Chapter Two: Decision

The only word Flynn could use to describe his condition was 'miserable'. Against all logic, he was sure he was getting worse instead of recovering. The only noticeable improvement was that his left ear had begun to heal, but at this point he'd take complete deafness back over the high-pitched ringing plaguing his ear. It had gone on for hours and having nothing else to distract him drove him mad.

On top of that, he seemed to have come down with an illness of some kind. He went back and forth between being so cold he couldn't stop shivering and then wanted to cry from how much movement that caused his burns, and then so hot he wanted to kick his legs and throw the blanket to the floor. Considering his legs were still fractured, kicking them was a bad idea.

Yuri said the explosion had been about six days ago, but it felt like he'd lain here for at least a month. The days just stretched out for centuries, every second endured with nothing to focus on but how exquisitely painful burns could be. The burning in his face – he thought he had a fever – combined with the searing heat from his arm and chest, which did a good job of convincing him he was still on fire.

Morphine wasn't nearly strong enough. It kept wearing off within a few hours and his doctor was worried about him building up resistance to it or becoming addicted so she kept giving him gels instead and acting like it was the same thing. On the plus side, he'd eaten enough gels that his cracked ribs and bruises were almost entirely healed and they had furthered the healing of his legs considerably, but expecting a gel to do anything in the face of a fourth-degree burn was like sending a rookie knight against a horde of monsters.

He heard something in the distance. It was impossible to tell what it was because it was so muffled and the high-pitched ringing got in the way, but he tried to feel optimistic that being able to hear anything at all was an improvement.

He saw movement and hoped it was Yuri. His friend had been in to visit every single day and always did his best to distract him by telling him stories about the lower quarter or about things he'd been up to. A combination of his own struggles to talk through exhaustion and a hoarse throat and Yuri needing to write everything down and wait for Flynn to read it stilted any attempt at a flowing conversation, but it was the best they could do. It was better than lying here and doing nothing but feeling sorry for himself.

The person came full into view, but it wasn't Yuri. It was his doctor, a woman in a lab coat with blond hair in a tight ponytail. She said something, and Flynn was pleased to note that he could hear her voice, but frustrated that it was so muffled it was like listening underwater.

He shook his head and mumbled, "Can't… can't hear you."

She frowned, nodded, and then pulled out a notepad. Her handwriting was better than Yuri's, at least. Sorry – Good morning, Commandant. How do you feel today?

Same question every morning and it never changed. "Bad."

The doctor – Flynn couldn't even remember her name at this point – nodded and pulled out a thermometer. She held it before his mouth and he figured out he was supposed to open up without her needing to write it down. With the thermometer under his tongue, the doctor turned to his arm and carefully unwrapped the bandages. Through an act of unprecedented self-control, he managed to stay silent even though a scream grew in his throat. He did, however, squeeze his mouth so tight he was amazed the thermometer didn't crack.

A minute later, she pulled the thermometer from his mouth and examined it with a frown. Flynn watched with trepidation – it was never good when doctors frowned at your test results. She wrote slowly, and Flynn watched her pencil move with anticipation, afraid to find out when she had to say.

When she finally showed him her note, it said, Commandant – your wound has become infected and continues to bleed internally. It may be impossible to cure.

He knew he wasn't going to like this. "M-may?"

She thought for a moment and wrote carefully. She hesitated before the last word, and then wrote it in firm strokes. If the infection does not heal, we may have no choice but amputation.

"No," he blurted. Amputation?! That was out of the question. He needed his arm.

Your body is too weak to fight off the infection. If it progresses out of your arm, it will kill you.

"Lady Estelle… Estellise… she'll heal it."

She still hasn't been reached.

"She's coming." He had faith in Estelle. She would get here and heal him and everything would be all right.

Even if she comes in time, we have no guarantee her healing is strong enough to completely regenerate your arm.

"She c-can do it."

The doctor watched him carefully while Flynn stubbornly glared back. He wasn't going to let them take his arm without a fight.

She nodded, letting Flynn feel triumphant. We will wait as long as we can before making a decision.

