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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
- 13
- 14
Summary: Getting to know you. Getting to know all about you… The King and I
Author’s Note: Moving along by bits and pieces. Writer’s block like a mutha…
Quatre hurried down the corridor as quickly as the flow of staff and ambulating patients would allow, precariously gripping a Starbucks recycled cardboard drink carrier and trying to keep the strap of his laptop carrying case anchored to his shoulder. His day planner entries were emblazoned on his brain, and he heard Iria reminding him that the company wouldn’t run itself, but the urge to supervise – no, to check on – his best friend overrode all of his other obligations for the day. He slowed down, not wanting to overtake or skirt around an elderly woman in a pink robe scuffling along on a forward-wheel walker in navy blue slip-proof socks; the PT escorting her smiled endearingly at him and urged her carefully toward the handrail along the wall to allow Quatre to pass. He nodded a good morning to them and made his way through the wing to the large private room.
Things had taken a strange, stressful turn overnight.
*
When Duo woke again from the sedatives, he was agitated, which the ER staff expected, but instead of groggy delirium, he awoke with a cacophony of alarms sounding from all of his monitors. Heero snapped awake in confusion that gave way to panic. A young male RN hurried over and slid back the privacy curtain, making the rings scrape along their ceiling mounts and letting in the harsh light of the unit. Heero blinked under the glare, disoriented and still exhausted. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
“He’s… coding,” the nurse explained. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to step out.”
“What?” Color drained from Heero’s face, and he watched in horror as Duo’s body thrashed briefly, then went disturbingly slack. The hand that Heero had held and stroked fell limply open, as if in supplication. “No! He- he was getting better! Help him!”
“We plan to do all we can, but you’ll have to step outside, sir!” Two more staff members wheeled in a red crash cart and began opening drawers and pulling out vials and syringes, snapping on blue gloves. Heero began backing away from the gurney, and he found his arm enclosed in Mariemaia’s soft but insistent grip.
“Let’s go back to the lobby.”
“What’s wrong?”
“We’ll know more soon, after we run some tests, but we need to stabilize him. He’s still in shock,” she surmised. “I know you’re worried for him and don’t want to leave him, but Heero, we need room to work.”
“I understand,” he nodded, but his bloodshot eyes told a different story. He gave the gurney one last look before the bodies surrounding Duo blocked his view. Heero felt lightheaded and chilled at the sounds of loud dinging that filled the room, while the blare of the flatline on the monitor stabbed into his consciousness. His legs felt leaden as she led him back to the lobby.
He regretted sending Wufei and Quatre away to recoup; Heero sat miserably, brooding and fretting in a waiting room full of strangers in varying states of illness and injury. Two occupants sat with white washcloths and pink emesis basins clutched in their fists, looking green around the gills; a five-year-old screamed and shed fat, messy tears over his swollen hand, no doubt broken from a fall from a jungle gym. He plugged his dying cell into his charger, sitting as close to the wall outlet as he could, texting ‘Fei.
Gonna be here longer than I thought. Things went south. He’s crashing. He let out a shuddering breath. I don’t know what to do.
His hands shook as he fumbled with the tiny touchscreen. I don’t know if Duo’s gonna make it. Fear gripped his heart and his hands grew cold and clammy. Heero watched CNN distractedly until Wufei messaged him back, and then they texted in earnest.
Clearly, the fates hated him…
*
“I don’t know how to best explain this,” Dr. Po told Heero and his two companions. “As best as we can tell, Duo seems to be having a metabolic breakdown. All of his organ systems are failing, or at any rate, working too hard. He doesn’t have any reserves left right now, and he’s still in shock from his ordeal in the water. We still don’t know how long he was out at sea, Mr. Yuy.”
“Heero. Just Heero,” he pleaded.
“He’s spiking a fever. When he came in, he was hypothermic, so his body’s overcorrecting itself. He’s dehydrated, but when we gave him fluids, it built up in his system and overloaded his kidneys.”
“Shit,” Quatre hissed. “What are you doing about it?”
“Dialysis, Mr. Winner. We’re going to pull off some of that fluid and bring down that fever. Originally, the plan was to keep him for observation, but we’re moving him to the unit.”
