#danny: why's it called miracle salad?

[vladdyissues]

Vlad is a gourmet Michelin star chef with exquisite taste in wine and expensive imported cheese and is an internationally-recognized chocolate connoisseur

Vlad also puts shrimp and olives in lime-flavored Jell-o and slathers it with mayonnaise and marshmallows and calls it something like "Charming Salad"

[impyssadobsessions]

RAISING PHANTOM

Ao3

Teen+ DP x DC “Come on Danny, we're going to be late.” Jazz called as she finished making their lunches for the day. It wasn't anything fancy. A tuna-fish salad sandwich for her and two ham sandwiches for Danny. She just rolled a half of bag of popcorn into the lunchbox. She was only bringing one for them, since they be together all day. “Danny?” Jazz called again as she turned to put up the items back into the fridge. Grabbing a knife on instinct before opening the fridge door. Its been four years since they left their parents. You think she be use to the food in the fridge NOT attacking her by now. But considering the rough state of the fridge, its probably better safe than sorry. “I'm coming I'm coming.. hold on.” Danny grumbled from the back rooms of the apartment. It was a small apartment, but it still had two bedrooms. Jazz made sure it did. Though the apartment wasn't in as safe of a location as she would have liked. 

But that what happens when you choose to live in Gotham. She could have gone anywhere for college, anywhere at all. Instead, she chose Gotham because she thought it be the safest place for them, as ironic as it may be. Besides, Gotham wasn't that unusual from Amity Park, but it still took time to adjust. Luckily, Jazz knew self-defense and often was able to hold her own, most of the time she just let them rob her and run away. Or if Danny was near, they would just disappear without a trace. It was a miracle they had only run into the vigilantes in the city a few times. She didn't want them to accidentally find out about Danny. Jazz plucked some water bottles from the fridge. She had filled one with electrolyte water and the other with kool-aid for Danny. She also put some electrolytes in it. The kitchen in the apartment was very small, barely any cabinet or counter space, a tiny room that only one person could fit in at a time. She hated she couldn't see out into the living room, but beggars can't be choosers. It was rough when she first moved out on her own with Danny. She had to delay college to make sure they could afford a place to live and stay. Danny felt so guilty. Luckily she had a lot saved up, and Danny's friends helped where they could. Vlad unfortunately did find them a year later, but she was able to pull some strings. He wasn't as clean with his work as he liked to believe. So Vlad had settled for visitation rights, much to Danny's distaste, but Jazz had made certain everything was in her favor.  And She always kept a thermos and Fenton Peeler on hand, just in case. She was glad to have his help, but still didn't let him pay for most of their things. She didn't want to be indebted to him. However, his help allowed them the security to live lives outside of their parents. They wouldn't be able to touch them. She didn't even go by Fenton anymore, neither did Danny. After all, Danny Fenton was considered legally dead.   It was best to keep it that way.

