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Fathoms	By : CeeCee Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2883 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don’t own the Gundam Wing fandom or the Gundam Wing characters contained within this story. I make no money from writing this work of fanfiction, it’s for entertainment purposes only. Probably only my own…

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Summary: The victim saves his savior. Actions and hearts speak when words cannot.
Author’s Note: I’m just scribbling while I’m waiting to read everyone else’s GW updates. *hint, hint* I can’t promise I’ll get to work on this very often. Too many stories, too many fandoms, way too little time. And I’m supposed to be working on a quilt.
Wufei startled from a sound sleep and stared around the room for the source. He prickled with annoyance when he heard Heero’s landline phone again from the kitchen, jangling with no regard to time. He flung off the covers and rose awkwardly from the sofa, grumbling curses under his breath as he went to answer it.
“Fucker. Look at a clock,” he suggested as he fumbled for the handset in the dark. “What?” he snapped, intent on giving the caller what piece of his mind that he could spare.
“Fei! It’s me,” Heero insisted, sounding panicked. That woke him up.
“What? Heero? The fuck…?” Wufei rubbed his eyes and yawned, reaching into the fridge for a bottle of water to wash the pastiness from his mouth. “Where the fuck are you?”
“The beach,” he confessed. “Don’t get mad, just meet me at the hospital! I already called an ambulance…”
“You what?” Wufei set the water bottle down and slumped against the fridge, stunned. The blood seemed to drain from his face, and cold dread and fear seized his chest. “The beach?” he repeated. “Paramedics? So help me, Heero, do Quat and I have to lock you in your own house?”
“Shut up a minute and listen. I didn’t go out on the Zero. I promise you I didn’t, ‘Fei. Look for yourself. My wet suit’s still in my room. Go look if you don’t believe me, but I’m here at the beach.”
“The beach,” ‘Fei muttered hollowly. “Tell me why that’s such a great idea in the middle of a full-on thunderstorm. Go ahead and tell me.” He heard Heero’s heavy sigh, and Wufei wanted to throttle him.
“I can’t. I don’t even know what brought me here. Just meet me at the hospital.”
“I’m about to get dressed,” Wufei agreed roughly. That went without saying. He walked the cordless handset from room to room, assembling keys, shoes and jacket. He cradled the phone against his neck as he found his discarded tee, threading his arms into the sleeves. His voice was muffled as he tugged it over his head. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. Just… shook up by what I found.”
“Heero… that doesn’t help me. Are you hurt? Were you attacked?” He almost asked him if he’d hit his head but bit his tongue. Wufei was pissed about being woke so abruptly and running on adrenaline over the possibility that his ex had come to harm. In that sense, he’d never truly let him go.
It still hurt.
“I wasn’t attacked. The ambulance isn’t for me.” He hesitated, and Heero’s voice sounded rattled and just as disbelieving as Wufei’s had. “It’s for Duo.” Wufei dropped the phone in surprise, fumbling for it as he put on his pants. Heero heard his muted curse as he came back on the line.
“Duo,” he repeated.
“That’s his name.”
“Heero…”
“I know because he told me,” Heero pronounced firmly. “That’s the only thing I could get out of him before he passed out.”
“Heero, that’s… do you know how this sounds?”
“Think about how it looked when I found him. I dragged him out of the water. Poor guy looks like hell,” Heero muttered, and Wufei heard the concern in his voice. Heero sounded rattled and exhausted, and to his surprise, desperate. “Wufei, it’s him. I know it’s him.”
“Heero, look. You’re overwhelmed. It’s late, and this is too much to process right now. You should be home. I’m calling Quat, and we’ll pick you up from the hospital if you want-“
“No,” Heero barked, and the line went dead. Wufei stared down at the silent handset, dumbfounded. He punched the “end call” button and chucked it onto the couch.
“That didn’t go well,” he murmured. “Okay. Time to call Quat.” He wrestled himself into the rest of his clothes, yanked a comb through his hair and clubbed it back into his customary ponytail. He speed-dialed Quat from his cell on his way out the door, frustrated that he had to give him an awakening just as rude as the one he received. The blond’s croaky squawk demanded the same answers, but Wufei didn’t have them to give.
*
Minutes earlier:
“What?” Heero watched the beautiful violet eyes flutter shut and heard the young man’s breath drift out on a sigh. The hand that stroked his cheek fell aside limply, and Heero gripped it, squeezing it in an attempt to make him respond. Duo’s head sank down against Heero’s collarbone, and Heero shook him in an attempt to rouse him. “Duo… you said Duo! Duo,” he repeated sternly. “Wake up. C’mon, now, don’t do this to me. Duo. Wake up. Wake up.” Fear and panic clutched his heart. He shook his naked charge roughly, gently slapping his cool cheek. Heero quickly changed their positions, rolling Duo onto his back, hating to expose him again.
