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Left Unsaid	By : ElleSmith Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male > Heero/Duo Views: 1020 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: GUNDAM WING is a Registered Trademark of Bandai, Sunrise, Sotsu Agency & TV Asahi. This work of fiction was written for non-profitable purposes.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter 08: ICU
Like the morning before, Relena and Duo arrived at Preventer's field office bright and early after another sleepless night spent tossing and turning in their hotel room beds. They were shown to the CID's meeting room and after a technician checked that everything was in order with their tapped cell phones, they were left alone in the room, resigned to another day of stressful waiting.
The wait was taking its toll. Duo had paced the briefing room impatiently for about half an hour before he got fed up and went to search for a place to smoke. Relena stayed in the small meeting room. No other significant calls came since yesterday morning; only her personal assistant calling about a million times. She told him she was taking some personal time and that he shouldn't bother her. Since then, her smartphone was dead quiet. She stood by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the Federal Plaza below and passed the time watching people going about their daily lives, last-minute Christmas shopping, holiday plans and all. She held a coffee mug in both hands, but has yet to take one sip. She gazed out the window dazedly, lost in thought.
She remembered the long, excruciating wait while Heero was in surgery after Zechs had rescued him and Elizabeth from the hands of the WFLM. She had stood by a window at the Specialty Hospital of Washington's family waiting room, looking out at a slumbering Capitol Hill neighborhood while her daughter slept on one of the sofas, covered by a blanket and hugging her pink little bunny doll.
SHW was less than a ten minute drive away from the Smithsonian Institution National Museum of Natural History; it served the area's critical care patients. Zechs had grown impatient waiting for the emergency forces to arrive at the scene and brought Heero and Lizzie there himself. It was a good judgment call, because if he had waited a minute longer, Heero would not have made it; once the adrenaline in his system wore off, he crashed... right there, at the ER entrance.
People in the streets below were sleeping in their homes, clueless of the horrors that had transpired that night. A cover-up was already underway. Those people slept securely in their beds, children counting the hours before Christmas Day with not a worry in the world. The Smithsonian museums closed their doors for visitors on December 25^th, which was fortunate for the crews responsible for the cover-up; there was no need to close the museum and arouse suspicion. The dead hostages' bodies have already been transferred to the cover-up site. The story was going to be that they perished in a fire that broke out in a house-party on Christmas Eve, right here in Capitol Hill. Families will be paid handsomely to keep quiet.
Looking ahead at the near horizon, Relena could see the smoke rising behind distant rooftops. A controlled fire has been set by the cover-up crews, currently consuming a safe-house chosen for that purpose, burning evidence of government inadequacy to ashes. She sighed and turned away from the dark window, turning her back at the fire burning in the distance. She cast her gaze down to the sofa, watching her child's face, peaceful in sleep, as though she hadn't just been rescued from a living Hell. Her daughter had borne witness to a massacre at the tender age of three. It was beyond appalling, but she couldn't deal with it right now. It would have to wait. She will get her daughter all the help she will possibly need... but not right now.
The waiting room door opened and a middle-aged doctor stepped in. She looked up to meet his tired eyes and he nodded in greeting, approaching her.
"How is he?" she whispered fearfully.
"Out of surgery," the doctor said, sighing; "But he's not out of the woods yet," he added sullenly. "The first surgery was damage control... quick crisis management, just enough to keep him alive. His organs are still bleeding, still damaged. He needs more surgery. We'll keep him open... see if he survives the next few hours before we proceed."
"Open?" she whispered dreadfully.
"Yes," the doctor repeated; "We've covered the exposed organs with plastic wrap," he explained; "We've given him medications to help his blood clot and to help counteract the acid buildup. We're slowly raising his body temperature with warming blankets, warmed IV fluids, and blood products."
"And how... how long does he have to... to stay... open... like that?"
"We want him to regain as much strength as possible before we operate again. Still, we have to repair the damage as soon as possible. It's a balancing act... Heero might die if we don't get him back to surgery soon, but he might also die if we take him back to OR too soon... We have to proceed carefully."
"So we wait?"
The doctor nodded; his eyes grave. "We wait."
"Senator Darlian?" a soft female voice called from behind and Relena blinked, torn from her grim reminiscing. She hadn't realized she had melted back into the past.
She turned away from the daylight-flooded window to face the speaker. It was Agent Shaw. The young redheaded agent was looking at her with a worried look on her pale freckled face. She was holding a Dunkin' Doughnuts box in her hand.
"I figured you could use some comfort food," she said, smiling faintly.
"Thank you," Relena said softly; "But I can't really eat anything... I'm afraid I'll throw it up."
Shaw nodded in understanding. She placed the doughnut box on the meeting room table. The two took a seat. Relena placed her now cold coffee mug on the table and stared at it dully.
"I hate this part," she mumbled.
"Waiting?" Shaw asked quietly and the young senator nodded.
"I've spent so much time waiting for him... and each time it felt worse than the one before..." She heaved a tired sigh, playing with the mug's handle, turning it left and right absentmindedly.
"I waited while he was out there, fighting for freedom... I waited while he threw himself without reserve into the arms of another... I waited while Preventer sent him out on all of those 'fire extinguishing' missions... I waited while he kept putting himself in danger again and again... I waited while he was bargaining for our daughter's life with his own... I waited for him to come around from heartache after heartache... Sometimes it feels like I'm doomed to just... keep waiting... forever... It often feels like he'll never come around..."
