"I'll try."

With a bit of difficulty he managed to get the towel around his waist and tie it. Fortunately since he was a guy, there was only one area he really needed to worry about being covered, and it was covered well. There was no risk of him accidentally exposing himself.

However, as he struggled to pull them off he encountered a problem: he wasn't flexible enough in his current condition to pull them all the way off. At least, not while remaining modest.

Again, he insisted on struggling for a minute before finally sighing and giving Mayako a forlorn look.

"This is getting old," he muttered, not as a slight against her but as a complaint of his lack of self-sufficiency.

For some reason, she felt as if she should be apologizing to him. It wasn't her fault that Fenix was in this condition, but she felt responsible for his well being and comfort--so, it was only natural that she might feel concern for him. He was getting pretty aggravated with this . . .

"I-I'm sorry . . ." Mayako whispered.

Fortunately, Fenix was able to get his trunks off . . . for the most part. He couldn't get them past his ankles, but that was fine. Mayako simply bent over to gently lift his ankles up so she could pull the trunks away. That was much easier than she thought it'd be. The girl breathed a sigh of relief, though Fenix would most likely not know why.

Next, she'd have to let him sit for a moment so he could dry more, and then she'd be able to take him to one of the Tsukimonos to start the process of moving him to a different room.

Fenix looked surprised at her apology. Did I say something again? It took him a moment to realize that she might have thought his complaints were directed at her rather than himself.

"It's not your fault, I'm just not used to being confined like this." He'd been used to it at one point, but years of traveling made it difficult for him to stay any place for too long, save for the church. Ironically, where once he so desperately wanted to be free of the place, it was now the only place he genuinely looked forward to returning to.

He aided his own drying process by rubbing the towel around, though at certain times this might have seemed mildly indecent. He was only trying to get dry, however.

Before they could try and get dry however, a knock came at the door. "Mayako-chan?" called the gruff voice of Urikuse. "I'm coming in--" There was a small thud and a small noise of pain.

"Don't go into a bath where there's a young lady potentially undressed!" the brash voice of Rebbecca scolded him. "Let me."

"I'm a doctor," came the grumbled reply, "and there's a young man in there too you know."

"Nothing I haven't seen before," Rebbecca said breezily, unconcerned with the double standard. "I'm coming in!" The door finally swung open, and the lady doctor entered pushing something both Mayako and Fenix would be extremely glad to see: a wheelchair.

"Mr. Brodsky's walking just fine again and I figured you'd be getting tired of carrying him everywhere, so here you are." That was when she spotted the wet clothing laying around. She lifted an eyebrow and Mayako, though she was mostly just teasing her.

Hearing the dialog out in the hall, Mayako stepped back from Fenix and watched the door. Truthfully, she didn't mind if either came in. Fenix and herself were both decent--wrapped in towels and the like. Urikuse wouldn't see anything too out of the ordinary, and even if he had walked in on Mayako or Fenix naked--or something along those lines--she would have only been briefly surprised and uncomfortable. Urikuse was a doctor. He was used to seeing people in the nude, and attained the same amount of sexual interest in his job as a paper pusher did while writing contracts. There was no concern.

Nonetheless, Rebbecca entered just a moment later, carting with her a wheelchair. Rebbecca's curious stare aside, this revelation would make life so much easier on all of them--Fenix wouldn't have to hurt himself by being on his feet too much, and Mayako wouldn't have to break herself by supporting the entire of his weight so much.

"Whew . . ." Mayako sighed in relief, followed by a nervous laugh. She saw the stare, and though she didn't want to address it for fear of being teased, she couldn't help but laugh nervously. That was only temporary, of course, as she felt the need to be gracious more than nervous: "Th-that will make things a whole lot easier! Th-thank you very much, Tsukimono-sama."

Mayako didn't know if she'd be doing the room change or not. From the conversations she'd had, she was under the impression that Urikuse and/or Rebbecca would be doing that, if they weren't busy. And it didn't seem like they were, which meant Mayako would have a bit less work to do. Cleaning the bathroom was a chore of hers to begin with, and if she had to move Fenix to the new room, she'd have to go clean up the bathroom before or after that task.