His color was bad; his skin was a clammy, bluish-gray, including his lips and the ridges around his fingernails. “Shit,” Heero breathed. “You can’t breathe!” Heero dug into the folds of the jacket and found his cell, which had a short charge. “Shit, shit, shit!” The battery indicator was almost blank, but he needed to call for help and make it brief. He punched in nine-one-one and waited breathlessly for the operator. Heero cradled the phone against his neck as he checked the narrow column of Duo’s throat for a pulse. It was infinitesimal and weak as he probed the taut vein, but it was there. Heero measured a few centimeters below his breastbone with his fingertips and found the place he wanted, laced his fingers together, and began CPR thrusts, counting in hissing breaths. “One-two-three-four, shit…five-six-seven…” The call picked up.
“Emergency assistance. What’s your emergency?”
“I’m at the beach! I have a man who is hypothermic and can’t breathe! He’s collapsed.”
“Which beach, sir?”
“Peacecraft Bluff. Off exit twenty-nine from the highway.”
“Your name, sir?”
“Heero. Heero Yuy.” He gasped the words as his hands continued to thrust. “Hurry and send an ambulance. I’m doing CPR.”
“Are you trained in it, sir?”
“Yes. He’s not breathing. He’s down and he’s blue.”
“Keep it up. Are you the only witness? Is anyone helping you?”
“No,” Heero told her.
“Do you know him?”
“No… not really. Never mind that shit, just send an ambulance! He told me his name before he passed out. It’s Duo.” He bent down and gave Duo two breaths, pinching his nose shut. His lips felt as icy as they looked as Heero tried to share heat and life with him, restarting the thrusts.
“Duke?”
“Duo,” Heero corrected her rudely.
“Where was he when you found him, Heero?”
“In the water.” Heero heard the manic clicks of her fingers against a keyboard. There was a lot of activity in the background of the call, and he heard her talking to someone else at the dispatch desk.
We have a man down at Peacecraft Bluff, possible drowning. Copy. She came back online, and Heero’s arms began to burn from the effort of giving CPR.
Duo needed him. He set aside the phone and gave him two more breaths and resumed his mental counting. He picked up the phone again, and heard her trying to give him an estimate and her name.
“I’m Hilde, in case we get disconnected. Can you give me an approximate location for where you are, Heero?”
“By the beach shack, just shy of the steps. I’m down on the shore. Tell them to hurry.”
“Of course, Heero. We’ll come and get him in a minute. Is he breathing yet?”
“No.” Heero’s voice sounded haggard and desperate. “C’mon, c’mon…” He thought he heard a brief grunt from his charge, but Duo didn’t move. “I need to give him a breath.”
“Go ahead. Just leave the phone on and do what you need to for him, sir. I have paramedics en route to your location as we speak.” Heero gave up on the call and set the phone in the sand. He did a full count of thirty and gave him another two breaths, trying to watch his chest. Still nothing.
Save me. Dark. Cold.
Heero almost paused, and his eyes jerked to Duo’s face. It was a stoic, silent mask, but Heero heard that voice in his head as clearly as if he’d spoken to him. “Not possible,” he muttered.
“What was that, Heero? Is he coming around?”
“I don’t think so,” he replied. Heero felt the sting of blurry tears, and despair wrapped him in its strangling grip. No. There was no alternative. Duo had to breathe, he had to come around. He couldn’t have found him – and he knew in his soul that he had found Duo – only to lose him this quickly.
“You saved me,” Heero whispered. “Now it’s my turn, Duo.” Each time Duo’s chest recoiled beneath his hands, Heero prayed that it would rise and fall on its own. The twenty-fifth push didn’t bring him out of it. Neither did the twenty-sixth. He gasped out the next two counts on strained breath, hell-bent on keeping up the pace for him. His chilled body was starved for proper oxygen, and he’d give it to him. He bent over him again, and there wasn’t so much as a twitch of an eyelid. Heero lifted the fine chin, pinched his nose and covered the slack mouth with his, breathing for him, sharing life with him…
The body jerked and spasmed, and Heero heard a low gurgle. On the second blow, Heero jerked back, eyes flitting over Duo’s face. The eyes snapped open, dazed and afraid, and Duo’s chest seized in paroxysms of coughing and starved gasps. “Duo,” Heero cried. “That’s it, buddy, come back to me.” He tilted Duo slightly to the side when he kept trying to roll in that direction, choking on the cold, damp night air. He was still pale, but his lips weren’t quite so blue. Heero returned to rubbing his arms and retrieved his phone. “He’s back,” he croaked to Hilde. “He’s breathing.”