"Sounds like you believe he's worth the wait," Shaw offered some insight and Relena smiled sadly, her gaze still cast down at her mug.
"Yes... I do." She looked up at the other woman. "Have you ever had someone like that, Agent Shaw?" she asked quietly; "Someone worth the wait?"
"Please, call me Merida," the young redheaded woman said; "And I don't believe I have. I'm not that lucky, I guess."
Relena nodded in understanding and bowed her head down again, staring at her coffee mug.
"I don't think I've ever met anyone like Heero, though," Merida added thoughtfully. "He... I mean... I can definitely see the allure," she mumbled and looked aside uncomfortably. "But still, I don't think I could ever get involved with someone so... complicated. A guy like that... that's just asking for trouble."
Relena released a quiet chuckle. "That's putting it mildly," she joked forlornly. Her smile faded slowly. She cast her eyes back down.
"You said you went out with him?" she asked guardedly.
Shaw nodded. "It was part of an act... but yeah."
"Doesn't sound like something he'd agree to do," Relena pointed out, pinning Merida's green eyes with her harsh blue gaze.
The young agent shifted uneasily in her seat. "Maybe he felt that he had no other choice," she offered softly; "It was no picnic, I'll tell you that... but I've dated worse," she concluded with a light joke.
Relena smiled back sullenly. "That was your makeup case," she deduced quietly, casting her eyes down to the table again; "In his apartment."
Merida nodded. "Yes... We've spent quite a few nights in each other's place. We didn't do anything. It was just pretend."
Relena nodded, smiling in mild amusement at the sound of her obviously defensive tone.
"Have you thought about it, though?" she demanded quietly. She laughed when she saw the mortified look on Merida's face.
"Don't worry," she hurried to reassure the young agent; "I'm not some kind of jealous girlfriend or anything like that... I've been sharing him with another since the day we met. I'm just curious, that's all."
"Looking for confirmation that you're not completely nuts for falling for him?" Merida suggested with a sympathetic smile.
Relena smiled back, just slightly. "Probably," she mumbled, casting her gaze down; "All the time," she added sullenly.
"Well, you're not," the redheaded woman assured her; "I'm just not one to fall for the dark brooding type," she shared good-heartedly; "Bad boys aren't my type," she explained. "I think that's why Sloan thought it'd be safe to pair us up for this assignment... no chance we'd actually fall for each other or anything like that."
"He profiled you before they put you on the case?"
"The both of us, yes," Shaw nodded; "But it's not like there were a lot of options;" she clarified; "There aren't many eligible female agents in the CID, not as young as Heero, anyway. I'm two years older, actually, but I suppose they figured that it would have to do. The important thing was that I wasn't really his type, I guess."
"And what would that be... his type?"
"Well, you should be the one to know... right?" Shaw laughed nervously; "Someone strong, dominant... an equal. Not a hopeless romantic like me, that's for sure. I'm too old fashioned... and he looks like the type of guy who needs someone who won't think twice before putting him in his place," she laughed goodheartedly and Relena smiled back, though sadly.
"I think that he's far more likely to fall for someone like you," Merida concluded, watching the young senator carefully; "and he had, right? Once?"
Relena bowed her head down. "I suppose," she mumbled sadly. "I don't really know." She looked up again, her blue eyes gleaming sadly. "But I'd like to think so... yes."
"In any case, I'm not blind or anything," Shaw hurried to add; "like I said, I can definitely see the allure... I can't say I blame you for falling as hard as you have... that must have been difficult."
Relena nodded in gratitude, grateful for her understanding. "I suppose that falling for someone like Heero wasn't a very wise choice to make..." she murmured wistfully; "But it's not like I asked for it. I was fifteen... Can you imagine meeting a guy like that at fifteen? He took my breath away... Guess I never got over it."
The two shared a knowing smile, which vanished from their lips soon enough. They bowed their heads and stared numbly at the table.
"How long did it take the others to call?" Relena asked after some time.
"It differed with each victim," Shaw said grimly; "Some called after a day... others took a bit longer. Their bodies were usually found three to five days after they had gone missing."
"How... how were they... tortured?"
Shaw shifted her glance away uneasily. "Electrocution," she murmured quietly; "and he sliced them up with a knife... nothing lethal... just painful."
"Why do you think he does that?" Relena frowned; "If he's trying to reenact the DC Incident, all of his victims should have died under fourteen hours... plus, none of them was tortured... just... just Heero. He... he took a beating for all of them... but he was never electrocuted."
"I don't know," the young agent admitted. "If you ask me, there are a lot of holes in the BAU's profile," she sighed in frustration. "They've already changed the profile twice. This Unsub has them completely puzzled. I don't think any of them really know why he's doing this. They're trying to establish a new working profile, based on what's been happening since Heero was taken. I hope it would help bring us closer to a suspect."
"And meanwhile?"
"We wait."
*     *     *
Heero's life hung on a delicate balance: wait too long for surgery, and his body might fail him, whereas not waiting long enough might mean that he won't survive another surgery. It was a fine line; damned if you do, damned if you don't. His doctors said that he may not be quite stable enough, but if they wait much longer he'll go into multiple organ failure and they will lose him for certain. So after a few tense consultations, they decided to take Heero back to the OR and finish what they've started.
That was five hours ago.
Relena paced the waiting room back and forth, hands behind her back, face troubled. Elizabeth sat on the sofa, awake; she was watching some children's show on TV and munching on a snack from the vending machine. It was Christmas morning and most children were seated happily around the family room, accepting colorful gifts with toothy smiles and open arms. It was a morning for hugs and kisses; a day for family. Relena had planned on taking some much overdue time-off and to spend the day with her daughter, maybe even convince Heero to join them... but not like this. She never imagined she would be spending it like this...
