Tsukasa limped painfully down the darkened hallway. It had been a long walk back to the house, even with the support of his two friends, and now, he found he could hardly walk far enough to reach his bedroom. Groaning, Tsukasa leaned back against the wall, letting its reassuring solidity support him, It was going to be a long night, with only an uncertain future awaiting him in the morning. Perhaps he would've torn out his stitches again during the night, perhaps sepsis would set in. . . or maybe, there could still be the remote possibility that the ragged edges would start to close, the flesh knitting in on itself as his body sought to heal itself. Possible. . .But. . . doubtful. And Tsukasa refused to give in to foolish hope.

As he leaned up against the wall, listening to the uneven beating of his heart, Tsukasa felt overcome, as if the past day had been too much for him. He couldn't take all the revelations, all the fights, all the lectures, much longer. He just wanted everything to go away, like it had when he'd been totally amnesiac-- to leave him in peace. . .. It would have been so much simple to die then, slipping away easily, without a fight, just him and his pain. But now. . . Now he didn't want to. Now there were these. . . unresolved issues; this thing with Makino, this falling out with Rui. . . . Nothing was stable, nothing made sense. His head hurt almost as much as his side.

It was in this reflective frame of mind that Tsukasa became aware of a soft sighing nearby. His curiosity got the best of him, and he pushed away from the wall heading for the source of the noise.

Well duh. He grunted; a door. A bedroom door. Someone was sleeping or snoring. Nothing of interest. Still, as if obeying some secret command from his unconscious mind, Tsukasa's hand reached out to slide the door open, just the tiniest crack.

Inside, he could just make out the shape of the bed against the blackness, and the figures sprawled in sleep across it. Of course, he Would have to be drawn to the room containing Makino and Rui. Makino was curled tightly up, at the very edge of the bed-- almost falling out of it. Her jaw was clenched and her expression melancholy as she dreamed. It was her that he'd heard sighing just a few seconds before. Rui lay nearby, his long limbs flung across the bed with abandon. You'd think that, sharing a bed would be an intimate activity, at least in terms of physical proximity, if nothing else, but even a thick-skulled observer like Tsukasa could see that these two sleepers here weren't really united; that they held themselves apart as if afraid to touch, afraid to presume too much upon personal boundaries. Not the way a true couple should be.

And even as Tsukasa watched, Tsukushi let out another soft sigh; almost a groan, as a spasm almost like pain flashed across her sleeping face. And then, she spoke. It was hardly a whisper, but still it carried to Doumyouji's ears,

"Tsukasa. . ."

Doumyouji started, was she awake? Did she realize he was here? But no. . . It was just a dream. She said nothing more, but seemed to curl in tighter upon herself, if such a thing were even possible, her face contorted in a grimace of pain more mental than physical.

Tsukasa felt a wrench tug at his heart, a wave of dizziness passing over him. He wished he could do something to make that look vanish, to see her smile again. It wasn't a cerebral response, but something solely instinctual, arising from deep in his gut like a flash of revelation. If he could, he would do anything in his power to erase the sadness creasing her small face, to cause her fists to unclench, and her spine to uncurl; to pry her open like a flower in the sun, her smile the only glory the world needed.

But the moment passed. In the room, Rui rolled over, enfolding Tsukushi's small form into his embrace as if to shield her from the demons that tormented her, or as if to remind her of whom it was she really shared this bed, Not Doumyouji Tsukasa, the man who refused to remember her, but Hanazawa Rui, the man who would never be able to forget.

And as his view of Tsukushi became obscured by Rui's bulk, Tsukasa once more found his epiphany evaporating as rapidly as it had come. There was just a room, and his friends, and here was only him, tired and sore, but possessed no longer of overriding goals and needs relating to That girl, or Any girl. Simply himself, alone in his splendid, self-pitying isolation.

Even as Tsukasa swayed wearily, as if losing the last shred of his strength along with the vanished epiphany, an arm reached out from behind him to slide the door softly shut, and provide a shoulder to Tsukasa to lean on.