“Great job. The boys should be there any minute, Mr. Yuy.” He heard the sounds of the dispatch center through a low crackle of sound, meaning his battery was close to dying. Duo was a mess, his damp skin dredged in sand and bits of seaweed, and he was still coughing intermittently, but Heero continued to rub him down, re-draping him with the jacket.
“I’m sorry. I know this sucks, but I can’t do anything else for you, buddy.”
Here. With you. Heero paused a moment, staring at him quizzically. Duo rolled onto his back and gazed up into Heero’s face. He was still shivering, and Heero huddled closer, rubbing him through the thin nylon of the jacket. His limbs were palsied with cold, and he seemed to be trying to fold in on himself. He trembled as he reached again for his face, and Heero grasped it, trying to tuck it back beneath the jacket, thin protection though it was. “Take it easy.”
Duo shook his head and reached for him again. He stroked his cheek, just a graze of his fingertips, then laid his palm fully along his jaw, memorizing its angle by touch. “Heero,” he whispered. Those brilliant violet eyes probed his, searching for all of Heero’s secrets.
“Don’t try to talk if it’s too hard.” Duo could barely grasp the meaning of his words. He saw his lips move and marveled that this was how he spoke. It explained much toward why he wasn’t responding to Duo’s attempts at communication. His fingertips covered those lips, tracing their shape and silencing their speech. Heero frowned but allowed the quiet, hesitant exploration. It was unnerving and personal, but all he saw was wonder in those eyes, and his touch was gentle and non-threatening.
You’re real. Duo’s awareness of the man looming over him blazed through him, illuminating and warming his insides. The stretch of beach, darkened sky and misting rains fell away for him as his face took his entire focus. It was the one he remembered, certainly, from their brief encounter and every dream he’d enjoyed since. His skin was young, taut and smooth, a creamy gold, slightly tanned from time spent outside. Heero’s eyes were large and owned a graceful slant, and their color drew him in, like watery sapphires. His lips were thin but well-shaped, the upper one sharply notched. His dark brows were arched and thick, lending his face shrewdness. His short, thick waves of hair were the brown of driftwood, what he could see of them. Duo shocked Heero by swatting away his baseball cap, but his touch was tender again as he found his hair, and he ran his fingers through its softness. His expression was curious as he tousled it; Heero sighed, glad he didn’t have anywhere he needed to be.
“Hat bothered you that much?” Heero smirked, but he submitted to the caress, fine with it if it kept him calm. He rubbed him briskly and scraped his hair back from his eyes, tucking it behind his ears.
Duo caught his hand, making him jerk in surprise. He spread his palm open and didn’t wait for permission, laying it against his cheek. Duo turned his face into his palm and tenderly stamped it with his lips. Heero was speechless. Duo’s fingertips caressed the back of his hand, tracing the network of fine veins and the bumps of his knuckles, and his now-warm breath misted over the heel of his hand, baptizing it. Heero’s pulse quickened and his gut suddenly felt tight. Duo’s eyes closed as he breathed in Heero’s scent and warmth, absorbing the reality of his presence. Their worlds collided; in no semblance was it possible, but Duo didn’t care.
Something close to rapture lived in Duo’s eyes, borne of their tentative contact, and Heero’s gut tightened in response. He felt an awkward flush bloom over his throat, drifting up into his cheeks. “You’ll be okay,” he grumbled. “Take it easy. Help’s almost here. We’ll get you inside, I promise. What possessed you to go out there on a night like this?” It was ironic, coming from him, of all people. Duo sighed and relaxed against him, giving Heero no answers, and he knew by his drowsy slump that he wouldn’t receive them any time soon.
The ambulance beacon flashed from the parking lot, and Heero jerked his attention from his charge at the sounds of running feet. Two paramedics hurried down to the beach carrying a defibrillator case, O2 tank and a collapsible stretcher. They were warmly dressed in heavy black jackets and dark scrubs with the hospital’s logo emblazoned on their caps. The shorter one of the two nodded to Heero before kneeling down to assess Duo.
“I’m Alex, and this is Kyle. We got the call from dispatch that this man went into cardiac arrest? You said you pulled him out of the water?”
“He collapsed. He did stop breathing for a minute or two.”
“I wish more people in the community knew CPR. It saves lives. He was lucky you came along when you did.” He took out his kit and opened up, extracting a breathing mask. The taller medic looped a yellow stethoscope around his neck and began to examine Duo. He shone his flashlight into his brilliant, but bloodshot eyes and made a thoughtful sound when his pupils shrank in the piercing brightness.
