Chapter 3

Sometimes I feel like I'm a bird with broken wings

I clenched my fist, peripherally aware of the nurse beside me working the blood pressure pump but not really focussing on her presence. The male nurse had apparently been taken off duty for giving me the opportunity to sneak out, but the female was getting a little more used to me now, I thought, in that at least she looked me in the face and didn't flinch or hesitate when she needed to touch me, even if she remained wary. It would do; given how I'd reacted the first time this same woman had given me a sponge-bath, I couldn't blame her for being cautious.

If only I could remember her name. I'd been listening but not once since I'd woken up could I recall hearing anyone call her anything but 'nurse'. It made me feel guilty, but after all this time it was just too awkward to admit that I didn't know it. (Or maybe it was by request. If I didn't know her names I couldn't find her again. That thought had made me go cold.)

There was a rasping sound as she pulled the armband open. "All done," she said, with a passable attempt at a smile.

"How am I?" I asked with an answering smile, and to her credit she didn't flinch the way her colleague always had. Actually, was it just me or did her expression get fractionally warmer?

Couldn't be.

"Blood pressure's still a little high, but otherwise you're fine. How do the wounds feel?"

Experimentally I straightened, pressing a hand to my side where my stitches had once been. Kitano had taken them out a few days ago, and it still felt a little strange when I stretched and didn't feel the slight pull that told me I was going as far as I should. "Fine."

That was good. Maybe it meant I could take a longer wander through the ward, and then I could visit Ichigo until Aina or Yuudai came by in the meantime.

"Excellent." Sakaki's voice made me jump and hiss a curse, and I snapped around to see him and Kitano in the doorway.

"So much for my blood pressure," I muttered, and shot the nurse a wry grin. She looked startled, then laughed, then cut herself off as if she wasn't sure if that's what she was supposed to do, her eyes darting toward Sakaki.

Sakaki chuckled, and if my grin was a little wider when I turned to him I couldn't care. She'd laughed.

"Good news, Wataru," Kitano said cheerfully, coming toward the bed carrying a bundle of clothes. It was actually a little weird—the whole time I'd seen him Kitano had never looked as happy as he did now. On one hand that fact (and what he carried) made my heart lift with hope; on the other my chest clenched a little with the implication. "You're being released."

Bingo. For a moment I wanted to beam and feel irritable at the same time. He didn't need to be so blatantly happy that he didn't need to deal with me anymore. But then again … I was being released. That meant I really was okay.

The beam won out. He was letting me go. The meds were working. I was okay. Fucking brilliant.

Sakaki chuckled. "I thought you'd be pleased by that," he said. "But you're not quite cleared for active duty, Wataru. First you'll need to complete your physical therapy, and obviously there are many things about our procedures that you've forgotten and will need to relearn."

"And," Kitano continued, his expression sobering slightly, "you'll need to visit with either me or the base psychologist regularly, to make sure the meds keep working as they should and that you're coping alright with the change."

I let out a barking laugh. "Doctor, if that's all I've got to do to get out of here, then let me out already." This hospital ward was all I remembered. I was beyond ready to be leaving it—only this time it would be with permission.

"Very well," Sakaki said with an indulgent smile. "Go ahead and change, and I will show you the base."

My heart skipped a beat. So I wasn't just being released—I was being explained things. My cheeks hurt with the responding grin as I stood and took the clothes and shoes Kitano held out to me, hurrying into the bathroom to change.

It didn't even occur to me until after I'd unfolded the clothes that what I was about to put on could well be one of those baggy monstrosities I'd seen Aina and Rafael wearing, but to my relief it wasn't. Actually, it wasn't a uniform at all, just slacks and a black turtleneck, but that was better even than the sweatpants and sweatshirt I'd been wearing since the IV was taken out.

When I came out again, running a hand through my hair, the nurse was gone and both Sakaki and Kitano stood by my bed, the former reading something off a sheet of paper and the latter taking pill bottles out of a paper bag. The sight made me slow, and I took a breath to stave off the sinking feeling I got as I came back down to reality. Of course—my medication. I couldn't forget that.