“Intensive care?” Quatre demanded. “Will we still be able to visit him?”
“Whomever he considers family, but we can’t grant the same visitation privileges on the unit that we do on the floor. I’m sorry. You can visit him individually until he improves, but we won’t really know what we’re dealing with until we see how he does after dialysis.”
What Sally couldn’t explain – what she couldn’t know – was that Duo’s body was still changing, still continuing its metamorphosis from aquatic to mammal, ill-equipped to only breathe air. His body couldn’t adjust to the stream of saline solution washing into his vessels, when he was so accustomed to the mineral-rich water he was spawned in, nourishing him and lubricating his lungs, flowing through his ventricles. His blood lacked the iron and other nutrients that humans synthesized from food and created naturally, and until it could, he would remain dangerously anemic. His body lacked the instinct of when and how to eliminate wastes, and toxins were building within him, putting him at risk for infection. Antibodies generated in his blood were unsure of which cells to attack.
Une’s handiwork threatened to undo itself and kill Milliardo’s youngest son.
Heero glanced into the hospital room’s window, peering at what he could see of Duo through the mini-blind slats. He felt a surge of protectiveness rise up into his chest towards the young man, making him want to remain near him. His face was pale and waxen, his lips drawn back around the tracheal tube that was taped firmly in place. Seeing him so frail and helpless was surreal; he shook his head to clear the fog, scrubbing his face with his palm. The corridor of the intensive care ward was quiet save for the myriad alerts and beeps on the monitors at the charge desk. Heero felt uncomfortable in the sterile surroundings, feeling old, unwelcome memories threatening to erupt through the surface.
“How long will he have to stay intubated?” Wufei demanded. “Why is he still out?”
“We sedated him. He was pulling on his leads and getting agitated, and that made his fever spike. Calming him helps with the intubation. We have pens and paper for him to communicate until he’s breathing better on his own. After we brought him out of code status, his oxygen saturation was still very low.”
“Okay,” he nodded, exhaling loudly. “Heero, what are we going to do about him?”
“What’s this ‘we?’ I’m staying with him to look after him. As far as we know, he doesn’t have anybody,” Heero reasoned impatiently. Irritation and stubbornness sparked in his blue eyes, which had the beginnings of dark circles under them.
“What about that job at WHOI?” Wufei reminded him. Heero groaned inwardly but shook his head.
“Call them. Change our tickets.”
“We’re under contract, Heero.”
“Something came up. Family emergency. Simple enough.”
“What do you do for a living?” Dr. Po asked.
“Oceanography. Heero and I capture images of undersea life and work with different institutes that need them.”
“The Woods Hole institute is back east,” Quatre chimed in.
“Oh, WHOI,” Dr. Po nodded. “I was wondering if that was what you were talking about. The JASON project.”
“Heero interned on that a long time ago. He’s been a consultant, too,” Quatre told her proudly.
“Impressive. All right, then. At this point, until someone comes forward to pronounce themselves family of Duo’s, Heero, you’re pretty much it.”
“That’s fine.”
“He didn’t have any belongings on him when you found him, you said?” She looked into Duo’s chart at the emergency report, eyes scanning over it. She made a thoughtful sound in her throat.
“No.” He didn’t mention his own wallet because he still didn’t believe it.
It was Fate, somehow. Fate was a fickle bitch.
*
Zechs’ heart pounded its way out of his chest, adrenaline racing through his veins as he led the charge to the caves, focused fully on the confrontation with his sinister aunt. The customary link to his younger brother was cruelly severed since his abduction, leaving behind a cold, gaping void in his consciousness and heart, and he planned to find out why, no matter how unpleasant the means.
Noin kept pace with him easily, dark eyes fierce and hard, and she wisely remained silent, only nodding at his telepathic commands, not wishing to distract him from his retrieval mission. As they drew closer to the caves, the noxious tang of ink drifted into their gills, and they notice pools of bull sharks and mersharks swarming above them, anticipating their arrival. He sensed their hunger and lust for his troops’ blood, as well as their disdain for their array of weapons. Zechs steeled himself, but he felt exhilaration overtake him, welcoming the conflict. They’d stolen Duo from him. That didn’t come without a price.