The waiting room door opened. Relena stopped pacing and looked up, hoping to see a doctor. Instead, her eyes fell on a strapping young man, tall, blond and blue-eyed, who had just stepped into the room and closed the door behind him: Zechs. He was dressed casually: plain blue jeans and long sleeved shirt; his long blond hair undone and cascading over the back of his elegant black leather jacket. She studied his stoic face for a moment, feeling awkward. There was a lot of baggage between them, more than they could ever work out in this lifetime, and enough so that they would never even consider spending Christmas together as a family, yet there he was, supporting her in a time of need... for once filling the role a sibling.
She watched as he turned to his young niece seated on the sofa and caressed her messy dishwater-blonde hair fondly. The little girl looked up, gazing at him dazedly. Her large Prussian blue eyes shone with a quiet calm, so... attentive. Zechs looked deeply into those eyes, studying them quietly, and Relena knew exactly what he was thinking: he was thinking of Heero's eyes... they were so much alike. As he kept staring at her mutely, Elizabeth shied away from her uncle, pulling back, and resumed watching her cartoon quietly. Zechs finally moved away.
He turned to Relena. "How is he?" he asked and she sighed.
"No news yet," she mumbled; "he's still in surgery."
Zechs nodded curtly. "I've seen him survive worse," he reminded her; "He'll make it."
She nodded dismissively, unable to believe his reassurances; not when she knew that the only reason Zechs could say those words with such certainty was because he had been there, as an enemy, often the one who was responsible for all those past injuries. A sick, forbidding feeling twisted and churned in her stomach, torturing her with the inevitable fatalist question: how much more punishment could Heero possibly take?
"How did it go?" she asked Zechs, changing the subject so she won't have to dwell on it again. She turned to look at her brother guiltily.
"As expected," he said plainly, his voice cool, resigned. "They discharged me for misconduct."
"I'm sorry," she apologized automatically, always the diplomat.
Zechs looked straight into her eyes. His gaze was fierce, yet warm.
"Don't be," he said.
They looked at each other, sharing a rare moment of understanding. For the first time since she had learned that he was in fact her brother, Relena felt that she was in the comforting presence of an older sibling. The sensation was alien, almost wrong, but she found it very reassuring... more than anything he could say at the moment.
The waiting room door opened again and a doctor stepped in; it was the same middle-aged surgeon from last night. The two siblings turned to face him with anxious blue eyes.
"The surgery was successful," the older man informed them quietly and Relena exhaled with relief.
"We've managed to stop the bleeding and repair the damaged organs," the doctor continued; "He's being transferred to recovery right now. You'll be able to see him shortly."
"So he's... he's going to be alright?" she asked fearfully.
"It's still early to tell," the surgeon said; "Right now, our biggest concern is organ failure. The trauma to his internal organs was great... there's still a chance some of them might crash. We will keep a close eye on him for the next few hours and hope for the best."
"So... more waiting?" she sighed tiredly, disappointed.
"I'm afraid so," the doctor confirmed; "But you can stay with him, if you like."
"Thank you, doctor. I'd like that."
She turned to Zechs, silently asking him to stay with her daughter while she went to see Heero. He nodded, accepting her request quietly. He took a seat on the sofa, next to the small child, his posture as rigid and callous as a bodyguard. He was just as uncomfortable around children as she was, it would seem, but it was better than nothing. She trusted him to keep her daughter safe. Sending her child one last glance, Relena followed the doctor out of the room.
"You should prepare yourself," the man warned her before they entered Heero's ICU room. "It was quite an extensive surgery... it has taken a toll. Some people might find that alarming," he explained; "There's a tube in his throat, helping him breathe, and his torso was cut open, as well as part of his esophagus, so there's a big scar. Just... be prepared."
She wanted to tell him that she had seen Heero in far worse conditions, during the war and afterwards, but suddenly such a claim didn't feel very accurate. She had seen him shot and bleeding; ill and fatigued; battered, bruised and suffering of severe malnutrition after weeks in enemy hands. She had been by his side when he had recovered from one perilous mission after the other since he had started working as an operative for Preventer's CTD. She had been there, waiting in ICUs all around the world... since the day he had ended the conflict between Earth and the Colonies by crashing Wing-ZERO over the Presidential Palace in Brussels, and to this very day. His injuries were always extensive, but no matter how grave his condition, when she stepped into his hospital room she was always greeted by the fierce blue fire burning in his eyes. He could be bruised, broken and bandaged all over, but his eyes always remained lucid, lively... resilient. She would take one look at him and she would know – he was going to make it. Now, however, when she opened the door... she was faced with a completely different image... a nightmare.
Sound of life support machines filled the small ICU room: a heart monitor registered a weak yet steady pulse and a respiratory machine pumped oxygen into the tube running into Heero's open mouth. He lay naked from the waist up; an ugly screaming-red scar running across his torso, seaming him at the center from his throat down. The fresh scar was held together by thick black staples. His skin was sickly and pale, his face stubbly and gaunt. He looked as though he was already dead, lying cold, lifeless and blue on the autopsy table after being cut open postmortem. The sight was grisly... heart wrenching. She couldn't bear seeing him like this.