Kitano glanced up and saw me, and smiled slightly, sweeping a hand over the bag. "I need to go over these with you before you leave, but it won't take long, I promise."

I inhaled again and nodded, dropping my old clothes on the bed and turning toward him. "But before that," Sakaki said mildly, stopping me with a hand on my chest and holding out a glasses case. I blinked and took it, bemused, and Sakaki chuckled, handing me the paper he'd been holding. "Read that for me."

I glanced down at the page and blinked again at the blurry letters. Far too blurry, in fact, in a way the huge letters on the doors in the passageway hadn't been from a decent distance. "Oh." I needed reading glasses?

Apparently so. The paper, I saw as soon as I'd put the glasses on, was a list of instructions for my medication—which was just as well because even though the bottles were labelled the technical names were a little daunting. Kitano went over them with me quickly, but warned me to ask for help if I ever got confused or something started feeling off. No need to worry there; Yuudai's photographs flashed, unbidden, through my head.

Never going to happen, I told myself, exhaling. Not as long as I'm careful.

"Are you ready, Wataru?" Sakaki asked. His eyes were back to glittering again.

"Beyond ready," I answered instantly, clutching the bag of pill bottles and turning toward him.

He smiled and clapped a hand to my shoulder. "Then walk with me, Wataru. And ignore any surprise from the other agents; I have been telling them this day would come. They'll just have to get used to seeing you beside me—again."

The last word was thoughtful, almost an afterthought, really, but I didn't dwell on it. There was probably a lot that Sakaki wasn't telling me, but his words implied that he would—soon. Instead I gave Kitano a cheery wave and followed Sakaki toward the door.

"I have been wondering," I started as we left the room, my heart pounding, "exactly what it is we do."

"Ah." Sakaki smiled lightly. "That has a complicated answer, Wataru, one I shall explain more fully once we've reached the base proper. I believe we may have something of an audience in the ward."

So saying, he pushed open the doors leading into the main section of the wing with hardly a break in his stride, and I followed. Automatically my eyes flickered toward Ichigo and Marilyn's corner, and in fact I saw Ichigo pushing himself up, looking as if he was about to say something before he registered who I was with and his eyes and grin widened in equal measure. He lobbed a pillow over at Marilyn without looking away and I heard her irritable "what?", but I didn't see if she found out 'what' because of the sudden hush that fell over the rest of the ward.

My step faltered when I looked away and saw just how many startled and shocked gazes were turned in our direction. Then, just as quickly, they shifted away as if they hadn't seen anything at all. I took another quick step to catch up with Sakaki, taking a deep breath and shoving down the anxiety building in my stomach. The ripple of whispers we left in our wake didn't help. Yes, he'd said this would draw attention, but it hadn't quite sunk in. I locked my eyes on the door to the main base and refused to look around.

Stepping out of the med-ward was just the same as walking down the corridor to my room barring two major differences. The corridors were still cement-walled, with steel pylons and no windows except those set into the doors, but, firstly, this corridor smelled differently—the medical wing smelled like antiseptic and bandages. The main corridor was somehow weightier, earthier, and smelled like stone and steel.

The second difference was that it was a thoroughfare. By the time the doors had swung shut behind me three agents had already hurried past, giving brief but respectful nods to Sakaki without seeming to notice me.

At least, not until a few moments later, after Sakaki started talking and moved forward down the corridor. "The Team is something of a paramilitary force. We're not government-sanctioned, unfortunately, for reasons you will discover soon enough, but we have clear goals and are highly dedicated."

I was only half listening, since that was when there was a split-second lull in traffic and the agents who had just passed, dipping their heads at Sakaki and skating over me, did a double-take as they realised just who their employer was talking to. If my gut hadn't been clenched so tightly I'd have laughed.

"What are our goals?" I asked, focussing on the corridor ahead. The traffic parted before us, murmurs travelling ahead faster than we walked, but Sakaki never looked around him or aside at me. I could only wish I could be that self-possessed, particularly since the sound of my voice made people all around us jerk with—surprise? Instinctive anxiety?

I didn't want to know.

"For the most part, our goals are settled around one ideal, if not one easily expressed in few words. What do you remember of pokémon?" The last was such a non sequitur that I blinked before frowning.

