Barnaby's breathing came to a halt, the sharp intake of air catching in his throat and remaining there as his lips moved soundlessly and blood pounded so loudly in his ears he could hear nothing else.

Permanent?

She couldn't really mean that. No one, not even a doctor as intelligent as Amaranthe, had the kind of foresight to be able to predict whether or not a psychological problem like Barnaby's could permanently affect his career. Taking a leave of absence made much more sense. Did she no longer have confidence that she would be able to cure him?

"Of course you have some hesitation, and that's perfectly normal. I know how much this career means to you, especially being partners with Kotetsu as you are. I know how much it must hurt you to even think about quitting, but I beg you to see my side and try to understand how much emotional danger this is putting you in."

"I'll call you back," Barnaby replied curtly before she could draw another breath, flipping his cell phone shut the moment the words were out of his mouth.

Kotetsu placed his hand on Barnaby's leg and shot him a cautious glance. Barnaby was fragile, right then, perhaps more fragile than he had ever been. It was imperative that Kotetsu keep himself calm. If he appeared too worried, the anxiety would only rub off on Barnaby and possibly trigger another episode. That was the last thing either of them needed.

"Everything okay?" Kotetsu asked as naturally as he could.

Barnaby turned his head away from his lover, averting his gaze and keeping his thoughts to himself. How dare she ask that of him? How dare she even think about taking this away from him! While becoming a hero had not initially been Barnaby's first career choice, it was more a part of him now than he had ever thought possible. More importantly, he knew that the moment he resigned, Kotetsu would quit as well.

Remaining in the hero business as long as he could meant even more to Kotetsu than it was to Barnaby. Unlike Barnaby, Kotetsu had been born to be a hero. He had never wanted anything else, and even with only one minute of his powers remaining he refused to consider retirement. Barnaby couldn't imagine taking that away from Kotetsu. It would undoubtedly crush him, leaving him in pieces just as the Crusher for Justice himself left nothing but destruction in his wake. But there would be no justice involved in taking Kotetsu's career from him.

Being Wild Tiger was what kept the old man's depression at bay. Being Wild Tiger was what gave Kotetsu his quirky, characteristic happiness. Being Wild Tiger was what kept him from drinking himself into oblivion every night and waking up the next afternoon only to do it again.

Barnaby could never do that to him.

Saito mumbled something about driving back to the Apollon tower before disappearing around the corner to the driver's seat, unnoticed and unheard.

Barnaby didn't call Amaranthe back that evening.

He spent the remainder of the night in silence, curled up against Kotetsu and letting the warmth of his partner comfort him as he tried to clear his head and make sense of all the chaos and turmoil he had found himself wrapped in. His sleep came only in the form of fitful naps and uncomfortable dozing. At some point in the middle of the night when Kotetsu awoke to find Barnaby suffering from a sleepless night, he brought the blond a glass of his favorite wine and offered a weak smile.

"To calm your thoughts, sweetheart."

Barnaby still only slept for two and a half hours.

He was waiting, restless and eyes red from lack of sleep, on the doorstep of Amaranthe's office when she came to unlock the door the next morning.

"I'm not quitting," he said immediately.

"You didn't sleep last night."

"I'm not quitting."

"Barnaby, try to see reason."

"I'm not quitting!" He hadn't meant to yell like that, especially not outside where others could have heard.

Amaranthe grimaced and unlocked the front door, pocketing her key and replying firmly, "Come inside and have a seat, Barnaby, before you make a spectacle of yourself."

It took every ounce of strength in Barnaby's body to keep quiet and just walk inside like any reasonable man would. For the first time since he had begun meeting with Amaranthe, he found himself hating her. Despite everything she had done for him and despite how he had come to trust her and even befriend her, he could muster no positive emotion for her in that moment. She was out of line, suggesting what she had on the phone. She had no right to tear his life, and Kotetsu's, apart like that.

"I was wrong to suggest what I did yesterday."

Barnaby's face lit up with surprise, but he had gotten his hopes up too soon.