Not that their alternative names were all that well thought out. Jazz smiled as she zipped the bag, walking out of the kitchen. They had argued what they wanted, Vlad demanding they go by his last name, Masters. They of course refused, and were able to come up with a convincing argument why that was bad. It would have been too suggestive if it ever came to light. Vlad had begrudgingly agreed. Danny wanted Armstrong or Apollo, or something related to space. Jazz wanted to change their last name to something more common, like Smith or Gray. Danny argued that would look too obvious. So it took the entire month leading up to it to pick a name, in the end they decided it with a coin flip. Jazz had won and picked the dropped suffix of Fenton, Nightingale last minute. After all, she was still was considered the same Jazz on paper. So regardless of what she did, she still would show up as previously Jasmine Fenton. It was easier. She could keep her grades and everything she did formerly. All her scholarships and test scores would translate to any college she applied for again. It was more believable with the story they came up with too. Danny, on the other hand, had to have new papers drafted. So she rather Vlad focus on making certain, Danny's new identity was perfect, though she had overseen it. She was legally Danny's mother, after all. Danny finally made his appearance as he dragged his backpack down the short hall into the barely bigger living room. His black hair still scruffy, eyes were big and blue. He wore a red and white shirt with a rocket on it. He was so small and cute. Jazz smiled looking at her little brother, emphasis on little. “Ready to go, Danny?” Danny shrugged, muttering, “Yeah...” Despite physically being eight, almost nine, he sometimes kept his fifthteen year old attitude. He was de-aged by one of her parents' inventions. Sadly, that was how it was revealed he was a half-ghost. That night, Jazz had to speed off in her car with a five-year old Danny as their parents swore a ghost took his place. It.. had been rough. Jazz always felt like Danny was her kid in a way, despite being two years older at the time. It had been a long four years, but now things were looking up. She was about to begin her fourth year at college, and was recently hired at the public library. Which they were going to be late for. She double checked Danny's back pack, giving a soft pinch to Danny's cheek when she was done. Danny hissed in retaliation, but otherwise just shrugged his backpack on. Jazz smiled and lead them out the door, after double checking her surroundings. Trying to remember. She grabbed her keys and closed the door locking it. Making Danny grab her belt loop or the lunch bag, they walked out of the small apartment building that smelled of cat pee and weed. This was the only building that didn't have recent history of a drug bust or prostitution ring in the area, still Jazz was hoping one day she could upgrade. But that would have to wait til she became an intern at Arkham. For now, it was home. A home they made. Jazz glanced down to make sure Danny was still holding onto the lunch bag she had strapped across her shoulder. He was, while frowning down at the sidewalk. She knew Danny hated being small. She hoped she had made it easy for him, but it was never easy to go from stressed out half-dead teen.. to same half-dead teen in a five year old body-now eight. Jazz was surprised that Danny was a mix of his teen self and the young Danny she grew up with. Jazz partially wanted to analyze all the differences and the effects of one's psyche of being returned to a younger self.. but this was Danny. Her baby brother, now just her baby. He didn't deserve to have another parent use him like a science experiment. So she kept that thought to herself and maybe a couple throw away thoughts in her diary. It was interesting, but he was worth more. One day, he'll see it. She hoped. Jazz kept facing forward through the street, keeping a watch in corner of her eyes. This wasn't the most pleasant area to walk in, and they had a way to go. Still giving their odds, she preferred to walk all the way, instead of investing into a car or a bicycle.. or the bus or train. They limited their escape routes and bicycles were easily stolen. Gotham was just as bad as Amity Park, where streets were rebuilding constantly, so driving or bus would be a risk of being late. The subway was a no go for her, besides the creeps, she and Danny would be stuck enclosed with a lot of people. At least dark alleyways it was easy to use Danny's abilities to make them slip away, or when Jazz was by herself, it was easier to fight and flee. She was also saved a few times by vigilantes that way. This option also saved money, well as long as they kept from being mugged. Speak of the Devil. Only ten minutes into their walk, they were jumped and surrounded by thugs. No one even batted an eye, typical, as they lead the woman and her small “child” into an alley. Jazz had pulled Danny close to her, hands on his shoulders as they both side-eye for a way to escape, keeping close. Worse come to worse they'll give the thugs a ghostly scare, but they were hoping for an alternative. She let the thugs search her lunch bag and Danny's backpack. Jazz rubbed Danny's shoulder to keep him calm, knowing the boy was furious and frustrated. There was four of them, each with a knife, unknown if they had a gun. She wondered how skilled they were with a knife, scanning how they held them she could easily kick one of the knives out of their hands and use it. But Danny. She needed to give him an access point to hide, not that he would. Right now it was best to be patient. “Not even a cent? Now that can't be right. I bet girly here hides it in her bra.” Jazz took a step back into the wall, she didn't hide anything in her bra, but she did sew secret pockets in her pants to hide her cards and cash. Jasmine cursed as she should have planted fake money in her lunch bag, she forgot to after last mugging. “I don't carry anything in my bra. I was j-just in a rush and didn't think I needed any cash today.”

“I don't believe it til I see it.” One of the men stepped forward. “Out of the way brat.” Stall. Danny was tensing up protectively in front of her. Think Jazz, if Danny could be patient then she could grab the offending man by the arm and-