Relena inhaled a deep breath and stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Her blue eyes were already gleaming with tears by the time she reached the bed. She stood by his bedside, watching his oblivious face. She reached for his limp hand resting motionlessly over the bed, and held it tightly. It was cold and clammy, inert. She squeezed it, hard, and her vision blurred with tears. She bent down carefully and placed a soft, delicate kiss on his cold forehead.
"Thank you," she whispered, crying, and pulled away slowly. She took a seat by his bed and settled in for a long, nerve-wracking, wait.
*     *     *
"Hungry?" Duo's voice tore into her grave reminiscing and Relena looked up from the briefing room table, meeting his eyes. He was standing at the other side of the long table, holding a Chinese takeout box. She could smell the stench of cigarettes from across the room.
"I found this takeout menu in Heero's desk," he said and gestured towards her with the box. "Want some?" he offered, holding up a second pair of chopsticks.
Relena shook her head.
"You sure?" he asked; "He had this buy-nine-get-one-free punch-card 'n it was all used up, so I figure that if Heero likes it that much, it's gotta be good..."
She smiled politely, somewhat amused. "No, thanks," she said; "You go ahead. I'm not hungry."
He nodded and took a seat at the opposite side of the table. He opened the box and started eating, wolfing down a dish of noodles. When he caught her staring at him, he slowed down and smiled sheepishly.
"I'm a nervous eater," he said with his mouth full, shrugging; "Heero useta say I was fuckin' disgusting... that I eat like a pig."
She offered him a small, gracious, smile.
"Guess I can't help being a slob when it comes to food..." Duo mumbled thoughtfully, digging the chopsticks into the box. "It sorta comes with the territory when you live on L2..."
"You were a street urchin?" she asked carefully.
"Hmm yeah, sure, why not... That's one way of puttin' it."
She nodded in understanding. Heaving a silent sigh, she turned her head aside, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window stretching behind her.
"He couldn't stand the way I ate either," she murmured reflectively, a small, wistful smile tugging at the edges of her lips. "He never understood why I bothered following all those rules... European high society..." she let out a small chuckle; "he hated formal dinners... said he didn't see the necessity in so many forks."
Duo let out a small chuckle. "Guess he was sort of caught in the middle, huh?" he mumbled; "Always jugglin' between a good-for-nuthin' street urchin and an upper-class princess..."
"A balancing act..." Relena murmured pensively, still staring out the window.
Duo stopped eating and looked up at her. "Balancing act?" he echoed, frowning.
She sighed and turned away from the window, facing Duo again. She shook her head in dismissal. "Never mind."
Duo nodded and resumed eating quietly. Relena stared dully at the table.
"Do you really think that son-of-a-bitch is gonna make him choose?" he asked after some time.
"I don't know," she whispered sorrowfully. "I don't know what kind of game he's playing... I don't think anyone here really knows."
"They say that knowing love is the key to redemption," Duo muttered bitterly, poking his food with his chopsticks. He seemed to have lost his appetite.
Relena looked up in his direction. "John 3:16," she nodded in agreement; "Probably the most popular verse in the bible..." she commented, looking at him evenly; "I didn't know you were such a faithful Christian."
"I dunno 'bout the faithful part," Duo shrugged casually; "but it was sorta how I was raised... It's a long story..." he sighed, casting his eyes back down. "Suffice to say I got me 'nough Catholic guilt to last me a lifetime... The Sisters made sure of that."
Relena nodded in understanding and turned to look out the window again. Roman Catholicism was the largest religious denomination on the L2 cluster, mainly among the colonies populated by an ex-Scottish and ex-Irish populace. She didn't know if 'Maxwell' was indeed Duo's last name, but regardless, it still hinted at his heritage. Recalling the horrifying stories she had heard about Catholic Mother-and-Baby Homes on L2, where unwed pregnant women were sent to give birth and were later forced to give up their children, she grimaced and closed her eyes briefly, trembling inside.
The decades-long abuse of women and their children at the hands of the Catholic-run institutions on L2 have been well established. The mortality rate at those notorious homes was appalling. Though the full details of what happened to those children may never fully be exposed, the strong implication of severe abuse and neglect could not be ignored even decades after. Harrowing news of horrific scandals rumbled on even to this day, constantly dominating the news for it seemed that a new report about the cavalier manner in which those children were once treated made the headlines every few days. It was a searing indictment of a colony already a home to too many scandals involving Church and state.
If Duo was indeed a survivor of that terrible system, his conflicted religious faith was understandable. His was a compulsory Catholic faith, a faithless faith; one he probably wished he could live without, but couldn't. In that respect, Heero was the lucky one; in the very least, he had been allowed the choice to disregard God altogether. She believed that he even found comfort in his keen aversion of God. He proclaimed himself an avid atheist, but she felt that despite his proclamation, to him God did exist, only so he could hate Him. Denouncing and denying God was the only comfort Heero took from religious faith.
"You complement each other..." she mumbled bleakly, gazing out at the falling snow; "a pseudo-Catholic and a pseudo-atheist..." she mumbled and Duo looked up from his takeout meal, frowning.
"Who? Heero? Please," he scoffed, "I dun think I've even heard him use the word 'God' once..."
Relena turned back to face him and smiled sadly. "True," she agreed; "Heero thinks that religious faith is nothing but a bunch of useless mumbo-jumbo..."
"Well... at least he started using words like mumbo-jumbo..." Duo offered jokingly; "that's progress, right?" he added with a sad smile of his own. The silence turned awkward as Relena studied him quietly for a moment.
"You're a sweet guy," she finally declared.