“Wow,” he murmured when he noted their unique color. They worked on him, examining him and deciding he needed more oxygen. They fitted the mask over his face, and Heero moved back to let them work, but Duo groaned in complaint and reached for him plaintively. His hand fell limply into the sand, and he mumbled beneath the mask, barely audible over the hiss of oxygen. EKG leads were attached to his chest and they flipped the switch on the Zoll monitor, handing Heero back his jacket. The third paramedic arrived with a coarse blanket and draped it over Duo, and they shifted him onto the stretcher. The end of his braid hung over the side, and Heero reached for it, carefully laying it over his chest, only then realizing how long it was. Scraggly loops of hair snuck out from the plait, and it was crusted with sand. Duo was still shivering, but he was beginning to relax as he breathed in the nourishing oxygen. Alex and Kyle handled the stretcher and carried him up to the parking lot, while their partner accompanied them with the portable transport monitor and tank. Heero was grateful for their skill and calm demeanor; he felt rattled as hell. He shrugged into his now-damp jacket, shaking off the chill, and he padded after the entourage as they went to load Duo into the waiting transport. They shouted to him over the rumble of the engine. Kyle entered the driver side and began barking their status to the dispatch center.
Heero felt anxious as they wheeled his stretcher up the ramp, but he heard the crunch of tires entering the sand-strewn lot and recognized Quatre’s Lexus. The blond rolled down his window, and Heero could see he was pissed, but relieved that he wasn’t the one in the ambulance. Heero reluctantly split his attention between his friends – Wufei glared at him from the passenger seat – and the departing ambulance.
“We’re headed to County General, if you want to follow us,” Alex called out. Heero nodded to him and gave them a brief salute. They tore out of the lot, leaving him to face the music. Quatre parked the car and left the engine running, waiting for Heero to join them. The wind tore at his hair and clothing, almost blowing him backward as he went to face the music.
“Are you serious, Heero?” Quatre began. “What the hell are you doing out here tonight?”
“This morning,” Heero corrected him. Quatre’s face turned ashen, and in a rare fit of temper, he banged his fist against the steering wheel.
“Did you… did you just talk shit to me? You’re going to stand there, when Wufei and I have been fretting and stewing about where you went, worried that you went out-“
“I didn’t go out on the Zero. I didn’t go anywhere near her,” Heero promised, but Wufei looked grim, and his eyes were flat.
“Get the fuck in the car.”
“I drove myself. I’m headed to County.”
“You’re headed to bed,” Quatre hissed in annoyance. The set of his jaw was stubborn and hard.
“Bullshit. I’m going to make sure Duo’s all right.”
“Who? That guy they just carried off?” Quatre looked incredulous.
“Q. ‘Fei. Listen to me, and listen well. Duo is the one who saved me.”
They stared at him, and Wufei shook his head, tsking under his breath. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t know that.”
“I do. I can’t even explain it, but that’s him. I know it’s him.”
“Heero, it’s late. We’re bushed.” Quatre craned his neck uncomfortably to one side and frowned as he rubbed out a kink. “You’re not thinking sensibly right now.”
“I’m thinking about the guy who kept me from drowning when my boat got hijacked. I’m not going to thank him by abandoning him.”
“He’s not your responsibility,” Quatre argued over the low hum of his engine. Heero felt guilty as he listened to him. The blonde’s aqua eyes were slightly bloodshot and squinty, and his usually impeccable grooming was absent; his shirt was completely rumpled. Wufei wasn’t in any better shape. His cheek sported a pillow crease and his fraying ponytail gave up tendrils and strands that hung loosely around his face.
“I found him. Alone, cold, and exhausted. He could have died from hypothermia and exposure. He is my responsibility.” He stalked off to his car, and Quatre sharply cut off the engine of his. Heero didn’t turn back when Quat slammed the car door, and he tried to shake him off when he grabbed his arm to halt his progress. “Q,” he warned him in a low tone, “don’t fight me on this. I’ve made up my mind, and you don’t want to get in my way right now.” Quatre let him go as if contact with him burned. He held up his hands in defeat, and Heero could see how difficult it was for him not to lose his temper.
“Fine. Fuck me. Fuck ‘Fei. Our opinion on what you did tonight with coming out here in the middle of the damn night doesn’t matter. We’re not worth shit to you, or you wouldn’t just run off into the dark without saying anything.”
“I had my say before. You didn’t listen,” Heero tossed over his shoulder as he made his way to his Jeep.
“Fuck you!” Quatre snapped.
“Q,” ‘Fei admonished softly, “don’t. Don’t say something you’ll regret in the morning.”