Jazz let out a sigh of relief, one of the few times she was happy be near the vigilantes. As a man in a red helmet dropped down on the thug that was inching to them. He took a tire iron and smacked one on the right in the head, sending the man to the floor. Thug on the left tried to stab Red Hood, who dodged the knife letting it slip past his side, before wrapping an arm around the mugger's, locking it in place. Then Red Hood grabbed the wrist with his other hand and jerk his arm fast with a bone cracking snap. Jazz instinctively covering Danny's eyes, while she watched Red Hood take the crying man and fling him by his broken arm at the last of the thugs who was trying to run away.  Knocking them both to the ground. Jazz felt Danny pull her hand off his face as he kept his face towards at their hero. Red Hood waited to see if either of the thugs got up, before grabbing the lunch bag and back pack that was dropped on the ground. Jazz stepped over the thug in front of them, pulling Danny with her as she walked closer to Red Hood. Gathering what had fallen out of the bags. “Thank you.” She gratefully thanked him. She knew the muggers wouldn't have had a chance either way, but it was nice to not have to deal with the situation herself. “You shouldn't be walking alone.” “Thanks for the advice, but this isn't my first rodeo. I do appreciate the help. Its always scarier when they do it when I'm with Danny.” “I could have taken them.” Danny muttered, standing behind Jazz's crouching form. Jazz smiled, knowing Danny could, but should is a different story. Red Hood snorted, “Sure you could kid, but its better to just run. I'm sure your....” “Mother.” Jazz noticing the vigilante unsure of their status. She was young, and still young looking. It be easy to be unsure if they were brother and sister now, or mother and son. Though no one would know how correct they were. “Mom wouldn't want you to get hurt.” Danny glared crossing his arms, huffing. Jazz reached to ruffle Danny's hair who pulled away with his cheeks still puffed out. Jazz stood back up taking the bags, handing the backpack back to Danny. “Thank you again, we better get going and let you.. do what you need to. Come on Danny.” Jazz glancing at the thugs on the ground then back at Red Hood with a bright smile, as she turned to gently push Danny to the direction out of the alley. Danny was reluctant for a moment, eyeing the vigilante up and down, then turned with his sister's insistence.

[choicesfanficanonymous]

O Little Town of Edenbrook | Ethan Ramsey X MC (Louise Haas)

Note: I clearly have no medical background and all accounts in this story are FICTION and it may not may ethical or logical in a real world hospital.

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of seizures and child abandonment

Summary: it’s the holiday season at Edenbrook and Dr. Ramsey assigns Louise to a new patient and the case hits a little too close to home for both of them.

Word count: 1523

Part One | Christmas Eve

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me too.” Louise sighed and flopped down onto the sofa next to Landry. Though there was three inches of snow on the ground outside, her roommate was dressed in a floral button-down top and obnoxiously bright neon shorts. His family was meeting in the Bahamas for Christmas.

“Relax,” Landry said just as a text from his Uber flashed on his screen. “Sienna and Elijah will be back Wednesday. Jackie’s flight lands at noon on Thursday and mine at three.”

Louise followed Landry when he stood and walked to the door where his battered luggage waited. She gave him a tight squeeze before he disappeared down the hall. Then she was alone in the hallway, rubbing her hands on her arms to keep warm. The heater in their shitty building went out an hour earlier and the technician hadn’t made it yet. Louise paused at the blinking Christmas lights she and Sienna hung around the doorframe and smiled. If she couldn’t spend Christmas with her family, then she was glad that her friends could.

All she had to do was get through two days at the hospital without her friends.

________

           They started the holiday schedule two months earlier. The ten interns who placed in the top for three weeks minimum got the Christmas holiday off. Everyone else pulled straws, literally. Louise hadn’t pulled a short straw and ended up switching shifts with Landry. It was a win-win. He got to be with his family and Louise got to stay far away from hers.

There was something unnerving about being one of the twelve interns in the atrium today. Louise looked around and saw only one familiar face that should be far away from Edenbrook. Aurora Emery. Louise soon realized locking eyes with her biggest competitor was a mistake because as soon as she made eye contact, Aurora stalked over to her.

           “Surprised to see me, Haas?” Aurora asked. “The look on your face was pretty priceless.”

           “I am, actually.” Louise said. “You placed first for the last seven weeks. Why are you here?”

           “If I wanted holidays off, I would have become a teacher. Christmas doesn’t stop people from being sick or dying. And besides, I actually like helping people.”

           Louise only nodded. She followed Aurora’s gaze to Dr. Ramsey across the room. He was standing behind Dr. Delarosa as she gave an enlightening speech about them being someone’s Christmas miracle with his arms folded across his chest and looking at no one in particular.  

           “Now go save some lives!” Dr. Delarosa exclaimed with a clap of her hands. And Louise was off… to save some lives, indeed.

________

           Louise was yawning by the time she finished with her last patient. Morning rounds took longer today. All of her patients were stable and she could take a much needed coffee break.