"I am?" he marveled at the compliment; "thought I was a real jerk," he reminded her, smirking.
She smiled back, shrugging casually. "Sometimes," she taunted; "but you're also kind of sweet... warm... genuine. It's very comforting. I've never realized that before."
"Nah... I just joke around cuz I'm fuckin' nervous, that all," Duo dismissed her unexpected claim; "It useta piss Heero off... I would talk his ear off and he... well... the guy could never take a joke. He'd clam-up... get all intense when he was nervous and I was the exact opposite. It was a nasty combination. I swear to God the only common ground we ever found was the mind-blowing se—uh— See? Nervous jabbering... I'll shut up now. Heh..."
Relena's face fell sullen again. She cast her eyes down to stare at the table. They sat in silence for a while.
"I don't think that this... Redeemer character is trying to offer anyone religious salvation," she determined bitterly and heaved a miserable sigh. "All he offers is death."
"A man after Heero's own heart..." Duo mumbled solemnly and placed his unfinished meal on the table. "God... that's... shit." He ran a hand through his long bangs, shaking his head regretfully. "He won't kill him unless Heero chooses."
"Then we are looking at a very long wait," Relena surmised. She turned to Duo again, his eyes shining sadly. "He isn't going to choose."
"Why not?"
"Because Heero doesn't care whether he lives or dies. He might have cared, for a while maybe... after the war, but then... he... he stopped caring again... when we lost Lizzie. Since then he just... keeps going. Just... existing... going through the motions... living until he dies."
"Waiting for death," Duo realized gloomily.
"Waiting for death," Relena confirmed, sighing. She resumed staring out the window, her blue eyes forlorn. It suddenly occurred to her that she was sitting in the company of a young man who had once cockily proclaimed himself the "God of Death". She couldn't help wondering if in essence Duo was the kind of death Heero was really waiting for... and if either of them even realized that Heero's choice should be obvious...
*     *     *
She had heard doctors refer to the ICU as 'God's Waiting Room'. The term was callous, but it certainly felt accurate. She had spent long anxious days by Heero's bedside, waiting, listening to every shallow breath he drew. The doctors had removed the intubation and left her there, waiting fearfully to discover whether he'd be able to draw his next breath, or if she had just heard his last. Elizabeth spent most of the day sitting on a small colorful play mat on the floor, busying herself with various toys. Her presence only registered as gentle background noise, much like always. She'd ask for something every now and then, but otherwise didn't bother her much. It was easy to forget she was there.
After two days of terrifying waiting, the doctors determined that Heero was stable and began taking him off ICU sedation. It was hours more before he started waking up; that had been the longest wait.
At first, only a thin slit of blue appeared. He had cracked his left eye slightly open; the right one was still swollen shut. She had no idea how long he had been staring at her dully through a half-lidded eye, but when she finally noticed that he was watching her, she smiled. It was a big, goofy, idiotic smile of utter relief. She couldn't help it.
Heero blinked blearily, struggling to open both eyes. His left eye opened fully, but the right only halfway. He winced and groaned quietly; a small hoarse whimper escaping his parched throat. He was most likely beginning to feel the aches all over his body. She watched him carefully, tuned to every small change in his pale expression. He tried to move, but couldn't; he was too faint. His eyes shifted left and right, searching the room dreadfully. It took her a moment to realize what he was looking for and when she did she hurried to stand up, picked Elizabeth off the floor and held her up against her hip so Heero could see her.
"She's right here," she assured him quietly, smiling despite the tears flooding her eyes. "She's safe... she's right here."
For a long while, Heero did not tear his gaze off his young daughter. He lay still, staring numbly at his child until his eyes watered with tears. He blinked and they spilled, lingering to his long eyelashes. He closed his tired eyes and turned his head the other way, nodding gratefully. He drifted back into a deep, exhausted slumber. It was two days more before he awoke.
He got a bit better with each passing day. It was a slow and painful recovery, but he was determined to pull through. She was by his side every single day for as long as she could afford; their daughter was always there, playing quietly on the floor. Relena was certain that Heero took comfort in her presence, so she had persisted with bringing Elizabeth along... that is, until the day of the accident, after which she hadn't shown her face at the hospital for over a week.
When she finally mustered the courage and strength necessary to face him again, bearing news of Elizabeth's death, she couldn't step out of the elevator leading out to the ward where he was staying. Instead she punched the lobby button and planned on bolting out of the hospital, leaving the difficult task to another day... maybe never. But when the elevator doors opened on the ground floor and she was about to step out, Zechs was suddenly there, blocking her way. She looked up at her tall older brother, her bright blue eyes fierce and defiant – telling him to back off. He didn't budge and returned her gaze evenly. He took a step forward, entering the elevator, forcing her to take a step back inside. She glared at him resentfully, but said nothing as Zechs pressed the button leading up to Heero's floor, never facing her. The elevator doors closed and up they went in tense silence.
Like all of the other rooms at the surgical ward, Heero's small private room was surrounded by wall-to-wall windows covered with partially closed white slat-blinds, allowing the medical staff to peek into the room as they passed through the hallway. Zechs stopped a few steps short of the window so he won't be seen. Peeking between the slat-blinds, Relena could see that Heero was awake. He was sitting up in bed, supported by pillows, reading a book. He hadn't noticed their approach. She turned to Zechs, her eyes full of dread. She couldn't do it.
"He is her father," Zechs reprimanded quietly; "You've already denied him of the chance to attend the funeral... to say goodbye," he reminded her sullenly. "It's been ten days, Relena. There's no point postponing it any longer. He deserves to know. He has handled difficult news before..."
