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Running Out Of Tomorrows	By : Naomi Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1613 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
RUNNING
OUT OF TOMORROWS

PART
10

* * *

The
sound of coughing and gagging filled the small bathroom, echoing between bare
walls. A sickening gurgling sound followed the suffocated coughs, and Duo
Maxwell threw himself over the toilet, wild chestnut hair flying about him as he
leaned down to vomit. The shoulder length hairs clung to his sweaty features as
he retched over the white porcelain, tears lingering to his thin eyelashes. Dark
and heavy bags were under his eyes, his face haggard from lack of sleep and
illness.

His
hand trembled as he reached to wipe the traces of vomit off his mouth, the sharp
smell of it burning his nostrils. His entire frame seemed so small and fragile,
like an old man who no longer had the strength to carry himself. The weight of
years seemed to rest on the young man's shoulders as he heavily turned around
and leaned his back on the toilet. Wearing a pair of ragged and thin hospital
pajamas, his features pale and nearly gray, the young man really did resemble
someone who was too frail and aged to live.

He
moaned miserably and closed his eyes, feeling too ill to even breathe. He leaned
his head back, trying to ignore the stanch he'd caused, and just wished he was
dead. He felt so terribly ill and rotten, that death seemed like a welcomed
bliss right now. Or at least, a few days of sleep... maybe even a year of hiding
in comfortable darkness... It did sound like a great idea right now. It was
better than feeling half dead... or was it?

It's
been fourteen hours since he got out of surgery. A surgery to
remove one of his kidneys and then transfer it to Heero. It wasn't such a
dangerous surgical procedure, but with the poor conditions on L7, the short
notice of the operation and the questionable doctor that performed it, the
surgery was a major risk to his health. Not as risky as in Heero's case, though.
The risk of performing the transplant and keeping Heero alive at the same time
was far greater. The young man was so far gone, being on the verge of death,
that the operation was even more dangerous than the one performed on
Duo.

Of
course, there was also the bigger risk that Heero's body will not accept the new
organ. The doctor warned Duo before he gave up on a part of his body, that this
procedure might be a complete failure. His kidney did not match Heero's. Their
blood type was different. There was no way Heero's body could live with an inapt
kidney. No chance... but one. A small chance, merely a glimmer of hope... an experimental treatment that might
help Heero's body adjust to the new organ. It was a
long shot, but so far it was working out pretty well. He could only hope that
things would continue that way. Heero made it through the surgery and now... now
all Duo could do was to wait, and pray that he will
regain consciousness.

"Mister
Maxwell?" A soft female voice called from the doorstep and Duo sent his tired
violet eyes in that direction. He tensed a little as he recognized the young
nurse standing at the doorway, and immediately he struggled to his
feet.

"Is...
is Heero..?" He whispered shakily, supporting himself on the toilet as he forced
his shaking legs to stand. "Is he�?"

The
young woman looked compassionately at him, and took a step closer to help him
stand steadily. "Are you all right? Are you feeling ill again?" She asked with
worry, her young green eyes shimmering in the dim light of the bathroom. "I
could look for some more antibiotics... we might have some
left..."

"Save
it..." Duo whispered hoarsely, pushing himself away from her aiding hands and
attempting to stand on his own. "Heero might need them..."

The
young nurse bit her lower lip in thought, trying to stop herself from giving him
another lecture. Though the young man suffered from an infection after the
surgery- having it done in poor and unsuitable conditions � he refused
treatment. Knowing what little resources this small (illegal) clinic had, he
refused to take all of the remaining medicines for himself. He took as little as
possible, leaving the rest for his friend (or as she suspected-
lover).

"The
doctor wants to see you." She finally found her voice to speak, aiding the
longhaired man to walk out of the small bathroom. "It's regarding Mr.
Yuy."

She
could feel him tense in her hold, his whole body stiffening. He didn't say
anything though, and his gaunt face remained a stony mask. He simply wiped the
rest of the vomit off his chin and nodded his head.

* * *

Though
he knew the way very well by now, he followed the nurse silently as she led him
to the recovery room at the end of the hall. When he entered, his eyes
immediately traveled to the center of the small room, where a lean and still
figure lay silently on a bed. An oxygen tube was attached to his nose and an IV
was leaking fluid into his left arm. His long fingers, looking pale and
delicate, rested limply over the sheet, a few sensors attached to the slim
digits. The sensors connected to the wave-form-monitors that displayed the young
man's heartbeat and other life signs. Their soft beeping noise was the only
sound to be heard in the room.

"Mister
Maxwell, please come in." A familiar voice- one he heard often over the phone �
invited and Duo sighed deeply. He shifted his gaze from Heero to the elderly
figure sitting by a small desk, in the corner of the room. The desk was packed
with medical supplies, various artifacts lying scattered over its metallic
surface. He watched the old man pick up a syringe and stick the long needle into
a small veil. He watched numbly as the doc filled the syringe with the clear
liquid and then tested the needle by releasing a little sprf flf fluid. Duo
swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the sharp needle. It was very long. Very, very, long. Si> Six or seven inches at least. Too long for his liking.

"What
is that for?" He asked with a strained voice, trying hard to keep his tone from
trembling. He felt sick agaust ust by watching that needle. He had a bad feeling
about what's going to be done with it.
- 8
- 9
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Running Out Of Tomorrows