In
Sickness and in Health
By Katsu no Miko
[Trowa]
/It's over./
The words echoed in my mind
like the ringing of bells or the sweet strains of Quatre's violin.
/It's over./
The war was finally over. I
didn't have to kill any more. I didn't have to hurt people any more.
/It's over!!/
And perhaps, I didn't have
to hurt myself any more. Perhaps, now, I would have the chance to heal, to
cleanse some of the stains from my soul. With Quatre. He had promised, in his
own way, to help me. I wasn't certain if, after all this time, I could bring
myself to allow him to do so...but I would try. For him, I would try. For
myself, I would try.
We all landed at the same
airfield. In the distance, there were cars coming toward us, presumably filled
with military personnel and government officials, or perhaps reporters. I didn't
really care; I intended to be safely out of sight before they arrived. For at
least a few minutes, however, we had the airfield to ourselves.
Duo was the first one out
of his Gundam, which didn't really surprise me. I could hear him yelling as I
jumped to the ground, letting out joyful whoops that sounded nearly hysterical.
A small smile slipped out to tug at my lips. Heero and Wufei jumped down to the
concrete runway shortly after I did. As I walked toward them, Duo jumped on
Wufei, since he was the nearest to him. Wufei shouted, I could hear him clearly,
but he made no effort to escape Duo's enthusiastic embrace. As soon as Heero
approached the two of them, Duo released the Chinese pilot and tackled his
lover, taking them both to the ground. My smile widened slightly.
"Trowa!" Wufei
yelled as soon as he had recovered from Duo's joyful attack, "It's
over!"
"Aa," I said.
"It's over." I glanced toward Sandrock. The hatch was open, but Quatre
still hadn't come out. Duo untangled himself from Heero and grabbed my hands,
spinning me around, distracting me for a moment.
"Tro! Man! It's OVER!
OVER!!!" He sang out. Then he was gone again, once more tackling Heero, who
had just begun to get up.
I looked at Sandrock again.
The Maganacs would probably be arriving soon, probably with the intention of
whirling us all off to a celebration. The war was over.
And Quatre was still in his
Gundam.
I walked away from the
other three pilots, then broke into a jog as I saw Quatre at last appear in the
hatchway. He seemed to be having a problem; he was clinging to one of then
handles by the hatch with a death grip, and he was carrying himself strangely. I
stopped when I was nearly underneath him. "Quatre?" I called up to
him.
"Chotto
matte..."his voice sounded odd.
"Daijoubu ka." I
asked, beginning to feel alarmed.
He slowly relaxed his grip
on the handle and began to lower himself toward the ground. "Aa. Daijoubu."
I nodded despite the fact
that I knew he couldn't see the gesture, not feeling reassured. I watched him
tensely as he continue to climb his way down the side of his Gundam, instead of
jumping down like he normally did. When he was about halfway down to the ground,
he paused for a moment, and his hand slipped, and he fell.
I had been half expecting
something like that. I caught him with no difficulty. "Quatre! Where are
you hurt?" I asked. His face was pale, the skin drawn tight against the
delicate bones of his face.
He shook his head.
"I'm not hurt." he said. "I just...I...have a headache...I must
have gotten dizzy. I'm sorry..." he smiled at me and closed his eyes for a
moment. "You always save me." he murmured.
I allowed my worry to drain
away. We had been pushing ourselves ruthlessly for unending months, and Quatre
was no exception. Perhaps now that the war was over, he had relaxed enough to
allow himself to feel tired. "It's over." I said, smiling.
"Aa." He smiled.
"Anou...Trowa, you can put me down."
I nodded and set him on his
feet. Immediately, he stumbled, and I grabbed his arms. "Quatre?"
He was still smiling.
"It's over." He said. His pale face contorted in a grimace of pain and
he coughed just once, then took in a deep breath. As if that had been a signal,
he began to cough again, and this time he didn't stop, his breath coming
harshly.
I went cold. My hands were
soon all that were keeping him upright, and I quickly lowered us both to the
ground. He had his hands clutched tightly against his chest like he was
attempting to contain the coughing. I held him against me and felt his forehead;
he didn't have a fever.
Quatre's eyes were wide and
frightened. He managed to take a deep shuddering breath. I was frightened, as
well. I couldn't begin to think what to do...I couldn't THINK at all. I pulled
my hand away from his forehead as he took another deep breath, and then he
coughed again, very thickly. Something wet spattered on my hand, and I turned it
towards me...
There was blood on my hand.
I yelled for help as loudly as I could.
***
[Duo]
Twenty steps from the front
wall of the teeny tiny hospital room to the back wall. Turn around, repeat. And
again. And again.
I could feel Quatre's eyes
on me as he watched me from the hospital bed. We'd all taken turns staying with
him once the doctors got done with the barrage of tests they put him through,
and it was my turn. We were still waiting for the results. Trowa had finally
succumbed to sleep deprivation, and I'd bundled him into a cab and sent him
home. He hadn't wanted to go. Quatre coughing up blood on him had really made
him wig out. I'd have to say I didn't blame him. It had scared the piss out of
me, and I hadn't been the one holding him.
I stopped and glared at the
wall, willing it to move. It didn't. I went back to pacing.
"Duo..." I heard
Quatre say tiredly.
"Yeah?" Turn
around, repeat. I'd managed to sit still in the chair by Quatre's bed for a
grand total of seven minutes before I couldn't stand it any longer. I hate not
having anything to do. Not that pacing was a lot better, but at least I was
moving.
"You don't have to
wait around...I'm fine..."
