Runt slowed his pace and tipped his head back as he paused on the sidewalk, the cool morning air comforting him as drained the last of a paper cup of coffee. The nearly-frozen concoction of cold brewed coffee in vodka and a tiny hint of sugar went down smooth, making his body thrum with life and energy. The sun was still below the horizon, but New Medina's overpowering star had started to paint the skyscraper-rimmed horizon with oranges and purples. The arrival of the blistering sun signaled the end of the day's activities for all but the most stubborn of Springers. But Runt was just getting started, and between willpower and coffee, he planned to make use of his final days on New Medina.

Between yawns and catnaps, of course.

Fatigue still tugged at him.

He may have skipped sleep again the night before.

It was for a good cause. He told himself, glancing down at the datapad in his hand. The 'sending' notification was emblazoned across the screen, notifying him that the results of his sleepless night had been sent to Osterman. He'd spent a few hours packing the last of his things as well, and had even managed to cram in a shower.

He cleared his throat and glanced up.

A handful of palm fronds dangled from their scraggly trunks, half blotting out the 'clinic' in 'urgent care clinic'. The small, modern building was firmly planted near the very head of campus, its halls the haunts of medical students shadowing doctors, nurses and PAs.

For Runt, it was the only place nearby that gave decent care to Springers, compliments of a veteran of the xenobiology department.

Runt tossed the cup into a recycling bin near him and marched ahead, his feet quietly crunching along a tiny sand dune hidden in the shadow of the recycling bin and palms.

Let's hope this doesn't take long. Runt thought, taking a second glance at his datapad as he walked through the doors.

He had things to do. A meeting with Quixxa very, very soon, for starters. After that, heading to Obsidian's headquarters to troubleshoot. And perhaps figure out who'd shut them down, and why.

"Runt?"

Runt tapped off the screen of his datapad and looked up. The all-too-familiar interior of the urgent care center greeted him, the receptionist waving him over to the counter.

"Coming." He replied.

The blunt, mildly chemical smell of a doctor's office waiting room invaded Runt's senses as he paced up to the counter, watching the receptionist while his tail twisted around behind him like a sidewinder.

"Morning." She said, recognizing him.

He smiled back. "Morning."

As he stopped at the counter, the reality of being ready to see a doctor again started to sink in. the symptoms he'd been living with started to come out of the background and make themselves a nuisance.

The ache in his stomach. The constant gnaw of anxiety. The fatigue from sleeplessness. Weakness from the same. It was starting to compile and compound.

"Doctor Bailey said to send you right in when you came. Just have to fill out some paperwork first." She said, and passed him a datapad. "Sign at the bottom there, and on the next page."

Runt nodded, and started to glance over the form. Consent, liability, etcetera. Boring. He flicked to the bottom of the page with a sense of distant urgency, and started to sign with his finger.

He didn't need to read all the terms. He needed treatment. As the receptionist waited, He was busily trying to pace his breathing to the distant beep of a heartbeat monitor. Every time the secretary shifted, however, he felt his heartbeat speed up. He'd taken his heartrate the day before, and sitting down, it was at one hundred and fifty beats per minute. Fast for even a Springer.

And the chest pains...

It was starting to concern him. More so than usual.

He passed the datapad back to her.

He watched the receptionist tap her screen once more, and look up at him. He felt her gaze. It hit him, pushed on his stomach. He felt like he was suddenly on stage, being expected to give a speech he hadn't prepared for. He pushed aside the feeling. He knew it was anxiety. He could survive a talk.

Probably.

"Alright, and you're here for the 5:30 appointment?" She asked, starting to shuffle a few papers for Runt.

"Yes." Runt replied. He knew he was a little early, the clock behind the human reading 5:22.

Being early eased his nerves.

She nodded, and tapped the screen a few more times. Runt waited anxiously, his jaw flexing and untensing without his approval. She tapped her screen suddenly and loudly, and he felt his heart flutter.

What's wrong with you, Runt? He asked himself. It seemed his body was trying to kill him more aggressively than usual.

You're under a lot of stress. He told himself, excusing it. The attacks, the MLA, Quixxa's impending redemption, there was a lot to worry about. But he knew he'd been under stress before. And yes, it gave him anxiety.