The word had the same familiar, taken-for-granted feeling as sky or grass—I knew what they looked like, knew what they were, but I couldn't remember ever seeing them. Of pokémon I knew they were unique beings, of many different kinds, capable of some pretty extraordinary things. And I knew that they could be kept as a form of energy in a device.

But any other details eluded me, and in the end I had to shake my head. "Not much. Mostly that they're beings with some powerful abilities, and can be stored as energy."

Sakaki inclined his head. "Enough, then. For your sake, I had hoped it wouldn't be much; they haven't been kind to you, Wataru."

I couldn't help but blink at that. The word hadn't felt like they were necessarily a bad thing; just that they were there. But before I could ask what he meant Sakaki was off again on a lecture, his stride lengthening as if proportional to the strength of his voice, and it took me a second to match his pace. "In terms of our understanding of life, pokémon inhabit their own kingdom despite marked similarities between themselves and organisms from other kingdoms. The differences are what make them so powerful. Most of them are wild. All of them are dangerous."

"Dangerous?" My stomach turned over.

"They cannot be controlled," Sakaki said simply. "They can be temporarily placated, they can be broken, but they cannot be reasoned with and they cannot be controlled."

Abruptly I thought of a woman I'd seen rushed into the medical wing on one of my visits to the main ward, covered in burns and twitching with static, and felt cold. "How many of the injuries in the ward are caused by them?"

Sakaki nodded again without looking at me. "Now you're beginning to understand. Most of them." He kept walking. I kept pace.

"If they're dangerous, what are our agents doing getting so close?" I demanded.

Sakaki sighed. "Unfortunately the government believes otherwise. It is their belief that pokémon can be—"he snorted—"befriended, that they can even be trusted as partners or with our children. They treat bestial beings as people, and it endangers us all."

"But what does that have to do with—" I started.

"Because we must fight them, Wataru," Sakaki interrupted, coming to a halt before a closed and sealed door, and removing a key from his pocket. "We must fight them, and to do so we must have pokémon of our own. When we don't … you have seen what happens." He ended with a sigh, opening the door and beckoning me to enter with him.

I obeyed, stepping into a darkened room lit only by the glare of computer monitors and light through a broad window on the other side of the room. Pausing in the doorway to let my eyes adjust, I glanced around at the quietly murmuring technicians, but Sakaki gestured me further into the room. For a moment I could have sworn I felt a rumble beneath my feet, and something on one of the desks rattled.

"Pokémon cannot be reasoned with or befriended," he continued, "but, as I said, they can be broken and thus they can be tamed, if only by those willing to take the necessary measures. And yet …"

He inclined his head at the window. Half curious, half fighting sick anxiety, I approached it and peered through. I couldn't help but gape at the sight.

The view behind it opened up into a cavernous room, plummeting downward with straight lines of concrete before reaching the cement floor. One side of the room was comprised of computer banks and research equipment, but the rest—the side nearest to me—was a massive cage. It reached to the roof, in fact, and was close enough for me to see that the steel bars were thicker than my legs.

And why. There was a dragon inside, peach-coloured and not nearly as big as the cage itself, but dwarfing all the individuals on the floor below. Its wings were bound against its back, a collar on its neck, and there were restraints on its limbs. Its golden eyes rested on the people outside its cage. As I watched, someone approached it and it growled. It lunged at the bars, jaws clicking together, restraints snapping taut and wings pushing against their bindings; the movement made the whole cage and even this room shudder.

The woman at the cage flinched back; there was a jet of steam or frost from the bars and the dragon shrieked and pulled back, hissing, its antenna sparking with electricity. It tossed its head and lightning arced against the walls, the bars, crackling down the cage and making electronics burst with sparks.

Then it lunged forward again, I saw flames and my heart stopped. I didn't even realise that I'd leaned forward and put a hand on the glass until I had to yank it away with a hiss—it was burning cold.

"The cold subdues them," Sakaki said from beside me; I jumped, glancing over. "The dragons, at least—but it is one of the only things that can. We use liquid nitrogen. Everything else we might use—fire, electricity—they have a resistance to it. They are the most versatile of all pokémon."