"I should have waited for a better time," she admitted. "I stand by what I said, but you were in no state to hear something like that. I apologize."

"I'm still in no state to hear it," Barnaby retorted. "I'll never be. If I was to quit so suddenly, do you have any idea how it would affect Kotetsu and me? Would a leave of absence not make more sense? I think it's you who's not listening to reason, Amaranthe."

Amaranthe sighed, frustrated and not hiding the fact. Up until now, she had respected Barnaby. She hadn't made a spectacle about treating a celebrity. She hadn't forced him to do anything he objected to or talk about anything that made him uncomfortable. She had gone at his pace, had done everything she could to accommodate him, and this was how he repaid her?

"Have a seat, Barnaby. We need to talk."

"Yes, I agree. We do." Barnaby's response was anything but the sweetness and politeness he usually reserved for his sessions with her.

Amaranthe disappeared for a short time, likely to cancel her first appointment of the morning. When she returned, Barnaby noticed her face held a kind of harsh sternness he had never seen before, as if the moment he denied her what she thought was best she became a different person. Maybe he wasn't the only one who needed psychological help if she had a power complex that great.

Barnaby began right away. There was no point in wasting time or mincing words. "I don't understand why a leave of absence isn't the most sensible option. It makes no sense to permanently remove myself from a career that's very important to me when I'm barely twenty-seven years old."

"Because you're not well, Barnaby."

"I know that!" he argued, once again more loudly than he had intended. He clenched his fists into tight balls, his nails digging painfully into his skin and keeping his emotions anchored. Losing control would do nothing to help his situation and would only further support Amaranthe's position.

"I'm sorry." Barnaby continued more calmly. "But I still believe that what I'm suffering now can be resolved. You've shown me it can." A little flattery never hurt anything, he thought as he reminded her of the progress she had made so far. "I'm remembering now. Of course, only a very few things, but I'm making progress. I don't care how hard it is on my body, I assure you I've been through worse."

He ignored the skeptical expression etched into her features.

Barnaby waited patiently for her response, realizing for the first time that he didn't have to listen to what she said. She was only his psychiatrist. Besides the medicine she prescribed and the therapy she provided, she held no actual control over him. She had no power to make the decision for him. His career was safe in his own hands.

So why did everything she said seem so convincing? Why did Barnaby feel compelled to obey her? He realized that he had never refused anything she suggested. Nearly every word she spoke seemed right, and in the rare instances when she suggested something that made Barnaby uneasy, her advice had seemed more like a law than a suggestion. He had never once denied her, and until now he had not even questioned her.

Amaranthe pursed her lips, displeased with the situation but considering her options. She huffed out a frustrated sigh and crossed her arms. If Barnaby wasn't going to listen to her, she was going to make it obvious that she was unhappy about it.

"We'll start with a leave of absence. We'll start there, but I would highly encourage you to think about your health long-term."

Barnaby noticed that her "encouragement" sounded much more like a harsh demand, but he nodded once in agreement and abruptly stood from his seat on the black leather couch he had become so accustomed to.

"Wait," Amaranthe said, quickly stopping him and standing up as well, retrieving something from the bag she had carried in with her. "There's a new medicine I want you to try. It's for your sleep. You'll rest better."

From her purse she produced a small container of pills, unlabeled except for a small sticker listing her name and credentials.

Barnaby took the bottle hesitantly and held it at eye level to peer inside.

"You normally write me a prescription. What exactly is this?"

Amaranthe grinned, looking a little sheepish as she said. "I actually made it myself. It's engineered specifically for the inner workings of a NEXT. It should be more effective than your regular sleeping medication."

Barnaby peered at her skeptically over his glasses, but she seemed so much like herself once again that he didn't dare offend her by questioning her further. He knew by now that her research was brilliant. Her name was printed in journals too many times to count. A medicine made by her and her alone was sure to be a success, and he felt as if he should be thankful for it.

He wrapped his fingers tightly around the vial and offered her a smile that looked more like a grimace, forcing out a reluctant "Thank you," before silently excusing himself from her sight.