"W-well, I-I . . . I suppose this means y-you're g-going to move Mr. Black to his new room soon . . .?" Mayako asked, passively inquiring if she was doing it, or if Rebbecca or someone else was.

"Yep, I'll do that while you finish up in here," Rebbecca confirmed. Urikuse was already gone from the doorway, off to attend to other patients. "How are you feeling after your bath, Fenix?"

"Alright," came the ambivalent reply. Truthfully, most of his attention was on the wheelchair. "Will I be able to move around using that?"

"We can't let you go out unsupervised, but yes--if one of us has free time we can even take you outside for a bit. You haven't seen much of Hillcrest yet, have you?"

"No."

"Well, we'll worry about that tomorrow--for now, let's get you acquainted with your new roommate now. We need to clean that room anyway now--hasn't had a thorough cleaning since you got here, and that was awhile ago."

Fenix nodded mutely; it still seemed unreal to him. He allowed himself to be helped into the wheelchair. This was easy as both doctors were much stronger than Mayako. Rebbecca actually felt a bit bad that they'd fostered such a tall young man onto her, as it couldn't have been easy to help him move.

-----------

A few minutes later they arrived. Rebbecca had given him a brief rundown on how to use the wheelchair himself, though most of the time someone would be pushing it for him as she was now.

In pure layout the room was no different than his previous one: it had six beds, a few chairs and tables, and not much else. The atmosphere was completely different, though. It was on the north side of the building, so little light shone through the high set windows. Fenix already felt like he was a prisoner of sorts, except that rather than keep him in the guards wanted him out as soon as possible, and the dreariness of the room only further escalated that feeling.

It was also nearly silent in the room at the moment, making every creak of the wheelchair that much more noticeable. Though he couldn't see her expression, he got the impression that the doctor was practically sneaking into the room. He recalled that it was occupied by Mayako's friend Emma, but he couldn't see her at the moment. Rather, there was a single bed in the far corner that had its curtain closed around it, a shroud from the rest of the world.

And he was being wheeled to the one next to it with something akin to solemnity. He found it extremely unnerving that the normally cheerful, joking doctor was so quiet and serious.

A wheelchair. The creak of the wheels was evident, and constant, even if there was no body in it. When there was weight placed, the creak became violent, and it was the only thing audible in the lonely room. It was the only sound, and truthfully, it was the only sign of life. Rebbecca and Fenix were the only signs of life--the only people whose hearts beat in nominal progression and vapid rhythms that would someday burn themselves out--but not today.

Crazy folk who denied their madness. Ignorant folk who refused to acknowledge their lunacy. People that weren't her--people that knew truths and lies of life itself, but not the notion of God as the ultimate deceiver. Foreigners.

Foreigner.

Only one could be named that, now: one resident not of this room, but of the facility itself. She was a familiar foreigner, the type of legal alien that had always been there and always took care of her when need be. The other was a resident, now; he ceased being a foreigner once the creak of his wheelchair first started to echo throughout the lost and dismal northern room.

He might have found it strange, the tray sitting between his new bed and the curtains. It was likely to be removed, now that someone else was occupying the room, but until now, it remained for convenience sake. Sterilization equipment set next to mid-fine thread. It was thread for stitches, wherein surgical scizzors were often nearby--but there were none, here. There was nothing of any sharpness within the room at all, no scalpels, no needles; a medical environment restricted. Sterilized, powdered gloves were nearby for quick access, though. This was here out of necessity, though it was unlikely that anyone would ever elaborate on the purpose of it, be it Rebbecca, Mayako, Urikuse, or "Emma," the girl that occupied the bed closed in curtains.

"I take it . . ."

