A.N.: I know my chapters are short! I'm sorry! /shot

Summary: Gokudera opens up a little bit, and then gets thrown into physical therapy.

I can't breathe. I struggle, trying to lash out at something, but I'm blind, and there is nothing to hit, besides the steel table to which I am chained. A damp cloth covers my nose and mouth, restricting my air, especially since more water is dripping down on to it as I struggle. I try to scream, but that just lets the cloth further restrict my breaths and leaves me gasping and choking.

I wake, hands flying to my face. Yamamoto catches my hands before they get there and holds me steady as I struggle, murmuring quiet words of comfort. When I relax against his grip, he finally releases me. I take a shaky breath and sigh when my breathing is free and unobstructed. He squeezes one of my hands comfortingly. "What was it this time, Haya-chan?"

Since I reluctantly allowed him to stay with me during my final week in the hospital, he's been gently pressuring me to talk about my dreams, so I don't have to suffer again by myself. I appreciate his concern, but sharing what I experienced is harder than I thought.

"Another torture," I murmur quietly, squeezing his hand, "only this time I couldn't breathe. I had a damp cloth over my face that was slowly being soaked again." I still don't have much control over my emotions, so I'm not surprised when the tears begin to fall.

His face creases with sorrow and he leans forward, planting a light kiss on my brow. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that… I wish I had found you sooner."

"It's not your fault," I murmur, squeezing his hand lightly. I was stupid; I should have seen it coming… I stare off into the distance, spacing out. I don't even hear the door open to admit Camilla, and I only register her presence when she lightly taps me on the shoulder. I glance up at her, frowning, and she hands me a small stack of papers.

"Your release papers," she says with a smile. "Doc says you're good to go."

I push myself up, and for once, I don't feel a twinge of pain, just a dull ache. "Wait, seriously?"

Camilla nods. "Do you want to try to walk, or would you like to wait until rehab for that?"

I look at Yamamoto, who glances pointedly at the wheelchair in the corner of my room. "I… I'll save the walking for rehab, I guess."

Thirty minutes later, I'm dressed in normal street clothes and being wheeled down a long hallway lined with nurses towards the exit. Applause and congratulations follow me, and I offer up a smile. I'm going home.

It's strange, entering Namimori after a year of absence. Technically, I'm not supposed to be back in school yet, but Yamamoto has a baseball game today, and I want to surprise him. I guess you could say I've forgiven him for "abandoning" me, and plus, I want to support him like he has supported me.

I'm aware of the stares that follow me as I roll down the hallway, and ignore them. People have stared at me before, and quite honestly, I don't care whether they stare or not. I push open a door at the back of the school that leads to the stadium and follow a few students making their way down to the stands. The game is about to start, so hopefully Yamamoto won't notice me. Yet.

I park my wheelchair in the shade, keeping my hood up so hopefully no one recognizes me. Granted, it's like 90 degrees out, not counting the humidity, but I don't care. I've suffered through worse. I watch the game, half-interested, half-bored, and spend most of the time trying to figure out the worth of such a sport. I mean, it makes sense for Yamamoto, being a swordsman and all, but before that, he was just a normal kid playing baseball.

We end up winning the game, and I watch as his teammates flock around him, congratulating him. My lips curve up in a ghost of a smile – I don't smile much anymore – and I take off the brakes and start to roll away.

Not five minutes later, he catches up to me and takes over the controls, pushing me along. I sigh and don't bother arguing with him – he'll push me whether I want him to or not. We continue on in silence, and for the first time since coming back home, I truly feel at peace.

"You know you're not supposed to be here yet," his voice is low, but I still hear his words.

I snort. "Since when do I ever do what I'm told?"

He remains silent, but I know without looking back that he's smiling. "Thanks for coming today," he says after a while.

I nod and stare at the branches of the trees as we pass by, saying nothing. I start physical therapy tomorrow, so I won't have much time to deal with visitors, or the energy. My injuries have left me with permanent scars, and a very small chance of getting my life back to normal. But for me, it's chance enough. I don't like statistics, because the mind always over-exaggerates, and makes the possible seem impossible. I know if I fight hard, which I will, I'll get back to normal in no time.

I don't weep clear salty tears anymore. I weep dark red tears of blood, and my whole body cries out for a release from this agony. But I know that wherever I am, I am alone, and no one is there to rescue me.

I clench my fist and push away the beginnings of one of the darkest memories and stare at the building that will be my new home for the next six weeks. Even though I asked them not to, Jyuudaime and Yamamoto go with me through the front door, and into the lobby.

The place is nicer on the inside than it looks on the outside, but I still don't want to be here. I glance around with a scowl on my face. I have a feeling that this is going to be similar to the torture I went through that landed me here in the first place. Fan-fucking-tastic. I roll myself into what seems to be the head office, Yamamoto and Jyuudaime following my pace. The secretary looks up and smiles when I enter. "Welcome! I assume you must be Gokudera-chan! Your PT nurse should be here in just a few minutes." Then she totally ignores me and devotes all her attention to Jyuudaime and Yamamoto, which I'm not at all surprised by. Ignore the cripple.

My PT nurse is a semi-buff college looking guy with an afro. He takes me back to the back so fast that I don't have a chance to say anything, and soon has me mentally cursing him to hell. Granted I can do all the exercises he gives me, but it doesn't mean they don't hurt!

I am wrong. This is going to be way worse than torture. Because this, as it turns out, is completely voluntary.