literature

Recovery, Part 4

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Maka ran through the streets of Death City, focused on nothing more than getting away from the hospital and the man currently in it. How could it be possible, how could he not have known her? The young girl's steps slowed, then stopped, and she stared ahead. Her breath was ragged, partly from running but partly also from emotion. He hadn't known her. She had looked into those eyes, the eyes that should have been full of warmth and a ridiculous amount of affection, and had seen...nothing. He'd said her name, but even that had had the flavor of a question, as though he hadn't been sure.

And he'd looked so scared...Maka couldn't remember ever seeing him scared before. Hurt, sad, angry, proud, joyful, his expressions had ranged all over the scale but she had never seen him scared. It had been like...like something she simply couldn't describe. She didn't know how to.

Footsteps sounded behind her, slowing to a stop. "Maka...?" Soul's voice sounded concerned.

She didn't turn. "...He didn't know me..." she said, fists clenching.

Soul sighed, and she felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder. "You saw him that first day," he reminded her. "He's obviously been through hell."

Maka said nothing, shaking slightly. Yes, her father had been through hell; those scars, and how thin he was, she couldn't begin to imagine what had happened to cause all that.

"Give him time to recover," Soul suggested. "Stein knows what he's doing."

"You didn't see his eyes!" Maka spun on her partner, the pain she'd concealed during her father's disappearance blazing in her eyes. "He wasn't there! It wasn't him!" The words came in a rush now, as if propelled by something deep within her. "All there was was fear, and confusion, and he didn't even know what was going on, let alone who I was, and you have no idea what that feels like! We don't even know if he will recover! How do you recover from something like that?! What even happened to him?! Where was he?! Who took my Papa away?!"

Her energy apparently sapped by the flood of words, Maka leaned forward against Soul's shoulder, trying in vain to hold back tears. "Papa's supposed to be stupid and clingy and silly and irritating and..." her voice broke, "and persistent and dependable and...he's not supposed to be scared..."

Soul pulled her into a hug and she just leaned against him, letting the tears fall. However much Maka tried to hide it, she truly did love her father and seeing him in such a state had scared her more than anything she'd experienced yet. She knew the man wasn't invincible – how many times had she herself hit him over the head to stop his irritating antics? – but there was a difference between knowing he could be hurt and seeing him reduced to little more than a child...or an animal.

"Stein'll take care of him," Soul said, trying to comfort her. "I mean, he was your dad's partner for years before your mom came along, right? He's got to have some idea of what to do."

Maka looked up at her partner, sniffling slightly as she rubbed the last few tears away. "Yeah..."

Soul flashed her a grin. "C'mon, let's go wash your face off. Crying doesn't look cool on you."

"Shut up," Maka shot back with a half-hearted smile. He was trying to cheer her up, she knew, and she appreciated it, but her father's state still weighed on her. She fell into step with Soul as he started for Shibusen, getting herself back under control. Soul was right, after all; if Stein couldn't help her father, there was probably no one else who could. She'd just have to trust that he knew what he was doing.




Back on the balcony, Stein extinguished his cigarette and casually flicked the butt over the edge, not really caring where it would fall. He still had very little idea of what exactly he should do, but standing around worrying about it wasn't going to get anything done. Perhaps if he talked to the patient again...there was no guarantee he'd get a different reaction but then again there was the possibility that Maka's short visit had helped somehow. All he could do was try and see.

He made his way back to the patient's room, knocking quietly on the door as he stepped inside. It seemed the warning had either helped or been unnecessary, as the man was staring right at him. He seemed a little calmer, Stein noted with some relief, but there was obvious confusion in his eyes. Well, that was understandable. Walking over to the man's bedside, Stein had a momentary flash of longing for the chair in his lab. The only seat in this room was the difficult to move chair across from the bed. Well, he'd just have to stand, then.

He looked down at the man, watching as the confusion began to give way to an uncertain fear. "It's all right," he said, keeping his voice calm and quiet. Best to check something before this went too far..."Do you know me?"

The man blinked up at him, the uncertainty in his face growing. It seemed ages before he finally spoke, the word hesitant and more question than statement. "...Stein?"

"That's right," Stein assured him, slightly relieved. That pause had been more than a little worrying. He glanced over at the chair again, then walked over to drag it to the patient's bedside. Screw standing; he'd probably have better luck if he wasn't towering over the bed in any case. Getting the chair situated in a spot where he could easily see and be seen by the patient, Stein sat down and leaned forward. This made the man in the bed lean back a little, which sent a pang of hurt through the scientist. "No one's going to hurt you...you're safe."

The man said nothing, just watching Stein with growing confusion and uncertainty. At least the fear was subsiding a little. Stein watched him, waiting for him to speak, but no reply came. Odd...he'd had little trouble speaking before. "Is something wrong?" Stein asked, frowning slightly.

This apparently made the man's confusion grow all the more. Stein was getting more than a little confused himself. Why was the man not speaking? It wasn't out of fear, judging by his expression, and the question asked was a fairly simple yes-or-no type...so why wasn't he answering? "Senpai?"