The voice was female and young--no older than a teenager, possibly still pubescent, or just barely past that. She was a stark difference to Mayako, whose voice was filled with ever present life, who could brighten up a room with her smile. The girl's voice was sullen and dark, dismal and lifeless--bordering upon apathy, were it not for a constant tone of cynicism and sarcasm that was ever-present in her own personal life.

". . . that this means I'm not the only crazy person here, anymore."

"Oh, I'm sorry if I woke you, honey," Rebbecca replied, her voice for once just plain sweet without a hint of humor in it. "I was trying to be quiet, but this chair...hmm...guess we'll need to get it tuned up soon." There was a brief pause as one could practically see her crunching numbers in her head, considering the price and the current funds of the clinic.

"Ah, anyway, it's good that you're awake. You remember Mr. Black, right? He's been here for awhile, you probably saw him at some point...he's going to be your new roommate. And he's awake now! Though, he likes to be called Fenix, right?" She glanced at him, and he nodded.

"Right." There was a pause in the dialogue as she helped him onto the bed. He was a bit reluctant, as he much preferred the idea of being able to move around, even if only a little. Still, he relented for now--he wasn't going to argue with the people taking care of him.

"All set. Anything I can get you?" Fenix shook his head mutely. Even he could sense something was off about her--in front of this Emma, she didn't act quite how she usually did.

"How about you, Emma? Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Oh, him," replied Emma, "That's too bad."

She wasn't very kind about it, and sounded almost uninterested with the prospect of a roommate. She did recognize the name, though--how could she not have? Everyone knew who Mr. Black was. He was this foreign guy that had been down in a coma for several months. Word got around about him fast, and he quickly became the talk of the town! A town that had little to nothing to talk about until then, and could make a big deal about anything small, turning it into some massive event that could spell the end of civilization as they knew it. Fenix Black's condition was vastly overshadowed by the bandit occupation that soon followed.

"He was probably better off sleeping."

Emma didn't pull the curtains away herself, but if Rebbecca checked on her, she'd find that she was clothed--decent, so if Rebbecca felt he need to, she could pull the curtains back so that Emma and Fenix could see one another as new roommates, however joyful of an event that may have been.

There was a number of things Rebbecca could have gotten for Emma--a vast amount of necessities that she'd die without. Food, mainly. There was no smell of food, because it had already been removed . . . since it hadn't been eaten, and leaving it to get cold and inevitably mold over and rot would have just gotten the girl physically sick, greatly enhancing her current problem--which wasn't so much a physical illness, and therefore not quite either of the Tsukimonos' specialties, nor Mayako's.

The treatment for her was different than the other patients, and it wasn't like they could just keep her there and do nothing, or else she'd simply get worse, and there were only so many drugs they could feed her until it started to border on inhumane, something which had long since happened and been diminished and (possibly permanently) shied away from. Emma didn't react well to medication; she knew what was in them more than Rebbecca and Urikuse did, and knew the effects they were supposed to have on her . . . therefore, they had the opposite effects on her.

She wasn't a cooperative patient, and not because of physical stress or retaliation; she never once kicked or screamed like a kid her age usually did. She just didn't get better, only worse.

Rebbecca was never sure what to say to Emma--her usual way of joking around with patients never seemed appropriate with her. She didn't know what to do in general--physically, Emma was fine now. They technically shouldn't have even been keeping her, but...she was a family friend, and it just wasn't a good idea to leave her alone. Which was part of the reason she hesitantly allowed Fenix to be moved in her. Despite their initial fears about him, he seemed to be taking his situation and recovery remarkably well--either that, or it hadn't really sank in yet. She hoped he'd have a positive effect on his roommate, rather than the reverse.

Fortunately, Fenix replied and spared her the need to come up with a response. "I've gotten enough sleep lately," he noted dryly.

This cheered Rebbecca up a bit. Maybe this arrangement work out after all. "True, but you'll need a lot more before you're better. Until you regain your strength you'll have to rest a lot."

He wanted to argue I've been resting, but again, he wasn't going to question a doctor about his recovery.