I knew I was driving Quatre
nuts, but I couldn't help it. Damnit, I was worried! "You know, Quatre, I
bet you'd say you were fine even if you were trapped under a fallen building and
trying to saw off your own leg." *That* made him think for a minute.
"Probably." He
finally agreed, his voice rueful.
"I'm not going
anywhere until a doctor-type comes by and tells me that you're going to be
fine." I said. "You really scared the shit out of all of us."
"Sorry. It wasn't as
if I was trying to."
I grinned at him. "Aw,
admit it, Quatre. You were just trying to get out of having to get your picture
taken with five billion politicians."
He smiled back at me. It
was nice to see him smile, but he was still too pale.
Someone knocked on the
door. I let them in--it was the doctor, and he was carrying a thick manila file
folder. His smile was a little too cheerful, a little too professional. The room
was suddenly very cold.
"Ah, Winner-san...I
was hoping that you'd still be up." The doctor said. "I need to talk
to you about the results of your blood test." his eyes flicked toward me.
Quatre saw it. "Duo is
one of the other pilots." he said, smiling at the doctor. "I asked
that one of them be allowed to stay with me all night if they wanted. Anything
you have to say to me, he can hear."
The doctor nodded and sat
down at the foot of Quatre's bed. I immediately sat down as well, on the stupid,
hard wood chair that was by the bed. It was impossible to get comfortable on. I
hate having a bony butt.
"Winner-san, may I
call you Quatre?" The doctor waited until Quatre nodded before continuing,
"I have the report on the blood tests we ran on you earlier." he
paused as if to collect his thoughts. "The results are abnormal."
A shock ran down my spine.
Quatre didn't get a chance to say anything, because I jumped right in.
"Abnormal as in how?" I demanded.
The doctor shot me an
unreadable look. "The white blood cell count is much too high. Nearly
thirty times higher than it should be."
My stomach clenched, and I
mentally hissed at it to stop that. I know squat about medical tests. I had no
reason to be worried. Really. Doctors come and talk to their patients personally
all the time. Shit. "What does that mean, exactly?" I asked, glancing
at Quatre. If anything, he had managed to somehow get paler.
"We can't be certain
without more tests." The doctor said. "We'll need to do some more
bloodwork tomorrow, and perhaps a biopsy."
I looked at Quatre's pale
face, and was suddenly very, very afraid.
***
[Trowa]
I lay and bed and stared at
the ceiling, just as I'd been doing for the last several hours since Duo had
shoved me into a taxi and sent me back to the hotel we were staying in. I should
sleep, I knew it, but I couldn't. I was too afraid. My stomach was churning,
murmuring acidly at me. I couldn't help but remember, over and over, how light
Quatre had felt in my arms. Too light, now that I began to think about it. He'd
never felt that frail the few times he'd been in my arms before, when he'd
embraced me. I couldn't help but think about how he had been shaken by the
coughs that he couldn't stop.
My hand clenched itself
into a fist, almost of its own accord as I continued to stare silently at the
ceiling. When we'd gotten to the hospital and Quatre had been rushed off for a
battery of tests and medication, I'd calmly gone to the bathroom and washed my
hand, scrubbing it until all the blood was gone.
It was still there, though,
I could feel it.
I wasn't going to get any
sleep.
***
[Duo]
My turn for Quatre watch
again. I'd volunteered for the shift after Wufei's this time. When I got in,
Wufei was clearing up the remains of a game of Mah Jongg. Quatre smiled brightly
at me. We talked for a long time, about stuff I don't even remember any more.
The war, mostly. What we would do now that it was over. Quatre said that he
wanted to devote himself full time to his father's companies. I asked him if he
was planning to save some time for Trowa. He blushed. It was probably right
about midnight when the doctor came back, the one that had told us about the
abnormal test results the day before. He sat down on Quatre's bed. He wasn't
smiling.
Shit.
"Quatre, I just
received the results of the tests we ran early today." He said without
preamble. "Do you want to hear them now?"
Quatre nodded, all the
color draining from his face. I reached out and touched his shoulder.
"There's no right or
easy way to go about saying this, Quatre, and I think you'd like to hear
everything straight and unadorned, correct?"
Quatre nodded again, his
face taking on an expression of detached calm.
"The biopsy confirmed
our original fears. It's leukemia." The doctor licked his lips nervously.
"Lymphoblastic, acute, very late stage."
Quatre made a very small,
distressed noise, and I looked down at him. My hand had a white knuckled grip on
his shoulder. Through an act of sheer will power, I made myself loosen my
fingers. I'd heard of leukemia before, just mentioned, though. Cancer. Fuck.
Dimly, I heard Quatre ask,
"How late?"
"Very. You should have
been exhibiting symptoms for at least the past month." The doctor said.
"If you'd come in before now..."
"There wasn't
time." Quatre said, as if he'd been expecting to hear that. I looked at him
sharply. He'd been feeling sick for the past month, and he hadn't even told
anyone. Suddenly, I was very, very angry, though I wasn't sure at what or who.
Quatre kept speaking, like it didn't matter. It was bullshit. "How
long?"
"Wait a minute!"
I yelled. "What the hell do you mean, how long? Are you planning to die or
something? Don't be stupid." I looked at the doctor. "Tell him to stop
being so stupid, doc. Doc?" He shook his head.
"I'm sorry." he
said. "We'll still try chemotherapy, to see if we can force the disease
into remission...if we can, then there is the possibility of a bone marrow
transplant, and we can hope that the cancer hasn't metastasized [1]. But if it
doesn't work..." He didn't finish the thought. He didn't have to.
"How long?"
