Author's note: See? I'm a considerate angst-monger and tormentor of characters which belong to other people. I break them, and then I put them back together again. Still no yaoi, but those of you who like seeing Sanzo helpless and submissive are free to fantasize. I'll just be over here, hiding from the Wrath of Sanzo.

Hakuryuu chirps inquiringly at me as I slip back into the room Goku and Gojyo are sharing. All will be well, I tell her in a pulse of chi as I kneel by Goku's bed. He's pale and sweating, and his chi is patchy and dark. Whatever Homura did to him, he'll be several days recovering just from the look of his chi. I run my hands quickly down his limbs and torso, getting a general overview of the damage done to bones and organs. Luckily, the little bit of organ damage he suffered seems to be healing on its own. A quick touch-up to make sure it's on the right track, and the rest can wait. It's not enough to kill him, and until his chi comes back to a more normal-looking state, I don't really want to be poking too much at his body.

Gojyo is awake and looking at me as I get to my feet and cross the room to his bed. As with Goku, I run my hands briskly down his body, feeling where the injuries are from the grey patches in his energy system. No broken bones, but several fractures and moderate internal organ damage. Gojyo says nothing as my hands come to rest on his abdomen, but I can feel his wince as the tissues knit back together. I don't have the energy to heal the organs fully, but I nudge them about halfway to fully healed. Gojyo doesn't use his chi, so his reserves are full and his body will heal the rest within a day or two.

"Oy, Hakkai." His voice is cracked and dry. "Can you do something about this pain? I'd like to sleep sometime so I don't have to listen to that stupid monkey snoring all night." He tries to give me a teasing look, but it comes out as a grimace.

"I'll get you something to drink," I reassure him, and he nods.

The innkeeper is surprised to see me up and about, but is more than happy to give me free run of his kitchen when I explain my desire to look after my companions. Sanzo must have impressed him favorably, which is a minor miracle in and of itself. Somehow, the falling night outside the windows in the kitchen doesn't surprise me. Between the state Sanzo was in and the state I was in, it's not hard to guess that he was feeding me steadily through the day. If it took me most of the day to regain consciousness, even with a chi-intensive food such as he was feeding me, then I really was close to dying. He saved my life again. The guilt is trampled beneath the knowledge that forcing him to break down like that and get things out of his system is the best way I could have repaid him. It doesn't take me long to get a small pitcher of clean water and a glass, and I return to the double room within a minute or two. A slight frown crosses my face as I realize I should have brought the bowl and spoon with me to the kitchen. Gojyo watches me weakly as I infuse the water with the sort of chi usually reserved for Sanzo's "tea", and gratefully drinks the glass I pour for him. Within a minute he's out cold, face relaxing as the pain is dulled. I gently check Hakuryuu for lasting damage, but aside from a bit of energy-drain, she's fine. The palette of blankets I'd been resting on all day is unwieldy, but I drag it out of the double room and spread it out against the far wall in Sanzo's single room.

Between the unnatural combination of my youkai chi, my human body, and the environments I lived in while getting used to that combination, I am a light sleeper. As long as I am not suffering from severe energy drain, even quiet noises or changes in the chi around me will cause me to wake up. So when Sanzo makes a mewling sound in the middle of the night, I come awake instantly and focus on his chi, searching for any hint of trouble. The room is completely dark, but with the vulnerable state I left him in, his chi is clearly visible to me. He is still lying down, his chi a startling cross between the blue of a clear sky and a soft lilac, but shot through with an eye-searing orange that indicates panicky worry.

"Sanzo?" I call his name softly, unsure if he's awake or just dreaming.

"Sanzo?" He echoes, and then the orange streaks multiply tenfold. "Master Sanzo? Where's Master Sanzo?"

The voice is at least an octave higher than normal and he sits bolt upright, looking around frantically. I've heard this voice before, when he's sick and his mind reverts to when he was a child. Normally I would just assure him that Master Sanzo is fine, but this situation is different. He's not sick; his mind is not fogged with illness. He is not protected by the walls he usually has around him, and these two facts combined mean that he will likely have already sensed my chi. I lick dry lips at what I am about to do. The way Sanzo reacts to my presence when he's vulnerable has always unnerved me, especially after the night I made him promise. It forces me to realize that he holds me in the same respect as he held his mentor, places that same amount of deep-seated trust in me. If he trusts and respects me that much when he's defenseless, then the inevitable conclusion is that he also trusts and respects me that deeply even when he's fully capable of taking care of himself. . . and I could never be worthy of such a flattering comparison to his mentor.

At the moment, however, I have two options. I can either open my mouth and cross a line I have no right to cross, or I can do nothing. Knowing that he's probably sensing my chi and associating me with his predecessor, I could sit here and do nothing to ease that panicky worry. I swallow; that second course of action is not an option.