“It is morning,” Quatre countered bitterly. “This is ridiculous.” He restarted the car and buckled up, and he grimly followed Heero’s tail lights out of the lot.
“What’s up?”
“We’re going to the hospital. We’re going to see what this guy’s story is, and we’re going to make sure Heero gets home, safe and sound. We should have before.” Wufei knew he was talking about that awful night, and he remained silent. Guilt trickled through his veins, chilling him.
*
Duo groggily watched the odd stream of tiny lights whizzing by the glass pane in the vehicle that carried him faster than he could remember being able to swim. The lights illuminated the raindrops splattering and sluicing down the glass, making them sparkle, but he could enjoy it while his body tried to fight its hypothermic state. Parts of him were numb, and he seemed to itch all over. His teeth wouldn’t stop chattering, and he felt strangely lethargic. His eyes began to drift shut, but the medic hovering over him, monitoring his oxygen intake, shook his shoulder to rouse him.
“Can you tell me your last name, Duo?” He stared up at him blankly and weakly shook his head. “No? How about your address? Do you live nearby?”
“Nnnnngggh… No,” he rasped. The word came to him somehow, and its use made sense. He licked dry, sore lips and wished for a sip of water.
“Okay. Is there anyone you need us to call?” Duo shook his head, again at a loss. “All right. We’ll figure things out once we get you to the ER, okay? We’re going to take you where you can get warmed up, okay?” Duo assented, offering a brief nod, and he lifted his hand, reaching for the medic’s. He gave it a weak, grateful squeeze. “You’ll be okay,” he assured him.
They pulled into the loading dock and drove up the ramp into the triage area. The soothing darkness gave way to blinding white lights and glaring white surfaces. Duo winced and startled as his gurney was wheeled down the ramp with a sharp clunk. He was exposed to drafts of cool air again, and he huddled beneath the unsubstantial blanket and sheet. They wheeled him inside a structure just as brightly lit as the dock, but three times noisier. The sounds assaulted his ears, and he wrinkled his nose as the sterile smell of antiseptic and used linens. He recognized the metallic, pungent odor of blood and shivered, wondering where it emanated from, and wished he hadn’t found out. A young man in triage with multiple stab wounds lay unconscious as his bloodied, torn garments were cut from him and crammed into a green plastic bag. Duo wondered what hall of horrors they had brought him to. He tried not to cry out as a couple of other humans – workers, he surmised – approached and began to handle him. A woman with blonde hair in a snug bun came up with a probe of some kind hanging from a long, yellow cord. She placed the end of it on his chest, and he tried to bat it away. Kyle reached down and took his hand, holding it back while she listened to his heartbeat.
“He’s tachy,” she murmured. Someone else ran a blunt object over his forehead, and he stared up at it with curiosity as it beeped. “Thirty-four.”
“He’s a fighter,” Alex remarked.
“He’s blue.” She shined an irritating little light in his eye and gently pulled up his lid to get a closer look. “Wow,” she muttered. “Those are some eyes he has.”
“What?” Alex asked, looking more closely. “Wait… are they… purple?”
“Violet,” she corrected him. “They’re a little dilated. I don’t like his skin color much right now. Bring him to bed four. Marie, bring me some blankets out of the warmer. A lot of them.” A sandy-haired girl in a baggy green pair of scrubs nodded and obeyed, meeting him at the examination area. The arm of the gurney was lowered and he found himself shuffled awkwardly, hoisted up on the sheet beneath him and expertly pulled onto the bed. The damp, gritty gurney went away, and a new set of leads was applied to his chest. They itched, but his hands were pulled away when he tried to scratch. They felt like leeches, he mused.
He listed to the various sounds and commotion going on around him as the group of staff caring for him continued to examine him. They draped him with blankets, stiff but delightfully warm, and he eased himself down into the comfort, still shivering but feeling better now that he wasn’t exposed to the elements. His extremities tingled and ached, and his skin felt raw. He fought the woman in the white coat when she reached for him again and snapped an odd, snug little blue strap around his arm, tying it in an uncomfortably snug knot. She probed the bumpy vein in the crease of his elbow, swabbed it with something cold and bitter smelling, and she jabbed him sharply. He cried out at the attack, and she made shushing, soothing sounds.
“I’ll just be a second- HOLD IT! SETTLE DOWN! Someone come and hold him!” Duo thrashed and roared at the sight of the tiny tube at the end of her needle as it slowly filled with oozing red ichor – his, he realized.
His mind flashed back to an ethereal, pale face, smiling cruelly at him as his ichor drained from his body. She was robbing him of something vital…wanted to hurt him…
“NO!” Duo bellowed. “DON’T!” The syringe and tube went flying across the room, shattering on the floor.