The man's eyes closed for a moment, as though struggling with something Stein could neither see nor guess at. After a moment those blue eyes opened again, fastening on Stein in complete confusion. "...Why..." he began, then paused. Stein waited, watching the struggle play out on the man's face. Was speech really this difficult for him? "Why are you...talking to me?" the man tried again, the words hesitant but flowing finally into a complete sentence.

Stein stared at him for a moment. That was what was confusing him? "...Because that's how we communicate," he said, falling back on cold facts. Rallying slightly, he added "Because I want to know how you're doing."

The patient looked at him, apparently not understanding at all. Stein rested one hand on the bed. "Senpai...you do understand where you are?" he asked, trying not to show his worry.

There was silence for a moment, then the man's eyes flickered towards the door. "...That girl..." he stopped himself, brow creasing in apparent effort before he all but forced the name out as though trying not to forget it. "Maka...Maka was...here?"

"Yes." Stein ignored the fact that his patient hadn't answered the question posed. In a way, not answering was an answer. And a worrying one, at that.

"And you..." Again, the pause and the effort; was it so difficult for the man to recall even those two names? "Stein..."

"Yes, it's me." The scientist kept his voice calm and patient, his hand sliding forward to gently touch the patient's own. The man froze for a moment before slowly, as if he had to remember how, curling his fingers around it. A part of Stein was inexpressibly relieved by the gesture; just that simple touch made him feel so much better. "See? It's me. I'm here."

The man stared down at their hands in silence, a new expression entering his eyes. It looked...Stein wasn't sure how to describe it. Scared, almost, but with a note of happiness, maybe? Relief? Hope? That was it. Hope, but held back somehow, as if the man didn't dare let it take control. When he finally spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper and even more halting and hesitant than before. "This..." his eyes shifted to look at Stein, the look of desperately restrained hope almost painful. "This...isn't a dream...?"

Stein stared at him for a moment, then gently squeezed his hand once. "No..." he said, forcing his voice to remain steady. "No, it's real." The man truly thought this was a dream? That just added to the weight of pain in Stein's chest. How could he prove that this was reality, that the patient was truly safe and secure now?

The restrained hope in the man's eyes grew and he looked back down at their hands, lying on the bed. No, not to their hands...to the cuff around his wrist. Stein tensed. Was another panic attack about to happen? "...But...those..." the man said, absently tugging against the cuff.

"Are there to make sure you recover," Stein said, wondering if the man could really understand that right now. He probably couldn't, the scientist admitted privately, but he was also in a very calm, docile mood right now. Maybe he had time to convince the man that the IV was necessary if he took the restraints off...it was worth a try, wasn't it? "Here."

Stein reached over to undo the cuff, rising to remove the other one while he was at it. They were sturdy and secure, and he had to release the man's hand to remove them, but they were off soon enough. Sitting back down, Stein took the patient's hand again. "Better?"




Had that really happened? He stared at the silver-haired man – at Stein, remember the name! – in shock. The restraints were gone. His wrists felt lighter now, cooler as the air hit his skin. Slowly he raised one hand, the other now being held again by Stein. It took some effort, but he could hold it up. He could move it. He wasn't tied down anymore. But he couldn't keep it up for long.

His hand fell back to the bed and he looked over at Stein, eyes wide with incomprehension. "I can...I can move..." he said, still disbelieving. Surely this had to be a dream. He'd been tied down, kept still for so long, to be freed now...and in someplace warm and soft, a bed...it had to be a dream.

Pressure on his hand made him pause and look down. There was something undeniably real about the weight of Stein's hand in his, something solid, but still his mind couldn't wrap itself around the idea. It was there, in his head, but always just out of reach, near enough to tease but too far to grab.

"I don't understand..." he said, the words soft and confused. His head was starting to hurt with the effort of just trying to think. It was so hard, so many things whirling through his mind and always the ever-present fear that this would all end, that he would wake up and nothing would have changed. Slowly he looked back up at Stein, desperate for something, anything that would make it all make sense. "How can this be real?"

Something flickered in Stein's green eyes – an oddly reassuring green, for being so pale, almost comforting in their familiarity even though he still had difficulty keeping the face associated with the name – that he couldn't quite name. He didn't look away, silently pleading for help. Surely there was something that would make this not a dream. Something that would mean he truly was free and away from that hell.

Then he felt pressure on his wrist. He looked down sharply only to blink as Stein's hand lifted his own off the bed. Sudden fear headed off by confusion, he watched his hand's progress in silence as it was pulled towards Stein's face. Then it made contact, his fingertips registering the warmth of the other man's cheek, the odd roughness of the scar and its stitches. His eyes noted the subtle difference in skintones, Stein's naturally pale complexion compared to his own hell-made pallor.

Slowly his hand shaped itself against Stein's cheek, was held there by the scientist's own hand, and he felt an odd longing. The fountain of hope within him, so long blocked by experience and fear, was beginning to flow again. It was just a trickle, but he could feel it rising. Part of him screamed for it to stop, that this was just another dream and it would hurt more on waking if he allowed himself the luxury of hope, but he couldn't help it.

