They sat on opposites of the fire, attempting to warm themselves on a cool autumn night. As usual, he didn't look happy--he never did during quiet moments like this. Was he that much of an adrenaline junkie? Until recently he'd always assumed that was the case. But recently he'd been paying closer attention--looking at his eyes and not the grin.

"So...even you have regrets then?" he asked bluntly--conversation didn't come naturally to him, as he didn't have the experience in how to lead into subjects (or knowing which ones to avoid) that most people took for granted.

He looked up, startled at the sudden question. A wry smile attempted to cover for eyes that were guarded--there were still secrets, apparently, that he wasn't go to share with him.

"Of course," he replied. He didn't seem terribly upset. A little sad, yes, but it wasn't as bad as he'd expected. "I don't like to dwell on them," he added, as though reading his mind.

"Then...how come you can always be so cheerful?" He could only imagine what kind of things he'd seen in all his years--eight more than his own, and unlike him he didn't spent most of them cooped up in a church.

He gave him a warm smile, clearly glad that he'd asked. "They key is to make sure all your regrets are things you couldn't do, not things you didn't do. Now get some sleep; we have a lot more ground to cover tomorrow."

He coughed and sputtered, gasped and wheezed--the first change in his breathing in quite some time. His mouth was horribly dry, his vision hazy at best, his body so weak he could scarcely move. But Fenix Black was finally awake.

The awakening of Mr. Black caused a startled cry nearby--a cry, a gasp, and the immediate dropping of a tray onto the floor. Medical supplies scattered about as they jolted off of the tray and scattered about the floor. Harmless supplies, really; meant only for good, never for harm. Intravenous medication, syringes of liquid nutrients to take the place of food--inserted in place of his I.V. drip just a half an hour ago. He'd have never obtained the nutrients of food that he needed to survive, otherwise! And intravenous medications were a stark necessity, as they were well into flu season . . .

It was routine. Check up on him, make sure his vital signs were nominal, give him nutrients, and provide any medications if necessary. Mr. Black waking up was never part of this routine, and had not been for an indiscernible period of time. He'd not been given the opportunity to witness his surveyor, but was provided a chance to hear her voice, as the taps of her feet upon the floor gave way to her insistent and imperative exclamations:

"Ts-Tsukimono-sama! He's awake! He's awake!" the girlish voice cried in the distance, barely audible from Mr. Black's bed, "Mr. Black is awake!"

It was funny thing things a person's mind latched onto when they were out of it. The only thing he could think of was that it was the first time anyone had ever called him "Mr. Black," and it felt very odd.

Meanwhile, for the first time that Mayako saw, Rebbecca looked surprised at news of a patient. Truthfully she hadn't had much hope for him waking up after so long, but unlike many coma victims he didn't seem to be brain-dead, so it wasn't out of the question.

"Ah, well, I'd better check on him then. Would you go get what I need for a physical?" she asked Mayako. The instruments would be familiar to her; she'd retrieved them many times before.

Fenix went through most of the physical in a daze, and was only vaguely aware that it was even happening. He was regaining some focus, but it was still hard to concentrate on anything.

"So...physically he's healthy," Rebbecca explained to Mayako, "but he's a little undernourished and his muscles have atrophied quite a bit. IVs can only do so much," she lamented.

"It'll take a little bit, but he'll make a full recovery. He'll be pretty weak until then, though, so we'll need to take care of him..."

As she explained what she'd need to do, exhaustion overwhelmed Fenix and he fell into a fitful sleep, only to wake up again a few hours later...

When a comatose patient just woke up, many precautions had to be taken. Checkups were to become more often than usual, which were generally two or three times a day, and physical therapy had to be provided when psychologically possible for the patient. That was one of the key factors to observe: the patient's psychology. How they reacted to waking up, for example, was key in discerning if the patient was going to need extra care or not. If he or she was depressed and broken, then precautions were necessary. Similarly, if he or she was extremely eager to go through physical therapy, precautions had to be taken so not to allow the patient to get his or herself hurt.

In short, constant observation. If Mr. Black wasn't under consistent care and observation, compared to the other patients, then serious risks were being taken. The last thing any of them needed was a coma patient, whose only difference between a John Doe was the fact that they knew his name, but nothing more, would have been the worst case scenario.

As such, it wasn't long after Mr. Black opened his eyes again that he'd find a familiar figure walking through the doorway. A thin, short girl, underdeveloped for her age, possibly discerned as a little boy if she had a masculine haircut, and did something to make her face less girlish. In the dimly lit hall (and room), her hair appeared perfectly black, and although it was bushy and shoulder length, she kept it well combed. Mayako Takamine was her name, and it wasn't the first time Mr. Black had seen her before. Though, it was the first time he had seen her in a makeshift nurse's outfit. It made her look like an eleven or twelve year old girl, trying to look older and physically appealing. (She had yet to link this to how some of their older male patients became more enthused in her presence)

"O-oh! Y-you're awake again!" the girl exclaimed before hurriedly pulling up a cushioned chair beside of Mr. Black's bed, "Um, h-how are you feeling . . .?"