"Nothing like this," she whispered miserably. Zechs fell quiet, casting his gaze down to the floor. He knew she was right. Heero has handled much hardship in his twenty-two years of life, but nothing like this.
He suddenly recalled how Heero had offered him his hand for a handshake as he agreed to a selfish duel he had proposed after tracking the young pilot down in mid-war. Such a redundant battle in the grand scheme of things, but he could not help himself back then, he was obsessed with fighting the young and seemingly fearless pilot; a boy whose very existence belittled his masculinity.
However Heero had been but a child. He admitted to never shaking anyone's hand before as he offered his hand up cautiously, initiating the handshake in a gesture both timid and poised. Strange wasn't it, shaking hands with the enemy? But Heero Yuy was never truly a foe; never one to be regarded in a simplistic dichotomy of black and white. He was both a child and a man, guided by wisdom well beyond his years and at the same time misguided by the naivety of youth. Inexperience was part of the human condition; even the elderly were innocent children of their old age, never knowing what might lie ahead [[i]]. And although Heero had a lifetime of experienced pain and suffering from which to draw wisdom and strength, it was not enough. Nothing could ever prepare a person for the death of their child.
Relena sighed and slowly turned to face the room. She inhaled a deep, shaky breath... and walked slowly to the door. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, threatening to burst through her ribcage. She opened the door.
Heero looked up from his book. His intense blue gaze felt as solid as a punch to the chest. It held no criticism, but she could feel the question being asked as though he had spoken it verbally: he wanted to know where she has been for the past ten days and why she was suddenly here again, alone. He already knew something was wrong.
Relena hesitated a moment at the doorway before turning to close the door behind her. She approached his bed dreadfully. Her chair was still waiting there, vacant for over a week. Her gaze fell to the floor – the empty, empty floor where Elizabeth had played quietly for so many days. She fought back the tears and took a seat by his bed, struggling to remain composed as she looked at him, studying his face quietly.
He was dressed in a white dotted hospital gown, a wide loose collar revealing his prominent collarbone and the tip of the scar that ran from the bottom of his neck and down across his torso. He was connected to a monitor displaying his every bodily function, including heart rate and blood pressure, which currently registered at a normal 80 BPM and 100/60 mm Hg. He closed his book, leaving it on his blanket-covered lap, his right hand still resting on the cover. A finger-clip sensor was attached to his index finger, monitoring his heartbeat. Two of his other fingers were held in splints and his thumb was missing its fingernail. Her gaze lingered to the abused digits and her gut convulsed sickly as she was once again reminded of the extent of the abuse he had suffered.
She looked up to meet his eyes. He was still watching her coolly, waiting for her to speak. She couldn't. Her throat felt blocked, constricted... clamped shut. All she could do was to sit there motionlessly, hands resting limply over her lap, staring dully into Heero's eyes.
They were such a deep, enchanting shade of blue... It was amazing just how blue they could be sometimes. So clear, lucid, so alive... anguished, but alive. Despite everything, there was still resilience there, unbeatable determination to overcome, endure and survive. That was going to change as soon as she will open her mouth. She was about to become the one who takes that fierce fire away... extinguishing the light she was so terribly fond of... it wasn't fair! She couldn't bring herself to speak. She just kept looking into his eyes, savoring every single moment before she will be forced to take away the light shining within that amazing, lively, blue.
She had never seen that light diminish. No matter what, it was never vanquished... not even back then, in that ICU in Brussels... after Duo had left. The ever-defiant light had faded somewhat, dimmed sadly by a sense of quiet resignation. Heero was nothing if not reasonable. He knew that he was the one at fault, that Duo leaving was a choice he himself has made for the two of them; he had chased Duo away. She could tell by the slightly darkened shades in the deepest blue of his eyes that he had accepted that painful truth, as well as the decision not to fight over Duo.
The pain she was about to deliver now will not be the same. It will be far worse, because this time Heero didn't choose to hurt. On the contrary, he had suffered greatly to avoid it, to save his daughter's life. He had hung onto life against all odds and fought for recovery. If only she could wait until he was a bit stronger, healthier. But Zechs was right. She owed him this... he had to know.
Her silence was making him feel uneasy, she could tell. He didn't know what was going on, which upset him. His eyes shifted sideways, towards the window. She didn't follow his glance, but she could tell by the slight tensing of his facial muscles that he had spotted Zechs standing outside his room. He turned back to her, a demanding question burning in his eyes, waiting for her to tell him what went wrong.
The words would not come. Instead, she studied him lengthily, memorizing his face one last time before she delivered the punch that would shatter him completely. The doctors had to do some reconstructive plastic surgery to repair facial bone damage, but the surgeon had done a fantastic job. There were no traces of surgery, though she knew that there was a thin scar hidden under his unruly bangs, running across his hairline, where layers of skin had been peeled off to prevent scarring as they fixed the delicate facial bones underneath. She examined his face closely, as though to make sure that everything was indeed back in place... that Heero was still Heero... at least for a short while longer.
He was so handsome. His slightly Asian features, traces of a few generations of Asian/Caucasian cross-cultural breeding, made for an exotic and striking combination. She noted the light freckles that had formed on his cheeks after so many years of living under Earth's sun. She had never noticed them before, but they stood out now that he was so terribly pale. Their daughter's white porcelain face was the same – easily freckled. Being the last in a probably long genetic lineage of interracial relations, Elizabeth didn't inherit any of her father's diminished Asian traits, but her face had always reminded her of Heero. Her eyes were the same deep Prussian blue, not cerulean like hers. Their nose was also the same, as well as the high cheekbone structure. She was always reminded of him when looking at their daughter, but now, when she looked at him, all she could see was Elizabeth.