"What do you want?" Yuri stood in Flynn's office, hand on his hip. He'd been politely invited to speak with acting-Commandant Sodia, which was a nice way of saying a pair of knights had cornered him on the street, said, "Sodia wants to see you," and made it very clear that turning down the invitation was asking for the alternative option of being taken there in handcuffs.

"What do you know about the terrorists?"

Well, at least she didn't bog him down with formalities and jumped right to the questions. "Nothing. I already told you."

She folded her hands on Flynn's desk and gave him a look colder than steel that pierced him as much as that knife of hers once had. "You are a known friend of many people involved in the anti-government protests. Can you really say you know nothing?"

"Sure can. Not everyone protesting the government is a terrorist, you know. Didn't you figure that out while investigating everyone?" Yuri knew for a fact that as soon as Flynn was stable, Hanks was going to want some words about how the knights had left muddy boot prints on his best carpet during their surprise inspection of his house. "Have you thought about how you're going to explain that one to Flynn when he gets back to his job?"

Sodia stiffened. "This is not a normal situation. Zaphias citizens lodged a direct attack against the government, very nearly committing regicide. It would be irresponsible to not take every measure possible to identify the culprits."

"Including breaking into people's homes, searching through the private stuff, and questioning them on all their activities for the past month?"

"Only known supporters of the anti-government movement. I would have thought you would be all for any measure to find the people who injured Commandant Flynn."

"Yeah, but not including questioning my friends and searching my house. Did you really need to search my place? You can't seriously think I'm a suspect." Could she? Damn, he hadn't considered that. Sodia had tried to kill him once because she thought he was unintentionally hurting Flynn. What would she do if she thought he'd done something like this on purpose?

"We have to be thorough. Anyone with known association with the protesters must be investigated, whether we think they would hurt Flynn or not. After all, you didn't know Flynn would be in that Council meeting, and Lady Estellise has seen to it that you have free access into and out of the castle."

Yuri gaped at her for a second and then slammed his fists on the desk. "You actually think I'm a terrorist?!"

Sodia's eyes flicked away and then she hung her head. "…No. In my personal opinion, I do not think it is in your character. Professionally, however, you qualify as a person of interest. Which is why I need to ask you: where were you the day of the attack?"

Yuri's face tightened, disgusted that he even need to come up with an alibi to prove he hadn't nearly killed Flynn. "I was at the Comet. My guild arrived in Zaphias late the night before, so I slept in. Around noon I left to go shopping in the public quarter to pick up things for dinner. I'm sure a dozen people must have seen me leave, if you don't trust me."

Sodia sighed. "Thank you. Please understand I had to ask in order to be thorough."

"Yeah, I get it."

"And you're certain you don't have clues about which of your revolutionary friends is responsible?"

Yuri suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "I told you, they're not revolutionary and the ones responsible aren't my friends. No one I know wants to overthrow the government, they just want more rights and a more fair system. Have you considered that the culprits are another group taking advantage of the protests to use them as a scapegoat?"

"It's possible. I'll look into it."

"Great. Now if you don't need to question me any further, I'll-"

The door opening interrupted him, and a glance over his shoulder showed a nurse. "Please excuse me," the nurse said. "I was sent to find Yuri Lowell. Dr. Duringer wants to speak with him. If you're busy I can come back."

"Nope, I done here." He looked back at Sodia. "Aren't I?"

She nodded. "Yes, you may go. I do need to ask you not to leave Zaphias until this matter is resolved, just in case."

Yuri snorted. "Like I'm going anywhere with Flynn in his condition. Thanks for nothing." He followed the nurse out, still fuming about the ridiculousness of being accused of terrorism.

He met Dr. Duringer in the waiting room outside the infirmary. "You wanted to see me?"

"Ah, Mr. Lowell. Hello."

He didn't have time for formalities because if she needed to talk to him, there was probably an issue with Flynn. "How is he?"

"His condition is deteriorating."

Yuri swallowed. "How bad?"

"There is little doubt infection has set into the burn. It's making him very sick, and even with medical intervention he doesn't have the strength to fight it."