Quatre asked again. He sounded too calm. Way too calm.
"Three weeks,
perhaps." The doctor sighed quietly. "I'm sorry, Quatre."
It was too late. Too
fucking late. I wanted to scream.
"We'll begin chemo
tomorrow, Quatre." The doctor said. He stood and patted Quatre on the head
like he was some kind of kid that didn't know what was going on. "I'll see
you in the morning." I decided that I hated the doctor. He'd said that
Quatre was going to die.
Going to die.
I repeated the words in my
mind. They sounded like a foreign language.
By the time I had myself
sorted out, the doctor was gone and Quatre was staring blankly at the ceiling. I
made myself grin at him. "Eh, well, you know doctors, they're pessimists.
You're going to get better."
Quatre blinked and looked
at me. "Aa." he said. "Duo, what's Trowa going to do?"
"I don't know." I
said, "but Trowa's a big boy. He can take care of himself on this one, I
bet. You just concentrate on yourself."
Quatre didn't respond. He
turned away from me so that he was lying on his side. "I'm tired, Duo.
Would you mind letting me sleep?"
His flimsy hospital gown
had slipped over one shoulder. There was a large, ugly bruise there now, where I
had grabbed him. I stood up. "You're going to be ok, Quatre."
"Good night,
Duo."
"Yeah, yeah, good
night. One of us'll be in in the morning." He didn't say anything else, and
then I was out of the room. The door clicked shut behind me. I headed for the
hospital doors. I could feel my grin still fixed on my face. It felt stiff and
unnatural.
Quatre was going to die.
Suddenly, my breath got
very loud in my ears. I could hear myself panting, like I'd been running a
marathon or something. My smile was gone. I stumbled diagonally across the
darkened, empty hallway until I hit one of the sterile white walls, and I leaned
against it, my breath coming faster and faster. I was making little panicked
whimpering sounds. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real...
The next moment, I was down
on my knees on the cold tile floor, throwing up my breakfast, lunch and dinner.
When I was done, I wiped my mouth on the back of my trembling hand.
"Oh Jesus, kid, are
you ok?" Someone grabbed me by the arms and pulled me up, away from the
vomit that was splattered across the floor. He was wearing a white lab coat.
Another doctor.
I lost it. "NO!"
I screamed. "I'm not ok!" I hit him, but my hands were shaking so
badly that there wasn't any force behind the blow. He looked stunned.
"NOTHING is ok! It's never going to be ok! NEVER!" With each word, I
hit him again, more weakly each time. "It's not fucking ok!" My eyes
stung.
I was not crying. I was not
crying. Boys don't cry.
Boys don't cry!
***
[Trowa]
Quatre smiled up at me from
the hospital bed. The sheets were fresh, very clean and white. Quatre looked
lost in them, washed out, smothered. I offered him a small smile in return as I
reached out and gently took his hand. There were still bruises on his arms from
when I had caught him, and a new one that Duo had caused. The slightest pressure
on his skin would cause an ugly purple welt, marring his perfection. I didn't
want to risk it. I didn't want to hurt him. I couldn't hurt him, ever.
When had he gotten to be so
thin? He'd never been large, I knew, but he'd also never been quite so delicate,
like a thinly spun glass sculpture. He was fading. I could think of no other
word for it. Every day, he was a little less real, a little more ethereal, as if
the only reason he remained solid was through sheer strength of will.
His smile never faded,
though. I knew that he remained cheerful for us, and for himself. Wufei,
perhaps, would have shouted and cursed; Duo would have become even more manic;
Heero, I think, would have borne it stoically like I would. Only Quatre could
remain this cheerful when facing an end. Only Quatre was that strong.
There was a bulge in the
flimsy hospital gown, near Quatre's heart. They'd implanted a catheter in him,
so they could more easily administer the chemicals that they were attempting to
treat him with. I couldn't make myself look at it; it was too personal. Cancer
had already invaded him; now the doctors were following suit.
Every time I came to see
him, it was harder and harder to follow his example, to keep myself calm so that
I wouldn't cause him worry. My life was slowly becoming one large, empty ache,
all of my feelings and strength, and my self being slowly sapped away by
something that I could not even begin to name. I could tell by the way the
others looked at me that they could feel the pull of the black hole that was
building itself inside of me.
And I was angry. That was
all I had left; emptiness, and anger. I wished that leukemia were something
tangible, some kind of monster that I could kill, strangle with my bare hands so
that it couldn't hurt Quatre any longer.
We no longer talked during
my visits. Neither of us had anything left to say; words weren't adequate to
describe anything any more. Most of the time, Quatre was asleep, anyway. He was
on a great deal of pain medication; the cancer had begun to spread to his lungs
and his bones. I would watch him sleep and hold his hand, not letting go until
one of the others came and chased me away, telling me that I should sleep.
But I would never let go.
***
[Duo]
I don't know what the other
guys are made of. They took it so fucking calmly. Wufei and Heero said nothing
after I had told them the estimate of two weeks. Trowa hadn't said anything to
begin with. He'd just gotten up when it was done, and gone and made dinner.
A dinner that none of us
ate, now that I think about it.
I wanted to scream, and
yell, and find something to kill. It was too ridiculous. The war was over. We
didn't have to die any more. And then there was Quatre, dying in the hospital,
and Trowa got up and went into the kitchen to make us all ramen. It was too
fucking ridiculous.
***
[Heero]
"How are you
feeling?" I asked Quatre as soon as Wufei had left the room. He'd been
playing Mah Jongg with Quatre again.
"I've felt
better." Quatre said.
