[FIC] Do Not Go Gentle... (9/?)
Title: Do Not Go Gentle...
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Genre: Action, Mystery, Psychological
Pairings: 3x4, 1(insert symbol)4
General Disclaimer: The Mobile Suit: Gundam Wing universe is owned by Bandai, Sunrise, the Sotsu Agency and other people who are not me. This story is for free entertainment purposes only. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night is by Dylan Thomas.
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight
Trowa took a long, sober look at Heero's eyes, and then, in the understatement of the decade, said, "I don't believe our doctor has the expertise to treat this."
"I'd like to take him to see my sister on L4," Quatre said. He was working on his fourth cup of coffee and was feeling a bit shaky. "If she can't come up with an explanation for this, she can find someone who can." Probably, he added mentally.
Trowa considered that for a moment before giving a reluctant nod of approval. "Are you okay with that, Heero?" Trowa asked.
"It was my idea."
"I see."
Quatre glanced at his watch. "I checked the flight schedules and there's a shuttle that leaves in three hours. We can touch down on L4 by eight o'clock or so local time."
"The sooner the better," Heero said. He had his bag at his feet and was already dressed, which made Quatre realize he was still wearing a robe that didn't belong to him and most likely had a serious case of bed head.
"I'll drive. That'll give you a bit more time," said Trowa, who was of the opinion that things like speed limits and stop signals only applied to other people.
Quatre looked at Heero, silently asking him if that was all right. Heero shrugged and sat down on the sofa to wait, lacing his twitching fingers together in his lap. From the tension in his shoulders and the way his mouth was set in a hard little line, it was pretty clear that he wanted to be gone yesterday, if not sooner.
"Thanks, I won't take long to get ready. Trowa, could you help me pack?" Quatre asked.
"Of course." Trowa slid a hand down Quatre's back and escorted him to the bedroom, where he closed the door firmly before leaning down for a kiss that made Quatre feel wobbly in the knees. It wasn't a simple good morning kiss, or a farewell kiss, or even a we-have-time-for-a-quickie kiss, it was a hungry, possessive kind of a kiss, a kiss that was meant to be remembered.
"Wow," Quatre gasped when they finally broke apart. "What was that for?"
Trowa gave him a rather sad smile and kissed him again, gently this time, on his eyelids and his forehead. "Quatre, I am so sorry about all this," he said.
"I don't know what you mean."
Trowa caressed Quatre's cheek with the back of his hand. "It could have been you. Whatever is happening to Heero, it could have been happening to you."
Ah, so that was it. Trowa could be oddly insecure sometimes, mostly when he thought he should have been around for some event or other in Quatre's life. It used to make Quatre angry when he did that because how in the world were either of them supposed to live as fully functional adults if Trowa felt he always had to hover in the background? But time had mellowed those feelings out to a species of mild pity, and Quatre slid his arms around Trowa's waist. "Trowa, I know you feel guilty about this--and so do I--but you know as well as I do that Heero would throw himself in harm's way long before I got anywhere near it. I was never in any real danger as long as he was around."
"I wasn't so sure, actually. Lately he's been so..."
"Unstable?"
Trowa rumbled out a dry chuckle. "That's one way to put it."
"Whatever happened to him hasn't changed who he is. Deep down, he is still Heero Yuy, and he would lay down his life to protect those he is loyal to. Luckily, that includes me." He kissed Trowa's lips lightly. "And you."
Trowa was silent, but Quatre could almost hear him thinking. He didn't interrupt.
"And he loves you," he said at last.
"I know. I love him, too."
Trowa gave him a long, odd look. "No, Quatre, he loves you like I love you."
Shocked, Quatre pushed himself away and took a step backward. "What?"
"I'm surprised you didn't know," Trowa said, allowing him his space.
"But--he's my friend!" Quatre spluttered. "How did you--?"
"I found out years ago, during the first war. He had self-destructed Wing and nearly killed himself, so I brought him back to the circus with Cathy--"
Quatre was familiar with the story. "He was in bad shape then. He couldn't possibly know what he was saying. He must have been delirious."
"Yes, he was. He called out for you in his sleep sometimes. I could ignore that but I couldn't ignore the fact that when he got better and was perfectly lucid, he told me he loved you."
"Oh." Quatre had to take a very deep breath before that sank in. He felt like the foundation of his world had shifted and he couldn't quite keep his mental balance; he wondered if he would stagger and fall if Trowa hadn't kept a hand on his arm to stabilize him. "I'm sorry, it's just that this is the last thing in the world I expected to hear from you."