Yuri glanced to the door of Flynn's room, forcing himself to remain calm. "Ok. So, what can you do?"

Duringer frowned. "I think the only way to stop it will be to amputate the arm."

It took Yuri a few seconds to even comprehend what she said. "Amputate? But… that seems too drastic. Haven't you tried to heal it?"

"We've made extensive use of Panacea Bottles. They heal the current infection in his blood, but they aren't strong enough to completely eliminate the source so it always comes back. Additionally, I doubt the extensive damage can ever be fully reversed. His arm will likely be permanently crippled, so killing himself to save a useless arms seems counterproductive."

"All right. I get it. Why are you telling me?"

"The commandant refuses to accept that amputation is necessary. Are you aware he has you listed as his next of kin?"

"He does?" This didn't really surprise him, considering Flynn didn't have any other family.

"Yes. So, if the infection progresses to the point that he is unconscious or delirious, it's up to you to make the call."

His eyes widened slightly. "Me?"

"If it gets to the point where I need to ask you, it will be because his options are amputation or death. I should hope it wouldn't be a difficult decision for you. In the meanwhile, perhaps you can talk to him? Letting him get to the point of amputation or death is dangerous. If we do it now, he can start recovering."

Yuri nodded slowly. "I'll talk to him."

"Thank you. And… I'm sorry there isn't more we can do."

She left, and Yuri entered Flynn's room. He was awake, breathing heavily and sweating profusely. "Hey," Yuri said loudly. He rounded the bed so he could sit on Flynn's left, since he was still deaf in his right ear.

Flynn turned his head, enough to meet Yuri's eyes but not enough to smother his ear with the pillow. "H-h-hey."

"You can hear me today, then?"

Flynn nodded. "Sorta."

"That's great." A smile managed to break through. "See, I told you it would get better."

Flynn frowned. "Pardon?"

Yuri stubbornly kept his smile on and repeated himself, louder and slower. "I told you it would get better."

"Oh. Yeah. It is." He shivered and closed his eyes. His face was bone white and strands of hair clung to his forehead from sweat.

"But it seems like nothing else is getting better."

"It is." He shuddered again, his face screwed up in pain.

"You're not fooling anyone. Your doctor told me your arm is heavily infected."

Flynn's eyes flicked open. "Hrm… she try ta… tell you to cut it off?"

"She mentioned it, yeah. Have you considered it?"

He closed his eyes and turned away. "They're not taking my arm."

"You might not have a choice. Flynn, have you seen your hand? I don't know if that's going to heal."

"They're not taking it." He struggled to string complete sentences together. "If I can't hold a sword… I can't be a knight."

"Yeah, but the trouble is that you might not be able to hold a sword with the hand you have anyway."

"I'm not losing my arm!" The outburst took a lot of strength out of him. He lay still, eyes closed and taking heaving breaths. After a long pause, he mumbled, "Promise me, Yuri. Don't let 'em take it."

Yuri gazed at the bandaged arm, imagining the blackened mess underneath. Flynn was being pretty stubborn about a potentially-useless heap of charred flesh, but since he was so stubborn perhaps that would translate into a refusal to succumb to infection. "Ok. I won't let them."

"Promise?"

Yuri nodded, but since Flynn's eyes were closed he squeezed his hand instead. "Yeah. I promise."

Flynn was stuck in a vicious positive-feedback loop. It was the dead of night and the morphine that had kept him in a fuzzy stupor all afternoon had worn off, leaving everything more raw than before he'd been drugged. The overwhelming pain of burns and broken bones hitting him all at once combined with the infuriating ringing in his ear made him want to thrash around. He twisted and squirmed as if a position might possibly exist that didn't hurt as much, but this movement sent vibrations through his torso and arm that made all the burns start aching even more than before. This just made him want to thrash around even more, and the cycle continued.

He brought his undamaged hand to his mouth and bit down as hard as he could, moaning around his fist. His shivered, wishing someone would change his sheets. They were drenched in sweat and he was freezing even as his face burned. A Panacea Bottle yesterday had cleared up his infection and fever but it was back once again. His arm was like a spring of infection, and no matter what they did it kept coming back.

