Part II Once upon a midnight dreary...

It was late. The battle had been fought hard, and despite our best efforts, despite everything we'd done, we'd lost. No physician ever took the loss of a patient well, but this hit me harder than most. Children always did.

It had started out fairly simple. Mariko was as excitable as any healthy, happy six year old. While climbing trees with her friends, she'd slipped, fallen, and landed hard on her shoulder. She'd broken her arm and her collarbone, but seemed otherwise all right. We'd set the arm without a problem and did the best for her shoulder, but being as active as she was, it was hard for her to limit her activities. So she'd used her arm and the shoulder fracture developed an infection. It spread quickly, so quickly that I later wondered if it had indeed been the shoulder, or had we missed something?

Now it was too late to make any difference. Mariko's parents could be heard wailing over the loss of their only child for quite a distance beyond their closed doors. Soon they would make arrangements; Genzaisensei and I had offered our help and been politely declined.

Still, despite all the skill and technology at our disposal, a young girl full of life and promise now lay dead. None of the most modern medicine or up to date techniques had been able to preserve her health. Nothing we had done - and we had done it all, done it as constantly as possible in these last few days - had been enough. The will of the gods be what it may; that doesn't mean anyone has to like it.

I had found a place to flee when I needed to be alone, to relish my solitude and allow myself the reactions that I could not have in front of others. Genzaisensei knew where it was, and Kensan had followed me there once, but as far as I knew, no one else knew I used it as my hideaway.

Up behind the shrine near the dojo was a little clearing. A little way out past that clearing was an old deer trail that led to a thicket under which two or three people could fit comfortably, if they were close, but was perfect as a hiding spot for one person.

It was there that I fled now, before the hot tears could show themselves, before the frustration and grief and anger that I felt could be allowed out in sobs that would wrack me as painfully as they always did, on those too-rare occasions that I gave in to them.

Kensan had been waiting up at the clinic, standing watch for either Genzaisensei or myself to return; if there were some other emergency he knew where we were and would come for one of us. The girls were staying at the dojo and Kensan had been kind enough to volunteer his services. He would be greeting my colleague alone, though of course they would both know where I was once Genzaisensei told Kensan what had come to pass. I prayed for his presence, and I prayed to be left alone. My heart weighed so heavily that I couldn't even decide what I wanted; I only knew that I needed to cry. I needed his love.

That, at least, I knew I would never have. But a good cry, that would be all too easy, once I was at my safe haven.

By that time I knew better than to ask why, or to wonder what I had done wrong. Even the most scientific mind must come to understand that some questions are not meant to be understood immediately. Some are better left unanswered. Perhaps little Mariko had served a higher purpose, and had achieved her celestial destiny. It was not my place to wonder why her end had been so difficult for everyone around her, and how much worse for her.

None of that meant I wasn't going to try anyway, of course.

Over time, I had sneaked old blankets and other basic needs of a hideaway here. Nothing fancy, just enough to cry in comfort, and some travel rations which I kept wrapped securely, away from the animals, in case of dire emergencies. And, of course, a first aid kit of my own making. All in all, it made for a rather secure little haven - as long as it wasn't raining hard enough to get through the trees and brush of my thicket.

I was prepared to spend the night, as it was well past midnight, and I was exhausted long before I arrived. I fully intended to cry myself to sleep, and nearly had when I heard the sounds of someone approaching.

The excess movements were clearly deliberate, an obvious ploy to ensure that I knew he was coming without giving anything away. Kensan was one of the stealthiest men in existence; he had to consciously make the decision to be noisy and I knew it usually bothered him. I sat up and tried to neaten my hair, adjusting my kimono back from where it had slipped down, almost over my shoulder. Still, it was moments before I heard him calling my name, which nearly brought the tears back with the warmth and concern in his voice. He didn't want to wake me if I was asleep, but he didn't want to startle me either. I half expected him to stay out of sight, making sure that I was breathing before turning around. I was wrong; for the first time, he came into my sanctuary. He hesitated; I could see him in the darkness, though not well, and I knew he could see me.