He just wasn't used to it crippling him.

Probably just not having the pills.

"So... Runt, have you lost weight?" The receptionist, a dark skinned human woman, asked.

Runt took a measured breath, convincing his body to relax just a little as he explained.

"Yeah, I have. Been working out a little too." He said.

Well practice answer.

She looked at him a little sidelong, suspicious, before looking at her screen again.

He knew what that look meant. He didn't look tone and muscular. He looked gaunt. Unhealthy. Like he was dying. He certainly felt like he was dying. His soft, rainy-day colored skin was stretched tight against his ribs in a few places, and he'd given up going shirtless like most of his species. He attracted too many sympathetic glances and food donations. Instead, he wore form-fitting cotton shirts he'd gotten from a human thrift store. They only covered down to his belly, leaving his abdomen uncovered. His pants, too, were untraditional. Somewhat loose and made of worn denim, they covered the top half of his thighs, and a foot of his tail. He'd had to make do with what he could afford to have the thrift shop sew together for him on the spot. The fabric felt odd to him, but it made him blend in with the mostly human population, just a little better.

"Alright. That takes care of all the paperwork. Dr. Bailey said to send you in as soon as you got here. Office 13, past here and to the right." She said.

Runt nodded in thanks, and started to walk away.

The offices here were comforting to him, most of the time. And Dr. Bailey was a good, good doctor. Runt hadn't been able to see Bailey last week as he usually did. He'd been... preoccupied, and he'd deteriorated more than he should have. He hoped Bailey would know what to do, because he'd exhausted his usual options to keep his health up.

Runt stopped at office 13 and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

He heard Bailey's voice, and he could feel his heartbeat slow.

Runt turned the handle, and the cool air of the office breathed out on him. He smiled when he saw the Doctor. Bailey, a human, was short and fair skinned. His longish twist of blonde hair was well combed to one side, and a pair of thin glasses sat on the end of his small nose.

"Runt," The doctor said, sliding off the counter he had been sitting on, "Didn't see you last week! Nice to see you today."

Runt nodded, and pulled his tail inside. As he closed the door, Bailey approached and extended a hand.

Runt shook it happily, and took another deep breath. He met eyes with Bailey, noting the genuine smile on his round face.

Bailey released Runt's hand and took a step back looking at his hand before crossing his arms. "Wow, your hands are cold. You come from the dorms?"

Runt nodded. "Yeah."

Humans, of course, were endothermal. They made their own heat, which struck Runt as extremely uncomfortable. Springers weren't like that. But, they also weren't what humans had first classified them as. Some humans called them cold-bloods, exothermal creatures. But that wasn't accurate.

Springers were simply indifferent to temperature ranging from two hundred below to zero. Warmer wasn't comfortable, but it was survivable. Colder was also uncomfortable, but survivable.

Thus, they'd earned the designation 'athermal.' And the reputation of being incredibly weather-proof.

"Fresh from the deep freeze then." He mused. "Also, why're you shaking? I doubt it's because you're cold."

Runt smiled at the joke.

"No, not cold. Just... got jitters."

Bailey pushed his glasses up a little. "Ah. Midterms got you worked up?"

Least of my worries.

"Among other things." Runt replied, sliding onto the medical exam bench that sat in the corner of the room.

Bailey started to take the stethoscope off his neck. "Your employer emailed me last night, told me you might be stressing more than usual today. Trouble at work?"

Runt tilted his head a little.

He had guessed Osterman would do something like that. But sending a several hundred-thousand dollar email via emergency satellite connection seemed... excessive.

"Yeah. Just... Stressful stuff."

"You're still taking your pills I assume?" Bailey asked, pulling a chair up to the exam table. "They're important, you know. You cannot just skip doses."

"I know, I know. I'm taking my pills, yeah. I ran out a little bit ago, though."

"You have a backup of pills, right?"

"Used them up."

"What have you been doing that warrants that many pills?"

Runt looked towards the ceiling.

Not like I've been pissing off hundreds of psychotic terrorists or anything.

"School, work, just living here."

Bailey accepted that, at least half way. He gave Runt a sympathetic look.

"Yeah, New Medina isn't exactly Springer friendly."