I nodded. I was the only
one that would ask him how he was feeling, any more. Perhaps the others were
afraid of how he would answer. I suppose I should have felt honored that he
answered me, and answered me honestly. Instead, I felt nothing at all. Soldiers
have no feelings.
If I told myself that
enough, I would believe it. I was becoming my mantra.
I sat down on the hard
wooden chair by his bed. He turned his head slightly so that he could see me.
There were a few blonde hairs scattered over the white pillowcase and the
blanket; he was beginning to lose his hair. "How are the others
doing?" he asked quietly.
"As well as can be
expected." I said. "Duo is rapidly becoming obsessive." I was
more worried than I sounded. He rarely came back to the hotel any more, instead
sleeping at the hospital or disappearing for extended periods of time without
telling us what he was doing. "Trowa and Wufei are handling themselves
fairly well so far."
Quatre nodded. "I'm
sorry, Heero."
"For what?"
He closed his eyes.
"I'm not smiling for you."
"Save them for Trowa
and Duo...and Wufei. They're the ones that need to see it." I leaned back
in the chair, crossing my arms over my chest. "We're both soldiers, Quatre."
"The others are,
too."
"Aa." I shrugged.
"Maybe you and I understand death the best."
Quatre laughed softly.
"I should hope you do. You're the one sleeping with him."
"Baka." I
snorted.
He grinned for a minute
before he sobered. "Do you think you could talk to Duo for me? I'd do it
myself, but..."
"Talk to him about
what?"
Quatre shrugged one of his
shoulders. "Just talk. He's going to explode."
I sighed. "If I can
pin that idiot down long enough, I'll try."
There was a long silence,
and for a moment, I thought that Quatre had at last fallen asleep, overwhelmed
by the pain medication that the hospital staff was constantly pumping into him.
"What's it like?"
"What?"
"Having someone that's
completely in love with you?"
I raised my eyebrows. We
were treading on ground that we had never touched before, in out previous
conversations. "You should know too." I finally said.
"Should I?" he
sounded bemused.
"You have Trowa."
"Aa." he sighed.
"I don't want to leave him."
"None of us want you
to leave."
"I guess I don't have
much of a choice, though, do I."
***
[Wufei]
I was surprised that Quatre
hadn't tired of playing Mah Jongg yet. That was all we did when it was my turn
to watch him. We laughed and chattered while we played, certainly, but it was
meaningless. Quatre was always smiling. He was facing the end with strength that
I would have never given him credit for; I was rapidly finding, however, that I
hadn't really known him before. It was only now that I was becoming acquainted
with Quatre as a person.
That only made it harder. I
willed myself to be strong and to not care, or to face the impending loss with
the same strength that Quatre was showing. I couldn't care; I'd already lost too
much. I didn't want to lose another. And Quatre was always smiling.
I felt grateful for it; he
was facing this well, better than the rest of us, with the sole exception of Yuy...and
I was beginning to see cracks in Yuy's mask; the day before, he had gone out
walking in the rain, and had not come back for several hours. He was disturbed
and upset, even if he did not want to admit it to himself.
I would be strong like him,
I decided, and not burden anyone else with whatever I might feel. I wouldn't
feel grief, though, I had already told myself that. We were soldiers, and death
was a part of life.
Even if the death was an
injustice. The war was over; why did we continue to die? I kept asking myself
that question, as irrational as it sounded. We were born already dying. But
this...this slow wasting away...it wasn't death, was it? It was torture.
/An injustice. /
Quatre and I tied; we were
both distracted, I suppose. Shortly afterwards, he fell asleep. A tiny, restless
movement of his head sent something skittering out from underneath his pillow;
it hit the floor with a hollow, plastic click. I bent to retrieve it. It was an
orange bottle of pills.
Curiously, I read the
label. My hand clenched around it so tightly that I could hear the plastic
creaking.
Paxil. [2]
***
[Duo]
I wandered in to the huge
hotel suite we were all sharing. Quatre's sisters had been nice enough to get it
for us; it was the closest place to the hospital that we could find. I hadn't
been back in a while, though. I'd been spending my nights in the room next to
Quatre's, sleeping on a bed like his, breathing in the same disgusting
antiseptic smell as him for hours. When I wasn't sleeping or wandering aimlessly
while the others took their turns, I sat and talked to him for hours and hours
like I was trying to cram what should have been the next forty or fifty years of
friendship into a couple of weeks. I couldn't take it any more. I had to get
away, for just a little while, or I'd go insane, and then I would be even more
useless for Quatre than I already was.
I found Wufei practicing
Shao Lin forms in one of the suite's two spare rooms. He'd pushed all the
furniture over to one wall and was slowly parading around the room, practicing
his punches, I guess. I leaned in the doorway and watched him for a minute. It
was something normal. Normal. I needed that. I needed to forget for just a
couple minutes. Then I could go back to the hospital and start again.
Wufei continued along the
wall, then turned ninety degrees at the corner. Punch, punch, block, step.
Block, punch, punch, step. It was comforting. I'd watched him do it for a year
now.
Block, step, punch, block,
pause...
That wasn't right. He never
did that...
Wufei suddenly turned, and
his fist went streaking toward the wall. There was a loud crunch...and then he
was just standing there, with his arm through the paint covered sheet rock of
the wall. He was covered with white dust.
Slowly, very slowly, he
turned back to look at me as if he'd just noticed me, pulling his fist out of
the wall. He walked toward me.
I took a step back, and
then another. The look in his eyes...scary. Fucked up. Freaky. A thousand words
couldn't describe it. He brushed past me, leaving smears of white dust across my
shirt and pants.
