A/N apologies for the wait! this chapter is the main catalyst for the actual pot (surprise theres a plot?) so i had to be a little more finnicky with it. I hope you enjoy it and thanks to everyone who commented, followed, and faved! all feedback means the world to me! thanks, now go read!

Chapter III: Breathe

Bookman tries not to admit it, but Lavi is definitely acting off. It's downright concerning, and the old man has been long believed worry to be something that others do and not him.

He closes the door to his apprentice's room as he lets out a long sigh. Lavi looked awful. He was too pale with flushed pink cheeks and displayed a sort of stubbornness that reminded him of a wounded animal that hunters had cornered. The lost look in his eye is really what concerned Bookman. He was struggling with something internal that was far more serious than broken bones and bruises. Something is obviously ailing him; the terrifying thing being that whatever is bothering the redhead is not physical wound that Bookman can treat.

As much as he would like to beat answers out of the boy, he can't. Lavi needs to be independent and struggle through this alone. The old man knows that someday he won't be here to take care of him. If he needs to talk, he will. At least, Bookman hopes he will.

He goes back to the infirmary, hoping to keep an eye on Allen Walker for the next few days. The child is growing ever more powerful and he wants to know why.

Bookman sighs and shuffles back to his infirmary bed; it's covered in papers and drawings. He hates to admit it, but he's starting to lose his touch. Lately he's needed his apprentice around to take care of the little details he keeps forgetting.

He buries himself in the difficult process of recording things for about an hour before realizing his apprentice still has not returned. All he needs is another reason to worry. The idiot probably passed out in a corner somewhere.

Bookman supposes he should go find him again.

*(*)*

It took Lavi a while to drag himself out of bed, and then it takes him another ten minutes on top of that for him to figure out where the hell he left his pens and archiving papers.

He doesn't take the old man's advice on going back to the infirmary; instead he meanders into the library and hides in a corner of historical nonfiction that no one ever goes near.

Lavi stares at the paper in front of him for exactly 51 minutes. He writes exactly 13 words before his shaking hands make it impossible for him to continue writing anything legible.

Upon fighting Road Camelot her abilities to recreate past events and manipulate memories-

He can't even get any work done. He's being distracted by stupid things like pain and anxiety that stems from something he should have a better handle on. He hates emotions. Love is his greatest enemy and apathy his greatest ally; all other things are meant to be discarded. But here they are, running rampant in his mind and making an awful mess.

Lavi presses lightly at the wound on his shoulder, wishing the aches would go away. He shouldn't be off pain meds yet. Every part of his body is just one huge ball of agony. He can't go back to the infirmary just yet. He needs to sort his shit out before he faces his 'friends' once again. But he isn't allowed to have friends so what does it matter? They're already worried though, and they think Lavi is their friend. He doesn't want to concern them. He'll be okay, he just needs to get back into the flow of things.

He goes through these statements at least a hundred times in his head in an attempt to calm himself, but if anything it just makes him more and more anxious.

-became very apparent. Her power tricks her victims into believing the dream she's forced them into-

The nib he's writing with snaps and the sound is loud enough to frighten him. He sets the pen done gently, his whole body trembling as he attempts to separate himself from the trauma he had endured under Road's hellish dream world.

Lavi stands so quickly his chair tips over and falls to the ground. He walks away rigidly, trying to disguise that he feels like his heart might explode.

His head is like a ball full of fluff and the sensation is driving him insane. His brain is his one constant asset; right now however it's making him feel panicked. The bookcases look like they're closing in on him and all the air seems to have left the room in a rush.

Lavi can't have friends. He's already grown attached. and soon Bookman will notice. Then he'll have to start all over again with a new name and a different personality. Right now, starting over sounds like a death sentence, and in a way it is. Very slowly, the unnamed boy had become his 49th alias. They are one and the same, and just the idea of shedding the name makes his entire being scream in outrage and confusion.

He pushes himself into a corner, breathing erratic and heart pounding. He tries to find comfort in the familiar smell of old books and the presence of history- everything he stands for. But everything from the past month has culminated and it's clawing for a release.

He hates anxiety attacks.

Here he had thought his last one two Christmas' ago was his last one. Bookman had taught him the value of meditating to keep them to a minimum. He had been hoping that two years without one meant he had grown out of them or something. Alas, that is not the case.

Lavi struggles with waves of nausea and violent tremors that wrack his being, all the while trying to take deep breath and coming up empty.

"Apprentice!"

The redhead nearly faints when the piercing shout breaks the silence.

"I know you're here somewhere."

