Grazing The Sky

______________________

Yittek was silent for a long moment. He stayed standing in front of the counters, leaning against them with his arms crossed.

Finally, he smiled.

"Well," he said, "you certainly have yourself in a bind."

Zidane stayed sitting, thinking about the examination table below him. How human it was, and how Lance needed to be sitting here. A try at a distraction—one he didn't deserve.

"You think there's a way?" he asked, looking up to Yittek.

The Razalek nodded. "I'll need to see him first, but I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Zidane breathed.

"But first"—Yittek stepped forward, walking towards Zidane—"A checkup."

Zidane smiled, unzipping his jacket and sliding it off his shoulders, his arms. He slipped his black shirt off, discarding it onto the table. Yittek smiled.

"I supposed I'm still used to seeing you as a child."

Zidane allowed a grin to stretch his face. If there was one plus MOCT had given him besides secrecy, it was a body.

Yittek stopped in front of him, speaking as he placed two fingers on the right side of Zidane's c.h.e.s.t.

"How's Zooka?" he asked in between heartbeats.

"She's fine," Zidane replied, feeling that familiar light come to him. "Haven't been able to see her much, though."

Yittek hummed.

"Adventures can be quite the handful," he said.

Zidane twitched a smile, a darkness descending into his c.h.e.s.t. This wasn't an adventure; a race against time, more like it.

"Have you been getting enough sleep?"

Zidane smiled a little, breathing out a laugh. "Define 'enough'."

Yittek hummed in reply, removing his hand and taking Zidane's. He pressed against the crossbreed's marking, feeling for any bumps or thinness of skin, as he spoke again.

"The medication I gave you isn't working?"

Zidane swallowed, looking down at his feet, the floor below. "It did." A sarcastic smile shot onto his face. "For a few nights. Can't believe I actually slept that soundly."

Yittek glanced to him, transferring to the other hand. "And then?"

Zidane shrugged, avoiding his gaze.

"Nightmares started up again."

"I see." Yittek nodded. He held Zidane's bicep with a hand, thumb burrowing into the muscle. Wiggling as it descended, checking for any tears or deformities.

Like the rest of me isn't one giant deformity, Zidane thought bitterly.

A push on his emotions; an influence Zidane accepted. He allowed himself to calm down, watching from the corner of his vision as Yittek walked around him, beginning to press against his shoulders, his back. Feeling the nerves. Light pain spiked into him, and Zidane gritted his teeth.

Yittek continued poking and prodding, calmly telling Zidane to flex certain muscles and watching the response. All perfectly normal—or as normal as they could be, given the mixture.

His arm was lifted, tricep and forearm muscles prodded, flexed. His arm rotated around, stretching behind himself as Yittek walked around the table, holding his arm.

"It's been a while since I've checked up on Zooka," Yitetek commented.

"Yeah," Zidane smiled, looking in Yittek's direction. "You need more humans to experiment on?"

A massive flash of guilt, of pain came to him. To think he wanted to make a joke, when Lance was in the danger that he was...

Zidane swallowed, trying to shove the feeling away. But it stayed there, perched upon his gut. A home.

"Perhaps," Yittek replied.

The crossbreed stayed silent, feeling his tail become stretched out, measured.

"Fifty-four," Yittek said, relaying the inches. His tail was released, curving tightly around the side of his leg, draping off the table as the measuring tool disappeared in spots of fire. "Gained half-an-inch since I saw you last."

Zidane's stomach dampened. His tail wasn't what needed to change...

A thumb dug into his back—Zidane winced, the hiss quiet as Yittek spoke.

"Every time..."

"It's a nerve," Zidane said, sensing Yittek nod. "It's supposed to hurt."

Light laughter fell out with the words, and Yittek chuckled deeply.

"I suppose so," he replied. "But you should feel special—you're my only patient who gets to feel that."

For a moment, Zidane almost felt something of pride. But the feeling was stomped, squelched by a flash of honesty. He wasn't anything special—a special freak, maybe...

But even then... I'm so far below "freak."

He looked up. Yittek stayed standing, staring at Zidane. He'd said something, and Zidane had totally missed it.

"Sorry." Zidane ran a hand against a closed eye. "What'd you say?"

"You can bring in Lance, if you'd like," the Razalek said, rubbing his hands as if he were soaping them up. A sterilization.

Zidane nodded. There wasn't any time to waste.

He connected with the human's mind.

You ready? he asked.

"Yeah," Lance replied in laughter. "I'm just talkin' with your sister about the Muppets. Pretty funny what she doesn't understand."

Zidane soured, and whether it was his own brilliance or some shift in energy, Lance caught the change in mood.

"I mean, she's still a bitch, but—"

I'll teleport you over when you're ready.

"I'm good; I'm ready."

Without a breath, Zidane materialized a portal close by. He almost smiled; Yittek had an unlimited supply of energy in this place, having hooked it up to plants on the surface of the Inner-Earth above. Any energy used also got recycled.

Lance stepped through the portal, hands in the pocket of his hoodie. He looked around, eyes stopping on Yittek.

"You must be Yittek."

______________________