"I must not know my
own strength." Was all he said.
***
[Wufei]
It was raining outside. I
walked along, uncaring as it mixed with the plaster dust that still coated my
hair and my hands, turning it into a thin grey slime.
I had to get away before I
broke more than a wall.
It took a long time,
walking in the pouring rain, before I found a place that was suitable. It was
dark, but I was fairly certain that it was a park. There were trees, and I could
see playground equipment in the distance; a slide, swings, a merry-go-round.
There were no children, though, no one at all. It was too cool and wet for
anyone to be outside.
Finally, I allowed my
control to slip, just a little, and I threw back my head and screamed.
/No justice!/
/The war was over! Why did
we have to keep dying?/
/Why?/
/Why is there no justice?/
I screamed and screamed my
empty words out into the empty wind until I could be strong again.
***
[Trowa]
Once again, I sat down on
Quatre's bed and gently cradled his hand in mine. He was awake, and though he
was smiling, his mouth was pinched with pain. His joints were swollen very badly
today; he was in so much pain that not even the narcotic painkillers the
hospital was giving him could defeat it. Two days ago, he hadn't been able to
stand; he couldn't walk any longer, and was forced to depend on others to take
care of even his most base needs. It had to hurt him, had to grate on his
nerves, even if he wasn't showing it. His hand was thin in mine, much to thin.
The doctors had told me that he now weighed less than 30 kilograms [3]. If I
held him too tightly, his bones might snap under the pressure.
"Trowa." he said
quietly. His voice was the only thing that hadn't been partially destroyed by
the cancer. It was still as sweet as it had always been...but now, I thought I
could detect a faint thickness in it, the sound of lungs that were beginning to
strain.
"Yes?" I looked
at him. At times, it was almost painful to do so. His hair was beginning to fall
out in large patches, baby fine blonde strands littering the pillow and his
shoulders. It was hard, sometimes, because I could clearly remember how only a
short time ago, he had been the most beautiful person I had ever seen, not just
for his looks, but for his vitality. Now, that was slowly being leached away.
I glanced down at the IV
that was in his arm, and the wires that were running from his body to the
machines monitoring his heart and breathing. I wanted to rip them away, stop
them from invading Quatre. I couldn't help but feel that they were the tangible
demons that were destroying him from the inside out.
"I love you."
Quatre said.
I looked back up, fighting
for control, fighting to keep from being angry or crying. I wanted to tell him
that I loved him as well. I couldn't. I just...couldn't. It hurt too much, tore
at the void that was eating away at me. Quatre didn't seem to be expecting an
answer. He just smiled.
He was beautiful.
Was I to lose who I was
again? I'd only just found him, and I still couldn't be open. I was still
hiding.
I bent over him and kissed
him, very gently, on the lips, never letting go of his hand.
***
[Duo]
"Ohayo, Quatre!"
I sang out with my best brand of false cheer as I bounded into his room. He
opened his eyes and smiled at me.
"Ohayo, Duo." he
said.
Someone had put a vase of
flowers on the tiny table by his bed. I glanced at them. "Nice." I
commented.
Quatre laughed. "Heero
brought them in."
That gave me a moment's
pause. I hadn't thought him capable of that level of sensitivity. I plopped down
in the chair by Quatre's bed and looked over at him...and froze. He was
completely bald, now. All of his hair was gone. There weren't even any fallen
strands on his pillow. Someone had swept them away. His skin was tight against
the bones of his face and head; his cheeks had sunken enough that he was
starting to look like a skeleton.
No. I couldn't think of
Quatre like that.
"The rest of it fell
out this morning." he said, quietly when he noticed me staring.
I had to joke. I had to. It
was joke or cry. "Isn't your head cold now?"
He laughed. "Aa. A
little."
I pulled my black hat off.
It had made it through the war intact, somehow, but it had been soaked,
squashed, smashed, crumpled, and battered enough that it was softer than jeans
that have gotten washed thirty or forty times, and completely shapeless. I
gently settled it on Quatre's head. "There ya go." I said.
He laughed, again.
"Great, now everyone's going to think I'm you."
I put a hand over my heart
dramatically. "Stricken to the core! Quatre, you're MEAN!"
He laughed. "I must be
getting better, then, if I'm feeling good enough to be mean." he closed his
eyes.
Suddenly, I knew. I don't
know how, but it finally struck home. He wasn't ever going to get better.
I was going to run out of
laughter soon, I knew. Oh God, I had to get out of there.
Jesus...how could I start
thinking about things like that?
Quatre was dying.
***
[Trowa]
Quatre was asleep. I sat
down on his bed and gently took his hand, as always. Duo's ridiculous black hat
was settled firmly on his head, and I smiled despite myself.
"Quatre," I
whispered, "I wish..."
I closed my eyes. It was
too painful to say out loud.
/I wish for just a little
while, you could hold me, and tell me that you're going to be alright./
/Even if it is a lie./
/I wish.../
/I wish I could give you
half of my life./
/I wish half of my
worthless years would be yours, so you would at least have a chance to live.../
/To live.../
/...with me.../
It hurt too much. It was a
stupid, cruel little game I played with myself, that wishing.
I sat there, for the rest
of the night, and simply watched him sleep.
***
[Duo]
It was pouring rain when I
ran from the hospital. I didn't stop to think. I just went out into it, without
even my coat, and ran and ran, like I was going to escape all the shit that was
happening. Like I could run away from the image of skeletal Quatre in the
hospital bed.
I couldn't do it any more.
I couldn't smile.
I couldn't smile!