"It's okay, I resigned myself to it years ago," Trowa said quietly, misunderstanding. He reached out and ran his hand up and down Quatre's spine. It did very little to reassure Quatre, though he appreciated the intent.
"Neither of you ever told me," Quatre said. He tried not to make it sound like the accusation it was. He felt a little hurt, betrayed, and above all, confused because Trowa was right--he should have known.
Trowa smiled his gentle, warm smile, the one he reserved for the times when they were alone and he was feeling particularly serene about the world around him and his place in it. Quatre normally loved that secret little smile, but now it just made him feel uneasy. "It was never an issue," Trowa said quietly. "You made your choice."
Quatre nodded and swallowed past a lump in his throat. "Yes, I made my choice," he said, leaning into Trowa's embrace.
The fact that he had never known that he had that choice in the first place remained unspoken.
The shuttle ride to L4 might have been very awkward indeed if Heero hadn't slept through most of it. As it was, he only roused himself twice; once to devour the inflight meal (and half of Quatre's since Quatre was too nervous to eat) and once to visit the toilets. The rest of the time he spent curled up under the scratchy shuttle blanket with his head against the thick porthole glass, snoring. His fingers twitched oddly in his lap.
Quatre himself was so far from the realm of sleep that he thought he might never sleep again. He filled his time by messaging his sister (who was thrilled that he was coming to visit, but disturbed by what had happened to Heero), the Maguanac (who took it in turns to tell him exactly what kind of a slacker he was and the wide variety of disasters that were certain to come if he didn't return to work immediately). Between them, he managed to keep sane and relatively cheerful.
When the shuttle landed at L4-0299's port, Heero went from sound asleep to wide awake with no transition in between. He sat up straight, pushed aside the blanket, and demanded, "What time is it?"
Quatre glanced at his watch. They were a little late. "It's nearly eight-thirty, locally. Why?"
"I was hoping we would be able to see your sister before she got too busy."
"She's a doctor. Between her patients and her students, she's always busy. Don't worry about it, Heero, she'll make time for you." He reached out to pat Heero's knee in a reassuring manner, but thought better of it. He clamped his hands between his own knees instead and wondered how long it would take before he stopped feeling strange around Heero and if Heero had noticed that he was feeling strange.
It was a pointless thing to wonder, though, since Heero noticed everything. "I'm not going to break, Quatre," he said. "You don't have to treat me any differently."
"I guess I'm a little nervous," Quatre said, glancing out the window. He watched the ground crew rolling the loading bridge toward the hatch of their shuttle and began to gather his things. A light touch on his arm stopped him cold, and he slowly turned to look at Heero.
Heero didn't do a lot of touching. When it was absolutely necessary for him to touch another human being in a non-aggressive fashion, though, he was extraordinarily careful about it, as if he was afraid of his own strength. This was a different kind of touch, though; it was the kind of touch that either sought to comfort or to elicit comfort, and judging by Heero's pallor and the wild, staring aspect of his eyes, he wanted the latter. "I'm nervous too," he said in a low voice.
Quatre didn't think, he just did what came naturally to him and twined his fingers though Heero's, and they sat there till the last passengers had left the loading bridge before they let go of each other at last.
Irea's office was on the third floor of the Baxter-Forqualt University Hospital, and Quatre had to show his ID to no fewer than three security stations before he and Heero were let into the administrative wing, where he was processed and grilled by a fourth official on his business, Heero's business, asked to submit a urine sample for drug testing, and then abruptly apologized to when it turned out that neither Heero nor Quatre were new students seeking security clearance.
"I just want to see Dr. Winner. She's my sister," Quatre explained patiently for the fourth time. He was beginning to think it would have been easier to simply break in.
"Down the hall, third room on your left," said the uniformed figure at the desk. He had the air of one who had been on the job for two weeks, perhaps three, and hadn't quite got the hang of things though he desperately wanted to seem like he had.
"Thank you," Quatre said rather coldly, and marched off in the indicated direction. Heero, hands in pockets and head down, trailed after him. If he, too, was annoyed by the overzealous security measures, he wasn't showing it.
The found the door to Irea's office was slightly ajar, but Quatre knocked on it rather than push it open.
"That had better be my favorite little brother," called an irritated female voice from within, "otherwise, you can take a hike. I'm busy."
"Er, is this a bad time?" Quatre asked.
The door flew open. A delighted-looking Irea pulled him into the tiny office and into a tight hug, which he gladly returned, laughing. His bad mood evaporated in a flash.
"Quatre, honey, let me look at you!" she said, holding him out at arms' length. "You look ghastly. Was the flight very long? Did you have a hard time finding the place? When was the last time you had a haircut?"