I knew I looked a mess; my hair was windblown and entangled with twigs. My kimono showed signs of the struggles I had endured against my patient's failing health and against the forest's own obstacles. And my face I did not doubt echoed the ravages of grief, frustration, and fatigue. Under pretty much any other circumstances, I'd rather go back to that evil creature who had so dominated my life than appear in front of Kensan this way.

The way things stood, however, my need for his presence outweighed even my pride.

"Kensan..." I hated the way my voice quavered. Such weakness was hardly becoming.

"Megumidono." He did not smile at me, but beneath his thick red hair, his gaze was warm with sympathy and understanding - and just a bit of nervousness. He had only seen me this vulnerable once before - no, twice, now that I thought about it. There had been the time, very shortly after I'd first met him and the Kenshingumi. In the tower alone, I had been on the verge of doing to myself what Kanryuu would have eventually, when they had come in... And then, after Kensan's own life had almost been forfeit, I had done the unthinkable - broke down in front of my patient. It was one thing, perhaps, to cry in front of the man I loved; another entirely to do so while treating a patient.

After that incident, I told Kaoru I was standing aside, letting go of Kensan and any hopes for romance from him. Lies, of course, but important in order to heal...

While it was true I had given up the fight, I had never given up my love. And now, here in the darkness of the thicket, where the faint moonlight barely came through and the best indication of human presence was the sound of breathing...

"Kensan." Again my voice broke, as uncertain as an adolescent boy. I winced, even as I knew he would hear even that slight movement.

"Daijoubu de gozaru ka?" He was standing just outside the entrance to my hiding place.

"Ee." Another lie, and even as I uttered the small affirmative, I heard him kneel down.

"May I come in?"

I could not bring myself to answer aloud. Instead I moved back to allow him room. Hearing my movements, he crawled in, a darker silhouette against the night.

I curled in against myself again as I heard him settle in. "I couldn't do anything, Kensan. Nothing we did made any difference. She DIED, Kensan, she's dead and she was a child, hardly more than a baby, and now she's dead..." The tears flowed fresh again and I could not hold them back. Not, at that point, that I particularly wanted to do so.

No doctor ever liked losing a patient, and I less so than many. This was not just a career. It was more even than just a calling to me, but my repentance. Healing was, in no small part, my way of atoning for the sins I had committed, both knowingly and unknowingly, and largely against my will under the cruel mastery of Takeda Kanryuu. To have failed, even against impossible odds, was an unforgivable breach in my own eyes. What I had done in those days I had believed was merely a matter of survival. My own was paramount; if others chose to destroy themselves with foolish things like drugs it was hardly my place to say no. Then, once I had the chance to stop it, I had believed that my own death would be the only escape, the only worthy penitence. Kensan had taught me differently. He and the others had reminded me what it was like to have people to care for - and who cared about me in return. In only a few short days they brought back the feelings of family and friendship I had long thought lost to me forever. It had scared me so, at the time, because such good things could only be lost.

Naturally I knew better now, but the frailty of life and its ties was only made the more unbearable at a time such as this. Kensan was completely aware of all this and had been for nearly as long as I had; reading people was always a skill of his and one he had worked hard to master.

Even in the darkness, he read me. And as he had never done before, in the secrecy of the thicket in the night, he reached to hold me, that I might cry my agony out in his strong embrace. Drawing upon his strength calmed me, at last, until the sobs that left me nauseous subsided into a state of near trance. The pain was still there and would take time to fade, but the long cry had already done a lot to help the healing process.

I realized I had never felt so safe as I did there with him since my family had been torn apart by war, so many years ago. Once again, tears slid down my cheeks, but this time the very feeling behind them was different, and Kensan detected it.

I felt content. I also knew, too well, that this was not my right. The man who held me now, and who had held my heart from the moment we'd met, belonged by rights to another.

"Megumidono?" If anything, his voice was softer than before, hardly more than a whisper in the cool darkness.

I made a small sound of inquiry, afraid to let go of the fragile moment. I felt his fingers beneath my chin, his silhouette searching for my eyes. I could make out his features, barely, but his vision was better than mine. The little light that filtered down from the moon gave him the advantage, showing him my own face more clearly.

"Megumidono, listen to me." he whispered. My heart began racing, but for a new reason. With him holding me the way he was, looking up at him I could feel his breath on my lips.

"Kensan, I -"