His first attempts to respond came only as coughs and croaks. After a minute, he finally managed to answer: "Terrible." Not that he blamed the girl, but it he was nothing if not honest.

Her voice didn't sound familiar, which was to be expected, as the only thing he'd heard of it was screaming and crying. Once his eyes adjusted, however, he breathed in sharply--he recognized the girl before. He doubted he'd ever forget what she looked like.

"Y-You..." he stammered. His last memories before falling unconscious returned. "You're alright." He was surprised, but in a good way. If she was here, then surely they must have won. He took a look around, but didn't see anyone else in the room.

"What happened?"

Terrible. Well, that wasn't a good start . . .

Mayako, upon sitting down, tilted her head to the side. It was unclear whether or not she knew why he seemed so surprised to see her, or where the "you're all right" comment came from. Though, of course, it would have been understandable for anyone to be surprised about . . . just about anything, after waking up from a coma at all. More than anything else, Mayako was primarily curious about his health, both mental and physical. Some sort of surprise from him was likely to be given minimal thought, as it was more or less expected.

"You got hurt really bad in a fight. A friend of mine . . . of ours, I think . . . brought you back here. I-it's, um, it's been a good while since y-you've been awake . . ." Mayako replied, hesitant to say anything that might stir him up, emotionally.

Fenix Black was in good physical condition, though. Mayako just had to be careful with what she said to him, that was all. Not that she could think about that too much; truth be told, the girl was extremely tired, and though she was supposed to be light with him, she may wind up saying something she probably shouldn't.

"Right..." He'd taken several shots from Theleaus, protecting Usurii, who held the silvery fire that she'd taken from him...who in turn had taken it from the girl now in front of him.

Fenix wasn't sure whether she recognized him as well or not...it was possible she didn't, as she might have passed out before she saw him. He wasn't sure.

He also wasn't sure who the friend she was referring to was; probably Remmington, though it was possible Zach had befriended her in the meantime. If that was the case, it was admirable that she tolerated him well enough to call him a friend.

"How long?" he asked. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed--even the fact that his wounds had healed wasn't a clue, as Zach could have closed them with his magic.

"U-umm, w-well, y-y-you see . . ." Mayako trailed off, unable to directly answer Fenix's question without much thought.

It had really been a long while. Fenix's comatose state had been a constant since early June--possibly even late May. It was before the official start of summer, that was for sure, and they were already well into fall. Well into fall.

"Ummm . . . f-four o-or five . . ." Minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? "Months . . ."

Truth be told, Mayako was a little hazy on the details of how Fenix Black arrived at the clinic. It was after a bad day in Galaens, that was for sure; they all had a bad day. No matter the case, Mayako hadn't actually been conscious through the latter half of that day. Even if she retained memory of the event, there was only so much she could recall. Nonetheless, Fenix had been out for four or five months; a fairly substantial amount of time. A lot could happen in that amount of time, and indeed, a lot had happened.

"W-we'd actually thought that, um, y-you would be out for twice the time you really were . . ."

For the first time since waking up, Fenix's expression changed significantly. Days would have been preferred, weeks had seemed the most likely, but four or five months? "Nearly half a year," he mumbled, in shock.

It was impossible to comprehend being out for that long. If she was right, that would make it...October? November? Sometime in there, probably. Even if she was right, he probably wouldn't be able to accept it until he went outside and saw what season it was for himself.

Not knowing what else to do, he asked for the one person who always seemed to make sense of everything. "Where's Zach?" Though he doubted he was here, as he couldn't afford to wait in any one place for him that long, he might have left him a message or something.

"Umm . . . . . ." Mayako trailed off.

Zach Kaiser . . .

Some things were best not to talk about, unless he asked. And right now, he was asking. This put her in a bad position, though. Mr. Black wasn't really ready for any emotional stress--well, more emotional stress than he was already going through after waking up from a five month coma.

"Remmy-kun said awhile back, that, um . . . that, um, that . . . that "moptop is in worse shape than blackie here," and that he was taken to a different hospital for intensive care. He said a little later that he was all right, but couldn't be expected to go anywhere. U-um, he never told me where that hospital was, exactly, though." if anything, her attempt to impersonate Remmy's voice was humorous enough. Unfortunately, she wasn't much help. "I'm sorry . . ."

It wasn't the best of news, but it was still something. Unfortunately, she had no idea if even the Tsukimonos knew where Kaiser was at the moment. It had been five months, after all--Remmy had been gone for a majority of that, and before that, there had been the bandit problems. Quite a hectic five months, to say the least, leaving them little time for such investigations.

"He wasn't out for five months, so I don't see how he was worse off," Fenix muttered, but truthfully he was glad. If Zach was okay, then it made sense that he wasn't around; he was too restless to sit still and wait for him for too long. Once he recovered, he'd just have to go back home, and the kids would probably know where he went.