Rebbecca did indeed peek through the curtain to make sure Emma was decent before drawing them back, allowing the two to see eachother.

"Well, I'll leave you two be, then. Just call if you need anything, or we'll check back again soon."

Fenix nodded silently before she left--or rather, in his mind, it seemed like she was retreating. Lacking anything better to do, and not wanting to fall asleep again yet, he said, "Hello," and turned to regard the girl on the next bed.

Two weeks ago, they stopped trying to cover her up. Rebbecca and Urikuse told her that if she didn't, she'd have permanent scars, but she knew the truth behind that: she was going to have them, anyways. She argued that case, and though she didn't tear open her wounds, she refused to wear bandages. Her health was important in the clinic, but her health wasn't in danger anymore; all and all, she was no longer risking infection, just permanent scarring. She was letting that happen to herself, though, and by removing bandages every night, there came a point that Rebbecca and Urikuse stopped trying in that respect.

At Fenix's retort, Emma replied: "I can see why ya're in here."

The curtain was drawn and when Fenix gave his hello and looked over, he'd find a familiar sight from a familiar day so many months ago . . . in an unfamiliar circumstance.

A frail girl sat there, "relaxed" with the back of the bed reclined only a touch, allowing her to better see what she was reading. Her red hair, at length with her shoulders, was dirty and greasy, making it appear much darker than it really was; she wasn't bathing, and when she was forced into it, she didn't try. She wore nothing more than a hospital gown and a blanket covered her from the waist down. Weak hands held a thick book up, it's cover reading Modern Engineering: from Flintlock to Steam. A stack of books sat by her bed, unaccounted for. Some of them were still open, having been discarded when she got from them all she wanted--and all of them were technical manuals.

There were two particular bandages upon her, though: both on her wrists, wrapped tightly, with a sign of dried blood upon the bottom. They could still be infected, and Emma didn't actually remove those ones. What would be more than shocking for anyone to see was her face, though: she looked normal, just like a twelve year old girl should, except for particular discrepancies in normality which could be covered up if she wanted, but never permanently. The bandages would always come off someday, whether it was when she was sleeping or before she bathed--she'd always have to see it in the mirror.

Upon her left cheek, started just centimeters from the corner of her lips, vertical slashes lay permanent. Five of them, spaced apart from past the corner of her lips close to the back of her jawbone. Each was between three quarters of an inch to an inch long. Five tally marks, embedded into her skin, permanently sunk in, permanently scarred. One time, there were five holes in her cheeks, five horizontal slits drawn down across her skin and into her mouth and scraping across her teeth--she could still hear that when she closed her eyes, how a knife sounded when it scraped across teeth. Her cheek had healed and the wounds closed, but the red indents would forever remain--and on her face, so small with her age, they stood out more than anything else on her.

Though hazed green eyes, she paid him a glance--even turned her head to look him in the face. She seemed uninterested, preferring her book over the company, even if there was nothing which she could apply it to.

"Ah, you!" Fenix's eyes widened in surprise, but not, as might be expected, at her injuries. Rather, he recognized her from the day that seemed like days ago to him and was months ago to everyone else--she was the one to whom he handed Mayako before he fought Theleaus...which is resulted in him being sent here.

So that's Emma... Seeing her like that made him doubt the outcome he'd assumed. Had they really won? Mayako didn't know, and didn't seem to remember any of it--that much he'd ascertained. Whether she truly repressed it or just dealt with it by pretending it never happened, he wasn't sure.

Then he saw her injuries...pretty terrible ones at that. He wondered who would do that to a girl her age, and unfortunately came up with a response almost immediately. "Don't tell me...Theleaus didn't get his hands on you, did he?" Maybe there really hadn't been a victory...maybe instead it'd been a narrow escape from death.

"No," Emma replied with a shake of her head.

Whether she knew what Fenix was talking about or if she was just bluffing to shut him him, was unclear. She went silent for a moment, focusing more upon her book than she was on him. Something started to scratch at her, though, deep in the back of her mind, keeping her from concentrating, ensuring that she'd not be able to read in peace, if she even had any peace in which to read.