He scooted just a little closer.

"So, what seems to be the problem today anyway? I saw you sent in for an urgent care appointment. Something in particular wrong?"

Runt lifted his shirt corner a little. "I've been getting chest pains again." he said. "Bad ones. A lot worse than usual."

The human nodded, and put the earpieces of the stethoscope in.

"Possibly stress related." He said.

Runt swallowed and inhaled as Bailey pressed the cold steel disk up against his chest.

Bailey's eyes stared unblinkingly ahead as he listened.

Runt kept his breath held.

I hope it's just stress. He thought.

There were much worse options for causing chest pain...

"Your main heart's alright. I think. I'll check the auxiliaries..."

Runt nodded, and leaned back with a slow breath out. He propped himself up on his elbows and twisted his tail to one side.

Bailey moved the stethoscope just under Runt's waistband on the right side, then the left.

Runt stayed still as he listened to his auxiliary 'hearts', all five of them. Two in the pelvic girdle, two under his pectoral girdle, and one at the base of his tail. He could survive on any one of them alone, but his body needed all six to function in unison to do anything other than stay alive. They were for much more than just pumping blood, after all.

"Have you had any problems with your skeleton lately?" Bailey asked, moving the cold steel disk to Runt's tail.

"No. Everything's solid, no burst vessels."

Springers, of course, had no solid bones aside from their jaw.

Everything else was a collapsible skeleton of cartilage, pumped full of fluid to ensure rigidity.

Those 'bones' could be deflated to squeeze into small spaces, or suddenly refilled to add a little extra punch to a jump or strike.

Runt waited for the human to finish looking him over. His warm hands gave a few squeezes to the end of Runt's chilly tail, checked his velvet-smooth skin, and peeked at his slit-eyes.

After the minutes had ticked by, the doctor cleared his throat and looped the stethoscope over his shoulder.

"Runt, I can't hear anything wrong with your hearts. What symptoms have you been having?"

Runt pulled his shirt a little further down and licked his lips with a blue tongue.

"Uh, well, chest pain." He listed off on his first finger. "There's anxiety too. Like, not quite a panic attack, but definitely triggered by stress. Loss of appetite, hand tremors. And insomnia too."

Bailey nodded, and puckered his lips.

Runt frowned.

He knew that look.

I don't want to talk about it.

"Sounds like you're getting worse." He said. "Those are all symptoms of-"

"I know, I know." Runt said, cutting him off. "I'm trying to get my medication back. I'll have in in a day or two."

"No, Runt. Not your medication. That's treating symptoms, and frankly, you and I both know that's not cutting it for you. I don't want to see you doing this to yourself Runt."

Bailey leaned back in his chair and frowned at Runt, sincere. His eyes squinted a little behind his glasses, and Runt could feel the worry from his human friend.

He could also feel the unstoppable roar of panic, of regret, of hate, and of resent boiling out of the depths of his mind where he'd hidden the thoughts Bailey sought to arouse.

"Doctor, I don't want to talk about this again."

"Runt, you need a full panel. Real medication."

"I don't need them." Runt said.

He set his jaw.

"Runt, you do need them."

"No, I don't. I'm fine. I'm in the safe zone."

"Runt, last time we tested, you were four nanograms above the threshold. That's not 'safe'."

"I don't want to talk about it doctor."

Runt could feel waves of ice and fire rolling across his skin as he tried to ignore the thought, the topic, the reality. His fists clenched, his jaw set harder. Even his heart locked shut.

He was not discussing it.

"Why not Runt? It's your health for heaven sake, I'm a doctor. I'm telling you this because I'm concerned for you."

Runt felt a bitter taste spread across his tongue.

He swallowed it, along with regret.

He didn't say what he thought.

"Even if we talked about it, what good would it do? We're on New Medina. I can't get care here."

The doctor sighed.

And for a minute, Runt just sat, silent.

He could feel his mind starting to roar back to life, a portion of his brain that he'd silenced suddenly gasping in air and opening its eyes. Nothing could pull his eyes to either side as he stared at the floor, hoping against hope that he could put that monster back to sleep before it awoke for good.

He'd hoped he would forget.