“Shit!” Duo’s physician cursed as she tried to hold him down; several hands pressed down against his chest and shoulders, anchoring him to the uncomfortable, hard bed beneath him, and he hissed and cried out, seeking to strike out at anyone within reach. “Get me something to calm him down!” Duo’s head whipped back and forth, and he kicked off the covers, but they held his legs, too. “Duo! Duo… that’s his name, isn’t it?”
“That’s all he gave us,” Kyle told her, shrugging as he continued to hold his patient down so he wouldn’t get hurt. They held his arm still as she came back with a new syringe, tapping it to settle its contents and eliminate the bubbles in the clear liquid.
“It’s okay. This will hurt again, just for a second, okay, hon?” He shook his head and thrashed.
“NO!”
“Yes,” she insisted. “We’re helping you, Duo, but you need to calm down. This will help you stay calm.” She punctured his skin again, depressing the plunger, and the needle’s contents flushed the medication into his veins, burning slightly. Slowly his thrashing slowed down and weakened, and he needed to lie back. Duo collapsed, arms going completely limp, and he stared up at the ceiling in a daze, enthralled by the bright fluorescent light panes. “It’s all right. That’s it, sweetie. You’re doing fine.”
They took a fresh vial of blood from him and sent it to the lab. An IV bag of warm fluids was hung and he was redraped in warming blankets, one wrapped around the top of his head to seal in the heat. Encased in the comforting warmth, Duo drifted off to sleep.
Heero arrived at the front security desk. The secretary was young and pert, wearing a pink scrub top printed with Spongebob characters and sipping a Starbucks Venti cup as she greeted him.
“Do you need to be seen, sir?”
“No. I’m here to see someone who was just brought here. His name is Duo.”
“Last name?”
“I don’t know. They just brought him in from the beach. He almost drowned.” She frowned.
“That’s awful. Go ahead and sit down, and I will see if the security guard can walk you back, sir.” Her fingers flew over her keyboard, and she picked up the phone handset, rattling off questions. Heero settled into one of the hard, vinyl lobby chairs, leaned back and closed his eyes for a few seconds. His eyes burned with exhaustion and his limbs felt limp and sore. “You look a little worse for wear, sir.”
“Just a little rattled.”
“Are you friend or family of the man you’re here to see?”
“Friend.” He instantly regretted it; he worried that they might not let him come back if he wasn’t a relative. But she smiled at him, surprising him.
“Do you have any identification with you, sir?” Heero patted his pockets, then his eyes widened.
“Shit… shoot. Sorry. No. I left it at home. I left my house in a hurry.” She winced.
“Ooh. I need some ID. We need it for security purposes in the ER, sir.”
“Okay. Can… someone come out and tell me how he’s doing? Can I leave my number for someone to call?”
“We could do that.” She took down his information, and Heero nursed his disappointment with a Pepsi from the lobby vending machine.
“Heero,” Quat called to him softly. Heero turned to face him and ‘Fei, and they both surrounded him, reaching for him, and he walked into ‘Fei’s embrace.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured into his shoulder.
“So are we,” Quatre admitted. “I was a dick.”
“You were pissed. I get it. I don’t blame you, Q. I would’ve been, too.”
“How is he?” Wufei asked, leading them both to chairs. Quatre wrapped an arm around Heero and squeezed his shoulder.
“I don’t know yet.” He watched the secretary work, admitting another couple; one of them stood with their hand wrapped in a bloody towel. “They won’t let me back. I don’t have ID, and I’m not family.”
“I wonder who we would have to talk to?” Quatre murmured. “Hmmmm…”
*
Behind the ER doors, Duo’s examination and treatment continued. They briefly unburied his head from the blankets so they could probe his neck and ears. He still rested comfortably, smacking his lips at their touch.
“Poor thing,” Sally Po tsked. She placed her stethoscope on his chest again and pressed the button on the monitor to read his bp again. The cuff inflated around his arm and tightened, humming as it took his numbers and flashed them on the digital display onscreen. “You’ve had a rough night.”
“Look at his hair,” Marie added. “He’s got so much of it.” She reached for his braid, gently tugging it out from under him and draping it over his chest. It was a bedraggled mess, but its rich chestnut color was pleasing to the eye. “Beautiful.”
“Look at his eyes the next time he’s awake.” Sally reached for the braid, hefting it in her hand. It was sodden, gritty and heavy. He would benefit from a thorough shampoo. She stroked it, then felt an odd lump toward the back of his head. “What’s this?”
“What?”
“There’s… something in here.”