The schools of sharks continued to circle, eyeing them and tracking their progress to the caves. Zechs approached the mouth of Une’s den, and the muscles in his arms pulsed with the thrum and vibration of the compact, paddling accelerator that powered his swim through the depths. Sanq’s military technologists created them based loosely on the human’s motorboats, but they were self-contained, submersible and fuel-efficient, utilizing the same design that helped the dome maintain its integrity and security. If their confrontation resulted in sabotage, a fast escape was essential. The mini harpoons and crossbows mounted to their arm plates gleamed in the murky depths, displayed as a deterrent, yet almost welcoming a challenge from all who sought to stop them.
Caecelias loomed in the tunnels, watching them with rheumy-eyed amusement. They drifted and darted in and out of the recesses, beckoning to them.
You’ve allowed us no time to prepare you a proper welcome, son of Milliardo, one of them mocked. Seaweed brown hair swished around her homely face. Our mistress will be quite dismayed.
My aunt is never ill-prepared. Move aside. We’ve no time for your nonsense, Zechs snapped. All who’ve allied themselves with Une will answer to me for my brother’s disappearance. If you know anything about it, speak.
If my mistress does not wish for you to know, arrogant one, you will remain uninformed, she informed him haughtily, but she backed away from him, even though her expression mocked him. That proved unwise.
Noin didn’t wait for any further taunts. She darted after the squid-hybrid maiden and captured one of her tentacles, coiling it around her fist. The creature emitted a shrill, telepathic shriek of rage, also meant to disorient her attacker, but Zechs approached, and his silvery eyes were flashing an ominous white, sparking with electricity and annoyance. He handed his accelerator to one of his privates as he neared, and the young merboy shivered with his purpose. He loomed larger and more intimidating as he drew close, and the taut tendons stood out in his throat and firm jaw. <i>Then you admit that you know where my brother is, wretch,</i> he boomed. He nodded to Noin, who released her reluctantly, but Zechs backed her against the cavern wall, and one powerful hand whipped out and snapped itself around the caecelia’s throat. Noin felt the gathering of energy within him as he discharged a shock through his fingertips, and the girl’s body jerked and stiffened with the excruciating assault on her circulatory system, pain burning along her nerve endings. Her face contorted in a grimace that bared her snagged teeth. He let the energy die for a moment, and her tentacles drifted down limply. Feeling more cooperative?
Go…to hell, she retorted. He shrugged and shocked her again, discharging the energy at a higher voltage. She seized and stiffened, a captive of his assault, and she saw no pity in his eyes, only her own agony reflected there. The hint of a smile gracing his lips held satisfaction.
Perhaps you’ll prepare me a more adequate welcome there. Are all of your sisters as foolish as you? All around the cavern, the other caecelia, galvanized by their sister’s distress, agitated and darted throughout the passage, some swimming more deeply into Une’s den, yet a stubborn few lunged at their invaders, murder written in their eyes. Tentacles and talons lashed out at the troops, and Zechs sighed. So be it.
The welcoming party shifted into a swirling melee of attacking caecelia. Garr’s outstretched arm, cross-bow cocked and ready to shoot, was snared in a long, coiling tentacle, and he screamed in pain as the maiden savagely wrenched it and dislocated it. The troops choked on the billowing clouds of ink that the caecelia released into the current, finding themselves blinded. The caecelias screeched and keened, an age-old defense that often led fishermen and sailors to mistake them for the legendary sirens. Zechs’ troops writhed in pain from the ear-splitting cacophony, feeling their equilibrium destroyed, but they pressed on. They fired harpoons at short range, piercing caecilian flesh. Foul ichor laced with ink stained the water around them, but the creatures still claimed casualties. They twisted their tentacles around limbs and necks in a savage dance, drawing them near enough to sink their sharp teeth into throats and arteries, snapping necks and tearing off limbs.
Zechs and Noin urged a select few forward, diverting them from the fray with clipped telepathic commands. Go! They’ve alerted Une by now. The blood will draw the sharks inside before you can blink! We don’t have much time!