           Danny waved as he pushed a patient by in a wheelchair. Louise waved back and felt a sudden longing for her friends.  It had barely been twenty-four hours since they disappeared to their family traditions but Louise missed them and Edenbrook’s maze of corridors felt overwhelming without them there.

           “Rookie,” Dr. Ramsey was walking toward her, casually with his hands in his pockets. “I hope you haven’t killed anyone today, because I was coming to give you a new patient.”

           “What? No. I-“ Louise caught herself before she could sound any more like an idiot. “All of them are alive and breathing.”

           “Great. Follow me.”

           Louise did. They continued down the hall to the elevators and waited for a band of nurses to spill out before stepping on. Dr. Ramsey pressed the button to the ground level where they crossed the atrium into the chaos that was the E.R.

           “Woah,” Louise gasped as a half-naked man nearly knocked her over into the lap of a little girl with a marble stuck up her nose. “I didn’t think it’d be packed like this on Christmas Eve.”

           “It’s always crazy during the holidays, especially Christmas” Dr. Ramsey kept his gaze straight ahead. “Come on.”

           Louise followed Dr. Ramsey through a slight crowd of people until they reached the beds to the far right of the E.R. He went to the fourth one and pulled the curtain. There was a girl about seven with a head full of curly red hair sitting on the bed.

           “Hello, again, Bethany.” Dr. Ramsey said rather cheerfully, Louise noted. “How did I do?”

           “She’s perfect!” Bethany smiled showing a lot of missing teeth.

           “I’m sorry,” Louise raised an eyebrow. “Perfect for what, exactly?”

           “Bethany, here, didn’t exactly like it when I showed up as her doctor this morning. And she had a specific request as to how her doctor should look. Someone that was-“

           “A pretty girl doctor,” Bethany interrupted.

           “You think I’m pretty?” Louise teased as she caught Dr. Ramsey’s eyes across the room.

           “Just solve the case, Rookie.” Dr. Ramsey bumped fists with Bethany before leaving.

_________

           There was one doctor on call in the pediatric wing and she approved of Louise taking the case. Bethany was admitted to a room on the pediatric floor and was seemingly fine as Louise ran more tests. Her chart only listed three symptoms: fever and severe chest pains. The fever was a sure sign of an infection and the chest pains could have been accompanied by a number of things. Simple enough, another doctor might have sent the girl home with antibiotics and pain meds but Louise noticed a slight yellow tint of the girl’s eyes.

           Louise made a mental note to ask Bethany’s mom if she knew how long her daughter’s eyes looked that way. Her name was Kate and she had hair that matched her daughter’s. She always smiled when she talked to Louise but disappeared shortly after Bethany was admitted. The nurse down at the E.R. said the woman stepped out to give her husband the car keys.

           An MRI ruled out a muscle tear. And an IV of antibiotics helped reduce the fever.

           This was the time when Louise would normally have Elijah or Sienna or Landry or even Jackie to analyze the symptoms with. Instead, she was sitting in the cafeteria alone picking over her cold kale salad.

           “What do you look so gloomy about?” Aurora slid into the seat across from her, biting into an apple.

           “Nothing,” Louise sighed. “Just trying to solve a new case.”

           “Care to elaborate? Maybe I can help.”

           “A girl, seven. Fever and chest pain. And yellow tinted eyes.”

           Aurora nodded, thinking. She took another bite of her apple and chewed slowly.

           “And how did her blood cells look?” Aurora asked. And that’s when it clicked.

           “Oh my gosh!” Louise said. “I bet they’re sickled… I could kiss you right now. You’ve literally just saved my patients’ life.”

           “Please, don’t kiss me.” Aurora said but the corners of her lips twitched upward.

           Louise grabbed her salad and tossed it into the bin before sprinting to the elevators. She nearly knocked down an elderly couple on her way.

_______

           Dr. Ramsey was waiting in the pediatric wing when Louise stepped off the elevator out of breath from her sprint downstairs. She needed to get back in the gym.

           “I figured it out.” Louise breathed.

           “Do you need a minute?” Dr. Ramsey asked, raising an eyebrow.

           “No. I’m fine.”

           This time, Dr. Ramsey followed her down the corridor to Bethany’s room. From the window they could see her playing with a doll on her bed.

           “It’s sickle cell anemia,” Louise said. “I know what you’re thinking but just because she’s white it doesn’t mean she can’t have it. For her to have it, one or both of her parents has to be a carrier of the sickle cell trait. If only one carries the trait then the other must be a carrier of the beta thalassemia trait. And for a treatment I need a blood match donor.”