Irea had evidently been hitting the coffee a little too hard. "About four hours, no, and I don't remember," Quatre answered dutifully, trying not to flinch away from the hand smoothing his hair down. "You look fantastic. It's so good to see you!"
That earned him another hug, but it was briefer this time. Quatre had almost forgotten about Heero. "Irea, I'd like you to meet Heero Yuy."
Irea's smile went from uninhibitedly broad to professionally polite as she noticed Heero skulking by the door. She inclined her head in greeting, but did not offer her hand, which was fortunate since Heero intensely disliked shaking hands. "It's very nice to meet you, Heero."
Heero met her eyes briefly. "Likewise," he muttered before turning his gaze back to the floor.
Unfazed by his brusque manners, Irea took a battered green folder from her desk. "I was able to hunt down some old medical records from you, but the very latest things I can find date back to 196. Could you tell me the name of your doctor so I can get something more recent?"
"No. There isn't anything more recent."
"You haven't been to a doctor in the last twelve years?" Irea asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"You won't find any public records for me at all from the last twelve years," Heero said.
Quatre frowned at him, puzzled. "Why, Heero?"
Heero met his eyes with a smile as thin and as cold as a new moon. "I thought that you of all people would have guessed by now, Quatre. I didn't want Heero Yuy to exist anymore, so he didn't." The smile disappeared. "Until you brought me back."
Of course. Heero would have found it child's play to simply slip off the grid whenever he wanted to. The apparently aimless, rootless lifestyle had had a purpose after all. It's a lot easier to be nobody in particular if you were never tied down. Quatre began to wonder if he had done something terribly wrong by forcing Heero more or less out into the open. "Heero, I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."
"Don't sweat it. If I hadn't wanted you to contact me when you really needed to, I could have arranged that."
There was no doubt about that, of course, but Quatre had to wonder about Heero's motivations for letting him do so. He had, at first, been trying to appeal to Heero's curiosity, his sense of adventure, perhaps even his soldierly side, but in light of Trowa's revelation, there might have been something else. Something Quatre didn't feel entirely at ease with. Instead of dealing with it, he looked to his sister, who was watching them with an air of suspicion and concern.
"I'm sorry, Irea, this kind of talk isn't helping you."
"Which is your way of saying that it's none of my business," she said. Quatre could not refute that, but she shrugged it off with a forgiving smile. "That's okay, I'm just here to do a preliminary exam. Heero, you can fill me in on your medical history while we do that, okay? The exam rooms are just down the hall and to the right. You can take room 319. I'll catch up with you in a few minutes while you change."
Heero didn't move. "I want Quatre to be with me for the exam."
Neither of the Winner siblings spoke for a long moment. Irea recovered from her surprise first. "Would you be more comfortable with a male doctor?"
Heero shook his head. "I'm fine with you, but I want Quatre to be with me for the exam regardless of who performs it."
"Oh." Irea looked at Quatre, who shrugged helplessly. He had no idea what to say. "Well, I suppose that would be all right. Quatre?"
"Er, sure, I'll sit in," Quatre said, though he felt somewhat uncomfortable at the prospect. Then he smiled, remembering something from childhood. "As long as I get a lollipop, too."
Irea laughed. "I'm sure that could be arranged."
"This is wrong," Irea said, sliding her finger down the first page of the battered green folder containing Heero's medical records. "They've sent me the wrong one."
Heero, wearing a paper gown with as much dignity as he could, took the folder from her. He scanned a few pages and handed it back. "No, this is correct."
"It says here your eyes are blue. And distinguishing scars...have you had cosmetic surgery?"
"No, I haven't. Up until two days ago, my eyes were blue. The bullet scars on my arm and leg began fading earlier than that."
Irea frowned and turned to Quatre, who had been sitting quietly in a corner trying not to think about how naked Heero was under the paper gown. "Quatre?"
Quatre pulled himself together. "I didn't know about the scars, but I can vouch for the fact that his eyes changed color yesterday morning. Also, two days before that, he had a pretty deep puncture wound in his thigh, and it's gone now."
Irea pushed a strand of hair from her brow. It was a nervous gesture, one she rarely made. "Eye color just doesn't change spontaneously in adults. Have you taken any medication? Had an injury?"
"Possibly," Heero said.
"What do you mean, possibly?"
"About a week ago, I was injected with an unknown substance," Heero said. "I did what I could to minimize the effects, but I've been experiencing some strange symptoms since then."
"How in the world do you minimize the effects of an unknown substance?"
Quatre now knew why Heero had asked him to sit with him during this exam--he needed a reliable witness. "He basically put himself into a coma," he said to his sister. "Or went catatonic. I'm not sure what the difference is, but he was out for about twenty-four hours. He seemed fine when he woke up."