Aye, Prince Zechs! Remus traversed the long tunnel toward Une’s central chamber, the nexus which spawned all evil in the deep. The seasoned officer scanned the crevices and corners of the tunnel for booby traps. He wasn’t disappointed; schools of man-o-wars rose up in flurries to deter them. Translucent filaments licked out at them menacingly. Remus cursed and swatted them aside with his lance, another weapon engineered to deliver an electric shock. Eerie blue discharges of light emitted from its tip, illuminating the angry creatures; he lowered his helmet’s protective visor against the drifting, residual venom. Painful welts rose up on his skin wherever there were gaps in his armor, but he ignored the sting.
Go, Highness, Noin ordered. I will hold them back!
I’m your superior, or I was when I woke up this morning, Zechs quipped dryly.
You’re more valuable than me. Your father will have my scales if I let anything happen to you. Her dark eyes searched his, and his grip on her arm was insistent, yet protective.
You’re underestimating your worth, friend. I’ve never left you behind before. I don’t intend to today. Zechs’ contingent sounded the cry that the mersharks reached the tunnel, predictably drawn to the scent of rich ichor tingeing the waves. Damn you, brother, she heard him mutter, and she felt pangs of empathy for him. She, too, missed the young, chestnut-haired prince sorely. The flavor of ink overwhelmed them, and they choked back nausea at the noxious, sulphurous stench that filled the central chamber.
Une waited calmly, a spider contemplating visitors to her web. Hello, sweet nephew. It’s been far too long. Your father never returns my calls. She referred to the broken skulls of merfolk that lined her walls and adorned shelves, most of them denuded of flesh. They gaped, hollow-eyed, warning all who entered her lair to turn back. Minnows darted in and out of the facial cavities, and Noin felt her stomach lurch. Merfolk who left the safety of the dome, she could not vouch for, could she? Convenient “accidents” kept her pets well-fed and provided her with subjects for her experiments. She taunted Milliardo with the disappearances of his subjects, occasionally leaving behind signs of them on the reefs or throughout the grotto, grisly reminders not to trifle with her.
What have you done with Duo, witch!
Has Milliardo taught you no manners? Your brother was just as rude when he graced me with his presence, darling. I showed him the best of my hospitality, and look at how he thanked me. Not so much as a promise to visit me again, or a kiss goodbye. Such heartless boys you are, to treat family so poorly. He swam out of here, hell for leather.
Liar. We’d have found him by now. Zechs fumed. We have his tracker that Father gave him. He shouldn’t have been able to take it off himself. Obviously, someone removed it for him. You’d know nothing about that, would you, aunt?
What would I know of such things, child? It’s my brother’s business if he wants to punish his own children. That isn’t up to me.
Search the chamber. And her laboratory, Zechs ordered his soldiers. Look for any sign of him, anything that would help us find him. Une smirked at him triumphantly. She sucked down a draught of wine from one of her decanters, toying idly with the shells knotted at the ends of her braids. Long moray eels wove sinuously about her dais, tangling with her long tentacles and lingering there lovingly. Noin grimaced, sickened. She began her search in the laboratory first. Une made no move to deter them.
Two of her mersharks rushed into the chamber, blood staining their rows of teeth, but they paused at their mistress’ brief gesture with one taloned hand. Let’s not be rude to our guests, darlings, she purred. Let’s make them comfortable. They drifted to her side, flanking her throne and watching the soldiers expectantly as they perused her shelves and bizarre possessions.
You realize this is futile, she told Zechs simply.
Don’t trouble yourself with entertaining us. We don’t plan to stay long.
The battle waging itself in Zechs’ consciousness only grew louder and more daunting as he searched her cabinets, trunks and shelves himself. Une’s lab’s walls were carved with sacred, forbidden runes, evidence of the arcane magic that she wielded in her domain, one of countless reasons why Milliardo exiled her. The manacle had been removed, something Remus had assured him couldn’t be done by anyone but Milliardo himself. It no longer sent out signals attuned to Duo’s body’s readings, pointing to Une’s sabotage. She wasn’t stopping their search, which pricked at Zechs. It didn’t bode well that she seemed to have nothing to hide.
Or, did she?
There was another locked door toward the rear of the chamber. Noin noticed it simultaneously, and he nodded to her. Help me, he ordered.