           “Well done, Rookie,” He started to say but a thud stopped him. Louise turned to see Bethany on the ground, seizing.

           “Shit!” Louise was in the room in an instant, Dr. Ramsey close behind. The machines were beeping loudly.

           “Get her on her side!”

           Louise rolled the girl on her side and stroked her hair out of her face as Dr. Ramsey moved back to the door.

“I need a code team on standby!” He shouted and looked down at his watch, timing the seizure.

“Stay with me,” Louise whispered. “Stay with me.”

_________

Louise made her final rounds of the day before returning to see Bethany. She was stable now, but in critical condition and staying the night in the ICU. Though she should be used to the tubes and the wires, Louise’s heart ached when she saw the girl just lying there.

           A round, gray haired woman stood with Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Shaw, the pediatric doctor on-call. They were discussing something intently. Dr. Shaw and the woman continued down the hall when Louise approached.

           “Who’s that?” Louise asked. “What’s wrong?”

           “Mallory Fitch from CPS.” Dr. Ramsey said. “It appears Bethany’s parents have abandoned her.”

part two soon to come

[izayoi-no-mikoto]

Yuletide treat - Vatican Miracle Examiner

(contains spoilers for the anime.  Set soon after episode 12.)

Roberto is kind, and loyal, and good.

It doesn't particularly surprise Ryouta to discover this; in the course of his short life, he has looked up to two people above all others, Kou for what he has done in life and Josef for what he did in death, and both of them counted Roberto as someone special.  To earn the friendship and admiration of two such people is no small feat, and it says much of Roberto that he has done it.

Ryouta knew this before, but it was more an intellectual exercise than anything else; he hadn't met the man, had never spoken to him, had never witnessed the workings of his mind or the kindness of his spirit or the depth of his loyalty.  Of course Roberto had to be a good person, Ryouta thought, but he thought little deeper than that.

Then his condition takes a turn for the worse, and he sees three specters before him, and--Ah, it's time, he realizes, it must at last be my turn to die.

But it isn't.  Ryouta wakes up again, somehow--miraculously--still alive, and that is when he meets Roberto for the first time.

"That belongs to you," Ryouta says, nodding at the golden bookmark, and a flood of emotion pours over Roberto's face, too vast and too swift for Ryouta to translate, and--Ah, he thinks, I see why you became his friend, Josef.

That should, he thinks, be the end of it.  Kou spends seemingly every waking moment at Ryouta's bedside, but aside from that one time, Roberto doesn't accompany him, doesn't impose on them, doesn't interrupt.  Ryouta isn't particularly affected by this one way or the other, and in all honesty he didn't expect anything different.  Perhaps Roberto makes himself scarce because he's overwhelmed by the discovery of Josef's sacrament, or perhaps he just isn't as invested in Kou's little brother as Kou himself is--either of which would be perfectly understandable, and Ryouta sees no reason to even ponder the question.  But as Ryouta's condition improves from catastrophic to perilous to actually not half bad, Roberto increasingly visits--sometimes with a book under his arm, sometimes bringing nothing but himself and a gentle smile, always sincere--and Ryouta soon wonders if perhaps the reason for Roberto's prior absence was simply that he didn't want to infringe on their brotherly bonding when Ryouta's time might have been running out, or their celebration upon discovering that Ryouta would, at least for now, survive.

Today Roberto announces his arrival with a knock on the door.  At first Ryouta can't guess who it is, but Kou breaks off mid-sentence and glances over at the sound, his face already lighting up.  It's as though he can sense Roberto's presence through the wall, or perhaps can recognize the weight and cadence of his knuckles on wood.  Either way, he clearly knows who it is without asking, and it's the sheer joy in his expression as much as anything else that makes Ryouta call out, "Come in."

Ryouta is strong enough that his voice carries, now.

The door creaks open, and Roberto steps inside.  "Roberto!" Kou exclaims, as thought he can't hold back his excitement.  He so often greets Roberto this way; it tickles Ryouta, just a little, to see his responsible, mature older brother unfold like this.

"Hiraga," Roberto says by way of greeting, and even though using the surname should sound distant, impersonal, he manages to imbue it with a fathomless fondness that fills every syllable.  Then he looks over at Ryouta.  "Hello, Ryouta," he says pleasantly, and though the depth of emotion has slipped away, the warmth is very real.  "How are you feeling?"