I looked back, swallowing hard. There were alarms ringing, now, distant through the thick concrete wall, and I could hear the hiss of something being released into the cage beneath a bestial shriek. The room shuddered again—and again.

Smoke blocked our view through the window, collecting at the vents in the ceiling, and as it cleared a little I saw that the bars were partially melted and the floor scorched. Liquid nitrogen jetted into the cage and even though the dragon flailed and writhed, yanking at its bindings, its movements were growing weaker.

The woman who had approached the cage was seated up against a computer bank with one of her colleagues beside her, moving and alive but clearly burned. I exhaled. "How do you defend against something that can breathe fire?"

"By keeping it as weak as possible," Sakaki answered bleakly. "And even then, if they get up enough power, there is very little we can do except hope the casualties are minimal. This one's escaped twice." The shivering dragon swayed and then fell, and steel rattled and screeched as its restraints caught it. I watched, half fascinated and half sick.

"We've been unable to tame it," my mentor continued, "but we cannot release it, either; the gods only know what it would do. It's proven too powerful to be caught in a pokéball—though we've tried, when it's weak as it is now. It only breaks out again once it's gotten stronger."

I couldn't look away. The scientists and agents in the room were swarming around the dragon, now, and although I couldn't hear their shouts there was a clunk in the walls and I saw the billow of hot air coming from the vents. The frost on the window started to thaw, droplets of water trickling downward. "How did you catch it in the first place?"

"Luck and with losses, mostly," was Sakaki's quiet answer. "As for why—yes, you were wondering why, don't deny it—it was necessary. Dragons become enraged easily, Wataru, and when they do they are nearly unstoppable. This was nothing compared to what they're truly capable of."

There was a funny little jolt in my stomach. "Enraged like me?" I asked in a whisper, my heart lodging itself in my throat. I was like a dragon? Like pokémon?

Sakaki sighed. "Ah, my boy, there are times I could wish you were less observant." My heart clenched and then dropped somewhere in the region of my stomach. That wasn't what I'd meant. He couldn't possibly mean there was an actual connection. I felt his hand on my arm, but I couldn't turn to look at him; my body felt rigid. "You were a pokémon trainer, Wataru, and these kinds of beings do release certain kinds of energy, often as a by-product of their own physical functions. And sometimes … they affect people badly."

Fuck. To my horror I felt my eyes prickle, and my throat was so tight I couldn't have spoken even if I'd wanted to. This was what he'd meant by them not being kind, wasn't it? I wasn't born insane—I was made. By them. By pokémon.

"We have little choice," he murmured. "We need the protection of pokémon to defend ourselves against pokémon, and for that we need trainers. You are the best I've ever known, Wataru, and you understood that. And yet there are times I wonder … if perhaps I should have stopped you sooner. If I had, perhaps you would not have to suffer as you do now."

Dammit. I blinked rapidly against the burn in my eyes, his regretful tone making the lump in my throat increase. "It wasn't your fault," I managed, but croakily.

"You are very kind to say so, my boy." He tugged slightly on my elbow and with a deep, shaky breath I obeyed his cue to turn away from the window, allowing him to steer me in the direction of the door. I kept my head down as he nodded to the technicians, flushing slightly as I realised that they must have heard every word—but none of them looked over at me and by the time we stepped out into the passageway I'd managed to pull a mask over my emotions. My face still felt tight, but at least I didn't look like I was about to fall apart … I hoped.

Sakaki released me when we exited, and I almost wanted to smile as a passing grunt jumped at our sudden appearance, throwing us a wide-eyed glance over her shoulder.

"Now," Sakaki said, business-like again; I envied his ability to hide his emotions. "Let me show you your quarters."

Yes, that sounded like a very good idea. I inhaled slowly and nodded, following his direction down the corridor. As we walked he filled in some details of the base's layout; it was fully equipped with medical and research facilities, a gym and living spaces, with the medical wing opposite the garage, supply-storage and base-entrance, and the laboratories (including the training area) and lodging to the east and west respectively. And it was all underground.