"It sounds like everyone made it out okay." That was a great relief to him--if they beat Theleaus, then Usurii must have surely survived, which meant the man she was with probably did too. That just left Shin, but unless he was already out of the fight by the time Fenix was, and his wounds didn't seem to be fatal.

In any case, it seemed like the girl didn't know a whole lot about what happened (understandable, she'd passed out). There was something that she could tell him still, though.

"What's your name?" She seemed to know his (or at least his last name), but he'd never caught hers--or perhaps the five month nap just wiped it out of his memory.

"M-my name? Takamine Mayako," she replied with a bow of her head.

It was obvious in every way that she was Cizokian. She had all the genetic traits--facial features, hair, stature, all of it, a slight bit of an accent (though, she spoke Common well enough that anyone could be correct when concluding that she had been speaking both Common and Cizokian equally for her entire life, mastering both languages), Cizokian social habits, and her name--house name first, first name second.

Sitting around and talking was an option, but Mayako figured that, first and foremost, rest and recuperation was a necessity--for the both of them. Though, were she out of it for five months, the first thing she'd have wanted was a home cooked meal from her mother . . .

"A-are you hungry? B-because I can cook you something really quick, if you'd want." She figured that it was at least kind to offer.

Mayako, then. Or so he assumed. She was clearly Cizokian, and the way she bowed as she introduced herself suggested she'd said her last name first. Well, she'd correct him if he was wrong, no doubt.

"I think you know my name, but I'm Fenix," he said, not so much for introduction but as indication that he preferred to go by his first name. Even if she was clearly younger than him, he wasn't old enough to by "Mr. Black" in his opinion.

He hadn't been thinking much of it, but at the mention of having food his stomach growled. "That sounds good," he replied unnecessarily. "And a glass of water too." Even more than hungry he was thirsty--his short nap since coming around the first time had done little to soothe his dry throat.

Fenix--Fenix, okay, I'll start calling him that from now on.

"All right. I-I'll be right back," replied Mayako before she stood up and made her way out of the room.

Once she was outside in the hall, though, more dialog could be heard, however faint it may have been. It was muffled by the walls, in fact. The only thing that could be discerned was that she was surprised at seeing another patient awake so late, asking if she wanted anything to eat, and the other patient had not seemed interested.

It wasn't much longer than twelve minutes after Mayako's conversation in the other room that she was back in Fenix's room, wheeling in a cart with a hospital tray atop it--and on that . . .

Mayako had figured that if she had been in a coma for awhile, the first thing she'd want would be food cooked by her mother--particularly some sort of delicious and sweet dish, which Rebbecca and Urikuse would have probably scolded her for if they had been awake to notice her making it. This was no time for dinner, anyways! That would have simply put Fenix's body into a botched state of expectancy! His body would have figured that hot dinners would come late at night, when he should have instead been sleeping! So, she brought him dessert instead. The dish had been self-prepared--a medium sized waffle on a plate, with vanilla ice cream on top, with home made cinnamon caramel (salvaged from some supplies she found in the cupboards) drizzled on top, and strawberries cut up and placed on the side, and at least three strawberries had been devoted to being diced up fine, hand blended with a deflavored syrup, and used as strawberry syrup over the strawberries and around the sides of the waffle. Had she the time and not been so tired, she'd have made the strawberry syrup herself. This was accompanied by a tall glass of water, and carefully placed over Fenix's lap.

"Um, i-it isn't much--j-just something I cooked up real quick . . ." Mayako stated as an apology, eternally unaware that even something she cooked up "real quick" wasn't far from bettering what most served in five star restaurants.

Mayako leaving the room gave him a chance to look around...or at least try to. It took all his might to pull himself into an upright position--getting up and walking around was clearly not going to be an option yet.

The room itself was pretty bare...though there were other beds, none were occupied. There weren't any windows, either, so it was impossible to tell what time it was.

I guess I'll just have to ask her what's going on. He'd pieced some information about what happened together from talking to her, but he still lacked any knowledge about his current situation. Like where he was, when it was, and how long it would be before he was up and moving again.

Most of this was erased from his thoughts when she brought his meal--he was expecting something very basic, and she'd brought something that looked like it came from a restaurant. Which it had, for all he knew, but the way she acted she really had fixed it herself, and in very little time.

Is this really something she just cooked up? But he was too hungry to question how the food was made; the fact that it was in front of him was good enough for him. "Thanks." The first thing was to soothe his aching throat, so he reached for the glass of water.

Unfortunately, in his current state even something as simple as eating and drinking was going to be excruciatingly difficult. He couldn't lift the glass with one hand--it shook so much he spilled water on himself. Using both hands he could drink without too much trouble, though.

Setting it down, he moved onto his food, which is where the problems really began. Using a fork and knife proved to be a greater task than he was up to; he just couldn't muster the strength and dexterity. After a solid minute of trying to get a single bite, he halted, his face flushed from frustration as he tried to figure out how to eat his meal.