Grazing The Sky

"It may. However, too much can trigger a cleansing."

"That's why Zidane has so many then..."

Yittek met his eyes for a moment before nodding. "Yes, unfortunately."

Lance looked to the first vial, swimming with his blood. "What's Ethulin do?"

"Hunts down foreign cells," Yittek replied, gathering each one in his hand.

"Sounds like it's right up my alley then."

The Razalek nodded, smiling faintly. "Yes, it is." The vials disappeared in a light burst of fire. "It takes a few days to work, but hopefully we'll see positive results."

"Yeah." Apprehension twisted Lance's gut. He tried to swallow it down, tried to be happy they were taking the first step towards him getting back to normal.

"What happens if we don't?"

Yittek smiled. "We try again." A sudden expression of remembrance came to him. "Oh, and Lance?"

"Yeah?"

"Please let me know if you experience any sudden healing or bursts of anger."

Lance paused. The healing part, he could guess, but the anger?

"Why anger?" he asked.

"Strictly speaking between humans and Razaleks, any negative emotion such as anger or sadness, will weaken your immune system. By Spiro standards, the immune system gets slightly stronger when anger or sadness is experienced, since this is an adaptive trait designed for survival."

Lance took a moment, connecting the reason why. So they wouldn't suffer the repercussions of having a lowered immune system or seem internally weak.

"So," he began, "by getting angry or whatever, I would be feeding these cells?"

Yittek nodded. "Yes, that's exactly it. Because of this trait, Spiros naturally have a higher tendency to get angry, so the more these cells grow—"

The angrier I'll get, Lance finished.

"Right again." Yittek smiled. "Please let me know if you feel any sudden changes in mood."

"Yeah, sure." Lance tried to match his smile. It was good, talking about this, he told himself. It was progress.

It had to be.

________________

Lance stepped into the library, instantly overwhelmed by the size. Even the floor was made out of shelves, light ripples spreading out where he stood.

Lance picked one foot up, seeing the ripples fade away.

"This is crazy," he breathed in a laugh.

Yittek smiled down at him.

"I suppose it is rather strange, isn't it?" he agreed. "Zidane should be somewhere in here."

Lance looked ahead of himself, searching for something that wasn't books. But quickly his focus was once again taken by the floor.

"Why's it ripple like that?" he asked.

"It's trying to sense your true intentions," Yittek responded. "If you simply want to read"—His feet suddenly dropped to the shelf directly below him, ripples coming away from his ankles. With a smile, he continued on—"Then you're able to."

Lance met his gaze, still a few feet above. "But what if you don't wanna read?" he asked, matching the Razalek's smile.

"Then"—The translucent floor suddenly turned red, and an unknown panic fell into Lance as Yittek's body suddenly jumped out from the floor—"An alarm goes off, preventing theft."

"Huh." Lance looked around, seeing there were even books on the ceiling. "That's cool."

Yittek smiled.

"I suppose it is." He looked down to Lance. "I trust you to be in good hands here."

Lance nodded. "I'll be fine."

He wandered the aisles for a few minutes, searching for the familiar ashen grey of Zidane's uniform. He soon spotted it.

Lance walked down the aisle, kicking Zidane's foot as he passed by. "Hey."

Lance turned back, scowling a little at the fact Zidane didn't even look up from the book. He flipped a page, continuing to scan.

Lance let out a breath as he sat down against the opposite shelf, relaxing with his ankles crossed and his hands folded against his stomach.

"You find anything yet?"

Zidane blinked, looking up to him. A stretch of the eyes, a hand rose to pull one down as he spoke.

"No," he said quietly, sniffing as he rubbed the same eye with a knuckle. "But I'm sure there's something."

Lance nodded, silently hoping he was right. There were a damn lot of books in this place—surely one of them would hold some kind of answer.

Right?

He was about to ask this when Zidane spoke, relaxing back against his shelf and continuing to read.

"How was the checkup?"

"Fine, I guess," Lance replied, picking at his teeth and examining the nail. "Don't got some weird sack growing in the back of my mouth, so—"

Light laughter cut through the already fading words. Zidane grinned, eyes lightening.

"Good," he said. "I'm glad."

"Yeah," Lance said. He stared at the shelf in front of him, mind trying to sort through everything that had just happened.

"Spiro anatomy is f.u.c.kin' weird."

Another grin. Another turn of the page. "I'm sure it is. You'd be surprised at some of the Razalek anatomy."

Lance raised a brow, almost scared to ask.

"What?" he said finally, hesitantly.

"They've got two stomachs, one behind the first one, and they've got a film covering their eyes for additional protection."

Lance made a face.

"Ew. Do you have that?"

Zidane shook his head. "Second stomach didn't form completely and my film never developed, so no."

Lance stayed quiet, unsure of what to say. I'm sorry? That sucks?

He said nothing, simply staring at his shoes. The black-and-white Xs of his laces crossed on top of one another.

"What're you reading?" he asked finally.

The book was dropped, smacking against a tall pile. "A useless book."

Another one was grabbed, and Lance scooted forward.

"Can I read?"

Zidane nodded, reaching out and tapping the center of Lance's forehead. Similar to before, Lance felt an entire language download into his mind. And similar to before, a soft throb started up in the back of his brain.

"Thanks."

Zidane nodded, going back to the book he'd been reading before. Lance took one from the tallest stack and settled back, beginning to read.