“Whoa.” Marie looked alarmed as Sally fumbled with his hair, fingers combing through the back of it gingerly. “Want gloves?”
“Maybe… oh.” She withdrew a small object and held it up to the light. “Marie, this is a wallet.”
“No shit? Is it his?”
“That’d make this a heck of a lot easier if it is,” she decided. Sally took it to the counter and handed it to a tall male nurse. “We might have ID on Mr. Confidential here.”
“Popeye?” he inquired jokingly. “Worth a look.” They opened the wallet with plenty of witnesses around. He withdrew a small white Costco card. “I thought this guy called himself Duo.”
“What’s it say?”
“Heero Yuy.”
“Seriously?”
“That’s not even him.” Marie flipped through the little plastic sleeves of pictures, faded and blurred from their immersion. “Cute, whoever he is, but that’s not our guy.”
“Okay. That opens another can of worms,” Sally sighed. “He’s just about stable. We have no clue who he is, and from the sound of it, neither does he. This is a logistics nightmare, folks.”
“Night shift,” the RN replied, shrugging. “You need caffeine.”
“I need a week in Maui.”
“I’m going to see if we can have this put in the safe,” Marie suggested. She walked the wallet out to the secretary. “Hey.”
“Hi,” she said cheerfully. “What’ve you got there?”
“Something for the safe. The patient is asleep still, our John Doe. He can’t sign a waiver to have his stuff stored, but we’ll do it for him.”
“He has a wallet?”
“Not his.”
“Was he on something?” the secretary mouthed. Marie shook her head admonishingly.
“Confidentiality, kiddo.”
“Okay. Let’s see that.” She gingerly took the billfold and opened it briefly. “Hey…”
“What’s up?”
“Heero…” she murmured. “Mr. Yuy?” she called out. Marie watched a handsome but frazzled brunet look up at the sound of his name, hunched between his friends.
“Wait… is that him?” Marie asked in disbelief?”
“Could you come over for a moment?” The secretary beckoned to him to take the seat opposite her desk. “I think we have something of yours.” She held up the open billfold, nodding down at his ID. “That ID you said you left at home.” His blue eyes widened, and she regretted how bloodshot they were.
“That’s… my wallet?” he asked incredulously.
“You tell me. Looks like it.” They handed it to Heero, who gingerly pulled apart the magnetized snap. He thumbed through the plastic sleeves and pried open the billfold. The cash was crumpled and crinkly but otherwise untouched. His ID card stared back up at him. Quatre sidled up to him so quietly, it startled him when he heard his voice by his elbow.
“What the hell…?”
“It’s my wallet,” he muttered.
“But, it’s been missing!”
“It’s my wallet,” he repeated numbly. Quatre and Wufei stared at each other agog behind his back. “Can I see him, now?”
“Yes. Of course. Here’s a visitor’s badge. Visiting hours are over at eight PM.” Heero pinned the little plastic card to his shirt pocket and took the “Hello, My Name Is” sticker she handed him and scrawled his name on it with a Sharpie.
“You guys don’t have to stay.”
“I need a shower,” Wufei admitted.
“I need a nap,” Quatre added. “So do you, Heero.”
“Later. I’ll call you later.” Heero rushed off without another glance, nodding to the security guard as he let him in the double doors. His heartbeat quickened with his steps.
*
“Hello. I’m Heero,” he offered, introducing himself to the blonde ER hospitalist in the lab coat. She looked young enough to just be out of med school.
“Heero, I’m Dr. Po. Nice to meet you. What happened tonight? I understand you found him?”
More like he found me, he mused. “I was on the beach when he surfaced.”
“He came out of the water? Like he is now? No clothes?”
“Not a stitch. He was disoriented.”
“We ran his tox screen. It came back negative for any opiods or alcohol.”
“Good,” Heero breathed.
“He’s definitely hypothermic and dehydrated. Who knows how long he’s been adrift?” She gently cradled Duo’s wrist and toyed with the ID band. “He didn’t give you any other name but Duo?”
“That was it. He didn’t give me much of anything at all.”
“And you never met him before now?”
“Not formally.” She frowned.
“What do you mean, formally?”
“I can’t explain it, but… I think I know him. Well…” he changed tacks. “Call it déjà vu. I feel like I’ve seen him before, but it’s a fuzzy impression.”
“You’re not on any opioids, are you? What were you doing out so late at night?”
“I’m sober,” Heero argued, holding up his hand. “I was out for a drive, and I took a walk.”
“You saved his life,” she mentioned casually. “Your little stroll was more eventful than you’d planned, Mr. Yuy.” She scribbled something on her clipboard. “You said you think you know him.”
“Not really.”
“He had your wallet. It’s yours, isn’t it?”