It provided a good distraction; by the time we reached the living quarters I felt calmer and a little weary from adrenaline. It helped that I was, apparently, in with the Team executives, whose section was at the far end of the wing and further out of the way.

"Here we are." Sakaki stopped at a door at the end of the hall, unlocking it and strolling sanguinely in.

I followed, half uncertain, half buzzed with faint excitement even after the revelations in the laboratory. This was my room, to do with what I wanted.

It was bigger than I was expecting—the privilege of rank, I suppose—but simple, windowless and with an adjoining bathroom opposite the entrance. The bed was queen-sized, centred in the middle with a nightstand beside it, and as I entered there was a wardrobe in the opposite corner, with a cabinet and a desk to my immediate right. There wasn't much to make it mine; the bed was made, the desk clear barring a computer and a sealed folder, and the nightstand devoid of personal effects. I dropped my bag of meds on the bed, taking it all in and wondering if there was anything in the filing cabinet.

The walls were stone, I noticed absently, which made sense, but when I glanced down at the floor it was carpeted. Well, that was a nice little slice of luxury after the stone halls. I was tempted to take my shoes off.

"Your uniform." Sakaki's voice made me turn to him to see him gesturing at the wardrobe, now open. Still glancing around, I moved over to join him, and it didn't occur to me to be worried about the cut of the uniform until after I'd reached out to finger one of the jackets wistfully. It wasn't, I could see, anything like the grunts' uniforms. This one was crisp and straight-cut—not quite a suit, but smart nonetheless.

"What will I be doing?" I asked suddenly but softly, toying with the red R on the breast pocket of the jacket. "If I—I mean, if pokémon—" My throat tightened and I couldn't finish.

"That depends on you, Wataru," Sakaki said quietly. "Regardless of what you choose, it will have to have something to do with pokémon; they are too pervasive to spare you that, I fear, and I daresay you won't do well at a desk."

I snorted. He was probably right; even without knowing what kinds of duties I'd had before I couldn't have imagined not doing something that was physical.

"For now," Sakaki continued, "you merely need to recover your former state of health and learn again what you have forgotten. Then, when Kitano sees fit to clear you for duty, we can discuss your field of expertise."

That … sounded good, actually. I took a deep breath, closing the door and turning to him. "Alright."

"Good." He clapped me on the shoulder. "Now, I imagine that file on your desk is your schedule for the foreseeable future. Why don't you familiarise yourself with it and your room, and perhaps get some rest. An agent will come by in the morning to show you to the mess-hall and give you a tour. In the meantime …" He smiled ruefully. "In the meantime, I'm afraid I must say goodbye. One of our other facilities has requested my presence, and I cannot in good conscience ignore them, even for you."

My responding smile, I could feel, was slightly forced, but it was as good as I could manage over the sudden pound in my chest. "I wouldn't want you to. Sir."

I can do this. I would have to do this, even without him. When he got back he'd find that I was on the way to being better than the agent I had been.

Nevertheless, he looked pleased, squeezing my shoulder. "I have no doubt. Good afternoon, Wataru."

"Good afternoon," I echoed as he turned and left, and then I was alone. I glanced around the room with another slow inhale. Alright. Let's start with that schedule, then.

I smoothed down the wrinkles in my uniform, eyeing myself critically in the mirror set into the inside of the wardrobe's doors. The clothes were a perfect fit, but it felt strange after the gym clothes I'd gotten used to wearing. Fingering the small red R over the breast and running my other hand through my hair, I thought ruefully that at least I was colour-coordinated.

A knock at the door made me startle, and with a deep breath I abandoned the mirror to open it, coming face-to-face with Aina. She blinked when she saw me, her eyes widening and mouth dropping slightly. Then she caught herself, clearing her throat and straightening, giving me a salute. "Sir. Good morning."

Sir? My twisting stomach sank, and my smile was a little forced. "Didn't I say you didn't have to call me that?"

She flushed, her eyes dropping. "We're not in the medical ward anymore. Sir."

"I'm still not in a position to demand that much respect," I countered, a little more sharply than I'd intended.

Her lips quirked, but it was a wry sort of quirk. "You may not be able to stop people respecting you, Sir."