"Dude." Akira chided gently, as Tsukasa lost sight of Rui and Tsukushi, "You weren't meant to see that."

"But she cried my name." Tsukasa protested, almost pleading with Akira to bring back the feeling of strength and need he had so recently felt.

"Of course she did" Akira shrugged and put an arm around Tsukasa's back, helping him to limp, at long last, to his own bed. "Her mind and her heart are at war. That doesn't make for peaceful sleep." He shot Tsukasa a sharp look, as he helped him to climb into bed, "You should know what that's like after all."

"Huh?"

"You haven't slept well in weeks, have you?"

"Well, no. . . but." Tsukasa gestured at his side, as if that explained everything.

"It's more than that." Akira sighed, hating the fact that he got stuck with Tsukasa duty again, explaining fundamentally obvious realities to his ever-clueless friend. But someone had to force a few things through his dense skull before it was too late for any of this to do any good. Tiredly, he pulled up a chair and leaned back, as if trying to think of the proper way to phrase this. . . "OK. It's like this. You've got your conscious mind, and you've got your subconscious, right?"

"Uhh. . ."

"The answer is 'Yes.' Dude. Just go with it." Akira rubbed his temples in exasperation, "Your subconscious is really influenced by your body. Right? So like, take the case of Soujiro, for example, his subconscious mind, says, 'Hey look a hot girl, I bet she'd be a great lay." Luckily for him, his conscious is in total agreement, and it says, "Hell's yeah, let's buy her a drink, and find out." And that makes sense, and he sleeps well at night. You, on the other hand, are totally fucked up."

"Hey!" Tsukasa really resented being compared to the irresponsible playboy, and faring poorly in the comparison at that!

"Well look at you, dude!" Akira's voice rose a notch, "Your amnesia is totally mental! The doctors said your brain was fine! You only don't remember because your conscious mind doesn't want to remember! You can't tell me that's not fucked up! You could remember any time you so chose, but you don't want to. You're afraid! You're wallowing in self -pity and fear like little kid. Geez. . . "

"Akira. . . " Tsukasa growled dangerously. If he weren't so weak, his friend wouldn't dare insult him so to his face. He would pay later. . . Besides, Tsukasa was remembering. Just a trickle at a time. . . but it was something. . . And no one could call the great Doumyouji Tsukasa a coward. Not and get away with it!

"Anyway. . . the point is. . ." Akira continued more reasonably, recognizing the implicit threat in Tsukasa's tome, "Your brain may not remember. . .but your body can't forget. . . .You can't help responding to familiar cues. And you don't even know you're doing it. . . "

"And that's why I can't sleep?" Tsukasa asked incredulously, "What a stupid theory."

"Hey! It's not stupid!" Akira returned angrily, "Think about it like this! Thought was never your strong point anyway!" (He quickly scooted his chair out of Tsukasa's reach, ". . . so why let it ruin your life? Let your physical instinct take control. You might start to remember if you let your subconscious rule instead of your conscious."

"As I recall, you lectured me for doing that, already this evening." Tsukasa glowered remembering the lecture he'd just received for kissing Makino.

"Err. . Umm. . ." Akira struggled, trying to think his way out of the corner he'd painted himself into.

"Oh fuck it!" Tsukasa exclaimed at last, when Akira failed to spit out a coherent excuse, "You talk too much! I can't listen to anymore of your shit. I'm going to sleep. Get out!"

But even long after Akira had gone, Tsukasa couldn't help hearing his friend's words rattling around in his skull, If you want to remember, you'll let your subconscious rule. . . Well. . . it couldn't hurt to try. . .

If only he knew exactly what the hell that piece of advice actually meant. . .

To be continued.

~~~eh. Sorry for slow updates on all my fics. I didn't feel like writing this week. And I know this chapter has no plot. But I couldn't get it out of my head. Who needs plot anyway? Deal.~~~