"He didn't," she spoke again. "Theleaus never laid a hand on me."

Another long pause. She was speaking just a bit more, and holding back from saying more--screaming, or throwing a book at him. The reason could be described; she could define it somewhere in her mind, but she didn't feel like it. She simply felt like pelting him in the face with a book--but if she did, she'd have to put up with Rebbecca and Urikuse lecturing her.

"Theleaus got away . . . and trashed this village. Because somewhere along the lines, your buddies thought that leaving him alive was a great fucking idea," there was rage in her voice--indiscriminate rage, as if she'd tear the head off of anyone who brought that up. It did, however, serve the purpose of letting him know that she knew what he was talking about, somehow, someway. "Thanks for asking."

The last statement was pure sarcasm; sarcasm and anger were possibly the only indications that Fenix would get from her, just from her voice, that she still had some feelings left, albeit negative.

"Yes, I'm certain that they just decided to forgive him and let him go," Fenix replied with equal sarcasm, though his was a dry comment--he wasn't angry at her in the least. He knew Zach well enough that after what Theleaus did, there was no way he'd spare his life.

But regardless, it seems somehow Theleaus did get away that day. He stared at his lap for a second, wondering what happened, but the only way he'd know for sure was if he asked her. So he had to, even if he got his head bit off again.

"So...what happened that day?" He turned to look at her again, clearly having recovered from her little spat, if he'd really been affected much in the first place. "Sorry, but you're the only one I can ask--Mayako doesn't seem to remember, and the doctors don't have a clue what I'm talking about. And I haven't seen anyone else yet..." All he learned was how he got to the clinic, and by whose good will and funds he was allowed to stay without paying himself.

"That's 'cause Remmy and I never talked about it," replied Emma dryly, narrating without emotion, even though she had brought up the name of her late brother. "We were the only people that knew, and that was fine, then. Sarah never needed to know. Eld never needed to know. They were all better off not knowing. Just like Mayako. She'll never know. 'Cause . . ."

She shut her book hard. It was obvious that she wasn't going to be reading it with Fenix in the room, so shutting him the hell up sounded like a great idea. Out of frustration, she let the book fall to the floor, but that was it.

Emma sighed, "She's the only one who don't deserve to know how crazy she really is. So . . . if ya tell her this."

She paused, only to stare at him with uncaring eyes. She had seen all he had to show, she had seen him fall, she had seen it all--and no matter what he saw, she had seen worse. She had experienced worse. It was evident on her face forever that she had taken a stroll through hell, and may never be right again because of it. Whatever innocence she had at the time may or may not have been lost; it was unclear, but with the tone of her voice and the way in which she could seemingly stare past a person as if they were a human being any longer, but a statistic, it was a fair possibility.

"I'll kill you."

Emma declared as fact--inexplicably dark, indescribably serious. If she had the means with which to make good on her statement, just by her stare and voice alone and the dangerous sincerity and apathetic twist of madness that grasped every word, given no more than brief intervals of clarity when she showed her rage . . . Fenix should understand. She didn't have the means with which to cause him harm on a normal day, let alone when she was sunk into such a state of despair, but if she had something so simple as a firearm, and the opportunity, she may very well have risked it.

"Got that?"

Fenix didn't even react to her threat, nor her look. To be sure, she looked awful and he was certain she'd been through a lot. But she was also nothing he hadn't seen before.

No, he knew that look all too well. He wondered how many orphans entered their care with that look, the one that made it clear that they didn't care about anything; not others, not themselves, nothing. It was the same look that at one time had been near constant on his own face.

Would Emma carry try to carry out her threat? That he couldn't say, but even in his current condition he had his defenses. If she tried, there was slim chance she'd succeed.

Not that he had any intention of making her carry out. "I won't tell her," he said, staring back with a neutral expression. He never even flinched. Unlike his mentor, he didn't rise to any threats--he just ignored them.