Her eyes watered with tears and this time she couldn't hold back the flood. She cast her eyes down sadly; unable to look into his eyes for a second longer or else she would break into loud sobs.
"Lena," he whispered her name softly; "tell me what happened."
She broke down crying, sobbing loudly. She shook her head repeatedly, unable to speak.
"Relena," he called her name quietly, reaching a hand up towards her, but she stopped him before he could touch her, shoving his hand away. She didn't deserve his comfort, his kindness... none of it. She buried her face in her hands, weeping brokenly.
Heero fell silent. He placed his hand back down on his lap, laying it over his book. He bowed his head, staring numbly at the book cover, and waited patiently. There was comfort in his silence too; the wordless understanding only he knew how to offer. She loved him so much for his strong temperance, for being her pillar of strength. She jumped out of her chair and hugged him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, catching him by complete surprise. She felt his body tense rigidly against her, shocked by the sudden embrace. She didn't care what he thought of her frantic move; all she wanted was to hold him for a minute... just one more moment of quiet grace. She rested her head against his chest, climbing on the bed so she was sitting next to him on her knees. She could hear his heartbeat, strong and steady... another great comfort. His heart rate was increasing; she could feel his heart pounding against her ear. She was causing him distress, but still he said nothing.
The heart monitor also picked up on Heero's rising stress levels. His blood pressure now registered at a higher 120/80 mm Hg, and his heart rate was climbing up to a strenuous 130 BPM.
She felt him start moving his arms up, maybe to push her away, maybe to hug back, but then he stopped, regretting it. He hesitated for another moment before moving them again. He returned the embrace, holding her awkwardly with stiff arms, pulling her closer into the embrace.
His blood pressure now registered 130/90 mm Hg; heart rate at a dangerous 175 BPM and still rising...
"Lena..." he whispered shakily against her other ear; "Tell me."
Standing outside the room, peeking through the slat-blinded window, Zechs watched the two carefully. He saw Relena pull back slowly, releasing Heero from her strong embrace. Her face was soaked with tears, makeup smearing down her cheeks. She climbed off the bed and stood by his bedside, holding his hand. More of her tears overflowed when she finally opened her mouth to speak. He could not hear her or read her lips from between the blinds, but he could tell that she was crying the words out with helpless sobs. At some point, Heero let go of her hand, pulling away. He sat completely still, rigid, listening to her mutely, his expression eerily stoic. From a distance it looked like he was taking the news well, or perhaps he was unable to process what he was being told just yet, but then suddenly an alarm was blaring loudly and Heero was convulsing on the bed. The heart monitor flat-lined and a nearby nurse declared a Code Blue. A team of doctors rushed into the room with a crash cart.
Heero's already strained heart couldn't take the news of his daughter's death. He went into cardiac arrest. As the doctors fought to restart his heart, Relena stood aside, weeping brokenly. Zechs watched the chaotic scene with an unreadable expression. Only his cerulean blue eyes shone sadly, betraying the tragic realization that he had just witnessed what no amount of grueling military training, battle-scarring years of fighting for the militia or the years spent as a Preventer CTD operative had managed to do to Heero Yuy: his most worthy and formidable foe was vanquished by no other than his little sister...
*     *     *
Memories would not let her be. They were a punishment she endured willingly... almost gratefully. It was a personal badge of shame she had learned to accept as a price for her sin. She was no martyr; she just knew that she deserved the pain... the haunting, unrelenting and heavy angst one carried in their heart for clipping the wings of an angel. She was the one responsible for the hurt in Heero's eyes. The single wound he could never recover from belonged to her, and she lived with that understanding in infamy.
Another day had passed in bitter contemplation while waiting for a phone call that may never come. By late afternoon, Shaw kicked her out of the meeting room and told her to go back to the hotel, get some rest. Duo was nowhere to be found.
It had completely slipped her mind that it was Christmas Eve. She had stepped out of her car in front of the hotel and her driver wished her a very tactless Merry Christmas. She had paused, dazed for a moment, caught completely unprepared. She mumbled back a halfhearted 'Merry Christmas' and slammed the door shut behind her. She walked into the lobby, suddenly painfully aware of all the decorations, the merry tunes and carols... the whole Christmas shebang was thrust into her face, beckoning the return of a personal nightmare. She dashed towards the elevator, seeking sanctuary in a room devoid of any hints of the holiday.
She took a quick shower and went straight to bed, no dinner. She couldn't eat. Nighttime cast shadows around her small hotel room. She lay in the dark, curled on the bed and gazed numbly ahead at the unveiled window. The city of New York stared back blankly, offering no comfort. She held her smartphone in her hand, sprawled in front of her on the bed, as if keeping her finger ready to quickly answer any incoming call would make any difference. She checked it from time to time, even though she couldn't possibly have missed a call, unlocking the touch-screen just so she would feel that she was doing something.