/He's going to die./
/And there's nothing anyone
can do./
/He's going to die, is
dying right now, as I'm running through the rain , thinking these worthless
things to myself, trying to make myself feel better./
/I don't have a right to be
sad. Do I even really know him?/
/Am I crying for his sake?
Or for mine? Or for Trowa's? Or for his sisters'? Or the Maganacs'? Or for all
the people that are never going to know him?/
/It is unjust for someone
to die that young!/
/God, I sound like Wufei!/
/I heard someone say that
God is calling him home because he's too good for this. FUCK GOD! He's a
selfish, uncaring bastard to deprive us of him! To deprive HIM of everything in
life that he should have had!/
/ He'll never be angry
again. He'll never be happy again. He'll never see the sunset or the stars or
get to home base with Trowa. We'll never get to take him out on his first legal
bar crawl when he's 21. He'll never eat cake on my birthday again. He'll never
know what it's like to grow old with someone he loves./
/How can he die?/
/How can he die???/
/HE NEVER HAD A CHANCE TO
LIVE!!/
I ran until it was dark,
and my braid was dragging my head down, completely soaked through with water.
Then I ran more, trying to find an escape, something.
I don't know how I managed
to find my way back to the hotel. Pure homing instinct, I guess. The guests
shied out of my way as I half staggered through the lobby, toward the elevators.
A bellhop tried to stop me. I guess he thought I was a vagrant or something. I
shoved my card key in his face, stumbled into the elevator, and flipped him off
as the doors closed.
Fuck them ALL!
I stood in the elevator,
shivering and dripping water all over the floor. When it reached the penthouse
suite level, I staggered drunkenly out, and right into Heero's arms. He caught
me more out of reflex than anything else, and held me tightly when I tried to
push him away.
I couldn't do this. Not any
more.
All the strength left my
body and I sagged in his arms.
Boys don't cry!
I was crying.
***
[Heero]
I didn't need to ask what
was wrong. I held Duo tightly. He was shivering like he was going to break
apart, nearly hysterical sobs tearing themselves from his throat. The baka was
dripping water from every possible surface; he'd obviously been out in the rain
a long time. He was so caught up in his emotions that he didn't notice when I
carried him into the bathroom and dried him off, or when I carried him into our
bedroom and put him in bed, then crawled in with him. He clung to me like a
lifeline; I held him so tightly that I was surprised he didn't complain about
not being able to breathe.
I would never let go of
him.
In a deep, secret part of
myself, I felt relief, relief so profound that it almost brought tears to my
eyes, that I wasn't losing Duo.
And for the first time in a
long time, I felt ashamed.
***
[Trowa]
It was Duo's turn at the
hospital; he hadn't gone for the last two days, and was finally ready to go back
once again today. I wished that I could thank him, and tell him how hard I knew
that it must be for him, but I couldn't speak. I couldn't speak if I wanted to
stay in control.
Quatre's weight had fallen
to 24 kilograms [4]. He had begun vomiting profusely yesterday, and the doctors
had finally admitted defeat and stopped treatment. The chemotherapy wasn't going
to help him; nothing could stop the cancer from completely destroying his body.
All that was left was to make him comfortable until the end, they said.
Unwillingly, I let my eyes
slide over to the phone. They would call, they said, when it was time.
The thoughts weren't
productive. They were disturbing. I let my breath out slowly and returned my
attention to the task at hand. My sleeves were rolled up as far as they could
go; I was up to my elbows in soapy water. I had cooked yet another meal that no
one had eaten, and now I had to clean it up. I could have let the hotel staff do
it, but I had decided firmly against it. The suite had a kitchen, and I would
make good use of it. Menial, mind-numbing tasks, however useless, were what I
needed. I needed not to think. I needed to stay in control.
There was a sharp pain, and
I pulled my hand out of the water. Blood was running freely from one of my
fingers. Cautiously, I reached back into the sink and retrieved the plate that I
had been scrubbing. It was the next to last; the rest of the hotel's dishes were
already neatly stacked in the drainer.
The plate's surface was
marred where a chip had been knocked out of it. Unusual.
Blood made thin and runny
with water slid down across the white surface of the plate. I watched it for a
long moment before, very deliberately, I threw the plate at the floor and
watched it shatter, scattering pieces of white porcelain scatter across the
large tiles.
I reached for another
plate.
***
[Wufei]
I paused in the middle of
the kata I was doing, idly licking salty sweat from my upper lip. I needed this.
I needed to be in control. I needed to concentrate on my body and think of
nothing else. Then I could be strong.
I cocked my head to one
side, listening. Something had interrupted my exercises, bringing me out of the
half trance I had put myself in.
There it was again, the
sound of something shattering. I walked quickly from the spare room and toward
the main suite. Again, shattering. I sped my pace and headed for the kitchen as
the sound of more agonized smashing bled down the hall. Right before I reached
the kitchen, Heero intercepted me, his gun in his hand and primed. I nodded at
him and we ducked into the kitchen doorway.
The room was destroyed.
Almost nothing was left on the counters, and broken dishes and glasses littered
the floor. In the midst of the wreckage stood Trowa. He was breathing heavily,
his eyes so wide that the whites were visible all the way around. As we watched
in shock, he grabbed a bowl from the counter and flung it against the wall. The
shards showered down on them, one cutting his forehead open. Blood began to run
thickly down his face.
"WHY?" he
screamed, throwing another plate. "It's OVER! We don't have to die any
more!" he grabbed the kitchen table and overturned it, crushing a chair
under its bulk. "WHY?" he screamed again, grabbing another chair. He
looked in our direction wildly. I don't think he could even see us. With another
scream, he threw the chair.
