Disclaimer: The G-boys and Gundam Wing don’t belong to me.
Warnings: Located in the first part. Be sure to look or you might be surprised.
FIGHTING THE DARKNESS – PART 4
Getting to the hospital was easy, despite having to use public transportation. The ride to the hospital was fairly quick and thankfully silent, though the driver gave him wary looks in the mirror occasionally, giving him some time to deal with some hard truths. Needing some way to organize his thoughts, Trowa began listing them in chronological order.
Eight months ago, Hilde had kicked Duo out of his home, with the help of her Cro-Magnon boyfriend. In that same incident, Duo had also lost his job. For reasons Trowa didn’t understand, Duo had relocated to a different and more dangerous area of the colony. A few months later, according to Duo’s neighbor, whose name was Silk, the long-haired man had been assaulted and raped, although she had never come out and said that plainly.
Unfortunately, the last five to six months was a complete blank. Trowa intended to fill in that empty space, needing to know why Duo had decided the only option he had left was to take his own life rather than face the darkness.
The darkness. Flinching away from the dream memories instinctively, he forced himself to face them. Was the darkness all Duo could see now, able only to hear the voices of his damned? Probably. It was hard to put such a violation in the past, but what other factors had been present to keep Duo from searching for another way out?
Could the neglect from your closest friends cause you to lose all hope? For Trowa the answer was no – he had never allowed anyone close enough for them to really hurt him. A person like Duo, who cared more for others than he did himself, would see it differently. Even understanding this, Trowa believed there was more behind Duo’s decision; the missing months in his timeline preventing him from figuring it out.
Pulling to a stop in front of the hospital, he realized he was scowling, apparently frightening the driver, whose face was a chalky white as he stuttered out the fare. Trowa paid quickly, adding a large tip for the driver. He only shook his head when the car took off after he had shut the door, turning his attention to the front doors. Out of habit he scanned the area as he was walking inside, ignoring the curious stares from the security guard sitting just inside.
Spying the visitor’s desk, he angled in that direction, heaving a sigh when he heard the voice behind him. “You can’t bring luggage in here, sir. You need to check it in at the security station.”
Patience running low, he turned his head and glared at the guard, “No.”
“I’ll have to ask you to leave, sir.” The guard’s eyes moved to the visitor’s station, probably a signal to call for back-up.
“I’m not leaving my bag with you, and I’m not leaving.”
“Sir, I don’t want a scene. This is a place of healing.”
“I have a friend in a coma I need to see. I don’t trust anyone. You will not make me leave, nor will you take the bag out of my possession. I don’t have time to argue with you.”
“Maybe you don’t understand the way things are done here. You’re not going any farther in this hospital.”
With his goal so close, Trowa had no intention of being turned away before he was able to see Duo. “You can search my bag, and then I take it with me. You can search it when I leave. I don’t need to take anything from here.”
Obviously not expecting the compromise, the guard regarded him thoughtfully before nodding. “This way, sir. We can go to one of the employee lounges so the patients and visitors won’t be nervous.”
The guard led him down a hallway, then another, turning into a large room with vending machines, a microwave and a coffee maker on one wall, lockers lining another. In the center of the room there was a long table, where the man gestured. Trowa waited until the two guards following them caught up, seeing the surprise from all three men.
Striding to the table, he fought the need to roll his eyes when one guard spotted his weapon, “Gun!” Instantly he was faced with three pistols being aimed at him from various areas of the room. “Get down on the ground and put your hands out to the sides.”
“I’m authorized to carry weapons.”
“Not in civil and public buildings.”
Barely turning his head, he stared at the man that had contradicted him, noting the excitement in the brown eyes. “I’m authorized to carry it wherever I want, including private and public buildings, as well as government owned buildings.”
“No one has that much authority except the Preventers,” the first guard stated, eyes watching Trowa closely.
Holding his jacket open to keep the guns in full view, Trowa slowly reached inside the pocket and pulled out his badge, safely ensconced in a leather bi-fold wallet. Flipping it open to reveal the contents, he was grateful Une had let him keep his credentials.
The first guard lowered his weapon, holding out a hand. After inspecting the identification, he nodded to the others before turning his attention to the bag still on Trowa’s shoulder. “You might not understand colony protocols, since you come from Earth.”
“I’m a colonist that lives on Earth. I understand the protocols – that doesn’t mean I have to like them. You’ve managed to waste my time.”
“Just because you’re a Preventer doesn’t mean you get special treatment,” the second guard – the same one that had been all too happy to aim a gun at his face – sneered, excitement gone.
“Yes, it does, and you know it,” the third man, a little older than the others, finally spoke up. “I thought the Preventers mainly took people that served in the war?”
“Mostly. They do hire others if they can get through the training. Most of them hold office positions.”
“There’s no way you were in the way. You’re too young.”
“I was part of an…elite group.”
The third man shook his head, awareness in his eyes. “You’re here to see Maxwell, aren’t you?”
The second man, who Trowa judged to be more brawn than brain, snorted, “You a mind reader, old man?”
“Dewitt, if you would pay more attention, your girlfriend wouldn’t be screwing around on you,” the first guard commented. “Think real hard and you might be able to guess who he’s here to see.”
Shaking his head as if he doubted Dewitt’s abilities, the third guard gestured to Trowa. “I’ll take you upstairs. We have him in a locked ward.”
Gratefully leaving the other two guards behind, Trowa followed the older man into a staff elevator. “Why in a locked ward? He can’t be dangerous.”