I asked quietly, "Respecting or fearing?"

Aina's eyes snapped up, clear surprise in them, and she drew in a breath to say something she never started. Instead her mouth closed and she looked at me for a long moment before she answered. "Alright."

I exhaled. Already this day was wearing on me, and it had barely begun. "Thank you."

Her nod was a little hesitant, but then she stepped aside to let me out into the corridor and said, "I'm supposed to show you to the mess hall."

"Good," I said, managing a small smile, "I'm hungry. What else are you showing me today?"

"The gym," she answered promptly, gesturing me down the hall, "the psychologist's office, Inventory in case you need to sign anything out, more of the labs including the library and training arenas—"

I flinched. She cut herself off with a breath, and I sensed more than saw her looking at me sidelong. "We might not have time for all of it, though," she added tentatively. "You'll need the gym for your physical therapy and the psych office for your appointments, and naturally inventory and the library are givens—"

She was babbling, trying to make me feel comfortable. It was stark contrast to the woman who'd been silent when Yuudai had been nervous, when they'd come to visit me that day. They had come twice more, after that, both together, but it was mostly Yuudai who had talked.

I managed another smile. "We'll see how much we can fit in then, right?"

"Right," she said, flushing. There was silence for a moment as we walked, while she gestured in the directions we needed to go. I was breathing deeply and slowly, trying to push down the fluttering nervousness in my stomach the nearer we got. It wasn't working.

"How often are meals served?"

I felt her jump beside me, and she stammered a moment before clearing her throat and starting over. "The hall's open all day for recreation, but food is served between oh-six-hundred hours and oh-eight; eleven-hundred hours and thirteen; and seventeen-hundred hours and nineteen. Food's available in a buffet between twenty-three-hundred hours and oh-three-hundred, though. For the nightshift."

That was useful. I hadn't slept well last night, not because I'd dreamed—though I had—but because I just hadn't been able to fall asleep. I'd wound up playing around with the computer until at least two, browsing the base network, and I could've used something to eat.

We rounded a corner in a T-junction and there, at the end of the corridor, was a pair of double-doors. Automatically I slowed as we approached, and Aina only realised once she was a few feet beyond me. She turned slightly with a blink and I sped up again, swallowing hard to push down my pounding heart and willing my stomach to uncoil.

Whatever happens, just ignore them. Sakaki's advice echoed in my head. They'll just have to get used to seeing me around. Ignore them.

Aina swung open a door and stood back for me to pass through. For a moment I hesitated; then my jaw clenched, I lifted my head and strode through, sensing her follow behind me. For a moment there was no difference; the room's hubbub didn't ebb at all as I glanced over it. There were lines of low rectangular tables, enough to seat perhaps a dozen at each on the rows of cushions on the floor. To my right was the long counter where the food was served, and behind it the kitchen; Aina tugged my arm gently, so I turned and followed as she moved toward it.

It wasn't until we were halfway there before the tables nearest us started to go silent, and the quiet seemed to spread on a flurry of whispers. I refused to look over, but my back prickled wildly at the feel of all those gazes on me; my footsteps seemed to echo on the concrete floor, and the scrape of the trays as Aina separated them was loud. Worse, even the servers were staring, the nearest one with eyes the size of saucers, ladle still extended over the tray of the agent he was serving.

Wordlessly Aina held out a tray. I took it without looking down, evenly meeting the server's gaze. He balked with a sharp inhale and the soup and noodles in the ladle splacked to the counter; he cursed, his gaze finally torn away from me.

As if that was the cue the room exploded with sound again, agents all over the room turning back to their companions. It didn't help the prickle in my back; it was me they were undoubtedly talking about. Still, it was better than being stared at. In fact, when I came to the server he didn't look up at me at all, and the one after him barely let her eyes settle before they flickered away again, looking in every other direction.

Her hand trembled as she set down the bowl of rice. I pretended not to see it.

There came a shout from behind us, and I turned to see Yuudai standing beside his table, beckoning the two of us. The agents around him seemed to want to give him a wide berth—the ones immediately next to him were leaning away, glancing between him and in our direction.