Lavi can barely force his mouth open to let out a broken reply. "Go 'way," he says, hating the way his voice cracks horribly. He curls up tightly, shoving himself back into the corner as far as he can. He doesn't want Bookman to find him like this, but he also doesn't want to be alone.

The old man doesn't give him a choice though, and rounds the corner. "Stupid boy," he grumbles. "You think you can-." His eyes widen when he sees the state his apprentice is in.

Lavi buries his face in his arms, trying to ground himself with pain by digging his nails into his bruised shoulder. He can't breathe.

"Stop," Bookman says softly, peeling Lavi's hand away from his injury. "You're making it worse. How long have you been like this?"

"Three minutes?" The boy answers weakly. His pulse is ungodly fast and thready.

"Breathe in slowly for 7, out for 5."

Lavi does as he's told, wheezing slightly and feeling like he might keel over and die any moment.

Bookman goes about calmly taking out his acupuncture needles. He only presses a few of them into Lavi's hands and wrists, knowing exactly where the boy's pressure points are. With how badly Lavi is shaking it presents a slight challenge, but he manages quite well in spite of it.

Ten minutes pass before Lavi starts relaxing again and Bookman takes the needles out.

The old man has far more questions than answers now, and though he'd like to beat the answers out of his apprentice, he wouldn't dare to exacerbate his condition by asking about something that is very obviously sensitive.

Finally, Lavi gets back on his feet."Thanks for the help, Jiji."

"Have you not been meditating, Lavi?"

The redhead quietly shuffles to the desk he'd been working at and gathers up his papers. "I didn't get much of a chance this past month, but I did when I could."

"You haven't had an anxiety attack in years."

"I know."

The old man narrows his eyes at the boy. "What changed?"

Lavi instantly tenses, his whole body locking up. "Just… give me a few days to try and figure it out, I-."

"I don't trust you to do this on your own!" Bookman snaps. "I left you alone for an hour and I find you here, whimpering like a child and completely out of control."

"I'm not a child." Lavi hisses.

"Stop acting like it!" Bookman roars prior to stomping over to his apprentice and attaching his clawed finger to his forearm and yanking mercilessly.

Lavi twists out of his grasp, not particularly caring that it hurt. "Don't touch me! I'm not just some toy you can drag around and treat like shit. You can't just-" Suddenly Lavi trails off, and his head is spinning terribly yet aches at the same time, as if something is invading his skull.

"Lavi?"

If he weren't so busy passing out, he might almost believe that he heard concern in Bookman's voice.

Aren't you going to welcome me home, exorcist?

*(*)*

Reality comes back to him slowly, and then somehow crashes onto him all at once. His head still hurts like a bitch. He hears someone say his name gently and he recognizes the voice but he can't quite place it.

Lavi...

He opens his eye to see the Matron standing above him and very brutally stabbing him with a syringe to take blood. He yelps, and she immediatly pulls away, seeming very surprised.

"Hi there," he says lowly. His throat aches too, like he hasn't had water in days.

"How are you feeling? Any pain, nausea, dizziness?" The Matron rattles off the list with a sort of urgency he didn't expect.

"Head and throat hurts."

A new voice joins in, this one shrill and so obviously male that it confuses the poor redhead. "He's awake?" Komui rushes over and goes to pour him a glass of water. "We weren't so sure you were okay. You had us scared for a while."

Lavi sits up and practically downs the whole glass before replying. "I just passed out, I guess. My fever probably came back or so-."

"You've been unconscious for 26 hours," Komui says tersely.

Lavi freezes. "Well, fuck," he says unable to stop himself from chuckling. "Where's Bookman? He's gotta be mad that he had to carry me all by his brittle-boned self."

Here he comes.

"My bones aren't brittle, and I'm not mad."

Lavi jumps. "Holy sh-, stop doing that!"

Silly boy…

He whips his head around trying to figure out who the hell keeps whispering. It's infuriating. Bookman recaptures his attention by flicking his nose.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

Lavi bites his lip, trying to think back. he taps his fingers nervously against his leg. He says quietly, "I remember… having an anxiety attack and you finding me but… after that it's a blur."

"You're missing at least ten minutes from your memory, maybe more." Bookman sniffles, seeming disappointed. "I expected better from my apprentice."

You're not really that great at being a Bookman- but we already knew that.

Lavi finally snaps upon hearing the insult. "Okay what the hell? Someone tell that girl to shutup."

"Girl?" Three voices say automatically.

Guilty as charged.

"The only girl on this entire floor is Lenalee and she's asleep." Komui says slowly.

Oh, sweetie. Only you can hear me.

Lavi takes a shaky breath. "Nevermind. I'm just imagining things."

You're not imagining things, but, oh dearest Lavi, aren't you going to wish you were.