Chapter Sixty-Four

Cool air swept across his knee, as refreshing as a misty sea breeze in summertime. Syaoran laid back, his upper body propped up by pillows as Doctor Yamura examined the joint. "It's healing remarkably well," she said, her fingertips brushing over his kneecap. "You're right on track."

Fai grinned at him from the chair he'd claimed when the examination had begun. "Isn't that great, Syaoran-kun?"

"It's a relief." He looked at his leg, trying not to focus on the fact that Fai had only come to make sure he and Kurogane didn't have a chance to be alone together. The skin of his injured leg looked paler than that of the other, though he didn't understand how that could be, when he didn't spend any time out in the sun anyway. Maybe I'm going crazy, he thought. Maybe I'm already crazy. I must be, if I'm having panic attacks.

"I'm going to go get the brace," Doctor Yamura said, setting her clipboard on her desk. "Wait here, please."

Syaoran watched her go, waiting for the staccato tap of her heels to fade before he turned to the others. Kurogane stood in the corner, arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes focused on the tiled walls. Fai sat a few feet in front of him, his eye a bright, cheerful blue as he fiddled with a thread that had come loose from his sleeve. But rather than seeing a placid picture of domesticity, Syaoran saw iron bars standing between him and Kurogane, guarded by a one-eyed prison warden with claws as sharp as knives.

The thought of knives brought him back to the too-familiar memories of his tormentors' basement. Syaoran looked at his knee again, remembering the wave of nausea as the pain had registered with him, the irresistible need to scream, though his throat had already been raw after hours of sobbing and shouting.

Mokona picked up on his depression and hopped out of Kurogane's shirt, bouncing across the marble floor before landing on his lap. The white creature said nothing as she nuzzled his shirt, perhaps aware of the tension humming throughout the room. Syaoran rested a hand on her head, smoothing her floppy ears against her back until he heard Doctor Yamura's heels clicking through the hallway. Before the physician returned, Mokona hopped out of his lap and hid in the backpack Fai had brought for her.

"This will allow you some flexibility," the doctor said, holding out his brace and maneuvering it underneath his injured leg. Syaoran shifted to accommodate the device. The metal chilled his skin, reminiscent of the manacles that had bound his arms, and he shuddered as Doctor Yamura latched the two halves of the brace together. "Do you need another prescription for painkillers?"

"I'm fine."

"The physical therapy will cause you a fair amount of soreness."

"That's okay."

She frowned, her dark eyes sliding to Fai and Kurogane. She stood a little taller as she turned to them. "You two can head to the waiting room. We'll be done here in just a few minutes."

Kurogane's eyebrows slanted down. "Kicking us out?"

If the doctor was intimidated by the edge of annoyance in Kurogane's voice, she didn't show it. "If that's what you prefer to call it. Patient records are confidential, and I have some things to discuss with Syaoran."

His eyes narrowed further. Fai rested a hand on his arm, looking up at him with a grim expression. Syaoran watched a wordless conversation play out between them, consisting of irritated glances (mostly from Kurogane) and stern twitches of the facial muscles (mostly from Fai).

Syaoran allowed the silent argument to play out for several seconds before interrupting. "It's fine. I'll be out in a few minutes."

They both glanced at him, snapping back into their usual roles. A brittle smile crossed Fai's face. "All right. We'll be waiting in the lobby."

Kurogane crossed his arms again. "Fine." He turned away and walked out behind Fai.

Syaoran turned to Doctor Yamura, hoping to finish whatever needed to be done so he could get back to the others. "What do we need to discuss?"

Doctor Yamura took a seat at the edge of the bed, her face grim. "You've been through a great deal. How have you been managing?"

He shrugged. "I'm fine."

The assurance only made the corners of her mouth pull down. She tapped her pencil against the clipboard in her hands, biting her lip. After a moment, she looked over at him. "It would be understandable if, under present circumstances, you might be having difficulties. As I said when you first came in here, counseling may help you through the worst of it."

He shook his head. "I don't really need it."

"But a lot of patients benefit from having a support system."

His eyes flickered to the door, his thoughts piercing the walls and equipment between him and the waiting room. "I already have one."

"Mr. Fluorite mentioned that you had a pretty severe panic attack a few days ago."

He stiffened. "When did he say that?"

"We spoke while the nurse was prepping you to have your cast removed."

Why? Syaoran wondered, embarrassment washing through him at the thought of a total stranger hearing about his episode. Why would Fai tell her about that? He knows the doctors can't help—they'd think I'm crazy. "I didn't think he'd mention that."

She nodded. "And that is precisely the reason I'm speaking with you now. As a physician, it is my duty to ensure that my patients have the best chance of recovery possible. And there are certain environments that just aren't conducive to a good prognosis."

A thread of steel wove into his voice. "What do you mean?"

"We spoke a bit about how you'd been coping with this trauma."

She knows. She knows about my relationship with Kurogane. Panic sunk its claws into his back. He closed his eyes, hands curling into fists. "What did he say?"

"He mentioned that you stopped eating for a period of four days. Regardless of whether it was a lack of appetite or a statement against something or someone, it indicates some negative emotional trends in your behavior."

"I want to leave."

"You're going to have a tough time walking, even with crutches."

"I'll take the crutches," he snapped.

Doctor Yamura stood, her face impassive, holding her clipboard like a shield between them. "As a medical professional, I am required to ask: is everything all right at home?"

The lie came fast, automatically. "It's fine."

"Is it?"

He opened his mouth to yell, then closed it again, realizing his intensity would only deepen her skepticism. You have to act rationally. You can't just yell and scream and hope to get your way. He took a deep breath. "Everyone is taking care of me. Ever since I got hurt, they've given me everything I asked for." Except the one thing I wanted most. "And my recovery is going just fine."

The doctor's eyes narrowed, then closed with resignation. "There's no shame in leaning on those who care about you when you can't stand on your own. Ah, no pun intended," she added when his eyes snapped to his leg brace.

"I know that."

"There is also no shame in asserting your independence. As I said, you've been through a great deal; however, from what I've seen, you also yearn for freedom. If you feel your companions are smothering you, there are better alternatives than locking them out of your room. And from what you've told me, the bumps in your emotional recovery are not rooted in mistreatment at the hands of your companions, but of the lack of communication in the household."

"Lack of communication," he echoed.

Doctor Yamura sighed. "I'll still recommend counseling because I do believe it would help. But if you aren't going to go for that, then you should at least make your wishes clear to your friends. Can you do that for me, Syaoran?"

He bowed his head, already feeling guilty for his earlier outburst. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been, how ready for a fight. A selfish, thoughtless indulgence. "I'll speak with them about it."

For the first time since the appointment had started, Doctor Yamura smiled. "All right then. I've got crutches all measured out, but if you'd prefer to keep using your wheelchair for a few more days—"

"I'll take the crutches."

"Excellent." She handed him the pair of crutches she'd brought in with the brace. "Let's head out."