"This is real," Stein was saying, those green eyes locked on his own. "I am real. You have to believe that."

"I..." He wanted to. He wanted to, so badly, but he didn't dare. "I can't..." The hope within him continued to rise, conditioned instinct trying to beat it back, the conflict feeling as though it would tear him apart. "I can't, I...it hurts...too much..."

"Please." Stein's voice carried a different tone now, almost begging. He knew it well; he had used the same tone many times before, though it hadn't done a thing. His hand fell from Stein's cheek as the hand supporting it was removed; he didn't have the strength or willpower right now to keep it there himself. Instead, Stein was holding his shoulder now, the grip firm but not tight.

"If it..." he began. Talking was harder now, his breathing vaguely erratic, but he barely noticed. "If it's just a dream..." God, if it was...he didn't think he could handle it if it was, not with the hope still trickling through. If he woke up now...

"It's not!" Stein's grip on his shoulder tightened and something crackled for a moment. His eyes widened. This was...he knew this feeling, if distantly. Knew the energy that was flowing from Stein to him. In all his dreams and delirium, this had never happened. For a moment he could think clearly, the fog of fear and uncertainty cleared. He was in a hospital, Stein was sitting with him, he had walked miles upon miles, Maka had visited...

Just as quickly as the clarity had come it vanished, leaving him once again mired in doubt and fear. Stein had pulled away, holding his hand as if it had been burned, and was staring at him. He looked back, reaching out to the silver-haired man with one hand. Why had Stein let go? He didn't want to lose the contact yet...it was comforting, reassuring, almost grounding in a way.

As Stein took his hand again he tried to focus through the haze. It had been so easy just a moment ago, but now it was almost more disorienting than it had been to begin with. He tightened his grip on Stein's hand, looking over at the scientist. Could he really believe...?

"...you're safe, Senpai," Stein told him, meeting his eyes. "You're home."

"Home..." he echoed, giving up on the fight against hope. He wanted to believe this, wanted this to be real. And maybe it was...or maybe this was his dying dream, in which case there was no harm in believing it anyway. A torrent of emotion swept through him, relief so strong it almost physically hurt. "Oh god..."




Stein froze as the man's face crumpled. Had he somehow made things worse? But no...the hand that held his with surprising strength wasn't pulling away. The thin shoulders were shaking, though, and the words "oh god" were repeated at least twice in a barely audible voice. And then Stein noticed the tears.

The patient was crying.

Stein stared for a moment. What was he supposed to do now? He had a very limited working knowledge of social interaction as it was, dealing with someone crying – at least, for the reasons he was fairly sure this man was crying – was outside his realm of experience. Still, he had seen others interact around him, even if he himself had never tried anything he'd seen them do. There had never really been an opportunity. But the patient needed something more than just hand-holding right now, and Stein was vaguely surprised to feel not just an urge but almost a desire to hold him.

Shifting from the chair to the edge of the bed, Stein pulled the patient carefully up, holding him close. The man reacted quickly, clinging to him desperately, and Stein glanced down at him. His face was buried in Stein's shoulder; the scientist could already imagine the dampness soaking through his jacket and pullover.

Tentatively, driven by something he couldn't quite put a name to, Stein reached up to stroke the dark red hair, vaguely surprised by its soft texture. He had never really put much thought into what someone's hair would feel like. The man was still crying, holding onto Stein with what was probably every ounce of strength he could muster, but it seemed to the scientist that he was calming down a little.

Letting his hand rest against the patient's head, Stein spoke softly, reassuringly. "You're safe now. No one's going to hurt you anymore." The man's arms tightened almost reflexively and Stein just kept talking. "I've got you now. You'll be okay. You're safe." He wasn't sure if it was his words or his tone, but either way the patient seemed to be calming down. Still crying, certainly, but Stein certainly couldn't fault him for that. How many tears had the man held back, wherever he was? Let them fall now; it could only do him good.

And it was doing Stein good, too, somehow, holding the patient like that. It felt right, natural, to have the man there, in his arms, and Stein found that he didn't want to let go. He let his cheek rest against the man's head, felt the softness of that red hair against his skin, and tightened his hold just slightly. Yes, that was relief, holding him, knowing that he really was here, and safe, and that nothing was going to happen to him again. Stein would see to that; anyone looking to harm his partner again would have to go through him first.

A muffled sound came from the man in his arms and Stein glanced downward. Had that been words? Had he really heard that? Or was he imagining things now? Either way it made his vision blur again, and he closed his eyes against the welling tears. Stein didn't cry, and he didn't intend to start now, but those words, and that tone...in the face of a quiet, weak, relieved thanks, the tears threatened just the same.

He didn't deserve thanks. He hadn't done anything. Hadn't been able to find his partner, had left him wherever he'd been for months, and had been – still was – all but powerless to help him. Stein shook his head, just holding his partner closer. For now, all that didn't matter. For now, the most important thing in the world was the man in his arms.
Maka's taking her father's condition harder than she wants to admit. Stein tries to talk with the patient again; will he manage to get through to the man this time?
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WynterWillow's avatar
I can't wait for the next part.