"Quite well, thank you," Ryouta replies. "In fact, I feel better than I have in... quite a long time."

Roberto and Kou exchange a glance, one of those looks that speaks to implicit understanding of things left unsaid and a bond extending beyond the capacities of human explanation.  It's at times like this that Ryouta wishes he were inside their circle, wishes that he could understand exactly what they do, how they live, the things they've seen and experienced together, because there is obviously something here that he doesn't understand, something involving him, and--

But at the same time, he wants no part of it.  He knows that there are some places he is not meant to intrude.

"I'm glad to hear that," Roberto says, and he pulls up a chair and takes a seat beside Kou.  "I was just thinking that if your doctors okay it, you might appreciate something other than hospital food.  I'm pretty good in the kitchen, you know."

Kou beams.  "Oh, will you cook for him, Roberto?" he asks, excited, then turns to Ryouta with bright eyes.  "Roberto is a fantastic cook, Ryouta, I promise you that you've never tasted anything nearly so delicious--he can make positively anything, one time we were in North America and he made us bison--"

And so begins a cascade of gushing descriptions of pancetta-wrapped beef tenderloin, and cranberry-gorgonzola-pecan spinach salad, and braised soy-apple pork chops, and all matter of cuisine that Kou without exception praises rapturously, his hands clasped and stars in his eyes.  Roberto doesn't even try to cut in; he just watches and listens with his cheek propped up in one hand, wearing an expression that is equal parts bemused, flattered and hopelessly fond.  And if he won't stop Kou, well, then Ryouta can't find it in himself to stop him, either.

"--and if you have the opportunity to eat Roberto's cooking, you simply cannot pass it up!" Kou concludes at last with a decisive nod.

Ryouta blinks, dazed.  "I look forward to it," he says faintly, because it seems like a safer option than mentioning any specific details that might get Kou started again, and also because it's true--after all, he trusts his brother's judgment implicitly, in all things.

"You're exaggerating, Hiraga," Roberto says with a roll of his eyes.  "If you talk up my cooking that much, he'll only be disappointed.  It's better not to give him false hope."

Kou gapes as though Roberto's self-effacement is a personal insult.  "Disappointed?  I have never once been disappointed by your cooking, Roberto!  If anything--"

Kou's renewed fervor is cut short by the ringing of his cell phone.  He breaks off to fish his phone out of his pocket and glance at the screen.  Then his face goes blank.  "I apologize, but I have to take this," he says, his eyes flitting to Roberto.  Roberto gazes back, then nods.  Vatican business, then.  Kou excuses himself from the room, leaving Roberto and Ryouta to their own devices.

Roberto waits until the door softly clicks shut, and then he turns to Ryouta.  "I wish it could have happened without you almost dying, but I'm glad I finally got to meet you," he says.  The bluntness is painful, but refreshing--everyone knew Ryouta's life had hung in the balance, but no one else has dared speak the words aloud in his presence, as though giving voice to the thought might bring the reaper back to finish the job.  Roberto, it seems, has no such qualms.  "Your brother speaks well of you."

Ryouta's cheeks go hot.  "My brother is too kind," he says, enfeebled.

Roberto chuckles softly.  "That's true," he allows.  "But that doesn't mean he's wrong."

Ryouta's cheeks must be bright red by now, he's sure of it.  Of course his brother speaks well of him; a good older brother cares for his younger brother, and Kou is nothing if not good in every way.  But hearing someone else say it is completely different.

"I've always looked up to him," Ryouta admits.  "I know I can't do everything he does, especially when I've been in the hospital so much. But I try to live up to his ideals."

"Not many people can live up to Hiraga's ideals," Roberto says, unexpectedly frank.  "Believe me, I've tried."

Ryouta studies him, not bothering to try to hide it.  He's pretty sure Roberto would see through him anyway.  Roberto meets his gaze, then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  "You must miss him," he says, gently.  "What with him being gone on missions for the Vatican all the time."

"I do miss him," Ryouta says.  No point denying it.  "But I know he's doing what's important to him."

Roberto's pursed lips soften, just a bit.  "When he got the phone call saying your condition had worsened, he dropped everything to fly to Germany to be here with you," he says.  "You're important to him, too.  Don't forget that."