That act pulled us out of
our shock as Heero and I both ducked. I ran forward, dodging another chair, and
grabbed Trowa's arms. The taller boy continued to scream, dragging me across the
floor as he struggled. "Trowa! Yamero!" I yelled. It did no good. He
couldn't hear me. "Heero!"
He was instantly on the
other side of Trowa, grabbing his other arm more securely. Between the two of
us, we held him in one place while he screamed and raged incoherently.
This wasn't Trowa. It
couldn't be.
"Trowa!" I yelled
again. Heero drew back his free hand, having long since dropped his gun, and
slapped Trowa as hard as he could.
Trowa's eyes widened for a
moment, the sanity returning to them, and he simply collapsed to his knees,
pulling us down with him until all three were kneeling on the pile of sharp dish
shards. There was blood everywhere...on the floor, on his hands, running down
his face and mixing with the tears that were flowing from his eyes. He covered
his face with his hands and sobbed, still held between Heero and I.
***
[Heero]
I shook my head and closed
the first aide kit back up. Between the two of us, Wufei and I had gotten Trowa
into his bed, bandaged him, and forced tranquilizers into him. He was asleep
now, finally, his face peaceful.
Wufei was leaning on the
wall outside of Trowa's room. He nodded to me as I came out.
"Sleeping?"
"Aa."
Wufei nodded again.
"Someone needs to clean up the kitchen." he said quietly.
"Aa."
"We can't ask the
hotel staff to do it."
"Aa."
We found buckets in a
janitor's closet on the next floor down to put the broken dishes in. They were
too sharp to put in bags.
Once again, we were
kneeling in the middle of the wreckage. My knees stung; when Trowa had pulled us
down, I must have sliced them open. It was a small pain, something I could
ignore.
/Pick up the shard. Put it
in the bucket. Pick up another, careful of the sharp edge. A tiny pain; nicked
myself anyway. /
/My hands are trembling.
Why are they trembling?/
/Pick up the broken
glass.../
/Why are my hands shaking?/
/Ignore it; pick up another
shard.../
/They're still shaking!
Why?/
/Drop the glass in the
bucket. It shatters./
/My arms are trembling now.
They won't stop. Why? What's happening?/
I stared at my hands with
fascination. They were still shaking, harder and harder. The tremors were slowly
moving up my arms, into my shoulders. I could feel my legs trembling as well. My
entire body was shaking.
"Heero?" Wufei
paused in the middle of picking up a set of broken glasses. He looked at me.
"Heero? Daijoubu ka."
"Aa." My voice
sounded...afraid? What? I continued to look down at my hands. There were tiny
cuts all over my fingers, and blood was pooling in my palms. Blood...droplets of
it began to spatter down on the floor.
/Why are my hands shaking?/
Wufei cursed loudly, and
suddenly, he was across the floor and his arms were around my waist. I buried my
head against his shoulder. I couldn't stop shaking. Why?
"Wufei?" I asked.
My voice sounded strange...
"Daijoubu, Heero..."
he said. He was shaking too.
My eyes burned and stung.
It felt strange. The fabric of Wufei's tank top was getting damp under my cheek.
"Daijoubu..." he said again. Water droplets...tears? were falling
hotly on my shoulder. Wufei was shaking harder now.
/Why?/
***
[Trowa]
I stared up at the ceiling,
my mind still fuzzy with the tranquilizers that Heero had forced into me. I
couldn't understand it; how had all my pain slipped past my mask? I had thought
it was perfect. Why was I still feeling? I shouldn't have been able to feel any
more. The emptiness should have eaten everything all ready.
I didn't want to feel.
/I wish.../
My eyes burned, and I
closed them. Why was I still doing this to myself? Why couldn't I accept the
inevitable in this situation like I had with every one before?
/I wish.../
Quatre was dying. There
were no more wishes.
A dim sound jangled across
my nerves, shredding away what was left of the drug-induced lassitude. The
phone. There was a pause, and then the door of my dark room opened, letting in a
tiny shaft of life.
"Trowa." Heero
said.
"Aa."
"That was Duo. He says
it's time."
Time. Time...for what? Time
was stopped, everything stopped...
/I wish..../
I closed my eyes tightly
for a moment and fought for control. "Aa."
***
[Duo]
The rest of the guys
arrived about ten minutes after I called them. Heero and Wufei were looking as
calm as always. Trowa, though, was pale...and he had a bandage stuck on his
forehead. I didn't ask. I didn't care.
We arranged ourselves
around Quatre's bed, and for a long, long time, the only sound in the room was
his breathing bubbling and rattling. No one's supposed to sound like that when
they breathe. The doctors had told me that the cancer had almost completely
eaten away his lungs now, and he had caught pneumonia somewhere along the line
because his white blood cells were completely defective. Quatre's sisters had
decided not to put him on a respirator. They'd already said their good-byes...it
wouldn't be right to keep him any longer.
I wasn't even sure if he
could really see us, at first. His eyes were open wide as he struggled to
breathe, struggled to live. He wanted to live. Wanted to live...
Trowa gently lifted
Quatre's almost skeletal body into his arms, and I took Quatre's hand. I could
see every bone, feel how brittle they were under his too hot, papery skin.
Outside, I could hear
someone crying out as if they were in agony; Rasid. I could hear the dull murmur
of people praying; the Maganacs. As if some miracle would suddenly occur, and
Quatre would be well again.
/Oh please God, give us a
miracle./
/I'll never doubt you
again./
/Please God, give us a
miracle.../
I was making soft choking
sounds, trying to keep back the tears that wanted to leak from my eyes. Damnit.