“Dr. Po, I have no clue how he could have gotten it.” Heero took off his baseball cap and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. He was exhausted. “I gave it up for lost a few days ago. I lost it when my yacht was hijacked.” Her brows drew together.
“That’s it. That’s why you look so familiar. I remember that night. You made the news.”
Heero was tired of her lack of bedside manner. “Is it okay if I just sit with him for a while?”
“Go ahead. Can I list you as a contact person on his chart?”
“Please do.” Heero slumped into the nearby chair and reached for him, clasping his wrist. Duo’s fingers twitched and he smacked his lips in his sleep. Dr. Po left him alone, and Heero treated himself to a long look at him. He was piled under the coarse hospital warmer blankets, and he saw the beginnings of normal color returning to his skin. His exposed wrist and hand were covered in scratches. His hair, what he could see of it, was gritty with sand. There were faint bruises around his cheeks and jaw from the strange mask he wore earlier, and the fine blood vessels in his eyelids stood out in harsh detail. His skin in the bright lights of the ward was startlingly fair, almost creamy, like someone who didn’t spend much time outside.
His face, once he had the time to study it, reminded him of an old master’s painting, a Raphaelite angel. His long lashes fluttered once in a while as he rested, dusting his high, firm cheekbones. His mouth was full and rosy pink, sensual in sleep, but his lips looked sore and chapped. “You look like you could use a lot of TLC, bud,” Heero murmured. His thumb rubbed Duo’s wrist absently before he took his hand, content to hold it.
In the fathomless darkness of oblivion, Duo smiled, content.
*
Milliardo’s eyes flashed and sparked with white fire as Gar approached, hesitant.
Sire… we’ve no sign of him. He’s not within range of the reef, nor of the dome. Remus nodded his agreement as he chimed in.
His manacle’s signal is dead, sire.
Where we find the manacle, we will find my son, Milliardo pointed out to them, addressing them as if they were younglings.
Sire… the manacle is attuned to Duo’s life signs. It… it would stop signaling if he removed it.
You told me it couldn’t be removed, sentry. Gar paled and dropped his eyes. Go on. Explain to me why you haven’t found my son, if the manacle cannot be removed by any but myself.
The manacle would also stop signaling if… the wearer’s life signs ceased, Highness.
He felt his sovereign move from his throne without even looking up, knowing his punishment was well deserved for sharing his thoughts too freely. Large, rough hands encircled his throat, covering his gills, and a flurry of bubbles burst from his lips. Milliardo stared down into Gar’s large, horrified eyes as he shook him.
If. They. Ceased.
Sire! Please… please!
I implore you, Highness! We will continue our search! The crew is still out at the reef and combing the grotto for him, for even the merest sign of Prince Duo! Remus exclaimed hastily. Milliardo’s flesh was draped in shadows, his features stark beneath the illumination of his eyes. The low charges sparking from them made his hair rise on the currents. His expression was menacing, and Gar was about to soil the currents in an agonizing, shameful moment if his king didn’t release him.
Take a different approach. Go beyond the reef. Go as far as the surface, damn you. Find him. Find my youngest son if you value your lives. His voice in their minds was icy and brittle. Gar’s tail flurried back and forth as he fought to breathe, but he dared not try to wrest himself from his sovereign’s grip. Go to the caves. Remus paled.
You realize what you’re asking, Highness.
No. I demand this of you as your king. I do not ask. Prepare a full contingent of guards. Zechs and Noin will lead your search from now on. You will heed his word as you would mine.
Yes, Highness.
Father. A word. Zechs drifted closer, face pensive.
Leave us. Meet them at the armory. He released Gar, and Zechs felt a sympathetic choking sensation in his chest as Gar took a gasping draft of water into his lungs. He backed out of the throne chamber, and he made haste with Remus doddering after him to do as they were bade.
You believe she has him.
What do you think? She must! That treasonous cracken has him in her grip, Zechs. I’d wager my life on it. His disappearance has Une’s reek. He’s alive. I know this as surely as I feel you beside me.
I feel him too, Father, Zechs confided. Just a feeling. I’d know it if… He stopped himself from saying what they both felt. Milliardo gave a brief, grim nod, and tension and unchecked fear aged him over night, scratching deep lines of worry into his brow and around his mouth. We will bring him home, Father. I swear my life on it.
Zechs… take caution. I won’t… can’t lose my son. Either of you.
It’s been too many moons since I last visited my aunt.
Give her my regards. Zechs’ eyes glowed with restrained energy, and he returned his father’s nod. They clasped hands one last time before he took his leave. Noin met him in the corridor, already aware of her king’s order.
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Fathoms