Of course. She aimed her lance at the lock and shocked it several times, disabling the mechanism that bolted it fast. Zechs grasped the curved latch, braced himself and jerked it apart, muscles straining with the effort. It broke free, triggering an alarm. Noin jerked around and flanked the prince protectively as the mersharks rushed inside the laboratory, ready to take them down. Une, no longer the languid hostess, billowed inside, challenging them.
You don’t want to go in there.
That means we do. Noin aimed her lance at Une with no compunction for shedding their blood if they pushed her hand. Zechs pushed his way into the room, using a small lantern to light his way. The low radiance illuminated the strange tank of metal and reinforced glass. A network of pipes protruded from and fed into its base. Water rushed and bubbled inside the transparent column.
Bloody fragments soiled the liquid, dancing on the contained current. Zechs whirled on Une, electricity flashing in his eyes. Before she could react, she found his hands wrapped snugly around her windpipe, cutting off the flow of water to her gills. Her mersharks bared their teeth and lunged at them, but Noin discharged one of her harpoon blades, neatly delivering it to his beady, vulnerable black eye. The beast writhed and thrashed, roaring in their minds with rage and pain. The second shark was distracted by the luscious flow of his partner’s ichor, but he was first beholden to Une’s protection, and he snarled and darted at Noin, lightning-quick. She evaded his open maw as he snapped at her, barely missing her face. She glanced away with a whip of her tail, and she continued to feint away and lead the chase through the anteroom while Zechs struggled for dominance with his sinister aunt.
Smugness warred with fear in her eyes. Une discharged gouts of ink as she fought him, and her tentacles, stronger than hauling nets, coiled around him and attempted to rend him apart. What have you done to him?
Gave him… more than he deserved, nephew! I gave that brat his most fervent wish, like I did his mother before him.
If you’ve hurt him-
Then you’ll what? Une taunted him. You’re in my home. We play by my rules. Her tentacle fisted itself in his long tresses and yanked his head back savagely, nearly snapping his neck. He returned the favor, bunching his fingers in her long braids. His knuckles whitened as they tightened their grip at her throat, and she screamed into his mind as he discharged a bolt of electricity, channeling it through her body with unmatched fury. They remained locked in a vicious dance, but her will was strong. Her wounded mershark remembered his purpose and came at Zechs from behind. Razor teeth sank into his shoulder.
NO! Noin took advantage of his unprotected back and dispatched him with her harpoon, knowing she’d erred and left him vulnerable to the bloodlust of the sharks outside in the cavern. She tasted Zechs’ precious ichor and gagged slightly, but her eyes were hard and without pity as she surged at the second shark, no longer prey. Curse you, filth, she pronounced as she whipped herself at him and impaled him squarely in the chest with her lance. He perished with a graceless flurry of tail and sickening gurgles. His foul, inky ichor flooded the ocean floor. Noin flanked Une and jabbed her neck with the tip of her lance, just shy of her gill. Murder was written in Noin’s eyes, but Une was nonplussed.
You’ll never find him if you take my life.
We’ll find him, Zechs promised, but in his gut he knew she spoke the truth, and he cursed his dilemma.
You’re wounded, she reminded him.
As are you, Noin pointed out, and she casually nicked her throat with the lance, releasing a trickle of her blood into the current. Une’s eyes were savage chips.
You won’t get out of here alive.
Father is readying a second flank of troops, Zechs told her. You’re exiled, Une. But your caverns are fair game.
You’ve already trespassed and broken the bargain I made with your father, she retorted angrily.
As have you. Tell us what you’ve done with Duo.
He’s dead to you, she promised gleefully. He’s dead to my brother! You’ll never find any trace of him in the deep! Search my caves, search the reef-
Wait. Noin interrupted her crowing for a moment. No trace of him in the deep. Realization dawned in her eyes. She turned and swam back to the tank, running her hands along its surface. She fluttered around it, examining the pipes and levers. The base of the tank was carved as the same runes as the ones on the walls. No trace of him, she repeated thoughtfully.
It’s too late! Une insisted, but she thrashed against Zechs desperately. He shocked her with another bolt, just to enjoy her screams and to distract from his burning shoulder.