“You misunderstand. He’s in a locked ward to protect him, not anyone else. There are people that hold a grudge, and many would love a chance at one of you while he’s unable to protect himself.”
“I appreciate it,” Trowa said sincerely.
“It’s the least we can do. That boy protected this very colony, more than once. I suppose you did, too.”
Out of the elevator, he waited while the guard pressed a button that would summon a nurse. Five minutes later, a small brown-haired woman with hazel eyes appeared on the other side of bullet-proof glass, giving Trowa a blatant once-over. “James, you know I can’t let anyone in.”
“Show her your badge, son,” James instructed, waiting until Trowa pressed it against the window. “He’s here to see Maxwell. You want to tell him no?”
A buzzer sounded signaling the release of the lock. James remained on the outside while Trowa passed through. “You need anything, my name is James Fisher. I work most days.”
“Thank you for everything.”
When the door closed behind him with a loud click, he waited several long seconds, the nurse’s feet unmoving. “Do I need to find Duo’s room myself?” he finally asked, irritated he was being delayed again.
“No, sir. Right this way. I never thought I’d meet a Preventer agent. Taking care of a Gundam pilot is hard enough to believe, but this is amazing.”
Spying a room with a guard stationed outside of it, Trowa pulled out his badge and flashed it, assuming this was the room he wanted. Leaving the door open, he walked inside and stood beside the bed, stunned at what he found.
The person he saw was recognizable as Duo, but just barely. The pale skin was so ashen it matched the bandages covering Duo’s forearms, the healthy pink tint having vanished. As with all the pilots, Duo had been skinny, often warding off concerns about being unhealthy though he was densely muscled for his small stature. Now the man before Trowa was past skinny, the skin looking like it was stretched over pointy bones, barely any muscle remaining.
Duo’s eyes were closed and unmoving under the lids, dark circles ringing them, sunk into the man’s face like someone starving. Continuing his study, Trowa saw the way the bangs had been pushed away from his face. Abruptly, he let out a gasp, reaching out to touch Duo’s chestnut hair, his pride and joy. The thigh length braid was gone, Duo’s loose hair coming to a stop halfway down his arms. For some reason, this shocked Trowa more than the rest of the other man’s appearance.
Everyone knew how Duo had coveted the long rope of hair. It had been one of the things off-limits to everyone. The times they had worked together, Trowa had never seen it down, suspecting it was something Duo took care of in private. This was more proof something had gone very wrong in the other man’s life, other than what he had determined thus far.
He was still toying with the strands of hair when he heard movement behind him, hurriedly moving his hand to the railing and turning his head to see who had come. Assuming the woman beside him was a doctor, he got straight to the point. “What happened to him?”
Defiant green eyes met his own, “I don’t know who you are. Patient information is confidential. I won’t speak to anyone other than Mr. Maxwell’s next of kin.”
“He has no surviving relatives.”
“What is your name?”
Lifting an eyebrow at her obstinacy, he grudgingly gave her his respect as she stared him down, not willing to be intimidated on behalf of her patient. “Trowa Barton.”
She blinked then began to flip through the file she carried. “Trowa Barton. Native of the L3 colony, currently residing on Earth where you are employed by the Preventers. May I see your ID?”
Wondering if he should find a way to tack his badge to his forehead, Trowa handed it over, frowning darkly when she pulled out a cellphone. “Sal, I have a man here claiming to be Trowa Barton. Will you describe him for me? Thanks, it’s him. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Knowing of only one woman that would be able to describe him that would respond to Sal, Trowa retrieved his badge, “You are acquaintances with Sally Po?”
“We went to medical school together.” Moving to the opposite side of the bed, she took Duo’s vital signs as she spoke, “Mr. Maxwell attempted to take his own life night before last. He was unresponsive to medics and upon his arrival at the hospital he was taken to surgery. There was extensive damage to his arms and he required three liters of blood to replace what he had lost. I’ve never seen someone so determined to die and live at the same time.”
“What do you mean?” Trowa took note of the way her small hands brushed the loose strands of Duo’s hair from his face, but said nothing of it.
“If anyone else had lost that amount of blood they would have been dead. I think he was fighting to live.”
“Was there any nerve damage?”
“Some, though we believe it was repaired during surgery. We won’t know for certain unless he wakes up, but the tests we conducted showed positive results.”
“Brain activity?”
Seemingly surprised by the question, she fell silent for a moment. “His brain activity is strange. Most coma patients never have an increase in their brain scans, but his have been…erratic.”
“Explain,” he said brusquely, suspicious of the way she seemed to hesitate.
“Most coma patients have just enough activity to keep their life functions going, no more. Mr. Maxwell seems to be simply sleeping, yet there are times when his brain activity goes off the charts. It’s like he’s fighting against something in his own mind, though that’s ridiculous.”
“The darkness.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“He’s fighting the darkness,” he repeated without any intention of clarifying. “The odd activity occurs between one and four a.m., correct?” he asked, remembering the times of his own nightmares.
The doctor was now staring at him with confusion in her eyes. “How would you know that? You haven’t been here to know that.”
“It’s…hard to explain.”
“Exactly how did you know to come, Mr. Barton? My staff has been trying to locate your number, but has so far been unsuccessful.”
“Why would you call me?” Trowa avoided her query, asking one of his own instead.
“You are listed as Mr. Maxwell’s next of kin.” Seeing his surprise, she smoothed Duo’s hair one last time. “Please accompany me to my office. We have some things to discuss.”