The same screensaver image greeted her each time she pressed on the main button before unlocking the phone. Seeing it was much like taking a punch to the face; it was a masochistic torture she deliberately inflicted on herself: looking at the picture Cassandra had sent her the day she died, the only photo of Heero and Elizabeth together. The young nanny had secretly taken the photograph while Heero had stopped to tie Lizzie's shoelaces at the entrance of the National Museum of Natural History; before the three had entered what later became a living Hell. Wishing to share the rare moment, Cassie had sent her the picture. Despite being in a middle of a meeting, Relena took a peek, smiling warmly, and then forwarded the photo to Heero's phone with a teasing text message saying: 'Part of the job description? ;-P'; to which he had later replied: 'All in a day's work'.
When she unlocked the touch screen, the photo vanished, replaced by a standard wallpaper image. She entered the photo gallery and sought it out again. She zoomed in for a closer look. The photo captured Heero and their daughter standing next to a large white stone pillar at the entrance of the museum. Lizzie's dishwater-blonde hair was gathered into two long pigtails, but her blonde bangs were tousled and messy; it must have been windy. She was wearing her pink coat and matching pink sneakers. She remembered how Elizabeth had insisted on wearing her favorite pink ballet-slippers shoes that morning, despite Cassandra's protests and useless implores that they will hurt her feet while touring the US Capital all day long. She remembered the subsequent tantrum, and that Cassie had packed a spare pair of shoes – pink sneakers – just in case.
In the picture, Heero was kneeling in front of Lizzie, tying the shoelaces of said pink sneakers. Elizabeth must have complained about aching feet and he – ever the pragmatic – must have managed to finally convince her to replace her ballet shoes with something more practical, thus stepping out of the role of a mere bodyguard and unintentionally stepping into the shoes of a parent – pun intended. If one was unfamiliar with the actual context of the photo, one would assume that it was a simple documentation of a natural, everyday moment between father and daughter. Heero looked nothing like a guard. He was dressed casually in black jeans and a navy-blue Sherpa-fleece-lined corduroy jacket, head bowed down slightly so that his messy bangs obscured his eyes partially, his long fingers wrapped around the pink laces. Elizabeth's head was also bowed, looking down at how he was tying her shoes.
She zoomed in on his face, studying it wretchedly with tearful eyes. Heero's blue eyes were focused on the mundane chore with the same gravity, care and dutiful dedication he devoted to any task he had to perform. God knows she had never devoted her daughter so much attention like Heero had given her at that very moment. Taking care of Elizabeth when Cassandra was not around was more of an unwelcomed chore she wanted to get out of the way as soon as possible, rather than a duty she fulfilled willingly and gladly as a mother should. Caring for her daughter was all about technicalities, never enjoyable. Feed, clothe and bathe her... get her to bed as soon as possible so she will have some peace and quiet and could get back to work. It was shameful, but true. There was no point denying it, even after losing her child. She never wanted to be a mother. She didn't have the time or emotional means to care for a child. Elizabeth only got in the way of her political ambitions. The only reason she had carried her child to term was because she refused to terminate a life. She might be a ruthless pragmatic, but she was no murderer.
It had taken many therapy sessions before she was finally able to admit that a part of her was relieved when Lizzie died; relieved that she didn't have to torture herself for her inadequacies as a mother or to feel hindered by her daughter's very existence. It was an awful truth she had only admitted once, in therapy, and since then she just buried the shame deep inside, denying it whenever it threatened to rise to the surface again. She told herself that she felt devastated for losing her daughter, guilty for not paying attention when she should have, and ashamed of never spending enough time with her while she was still alive. That was what good mothers were supposed to feel while grieving for a dead child, so she had learned to feel that way, telling herself the same lies over and over again, until they became true.
She was, in fact, a hypocrite; which was why she could never truly understand the pain she had caused Heero. Heero's emotions were complex, but always genuine; intense and overwhelming. He might try to suppress and deny them most of the time, but he never ignored what he felt. He was guided by his emotions more than he liked to admit, because despite his many efforts, they were undeniable. Emotions burnt in him zealously, breaking out like lava slipping through cracks in the earth, always bubbling beneath a cool, hard surface. She imagined it must be very difficult living that way; feeling as intensely as he often did, yet being forced to hide, bury and conceal... pretend he didn't feel when in fact he was burning up inside, always in turmoil. His self-control was commendable; an exceptional restraint that fooled many, even himself at times... but not her; not after so many years of fighting the storms raging within him.
Trained and indoctrinated to military perfection, Heero rarely let those raging storms show, but when he did – it was far too intense to bear. He simply didn't know how to regulate the powerful forces constantly tearing him up inside. When he lost control, he lost it completely. There were times when even his extraordinary willpower was not enough to bring him back from the brink of madness. At times when he finally succumbed and allowed himself to let go – often in bed – the result was devastating. There was intense aggressiveness in him; primal, dangerous and unstoppable. Not once had she recoiled from his demanding, fervent touch... she couldn't handle him in bed, no matter how much she wanted to connect with him on such an intimate and passionate level. So in time Heero had learned to turn to her for other things, seeking comfort, using her as an aid to cool down the magma sizzling under his skin, always aching to erupt. They were friends, good friends, and yet she still loved him as something more... always the selfish hypocrite. She wanted his heart, no matter how battered and broken, but she knew that she was no longer worthy of it.
If Heero ever came back from this, she will tell him that once and for all. He could not have her; not in his bed and not in his life – enough. Since he couldn't make the choice he's been avoiding for close to a decade, she will make it for him. He mustn't choose her, never again, and she will make certain that he won't. It will be a last act of friendship... an act of love, of redemption.
And as if somewhere out there someone was reading her mind, Relena's smartphone suddenly rang.
The caller ID read: 'Heero'.
*     *     *

[i] Quoting Milan Kundera
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