They could cut it off…

No, no, no, no! He couldn't allow that. Maybe this couldn't be cured by normal means, but he just needed to hold on until Estelle got here. He was positive she could fix this. He couldn't lose his arm – he just couldn't. He'd be forced to retire, because a commandant who couldn't hold a pen, let alone a sword, was useless.

All he had to do was wait it out until Estelle got here. If they came at him with a saw, he'd fight them off tooth and nail. He'd entered the infirmary with four limbs and he was determined to leave it that way. He felt like shit and as his fever worsened his mind got foggier, but the determination to do anything in his power to keep his arm was an anchor he could cling to. If he let them chop it off, he'd be discharged from the Knights and he had no idea what else he could possibly do with his life.

A particularly violent chill made him convulse. He was sure he could actually feel tiny sections of necrotic skin slough away from slightly-less-dead burned sections in a dozen spots along his torso and arm and this time he couldn't stop himself from crying out. At least he could partially hear his distress now. It was somehow so much more satisfying to hear a scream, even if it was still muffled.

A smothered noise caught his attention and he looked around in confusion, trying to figure out where it had come from. He'd read once that determining the source of a sound was only possible by comparing the signals in each ear, and he now had a clear demonstration of how true that was. His right ear was still completely deaf, which made pinpointing the location of anything picked up through the ringing in his left impossible. Then the mattress compressed and Repede's face appeared, his front paws on the bed.

"Oh. H-hey, Repede. Didn't… see you."

Repede had been staying in the castle even when Yuri went home at night so he could keep watch. He was a loyal guard dog to the end. "Don't think you're s'posed to be here."

Repede growled, showing how much heed he gave to 'no dogs in the infirmary' rules. The bed heaved as Repede pulled himself the rest of the way on the mattress and Flynn winced.

"Ah! R-repede, no, there's no room…"

He plopped on the edge of the bed, pressing Flynn's good arm against his torso. Flynn pried it out and slid it under Repede's neck as the dog brought his head around to gently lick the side of Flynn's face.

"Thanks, buddy…"

Repede growled softly, telling him to get better as best he could. In a way, Repede was better company than anyone else. He never spoke, so Flynn didn't have to concentrate too hard to figure out what he was saying or feel rude or frustrated by having to ask him to repeat himself five times. He also didn't have to worry about speaking clearly himself.

"You won't let them take my arm, will you?" It probably came out as more of a jumbled moan with slight inflection, but Repede understood him. He ran his fingers through Repede's fur, taking what comfort he could. "I know you understand. You lost an eye. You wouldn't let me lose part of myself, too."

Repede bumped the side of his face with his nose and pressed his body against Flynn's side. He was warm, which helped quell Flynn's shivering. As his burns throbbed and ached, he squeezed Repede tight and pressed his face into the side of his neck. Repede didn't seem to mind that he was squeezing so tightly, but then he was probably overestimating just how tight he was able to squeeze.

Three days later, Yuri found himself in a different hospital room.

"Have you heard from Estellise yet?" Ioder asked. He sat upright, with a short-legged table placed over his lap covered in papers. His left arm was in a sling, but he was able to work from bed. Yuri didn't know the full extent of his injuries, but they were at least milder than Flynn's.

"No. She and Rita are probably in Mantaic by now, so I'm sure Judy is searching there. Hopefully she'll be back soon."

"Good. We really need her right now."

Yuri nodded. "Yeah. Flynn especially." He knew there were a handful of other Council members also in the infirmary with crippling wounds, but he really couldn't bring himself to care all that much about them.

"Not just that. The government is in disarray. I'm doing my best to lead from here, but I could really use her help politically."

"Oh, right." Sometimes he forgot that Estelle was involved in the government, too. She usually tried to keep her nose out of it, but Ioder relied on her as an adviser and she gave her opinion to the Council when it mattered. "She can tell Sodia to stop wasting time investigating obviously innocent people."

"We don't have any other leads. If she didn't investigate somebody, there'd be people clamouring for her to do something."