"Kouryu," I call softly, my voice as calm and reassuring as I can make it. Sanzo looks directly at me as I stand slowly, the orange in his chi fading to yellows and pinks – concern for someone he cares about.

"Master Sanzo?" The question is more seeking reassurance than anything else.

"It's alright, Kouryu." Three steps take me to the bed; I evade actually claiming to be the former Sanzo and seat myself on the edge, broadcasting a warm affection.

Sanzo flings his arms around my waist and lays his head in my lap, calling me by his mentor's name and quite obviously in the mindset of a decade past. He begins weeping, as though he were again the child he was back then. I find myself in the awkward role of pretending to be the former Sanzo and comforting 'Kouryu' about 'my' own death. Luckily, a hand on his shoulder and comforting chi are enough as Sanzo mourns the death of his mentor. This is probably the first time he has let himself mourn that horrible loss, and as uncomfortable as I am in pretending to be such an important man, I am grateful that my ruse is giving him some small scrap of comfort.

For the second time in a half a day, I let Sanzo cry himself out and then tuck him back in. I remain seated for a minute, one hand still on his shoulder. Through my chi, I send Sanzo into a deeper sleep – he needs to rest after today – and then return to my own palette.

I wake just before dawn, feeling better than I have since Kanan was abducted. My chi has returned to normal, although my reserves are nearly empty. Sanzo is sleeping peacefully. When one is recovering from a physical wound, one avoids using that portion of the body, so as to let the healing continue uninterrupted. What I did to Sanzo last night certainly counts as wounding, but how does one go about letting an emotional wound heal?

Break the routine.

A quick push with my chi, and Sanzo returns to deep sleep. He'll wake in an hour or so, and most likely be slightly out of it when he does. I shut the door quietly and find the bathing room; a quick wash and chi-freshening of my clothes, and off to the kitchen. Normally, for Sanzo, I'd prepare semi-bland foods I know his stomach won't complain about. I usually don't prepare very much because it usually doesn't get eaten; Sanzo will pick at it, eat a few bites halfheartedly, and leave the rest. This is a routine three years old at the least. Slightly giddy at not having the weight of my guilt and worthlessness weighing me down, I decide to break my side of the routine and see if I can shock Sanzo out of his. Since I've been given free reign of the small kitchen – this inn doesn't serve large meals – I go all out, preparing a miniature version of the breakfast I'd prepare for Goku and Gojyo. I still make sure all the foods are things that won't upset Sanzo's stomach, but the dishes are much more lavish than I would normally prepare – for either of us. I make sure there is plenty of egg and other chi-intensive foods; I will have to heal the other two, and my reserves are still very low. The last dishes are just about done when Sanzo's unguarded chi enters the small dining room. I transfer them to serving dishes and bring them out, setting them by Sanzo. He's standing in a daze, over-robe still in his room, one black-sleeved hand on the back of a chair, looking at the food as though not quite believing that it's actually there.

Normally, I would pull out the chair and wait for Sanzo to seat himself. Thus, today, I merely seat myself across from him and start serving myself. He blinks, then sits down and watches my hands absently.

"You should try some of this," I tell him cheerfully, pointing to a dish by him. "It came out rather well."

He looks up at me, startled, and clumsily scoops a portion of food onto his plate. The look he gives it is one of mild astonishment, amazement that it's there at all. I continue to eat; I want to get Gojyo's and Goku's internal injuries taken care of. After a few minutes, however, Sanzo is still looking at his plate in astonishment.

"Are you going to eat that?" I gesture with my fork, the way Goku would.

". . . yes." Still off-balance, Sanzo starts eating, and I polish off one of the egg dishes.

He keeps shooting me looks that aren't glares, merely puzzled and trying to figure out why I'm acting so unlike myself. I return them with amused glances and teasing smiles, but never the mask-like smiles I've been using to cover my emotions. When I've eaten enough to restore my chi reserves, I slip into the kitchen and come back with two more plates. Half of the remaining breakfast foods go onto those plates, and then I take them back into the kitchen and cook the rest of Goku and Gojyo's breakfasts. Sanzo is still at the table when I come back, slowly eating as though unable to believe that it is his hand lifting the food to his mouth. He fixes me with a look of mute panic as I pass.

I set one plate down on the table and clasp his shoulder reassuringly – physical contact is usually avoided. "I'm going to bring the other two something to eat and check them over. You're welcome to stay here and keep breakfast company," I tease gently, letting my chi reassure him that Gojyo and Goku will be staying in their room for a few days yet.

