The morning fog petulantly refused to burn off, despite the combined effort of Tsukushi and Shigeru to act like surrogate suns. The damp and gloom seemed to settle itself deep into Doumyouji's bones, and he twitched irritably in his chair. Chills and aches niggled at the edge of his consciousness, no matter how he shifted. He feared he was contracting a fever. Unfortunately, the poor doctor, who'd spent much of the previous day cowering in the servant's quarters from the drama and the angst of the hyperactive and moody youngsters, agreed with Doumyouji's diagnosis.

"You've got a bit of suppuration, there," he murmured analytically, as he unwrapped the previous day's bandages from Tsukasa's side. "I'm going to have to clean that out. . . And how did you pop another stitch?" Try though he might, he was unable to hide the exasperation in his tone, and he cringed from the expected blast of Doumyouji-rage. Unexpectedly, Tsukasa didn't rise to the bait.

"Walking." Was his tight-lipped reply.

"Well, you won't be doing any of that today, that's certain." The doctor sniffed. "On the plus side, here, where you haven't ripped your stitches, I do see some signs of tissue regeneration. But you're still bleeding over here. And if you're not careful, you're going to end up with a full blown case of sepsis." He glanced sharply up at the sweating boy, "And that can be fatal, you know. . . . See here, I'm going to drain the infection, restitch this gap, and start you on oral antibiotics. By all rights, young man, you should never have left the hospital. We could have you back in Tokyo, under sterile conditions, with a proper IV drip in an hour. . . I'd be much more confident of your safe recovery then,"

"No." Tsukasa growled, "And don't you dare call my mother, or fever or not, I'm walking out that door and leaving this place for somewhere they'll never find me."

The doctor paused, torn between his desire to give the best possible care, and the threat that his recalcitrant patent might do himself further injury by running away.

"We'll make sure he doesn't move from this spot!" Akira piped up from where he'd been lounging on the couch.

"Yeah, though we might have to tie him down to do it!" Soujiro agreed.

"Well then." The doctor looked more than a little dubious. But this was probably the best option in a bad situation. So be it.

------

Much like the first day up at the retreat, the morning dragged on wearily for Tsukasa. He was a creature of movement and restless energy. This state of enervation and forced lassitude didn't suit him at all. But what could he do? The fever sapped his strength, as the aching pain in his side reminded him of what a poor idea movement was. His friends kept him company in rotating shifts, first Akira and Soujiro, whose casual banter had all the telltale signs of trying too hard. These two were succeeded by Sakurako, who flounced into the room with an unmistakable air of disapproval.

"You've got problems." She came straight to the point.

"No shit, Sherlock." Tsukasa tried to fume, but in his current state, a growl sounded more like a plea for help.

"I wasn't talking about your health, dumbass." Sakurako sniffed, "Unless perhaps we're talking about your mental health. Physically, whatever, you're a brute, or at least, you used to be. So stop being such a pansy and pull yourself together! My god man, your problem is entirely mental. Fix that, and your body will fucking fix itself!"

Tsukasa's eyes widened at Sakurako's tone. (not to mention the fact that her advice echoed similar word of Makino's from the previous day). Looking over at her, he realized that she seriously was pissed off -- her pretty cheeks flushed with rage, her eyes sparkling with anger. Why was everyone pissed off at him all the time? Why did they all assume everything was his fault? Tsukasa could feel his spine stiffen defensively, even as Sakurako continued.

"I've been watching you, you know. I'm good at that, in case you hadn't remembered-- watching you that is," she snorted delicately, "I've had plenty of practice over the years, after all. I saw you and Shigeru last night, your little tete a tete on the porch. And I was awake later last night too -- you think I didn't hear you and Tsukushi? I passed up on my beauty sleep, you know, that's why I'm such a wreck today. And I heard you this morning at breakfast. You've got problems, Doumyouji Tsukasa! Your head just isn't screwed on right."

"What the fuck?" Tsukasa rasped, "Why the hell are you all against me? And what the fuck does Monkey-girl have to do with anything?"

"Dumb as a brick, as ever." Sakurako sighed, "Sometimes I don't know why we bother. Tell me, what were you and Shigeru talking about last night, there in the dark, your heads so close together? Do you think you're not encouraging her, setting her up for a fall? You know she has a thing for you, but you're confused, you don't know what you want. For fucks' sake, Tsukasa! You were kissing me a few days ago! Now you may as well be trysting with Shigeru in the in-between times that you're not confusing the hell out of Tsukushi! And I for one, would like to know what the hell is going through your teensy little mind!"