Ryouta flashes back to that moment.  The three specters he'd seen so often, too often, except now they loomed over him and he realized, Ah, this time they're here for me--and then, that tiny voice of weakness, the one he'd spent so long trying to crush out of existence, raised its head and whispered, faint and defeated:  I just wish I could have seen my brother one more time.

"Father Roberto," Ryouta says, "can I tell you something?"

Roberto's eyebrows rise.  He reclines in his chair, crosses his legs, folds his hands in his lap.  "What is it?"

"I don't know if you'll believe me," Ryouta says.

Roberto's somber expression doesn't even twitch.  "My job is quite literally to try to disprove miracles," he says.  "I have to be skeptical about everything.  So no, I can't promise I'll believe you.  But I can promise that I'll hear you out."

So Ryouta tells him.

Ryouta tells him about the three hooded specters.  Ryouta tells him about Danny, and his mother, and all the sick and ailing children he'd seen swept away in their wake.  Ryouta tells him about praying for the dying, believing it was all he could do, believing it was the reason he was put on this earth.  Ryouta tells him about the sacrament.

Ryouta tells him about seeing the three specters once again and realizing, deep in his gut and with chilling certainty, Ah, it's my turn.

He falls quiet at last, and Roberto sits beside him and lets the silence stretch.  It grows deeper and heavier, and Ryouta fidgets, second-guessing his decision.  He doesn't believe me, he thinks, suddenly doubting himself, he doesn't believe me, I've ruined everything, I--

"I'll be honest," Roberto says abruptly.  "I don't know if you can actually see, I don't know, the agents of Death or whatever you'd like to call them.  I don't know if they actually exist or if you're just hallucinating them or if you're making them up out of whole cloth.  I don't even know how I would prove or disprove it.  But I do believe you."

Ryouta's breath escapes him in a relieved rush.  His head suddenly feels too light.  "You believe me?"

"You're an honest kid," Roberto says.  "Like I said, I don't know if what you see is real or not.  But this isn't an investigation. It's real enough to you, and that's all that matters to me."

Ryouta swallows, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to cry.  He manages to control himself and settles for sniffling a bit instead.

"But Ryouta," Roberto continues, leaning forward again, and now his face and his voice are so grave that Ryouta feels his heart drop, "you have to promise me one thing."

Ryouta gulps.  His hands clench into nervous fists beneath the sheets.  "What is it?" he asks, his voice small.

What could Roberto want of him?  Was he going to demand that Ryouta never breathe a word of this again?  Never speak of this to Kou?  Or--

"Promise me," Roberto says, "that if you ever see them come for your brother, you'll tell me."

Ryouta's anxiously churning mind screeches to a halt.  He stares at Roberto, perplexed.  "Why?" he blurts.  "It's not--" and then his voice falters, and he has to gather himself up again before he can resume speaking.  "It's not something I'd wish upon anyone else," he mumbles at last, the words dragged almost unwilling out of him.  "To know that someone will die, and not be able to save them--"

"I'll save him."

Ryouta had been saying something, but the sheer ferocity in Roberto's voice makes him forget all words.

Roberto takes a deep breath.  "I'll save him," he repeats, more restrained this time, but without losing an ounce of steel.  "No matter what, I'll save him."  He stares at Ryouta as though willing him to understand something that cannot be put into mere words.  "I'd go through Hell to save him," he says, quiet and strained but utterly unyielding.  "I'd do anything to save him.  So you have to promise me.  Please."

Unable to speak, Ryouta nods his agreement.  A promise.  Roberto leans back, as though he is only now satisfied.

The door swings open.  "My apologies," Kou says, sliding his phone back into his pocket as he reenters the room.  "I couldn't--" he breaks off, glancing between the two of them as though he can sense the heaviness of what has in his absence passed between them.  "Did I interrupt something?" he asks.

"No, no," Roberto says, leaning his chair back on two legs and waving a lazy hand in dismissal.  "Ryouta and I were just chatting while you were gone.  Your brother's a good kid, you know?"

Kou's hesitation instantly evaporates.  "I know he is," he says, casting an affectionate look Ryouta's way, and so he misses the painfully soft expression that sweeps over Roberto's face.

He misses it, but Ryouta doesn't.  I'd do anything for him, Roberto had said, and Ryouta suddenly knows, with more certainty than he thinks he's ever felt in his life, that Roberto's words are the truth.  And Kou might not know it yet, might not yet realize it, but--

Ah, Ryouta realizes, now I know why my brother loves you.