Silence seemed to follow us as we wove between the tables, only to be broken once we'd passed. More than one agent hastily vacated our target area with mumbled excuses, but even more chose to stay, clearly torn between curiosity and apprehension. I ignored it all, sternly telling my stomach to behave even while I tried to smile at Yuudai. "Good morning."

"Good morning," he echoed, making a sweeping gesture at some spare cushions with his good arm. "Take a seat."

I sat, glancing at the agents across from me, and almost started when I realised one of them was Rafael, looking stoically down at his food. The smile came surprisingly easily. "Good morning, Rafael. I thought you were still out on deployment."

He looked up, his expression saying that he wished he were just about anywhere else, and my smile faded.

"I just got back last night," he said, his tone noticeably strained, and he glanced away again immediately afterward. Aina, setting her tray down beside him, nudged him not-quite discreetly. He jumped and threw her a tortured look, and then I looked down, clearing my throat and picking up my chopsticks.

It was Yuudai who spoke up next, in a would-be cheerful voice. "Wataru got out of the medical ward yesterday. I'm almost sorry I missed it, but …" He chuckled, pouring my drink for me; it sounded strained. "I was catching up on some work at the time."

"And by 'work' you mean writing your wife?" I asked with a crooked smile, tilting my head at him in thanks. During his second visit he'd been late, and after some prodding on my part and light teasing on Aina's had finally admitted that his wife demanded she get a letter every day.

He blinked and then laughed, and this time it was completely sincere. "I was hoping you'd forgotten I said that. You were half asleep at the time."

"Yes, well," I murmured, reaching out to pick up my cup and half wishing it was something stronger than water, "I think I've forgotten enough already, thank you."

I cringed inwardly almost the instant the words were out, and there was a dead silence following them. It took effort, resisting the urge to put my face in my hand; oh, this was going well.

The rescue came from an unexpected direction—over my shoulder and behind me. "The food's not supposed to stay on the plate, Sir." I flinched, jumped and whirled in my seat to see the female nurse, out of uniform and looking chagrined at having startled me.

"And here I thought you'd be celebrating not having to deal with me anymore," I managed with a passable attempt at a smile. She gave me a tentative one in response.

"And you, Sir. You're free of the medical staff's tyrannical ways." The way she said the last sounded like a quote, and she rolled her eyes in the direction of the other agents. More than one didn't meet her eyes, looking sheepish.

"Would you like to join us, Chiyo?" Aina jumped in, making room beside her and effectively, I saw, moving Rafael away from being directly across from me. He looked faintly relieved; I ignored it by looking back up at Chiyo and fixing the name in my mind. Finally I knew it.

"I promise I won't go sneaking away," I said wryly.

Chiyo hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering overhead—at her usual table, I suppose. Or asking for tacit orders from someone over there; it was entirely possible she was here to check on me, on duty or not. I didn't look over to confirm.

A moment later she nodded, smiled and moved to sit, and if the expression was a little strained I wasn't going to call her on it. Even so, despite the added presence of someone else I knew and was making an effort not to judge me, what followed was what had to be the most awkward meal of my life (whether I remembered it or not). Yuudai and Aina tried to keep me included, but the conversation was always uncomfortable, and in time they just left off talking to me except to direct the occasional comment or question my way. In turn, the other agents seemed to realise they didn't need to talk to me at all and went back to their own conversations, and although some of them seemed to relax (judging by the smirks) for the most part I still got furtive glances that made my gut clench every time I caught one.

That wasn't even counting the looks I knew I was getting from agents on other tables. In fact, there was a large group of scientists against the wall relatively nearby who kept on looking around at me nervously, their apprehension as clear as it had been with the kitchen staff. I suppose that made sense, given that they probably weren't trained in self-defence.

At least we were essentially on the other side of the hall to the entrance. True, the people entering inevitably discovered I was there once they joined a table, but at least I wasn't on display when they came in.

"What have you seen around the base?" Yuudai asked me.

"The Boss showed me the lab and my room," I said, pleased by the fact my voice was calm and ignoring Aina's sidelong look, "but that's all."