Noin found the wheel at the top of the tank and gripped it, struggling with it briefly as she tested which direction to turn it. As she cranked it, the seal around the glass lid released, and it opened for her, sending out a rush of pumping water and the fragments of Duo’s blood and tissue to mingle with the surf inside the chamber. She shivered, feeling Duo’s essence, somehow, in his remains. As the lid opened, she saw a strange array of filaments rise up inside the base of the tank. They fluttered and undulated as if searching for the tank’s previous occupant.
You used this to change him, Noin accused. Didn’t you?
I don’t have to tell you anything- Une’s words were cut off by another savage shock. Her face was a rictus of agony, her eyes bloodshot and her veins standing out in relief beneath her grayish, translucent skin.
He wanted to find that blasted human, Zechs realized aloud. What he wished for most. He shook his head in disgust. You crafty old bitch.
It doesn’t matter. He’s not Milliardo’s heir. You are, and you’re looking peaked, nephew.
You’re overdue for a visit with Father. Noin and Zechs exchanged grim looks.
*
Quatre resumed his trip to the intensive care ward, checking his watch. His board meeting was in an hour, but he needed to check in on Heero. He was so focused on finding his best friend that he ignored the swinging automatic door and the young man passing through it. He collided against someone tall and firm, and he lost his grip on the drink carrier. “Oh, shit!”
“Hey! Whoa… sorry. Shit. You okay?” The cardboard carrier of drinks was righted and replaced in his grip, and a strong but gentle hand steadied him, taking him by the arm. “I didn’t see you.”
“Likewise… Hey.”
“Hey.” Trowa’s green eyes twinkled with amusement. “Where are you hurrying to so quickly?” He noticed the automatic door swinging shut, and he steered them back into the corridor.
“In there, actually. I’m just visiting my friend, who is visiting a friend,” Quatre explained vaguely. “I’m not staying long.”
“What happened to your friend’s friend?”
“He nearly drowned. He went into heart failure in the ER.” Trowa frowned. “It was in the news.”
“The swimmer? The one who washed up at the beach?”
“His name’s Duo, supposedly. Heero says he knows him.”
“Heero’s your friend?” Quatre nodded solemnly.
“My best friend, ever since we were in school. I’m worried about him.”
“I can tell. You look like you haven’t slept.”
“Thanks.” Quatre’s aquamarine eyes crinkled with amusement, but they did have telling dark circles.
“Wait. That came out wrong…”
“No, no. It’s okay. I’ve slept like shit, lately.”
“Maybe you’ve got too much on your plate.”
“I’m used to a full plate. I still have to go back to work this morning. I’m in meetings all day, and I have a conference to fly out to tomorrow.”
“Where did you say you work again?”
“Winner Enterprises.” Trowa nodded.
“That explains the fancy suit. Dressed to impress again.” Quatre blushed furiously.
“This old thing?” he joked.
“I like the leather jacket better,” Trowa admitted, and his blush deepened. Quatre was impeccably styled in a slate blue suit with a two-button jacket that he left open, revealing a white dress shirt with gray pinstripes that was opened at the neck. Italian loafers shod his feet, and he wore a silver Rolex on his wrist.
The face of an angel. That impression lingered the longer Trowa stared at him, and it shamed him that he was staring. Quatre Winner wasn’t the first handsome man he’d ever met, but there was a sweet, vulnerable quality about him that appealed to the lanky brunet. Trowa was comfortably attired in a lightweight North Face zipped pullover in forest green that matched his eyes. His khakis were neatly pressed and he wore a pair of laceless Vans on his feet. Quatre was envious of how comfortable he looked, like he had a leisurely afternoon ahead of him.
He’s hot. Quatre continued to blush as he regarded Trowa, and he realized that his hands were shaking. He corrected his grip on the carrier of drinks and cleared his throat. “I won’t keep you,” Trowa offered apologetically. His smile was warm, making his face far too appealing for Quatre’s good.
“No… no worries. I’ve, uh, gotta get a move-on. Are you going to play again?”
“Yes. Actually, I am. I’m headed back to the pedes ward. They have a high census there today.” Quatre made a moue of pity.
“That sucks.”
“I like to try and distract them.”
“Bet it brightens their day.”
“Music’s good for you,” Trowa agreed. “I love sharing it.”
“That’s what I gathered. So, you volunteer here, and you do the occasional gig at L2…” Quatre let his voice trail off, forgetting briefly that he was supposed to be meeting Heero and ‘Fei. His eyes encouraged Trowa to fill in the blanks.