"And it never occurred to you to seek medical help before this?" Irea demanded.
"We were someplace we shouldn't have been, researching something that's been covered up for a number of years. I would really rather not answer too many questions about that right now," Heero said.
Irea looked at Quatre, who could only give her a weak smile in reply. "I'm sure he'll answer all your medical questions," he said, unsure if that was helpful at all.
"Fine," Irea said. She seemed irritated, and underneath that, Quatre thought he could detect a little fear in her body language. He couldn't blame her for it, either. "Heero, if you'd like to step on the scale..."
Ninety minutes later, Irea wrapped things up by drawing three vacutainers of Heero's blood, a procedure that Quatre found sickly fascinating. "This was just a preliminary exam, Heero, and I'd like you to see a couple of colleagues of mine to go into more detail. First of all, I'd like to make an appointment with the neurology department for some tests."
"What kind of tests?" Heero asked, peeling off the tape she had used to bandage his punctured arm and readjusting it to his own satisfaction.
"Nothing too uncomfortable. A CAT scan and an electroencephalogram for sure, and probably some evoked response tests to see how you react to sensory stimuli. Some people find those to be a little stressful," she added, giving him a concerned glance over the top of the fresh chart she had made for him.
"I can handle it," Heero said flatly.
"Of course," she said, as if she had known it all along. She shut the chart with a snap and stood up. "Well, Quatre and I will let you get dressed, and then why don't you two go home and get some rest? You look like you need it." She held out a set of keys she had fished out of her pocket.
Quatre almost choked on his cherry lollipop. "What? No, Irea, we can't invade your home, there are plenty of places--"
She dangled the keys in front of his nose. "Quatre, I am too busy to argue with you. I have plenty of room and my place is much more comfortable than any hotel. Besides, don't you want to catch up with your big sister who you haven't visited in ages?"
His will dissolved like a lump of sugar in a cup of hot coffee. "That's emotional blackmail and it's beneath you," he said petulantly, taking the keys.
She grinned and kissed his cheek. "Not if it gets me my way, it's not. Now shoo, I have sick people to attend to."
"She was afraid of me," Heero said.
They were in the garden behind Irea's house, which was a pleasantly overgrown space shaded by fruit trees and thickly hedged for privacy. Quatre, who was lounging in a glider and chewing on a sweet autumn apple, shook his head. "I don't think Irea knows the meaning of fear. I think she was more confused than anything."
"No, she was scared. I could practically smell it on her." Heero tossed his own apple core into a hydrangea bush. "She thinks I'm a freak."
Quatre closed his eyes. He felt too relaxed right now to get into an argument with Heero. "You're not a freak. You're...unusual, sure, but hardly a freak."
"I am a freak."
"Heero," Quatre sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I don't really want to have this argument right now."
"I'm not arguing," Heero said, pulling another apple, along with a good deal of the branch it was growing on, from Irea's apple tree. "Sorry," he said, looking at the mangled branch ruefully.
"It needs a little pruning anyway."
Heero sulked.
It was always a trial when Heero decided to sulk, because he didn't take his sulking lightly and the usual techniques for jollying someone out of a sulk simply didn't work on him. He had an industrial-strength, weapons-grade sulk. It was a sulk with stamina. It may have persisted for hours, days, even, if Irea hadn't chosen that moment to arrive home and find them in the back yard raiding her apple crop.
Quatre guiltily removed his feet from her glider and sat up straight, but he needn't have bothered; Irea wasn't paying any attention to him. She was looking at Heero, and he was looking right back at her.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, then he held up the apple he was holding. "I'm sorry about the tree."
"What tree?" she asked, puzzled, then she noticed the branch and shook her head. "Never mind that. Heero," she said, kneeling down on the grass next to him, "I thought you said you were going to be forthcoming with all of your medical details."
"I was," Heero said.
"Is there something you might have forgotten?"
"I don't forget things like that."
Irea finally got around to noticing Quatre, but that was only to try to shoo him away. "Maybe there was something you don't feel comfortable discussing in front of my brother?"
"I don't feel uncomfortable discussing anything in front of Quatre."
"No cancer? No heart disease?"
Heero looked at her with an expression of pure bewilderment. "I think I would remember that."
"Any congenital defects? Bone disease? Neurological damage?"
"I was complete and thorough when I gave you my medical history. I don't understand what you're driving at, Doctor."
She gave him a long, probing look. "All right," she said quietly, "I don't think you're lying to me. You don't seem to be the type. I'm just trying to figure out why, if you haven't had any major medical events in the last twelve years, that your bloodstream is full of nanotech."