened it. "See my nurse about setting up the MRI," she replied as if he hadn't spoken. She was almost gone and nearly didn't hear his last words.
"It was myself I hated, not you," he said softly.
She fled down the long hallway, seeking refuge in her cluttered office. Her hands wiped away the tears, touched her lips. No, Aoshi had truly been there. He hadn't been a ghost.