“And I teach. The school I work for doesn’t have much of a budget, so it’s only a couple of days a week. My gigs put a little food on the table. More or less.”
“Fantastic,” Quatre told him, beaming.
“I look forward to going out the door to work. Looks like you beat me to Starbucks.”
“My blood type is French roast.” Trowa’s eyes dropped to the carrier. All three cups were Ventis, and he noticed one of them scribbled with Sharpie.
“Your name’s French, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. But my parents are Arabic. I was raised here.” Trowa enjoyed the slightly rounded vowels of his accent the the very “correct” way he pronounced certain words. He caught himself staring at his mouth and cleared his throat.
“I’ll… let you go.”
“You have my card,” Quatre mentioned quickly. His heart fluttered in his chest and he felt foolish. He was flirting with Trowa, who for the most part was still a stranger to him. He needed to pull himself together.
But his effort was rewarded with Trowa’s smile. “I do, Quatre.”
“Okay. Have a great day, Trowa.”
“You, too.” Trowa pressed lifted the intercom phone’s handle and handed it to Quatre as he departed.
“Thanks. Bye.” Their fingers grazed as he took it, and the damned blush was back in force, making him tingle all over. He watched Trowa head for the elevators as he spoke to the charge nurse and waited for them to buzz him inside. Quatre waited for the door, wisely standing back as it swung open this time, and he was relieved to see Wufei at the desk waiting for him.
“I waited for you in the lobby down the hall,” Wufei grumbled as Quatre handed him a coffee. “Did you get me Splenda?”
“Of course. I didn’t forget how hard you’re watching your girlish figure.”
“Ass,” Wufei muttered, but he smirked around the lid of his cup as he took a grateful sip. “What kept you?”
“I ran into someone.” Literally. “Sorry.”
“Bring Heero his coffee.”
“Has he eaten anything yet?”
“No. I’m kidnapping him in an hour for some lunch. I came over to meet him, since I was planning to head into town anyway on a few errands.”
“Did he ever make it home last night?”
“No. I brought him a change of clothes.” Quatre frowned and shook his head.
“He doesn’t take care of himself.”
“No shit,” Wufei agreed.
“You gentleman can make yourselves comfortable in the waiting room,” the charge nurse suggested.
“I’m going to bring our friend his coffee,” Quatre told her.
“That’s fine. Just to let you know, though, sir, we discourage outside food in the ICU.”
“It’s just coffee. I promise. I won’t give Duo any.” She rolled her eyes at his jibe; Duo was still intubated and unresponsive except for the occasional squeeze of Heero’s hand and flicker of his eyelids.
“That’s fine.”
“Meet me back over here,” Wufei told him as he headed for the waiting room.
“That’s fine.” Quatre headed for the third room on his left and gently wrapped on the door.
“C’mon in,” Heero called out hoarsely. Quatre’s frown deepened as he saw Heero’s condition. He was wearing the fresh change of clothes, but his hair was still slightly smashed on one side from an uneasy sleep, and his jaw was covered with a shadow of stubble. Tired cobalt blue eyes greeted him. “Hey, Q.”
“You look like hell.” Quatre came in and set his coffee on the overbed table to Heero’s right. He leaned down and kissed his temple. “How’s he doing?”
“No real change. Once in a while, he’ll make a few sounds. He doesn’t like the ventilator.”
“I bet he doesn’t.” Quatre leaned against the window frame and watched Heero take Duo’s hand, idly stroking his knuckles. “You don’t know anything about him, Heero,” he reminded him.
“Not helping. That’s not helping, Q.”
“You don’t.”
“He saved me. I’ve had nothing but him on my mind, Quatre, and I know it’s him. He’s the one that saved my ass when they threw me off the Zero. I heard his voice, and for a moment, I saw his face.”
“You never saw his boat? What was he doing all the way out in the middle of nowhere?”
“I don’t know, Q, and I really don’t give a damn.”
“I do! You don’t know if he was just another hijacker, or a drug dealer, or a pirate-“
“Quat. Chill. You’re reaching, here.”
“He was naked when you found him!”