Trapped in a body too small for him, though, he could never forget.

He could only delay.

Not now.

Runt forced himself to blink.

Not ever.

Pain jumped across Runt's teeth as he clenched his jaw harder and took in a breath. Abdominal muscles flexed and pushed him vertical, and rarely-used expressions wrinkled the skin in his face and knotted his brow with a hard, cold grimace.

With enough medication, distraction, and passion, he could quiet his mind.

He could avoid the un-asked question, and the un-spoken answer, forever.

"Runt?"

Dr. Bailey's voice pulled Runt's eyes from his stare.

"I didn't mean to cause you trouble. I understand."

The doctor puckered his lips and nodded apologetically.

"I'm sorry."

Runt felt another force crash into his mind.

His heart. It tugged.

Runt saw the concern on Bailey's face. He could hear the ache in his voice and see the tension in his posture. He just wanted to help.

Same as Runt.

His nausea didn't relent. But his coldness did.

"It's ok..." Runt said with a slump of his shoulders "I'm sorry too. I don't mean to push anybody out, I just..." He huffed.

"I just don't want to talk about it. I'll be fine once I get my medication."

Runt turned vulnerable eyes and a tired brow towards Bailey, hoping and wishing for understanding.

He feared that no one understood.

He was sure no one understood.

How could they?

"That's what worries me Runt." Bailey said gently, his voice soft. "Your body will improve with help. But you... you need something else. Medication won't fix who you are."

Runt sighed.

"But it can fix your heart." Bailey said quietly. "Your physical heart. I can give you a steroid for your chest pains, if you like. That's about all I can offer."

Chills still ran across Runt's skin and he managed a nod.

"I think I'll need it." He said.

A knot had tied itself in his throat, and teeth had sunk into his mind.

As Bailey got up and retrieved the steroid silently, Runt watched and kept his mind blank. Thoughts tried to appear, but Runt refused to acknowledge them. He kept his mind blinded by the searing light of the outside world, trying to avoid the lurking silence inside his skull. If he let his thoughts wander, they would drag him away with them.

The doctor turned around, already with syringe and vial in hand.

"You've got someone you can talk to at least, right?"

Bailey drew the fluid into the syringe, and wiped Runt's upper arm with a disinfectant.

Runt nodded.

"Yeah, I've got some friends."

Runt sat quietly, waiting for the pin prick, wondering if he'd have the heart to bring it up to Quix again.

Again...

Runt felt a sting on his arm. His skin reacted, just as any Springer's did.

He barely twitched.

He'd had thousands of shots.

Even still, he refused to look at the needle.

"Thanks for, you know, caring. Asking." Runt said.

He wished he didn't have to deal with his own head.

But he couldn't fault his own doctor for wanting to help.

He'd have done the same.

"Of course. I just want to make sure you're going to be alright, Runt."

Runt felt Bailey withdraw the needle. An angry, hard knot had already seized up the skin and muscle around the injection site.

"Are you sure?"

Runt nodded, and rubbed his arm.

"Yeah, I'll be ok. I'm leaving soon anyway, then I'll have what I need in a few weeks."

Bailey furrowed his brow.

"Leaving for...?"

Runt felt a faint prick of a smile on his lips as his eyes rolled.

"Does nobody check their emails anymore?" he quipped. "I sent you an email a few days ago. I'm leaving for Pathmos soon, and I'm having a going-away party. I invited you."

Bailey's face fell a little as he stuffed the needle into a sharps container.

"I hadn't heard you were leaving. And I've checked my mail... must have missed it somehow."

The human's eyes jumped across the floor, and Runt's heartbeat jumped up and down in his chest. He hated goodbyes...

"So, you're leaving. I take it that means your boss heard about your health?" Bailey asked, looking back up at Runt.

Runt lowered his head slightly.

"No." he said with a huff, looking to the side. "You'd better not tell him either."

Bailey's face brightened, just a note.

"I'd better not? Or what?"

Runt gave Bailey a glare. They both knew it was fake.

Bailey snorted at Runt's attempt at intimidation.

"Runt, you wouldn't, and at this point probably couldn't, hurt a fly."

Bailey walked over to Runt and gave him a hearty thump on his shoulder. They looked