Sanzo nods, still not saying anything, and I retrieve the plate. His chi is an unusual mix of concern and uncertainty, swirls of orange-pink and sparks of blue-white on a background of vulnerable lilac. I've broken his walls, and he either hasn't decided or hasn't been able to re-build them yet. He'll likely be quiet and vulnerable for a few days, but that's better than bottling everything up again. Opening the door to the double-room requires some creative balance, but I am able to wrestle it open and nudge it shut behind me. Gojyo is awake, propping himself up on one elbow to take his breakfast. He doesn't bother sitting up, just eats propped up with the plate resting on the bed and Hakuryuu perched next to it, eating the bits Gojyo nudges her way. The jug of water is considerably lower then it was last night; he must have woken up once the chi in it wore off and needed to dull the pain again.

Goku is staring blankly up at the ceiling. He blinks owlishly at my approach, barely recognizing me. His injuries aren't bad enough to prevent him from sitting up, but he's so out of it that I have to lift him into a sitting position and set the plate on his legs before he realizes that there's food in front of him. While he's eating absently, I prod at his chi. Those dark patches are still there, worrying me. They're slightly smaller, so I have to assume that it's something that his chi will fix by itself. I quickly finish the healing one of the brighter patches had been working on; with no more internal organ damage, the patch of brighter chi drifts down to one of the fractured bones. Even the brighter bits aren't anywhere near what his chi normally looks like. I tease a dark splotch gently, infusing it with some of my chi. It brightens a bit, and I make a mental note to feed Goku very chi-heavy foods to help with what must have been severe energy-drain. When he's done eating, I make him lie back down and push him into a deep sleep so that he can heal without aggravating his wounds or his roommate.

Gojyo's done with his breakfast by the time I've finished checking Goku. He watches me intently as I continue healing his internal organ damage. My reserves are still lower than I'd like them to be, and with what we just went through, I don't want to have something come up and be without the energy to take care of it. What's left is moderate to severe bruising of the organs, no punctures or tears, and will heal naturally in the next day or so.

"Hey . . . are you okay?" His voice is still scratchy, but not as bad as it was yesterday.

"Yes," I answer simply, the truth of that one word surprising him.

"How's Sanzo?" There is hesitant worry in Gojyo's voice.

"He'll be a few days recovering," I say evasively, but the truth of the statement satisfies Gojyo. "I'll bring you some more water."

"How 'bout some smokes?"

"That depends," I tease, "on if you can sit up long enough to smoke them."

He laughs a little ruefully as I gather up the dishes and the water jug and slip out of the room. Sanzo looks up hopefully as I approach the table.

"Just a minute," I say as I pass. "I need to bring Gojyo more water."

He nods and pushes a bit of food around a plate; he's eaten more than he normally would in two meals. It's the work of a few seconds to fill the jug and infuse the water with chi that will knock Gojyo out and dull his pain, and another few seconds to bring him the jug and close the door behind me.

"I'm going shopping," I tell Sanzo's expectant look. "We need food supplies; Goku and Gojyo will need to eat to replenish their strength. You don't have to come; you can stay here, if you like."

Do you mind if I tag along? Sanzo's eyes beg. I need human contact.

". . . or, if you prefer, you can join me."

It's a little unsettling to see him so . . . timid, but he is visibly relieved at the second option and gives me a sharp nod.

"I'll be just a minute." The first words he's spoken all day are soft, hesitant.

At my nod, Sanzo returns to his room and comes out wearing his usual robe. The Maten Scripture is not draped around his shoulders, but the slight bulge on one side tells me that he has it under his robe somewhere. He comes to a stop a few feet from me and stands there uncertainly until I stride confidently towards the inn's door. I lead him through town until we reach the market; he drifts along behind me like a lost puppy, or like the way I followed him back before he gave me my name. I haggle with the stall-keepers with more self-assurance and less forced politeness than I usually do, buying more meats and dairy products than usual with an eye towards boosting chi levels. When the parcels and bags start to get unwieldy, there is a soft brush against my sleeve. I turn around and am faced with a diffident Sanzo offering wordlessly to carry the assorted groceries.

"Thank you," I say in a quietly encouraging tone as I pile foodstuffs into his arms.

He gives me a startled sort of look and ducks his head, and we continue shopping. I'm not used to having him there while I buy groceries. Between the unexpected feel of his chi behind me and a nagging worry that the crowd will separate us, I keep looking back at him every few steps. He seems very distracted, looking at everyone that passes but not really seeing them. The way he flinches from accidental contact is much more pronounced than it usually is, and I can see his chi flinch away, as well. My glances always seem to anchor him, drawing his eyes and giving some measure of refuge. I make the glances as reassuring and encouraging as I can, and wrap up the shopping. Sanzo is between a rock and a hard place; he needs the reassurance of a familiar aura, and given the options of 'stay at the inn by himself' and 'subject his vulnerable mind to the riot of chi in the market', he has opted to come with me. That, by itself, tells me how defenseless last night has made him, and out of concern for his mental state I cut the expedition short.