“Maybe someone attacked him and left him for dead, like they did me,” Heero pointed out. “He came along at the right time, to the right place. I wouldn’t be here talking to you right now if he didn’t. When he wakes up, I plan to thank him.”
“I will, too,” Quatre grumbled. “Heero, I want you to promise me you’ll go home and get some rest and a shower, and that you’ll eat something.”
“Fei threatened to feed me a while ago.” Quatre returned his smirk.
“Don’t forget the shower. And a shave.” Heero scrubbed his palm over his bristles and sighed.
“Not a good look?”
“Not a good look.”
“You clean up nice. Like the suit.”
“Armani. Christmas gift from Iria.”
“She has good taste.” Quatre stifled a smile and blushed. “What? What’s with the look?”
“Nothing. Just… nothing.” Trowa’s compliment in the corridor still lingered with him.
“There’s got to be a reason for that look. You’re trying to impress someone, aren’t you?”
“Fuck off.” Heero’s eyebrows rose and he leaned back, folding his arms over his chest.
“Ahhh…”
“It’s nothing,” Quatre said dismissively. “Get that look out of your eye.”
“You’ve met someone.”
“No. I just… ran into someone.” Someone with dreamy green eyes and killer cheekbones.
“What’s his name?” Quatre blushed.
“Trowa.”
“That’s different.”
“I’m not sure where it’s from, or where he’s even from. He volunteers here, too, by the way. He was here when we visited you. He’s a musician.”
“Even better,” Heero pointed out. “Just your cup of tea. Ask him out.”
“It’s kinda premature.”
“Don’t know what you’re waiting for.”
“I’m not there, yet. I don’t know if there’s anything there yet to want to take that step.”
“So don’t take that step, and you won’t get anywhere with him. That’s a great idea, Q. Get off your ass and ask him out. Meet him for coffee.”
“He likes soy lattes,” Quatre mentioned before he could stop him. Heero smirked.
“Do tell…”
The bedside RN poked her head around the doorframe. “Excuse me, sir, we’re still going to have to uphold our one-visitor policy for now.”
“I’m going,” Quatre told her. He squeezed Heero’s shoulder, and Heero got up and met him halfway, embracing him and clapping him on the back. “I’ll call you.”
“Call him,” Heero replied. Quatre blushed and shook his head before he took his leave.
It hit him, then, that he never got Trowa’s number.
*
Heero dozed off with the drone of the television in the background, with Duo’s hand still gripped in his. His sleep was shallow and troubled, broken occasionally by the beeps and monitors in the room.
His mind drifted back to the other night, when he found Duo’s limp form on the beach. Heero could still smell the surf and feel the cold, gritty sand falling into the gaps of his sneakers, chafing his feet. Duo’s slender body was still draped in the long, damp runnels of his hair, and his face… it was so desperate and haunted by whatever brought him out so far away from wherever he came.
I’ve found you. The words broke the surface of Heero’s consciousness. And I won’t leave you, Heero.
Heero startled awake. “Huh…what?” He jerked his head up and stared at Duo, who was still silent. “Damn,” he muttered. “I’m losing my mind.” He settled back into his chair and sighed, then reached for the television remote, not in the mood to watch Duck Dynasty. The hospital’s cable offered a meager selection of channels.
Suddenly, he felt Duo’s fingers tighten around his, squeezing them with surprising strength. “Duo?” Heero murmured hoarsely. “Duo?” he repeated, squeezing his hand back. Duo answered him with a low moan. “Duo!” Heero rose from his chair, and his legs shook. He leaned over the rail of the bed and stared down into his face. Duo’s eyelids were twitching, and he moaned again. “I’m here. I’m here, Duo. Come back. Wake up. It’s time to wake up. Can you hear me?” Duo’s head jerked slightly to one side, then the other, and he moaned again around the tube.
I… hear you.
Heero felt his response more than he heard it, but he felt Duo’s presence more clearly, no longer an inert body reclining on the sterile-looking white bed. Heero patted his hand, trying to rouse him gently. He stroked back Duo’s bangs from his forehead, noticing that they were still crusted with traces of sand. “Wake up,” Heero urged. “Open those eyes for me, man.”
Duo obeyed.
- 13
- 14
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Fathoms