Someone coughed down the end of the table and Rafael's face contorted. I was just turning to ask if he was alright when Yuudai quickly leapt in with, "Which lab? There's a few."

"The one with the kairyuu in it," I said flatly. I'd looked up the name the night before, and learned more than I wanted to; dragonite were incredibly powerful. "Pass the soy sauce, please."

I held out my hand for it, but no one moved to give it to me because they were all staring, clearly stunned. Even Aina's mouth had dropped open. Slowly I realised this, looking around and letting my fingers curl up, pulling my hand back.

"He … showed you the kairyuu?" Yuudai asked weakly.

"Yes," I mumbled, my stomach clenching and unclenching and making me decide that I didn't need the sauce after all, since all of a sudden I couldn't eat another bite. Don't tell me the kairyuu is directly related to me too!

Probably. Maybe he'd even planned to tell me whatever it was it, if I just hadn't freaked out at the thought of being rendered insane. In fact, maybe that's the pokémon that had done it to me!

Someone else coughed, agents all over the table looked away and my cheeks went hot. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"You're doing it less often than you did," Chiyo said quickly, putting the sauce down next to my tray. "A few weeks ago you talked a lot without realising it, but now you just do it when something's—"

"Shocked me?" I finished, my lips twisted into something that might have looked like a smile but really, really wasn't.

Her eyes dropped and she mumbled, "Right."

There was another awkward silence while I stared down at my plate, not wanting to see the looks everyone else was probably exchanging. Finally Yuudai cleared his throat.

"Well, I'm done. If you're done too, Wataru, why don't Aina and I give you a tour?"

Relieved, I pushed my tray back and stood. "That sounds good." Anything to get away from this awful breakfast experience.

Aina dropped her chopsticks on her plate and stood too, squeezing Rafael's shoulder and murmuring a goodbye to Chiyo as she passed. I inclined my head toward the table at large. "Good day."

One or two murmured it back, but Chiyo was the only one who looked up to say it, her smile rather forced. I didn't look around as I walked away, but I had no doubt the rest of the table would be all over her for the gossip as soon as we were out of earshot. Likewise, I ignored the falter in conversations that I seemed to elicit as I passed, though the one or two shocked faces I saw—people who had come into the hall after me, obviously—almost made me want to smile grimly.

Yes, I'm really here. Yes, I am insane. No, I'm not going to try and kill you. Yet.

I was about ready to breathe a sigh of relief as we left the mess hall, but as the door swung open beneath my hands I nearly I walked into a man who'd been coming to enter, a man who was turned half to the side to tell a joke to one of his companions. I side-stepped, he jerked back to avoid me, and then he looked up and saw my face. With violent curse and a movement far too instinctive to be deliberate he leaped back, his hands flying to the gun and the pokéballs at his side. The action made my hand jerk to my belt before I even realised why or that there wasn't anything there.

Then Yuudai was between us and I felt Aina grip my arm. "Hold it!" Yuudai shouted, flapping his hand toward the other agents in the group, all of whom looked as ready to draw as their friend—those that hadn't just backed away entirely. "Just hold it, okay?"

"Come on," Aina whispered, tugging gently on my elbow. It took a moment before I could get my frozen feet to move, guided through the unmoving group of agents and feeling their eyes on my back the whole way through. My heart pounded so loud in my ears that I almost didn't notice Yuudai's footsteps behind me.

The last thing I heard before rounding the corner was an explosive, "Fuck!"

I let out a shaken breath. The man's face flashed through my mind—the expression of sudden shock and fear that had crossed it when he realise it was me. I knew I was going to be seeing it in my dreams tonight.

"Wataru?"

Aina's quiet voice made me flinch. "Don't," I muttered, my voice hoarse and rough in my throat. "Just—talk to me. Give me the detailed tour. Where are we going?"

"The gym," Yuudai said promptly, quickening his stride so he passed us and took the lead. "It's a shared gym, joined to the medical ward so the staff can keep an eye on people doing physical therapy. The therapists are pretty stringent about using the gym for too long, though, so you may not go there much in your free time until you've been cleared …"

Thank the gods, I thought numbly as he continued, going into far more detail than was necessary, that Yuudai knew how to talk.