Quatre's fingers curled ever so slightly around mine. Time continued to run away
as Quatre struggled against his own body. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted
to live...but there was so much pain. I could see all the pain, in every line of
his almost pale face. He wanted to live.
Trowa murmured something
very softly to Quatre. I couldn't hear what it was.
Quatre whispered back. He
said, "Yes...it's beautiful. But..."
/Oh God, Oh God, please
give us a miracle...Please...I'm begging...I've never begged before./
Trowa murmured again, and
Quatre shut his eyes tightly, his face twisted into a rictus of pain. His breath
came harder, more unsteadily with each passing minute.
Then suddenly, he smiled
softly, and didn't breathe again. His hand was now loose in mine, limp,
boneless.
"No..." I said.
"Damnit, Quatre, what are you playing at. You can't leave us!" I
tugged at his hand. I knew...I knew he couldn't hear
me...but...maybe...maybe...I tugged at his hand again. "You can't leave us.
Damnit man, this isn't funny. Stop it." I could hear my voice rising until
I was screaming hoarsely. "No! Damnit, stop playing! Stop it, Quatre! No!
You can't just leave like this! It's not supposed to happen this way! The
hero's...supposed..." I was breathing heavily now. My stomach hurt. My eyes
hurt. I hurt. "...supposed to...supposed to...ride of into the
fucking...sunset! DAMNIT!" I closed my eyes so tightly that brightly
colored sparks began to dance in my non-existent vision.
"DAMNIT!" I
screamed again, still holding his hand. It was growing cold. I let go of it
suddenly. I didn't want to touch it. No. No. No. No....
I jerked away from
the...shell...that used to be Quatre and threw myself willingly into the black,
screaming darkness where I wouldn't have to feel any more.
***
[Wufei]
"DAMNIT!" Duo
screamed. He slid from his perch on Quatre's bed, falling down into the space
between the bed and the wall. His knees came up to his chest and he curled up
into a fetal ball, rocking slowly back and forth, clutching his braid in his
hands and crying like he would never stop. I glanced at Heero, who stood at the
foot of Quatre's bed. He was staring at nothing, his eyes wide. Abruptly, he
turned away and walked over to the window, legs stiff.
For a moment, I wanted to
yell at him, berate him for leaving Duo. For leaving us.
But Duo wasn't the only one
feeling pain.
I had to be strong. I had
to show the same strength that Quatre had. He'd only made a sound in pain once.
But my eyes were burning, my throat was closed up so tightly that I knew I
wouldn't have been able to speak even if I had wanted to.
My Mah Jongg set was still
sitting under his bed, I knew. I would have to pick it up when it was time to
leave. Suddenly, my cheeks were damp.
I'd have to take it with
me. We weren't going to ever play again.
We'd only just said hello a
few short weeks before. It was wrong to be parting ways already.
Slowly, I leaned forward
and touched Quatre's limp hand. The thin, delicate skin was cold under my
fingertips.
He'd faced the end well.
***
[Heero]
/Soldiers have no
feelings./
I turned away and walked
toward the window, unable to watch any longer as Duo began to scream at Quatre.
It was weak of me. Very weak.
/My hands are shaking
again./
/Why?/
/My stomach hurts./
/Why?/
I stopped in front of the
room's only window. I could see the other in dim reflection; Trowa, still
holding Quatre's corpse, unmoving. Duo, falling off the bed and curling up in
the corner. Wufei, reaching forward to touch Quatre's hand.
I could hear Duo wailing,
softly, like a lost child. I wanted to go over to him, and hold him tightly,
reassure myself that he was still real, still alive.
I couldn't.
/Soldiers have no
feelings./
My hands were clutching the
windowsill so hard that it creaked. My knuckles were white. Deliberately, I
turned my gaze out, to what was beyond the window. There were clouds in the sky,
but for the first time in days, it wasn't going to rain in the afternoon. There
were acres of green grass outside the window, neatly trimmed, and trees that
were just now in full leaf. I could see people walking, or sitting outside in
wheelchairs to enjoy the slightly watery sunlight.
Duo was still crying.
/I feel sick./
I glanced down at my hands,
still clutching the windowsill, and watched as hot droplets of water shattered
on my knuckles.
***
[Trowa]
I could feel Quatre
struggling in my arms, fighting to breathe, fighting to live. We both knew that
it was a useless reflex of the dying; he couldn't win.
We couldn't win.
/I wish.../
I wished that I could
breathe for him, that if I held him tightly enough, we'd melt into one and he
could be whole and strong again. I would never let go.
It hurt me. It hurt him. He
never made a sound, still struggling, fighting in my arms.
It hurt too much. I was too
empty. Empty. Always empty. "Quatre," I murmured softly into his ear,
"can you see the end?"
His eyes widened, and he
took in a choking breath. "Yes," he whispered. His voice was hoarse,
thick, weak. It hurt to hear. "It's beautiful."
/I wish.../
I closed my eyes tightly
against the pain, pressing my cheek against his. "Let go, Quatre." I
whispered to him. "Just let go."
My cheek was damp, now. I
held him tightly as he shook and struggled, until I felt his face move, and he
smiled, then was still.
I held him until there was
nothing left.
[1] Metastasis--when cancer spreads to other parts of the body, forming
"satellite" tumors.
[2] Paxil is a very powerful antidepressant
[3] Quatre's normal weight is about 90 lbs, for anyone that can't imagine the
metric system. 30 kilograms is about 66 lbs.
[4] 24 kilograms is about 53 lbs.