"Trysting with Shigeru?" Tsukasa murmured, confused, "It wasn't like that -- I had .. . .I had a dizzy spell. And we talked."

"You encouraged her!"

"I don't know what you're talking about! I have no interest in that monkey- girl."

"No, no, of course not." Sakurako sneered. "And Tsukushi?"

"She. . . I don't know!" Tsukasa cursed explosively, "You think I like having amnesia!?"

"You know more than you're admitting though." Trust sly, sneaky Sakurako to know when the full truth was being concealed, "Spit it out. What have you remembered?"

"None of your business!"

"Everything is my business." Sakurako replied with utter self-assurance. "Especially as it concerns you being an ass with your friends. Like I said, you gotta get your brain sorted out, and the rest will follow. Bad thoughts will turn you ugly, and no one wants that."

"How am I supposed to sort any of this out?" Tsukasa's voice shook with frustration, "Nothing makes any sense to me! I've got these fragments of memory, a few images, some random bits and pieces here and there, you know? They come back like someone beating me on the head with hammers, like I'm falling into a black hole, like being electrocuted! You think that's fun? And what I do remember? It's always her, her, her. Makino! Crying, yelling, bruised and bloody! And tears, endless tears! Why the hell do girls cry so much, and why is that all I remember?" At the same time, here, you know, I'm in the middle of another fucked up drama! What the hell am I supposed to think when that same girl shows up dating Rui, my best friend. But claiming it's me she loved. And again, there's yelling and tears! You know? Last night, you said you heard -- so I kissed her, it seemed like the thing to do, It felt right! Like kissing you, was almost right, but not quite. . . that was right, it was familiar! But how can it be right, how come it felt so . . natural, when all I remember is tears and pain! It makes no sense. And It's no wonder I don't want to remember it! But then, on the other hand, all my friends are picking at me, telling me to do this, don't do that, like they all know what's best for me, and for her? How can they, how can you, know the right thing? You're not me! You haven't lived through what I have!"

"You don't even know what you've lived through." Sakurako scoffed, "I do. So quit being such a spoiled whiner. Sometimes, even I have to admit that Tsukushi was right about you. Spoiled all your life, used to having people cringe and bow, and do exactly s you told them; thinking you were special, lording it over all. Tsukushi changed all that once. But now here you are, back at it again. It makes me sick!"

Again, Tsukasa snapped back in his chair, her word hitting him with the force of a slap in the face. She sounded exactly like Tsukushi. Again. telling him he was too spoiled to live, just as she had. But he'd show them. He'd told Makino, before the returning memories had started to sap his strength again, that he could be stronger than your average hot-house flower, that he would survive. Telling Sakurako now would be a waste of words. No, he had to show her, show them all, that he wasn't just a whiner; that he would recover physically, and mentally; and that he would make sense of his feelings, he would know just what to do, and he'd do it. They didn't understand, his words could not explain, and so, he'd have to demonstrate. . .Yes, that's it, no more questions, he, the Almighty Doumyouji Tsukasa had always hated being questioned. So why should he question himself? Screw memory, who needed it anyway? He'd gotten through life thus far with no head for languages, already proving his defective mental capacities, but had that stopped him? Hells no! Why should such a thing as memory?

Instinct, that was it, instinct and action. That was the key. It had never let him down before.

So be it.

Doumyouji relaxed back in his chair, for what felt like the first time in months. In a few seconds, everything had become crystalline clear, and he no longer worried about what had been, what might have been, or what might yet come to be. There was only now. And now, it was time to sleep; time to regain his strength; time to led modern medicine finish the job it had started. All else would follow from that.

Sakurako watched in stunned disbelief as Doumyouji broke off from their argument to rest his head back on the overstuffed cushioned.

"I think I'll sleep now." He explained without opening his eyes. And it was true, within a few minutes his pained features had relaxed finally into the simple serenity of a child.

"Mission accomplished?" Sakurako muttered to herself questioningly, when it became obvious that Tsukasa really wasn't going to wake up anytime soon. "Right then, On to the next victim. Tsukushi or Rui? . . . Guess I'd better flip a coin. . . ." and so saying she stood up, primly dusting off imaginary dust from her skirt, and headed out for the mist-shrouded gardens outside.

TBC.