Yuri leaned back. "Yeah, I guess so. Still, I can't believe I made it to the list of suspects."

"I'm sure she didn't seriously think you could be involved."

"For what it's worth, I promise I'm not the one who blew you up."

Ioder smirked. "Thank you, Yuri. You have to admit, though, it would be a perfect bookend to our relationship, considering how we first met."

Before Yuri could come up with a witty reply, a nurse entered the room. At first Yuri thought he was here for Ioder, but then he said, "Yuri Lowell? Dr. Duringer needs to speak with you. She says it's an emergency."

His heart skipped a beat at 'emergency' and he was on his feet in seconds. "See you around."

Ioder nodded curtly. "I understand."

It took him less than a minute to dash out of Ioder's room and down the hall to the main office of the infirmary. He found Dr. Duringer standing near Flynn's door.

"Hey, Doc. What is it?" His heart pounded because he'd just sprinted down the hall, he told himself. It had nothing to do with the fact that apparently there was an emergency with Flynn.

"Good morning, Mr. Lowell."

Skip the formalities, dammit, and tell him what the emergency was! "What's wrong with Flynn?"

She kept her face carefully passive. "Mr. Lowell, I'm sorry. I'm afraid it's time for you to have to make that decision."

He was too busy reeling from 'I'm sorry' because in the second before she'd continued he'd convinced himself it was going to turn into, 'I'm sorry, but Flynn has passed away' and just that second of horror was enough to rattle him. "Which decision?"

"We cannot treat the infection. If it is not dealt with in the next twenty-four hours, I fear he will die. He's currently wavering between unconsciousness and delirium and is in no condition to make a decision himself. As his next of kin, it's up to you to decide if we should proceed with the amputation or wait for Lady Estellise. Please take a few minutes to decide."

She walked away so he could think in peace, and Yuri slumped against the wall. He didn't want to be the one to make this decision. It was Flynn's life – he should get to decide what happened. But Flynn couldn't, so it fell to him.

He entered Flynn's room and found Repede curled up on the floor by his bed, keeping watch. Repede eyed Flynn with concern, and Yuri couldn't blame him. Flynn was asleep, but it was restless. He fidgeted and twitched, his sweaty face clearly in pain. Every breath was laboured and the skin he could see was nearly the same colour as the white bandages.

"What do you think, Repede?" he asked softly. "I promised him I wouldn't let them take his arm."

Repede sat up, whining.

"But if Estelle doesn't make it back here within the day, he'll die." He wanted to trust Estelle. If he gave them the go-ahead to amputate Flynn's arm and then Estelle arrived an hour later, he would never forgive himself, and Flynn probably wouldn't either. If he didn't give them the go-ahead and Estelle didn't show up, Flynn would die and he also would never forgive himself. He was forced to gamble on whether Estelle would arrive, with Flynn's life as the wager.

He couldn't make this decision as himself. If he was Flynn's medical proxy, it was his job to make decisions based on what Flynn would want. Flynn desperately didn't want to lose his arm, but he also didn't want to die. When Flynn was healthy and thinking soundly, he would most likely take the logical route and approach it with optimism. Flynn could bounce back from anything; he could handle losing an arm, right? But if it led to him getting discharged from the Knights…

Yuri eyed the bandaged limb, wishing this decision could be easier. He should have thought this out days ago, because he'd seen the devastation of Flynn's arm. He should have known it would reach this point. Flynn's arm was beyond recovery. Even if Estelle gave it her all, there was a good chance it would never be fully functional again. Flynn wanted to keep his arm, but was he that concerned about saving a useless deadweight?

As he considered that Flynn's arm would probably be crippled even if they did wait for Estelle, a decision formed. This wasn't simply a fifty-fifty wager of waiting for Estelle and fixing the limb or not taking any chances and cutting it off now. There was another wager within about whether waiting for Estelle would even be worthwhile, and he didn't like those odds. If he wanted to do what was best for Flynn, he really only had one option. Decision made, he walked back out to talk to the doctor.

"Have you decided?"

Yuri nodded once, Repede sitting against his leg for support. "Yeah. If there really is no other way, then… amputate it."