Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Beautiful Dawn -- Revised ❯ 1 ( Chapter 2 )

Chapter One

Heero bolted awake -- panting. He clutched at his sheets, trying to make sense of the darkness around him. Yes ... the vague lump in the corner was really his green armchair, and not the half-crouching figure it looked to be ... and those glowing slits near the foot of his bed were not monstrous eyes but the reflectors on his worn sneakers.... Trembling, he listened and knew the wailing on the roof was not a voice from his past, and that the insistent bang, bang bang echoing in the silence was not a gun, but the autumn wind clattering against the shutters.

Heero sighed. Above him, the wind howled on the roof and rattled the old guttering. The cutains stirred and the film of sweat on his body evapaorated in the cool, night air. His breathing slowed, became easy... the nightmare faded into nothingness.

He was so tired of the games his mind played with him. At night, it seemed to turn in on itself, like a bitch who attacks the very pups she has just labored to bring into the world. No matter how hard he tried to forget, how strong he built up his defenses, under the cover of darkness, the past always came back to haunt him. Would he never escape its soft footstep -- its fetid breath bristling the hairs on the back of his neck?

Heero rolled over to look at his alarm clock. Almost five AM: much too early to be grappling with questions he would find no answers to. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and his feet slapped noisily against the floor. The old wooden boards were chill and damp, and his toes curled against the assault. Heero thought of searching for his bedroom slippers, but the effort didn't seem worth it. Gray light was already spilling across the horizon, and Heero knew there would be no more sleep for him after the nightmare. He was awake, and there were things to do.

There was a slight wobble to his step as he padded over to the bathroom, and Heero frowned, disgusted. Unacceptable -- this weakness.... How was he to overcome it, when his subconscious was constantly working to undermine his hard-won control?

The faucets, as usual, were leaking, and the silvery drop of water against the tiles, rang loud in the morning stillness. Heero undressed in the shadows, glad to not have to see his own nakedness. He hated his body, and the failure his wiry limbs confessed to. As a child, it was a ravenous, selfish little thing, gnawed always with a hunger his mother had died trying to satisfy ... and now, it failed him again, with his father. He was not strong enough to give J the care he needed and it galled Heero to have to rely on hired help, but he had no choice, if only because he could not be with J while he was at class. Heero most regretted the expense. He was barely staying within budget as it was.

Heero stepped under the shower, and turned on the hot water until the spray stung him and his skin blosssomed red. He shampooed his hair and rubbed his washcloth over his chest, arms and thighs with a roughness bordering on cruelty. The little pain satisfied him: It was a small atonement for his failures. He had already lost so much to his ineptitude that even this, helped balance the scales. At the very least, it soothed his conscience a bit: It seemed only fitting that he should suffer as well. Heero sighed. He moved the rag in tight, soapy circles.The sensitive places between his legs, he gave only brief, clinical attention, before rinsing off.

By the time he had dried himself, a tinct of honey was spotting the sky. He had made it to another dawn.

Forced to turn on the light to brush his teeth, Heero examined his reflection in the mirror: blue eyes, thin nose, small mouth -- easily forgotten. He saw the unruly mass of his hair, still damp from his shower, and like everything else about him, the brown of it was dull and uninspiring. He shrugged and the young man in the mirror mimicked. An acceptable picture, if not the most appealing, he decided. He rinsed his toothbrush and put it away. Peering into the medicine cabinet, Heero straightened the row of bottles that had deviated from their precise formation, before descending into the darkness of the kitchen.

The rattle of the old refrigerator greeted him. Its white surface was marred by numerous, leprous patches of rust and the small stove cowering beside it shared in its contagion: flecks of paint and rust sloughing off of it in thin, curling layers. Heero yanked the refrigerator door open and a belch of stagnant air bomabarded him, ripe with the odor of festering vegetables.

The cooling had failed again.

Heero tamped down a surge of annoyance. He refused to give in to the urge to kick the bloated appliance. Instead, with deliberate calm, he discarded the spoiled food and re-adjusted the week's rations in his head. He would have to go to the supermarket sooner than he had thought. Between that, and the cost of J's medication, there would be little left over for anything else.

Heero would survive, however.

He had gone hungry before and could again. J's health must take priority over everything else. It would be nothing compared to all his father had done for him.

By the time he had resuscitated the fridge, dawn was spilling gloriously through the half-lidded windows. Heero set a pot of soup on the stove and returned at regular intervals to stir it as he went about his chores: washing the dishes, retrieving the milk and restoring the battered countertops to worn spotlessness.

Leaving the meal to cool, Heero glanced at the ceiling. He listened to the shifting of the old house on its foundations, his ears trained for the distictive creak that meant his charge was awake. Silence ... and then ... there, the almost inaudible squeal of the floorboards as J shifted about in bed. Immediately, Heero doled out a portion of soup and rose to greet his patient.

The room at the end of the hall was dark, forlorn and musty with the odor of sickness. Setting his tray down, Heero moved to open the window. The breeze rushed in, bringing with it the scent of earth and the chattering of two, bright bluejays as they hopped about the window sill.

J lay bonelessly against the pillows, but his grey eyes -- sharp, perceptive-- followed Heero about the room . The grizzled length of his hair had becomed tangled about his face and neck as he slept, and Heero brushed it away with tender hands. A trail of saliva was seeping from the corner of his slackened lips and Heero attended to that, too, mopping up the errant moisture with the corner of a rag.

Bracing an arm behind J's back , Heero prepared to feed him, and the webbing of bones, sharp and delicate as a child's, pressed against his forearm. Heero pulled the old man into a sitting positon and when he brought the spoon to his lips, J tried to grasp it, but his withered right hand was useless and it flopped heavily against the mattress. The movement jarred Heero's hand at his mouth and soup spilled over Heero's fingers, staining the sheets and the light gown J was wearing. Heero simply picked up the spoon and tried again.

Several attempts later, his father had been fed, changed and resettled into clean linens.

There was a knock at the door and Heero hurried to answer it. He opened it to find a slender woman with a shining cap of black hair waiting on his porch. She extended her palm to Heero with a smile to rival the morning sunshine.

"Hi, I'm from Corona Medical Center, here to take care of a Mr. Jeremiah Yuy?" She pointed to her nametag. "Hilde Schbeiker at your service -- and if I'm not mistaken, you must be Heero."

"Yes," Heero nodded as he showed her into the house. "He's already eaten and been washed for the morning." Heero led the nurse through the kitchen. "I usually keep his meds for the day in his bedroom, but if you need more, they're over here," he opened a drawer to the left of sink, to show her.

There was a browninsh ring on the countertop above: a persistent stain that no amount of scrubbing had been able to erase. Heero had all but forgotten it, but now, under the nurse's dark attentive eyes, he was embarrassed. Flushing, he covered it with his palm. He pivoted a little half-step, shielding it with his body. "Everything else is as we discussed on the phone: no milk foods -- the soy's in the cupboard above the fridge -- and he likes to watch TV in the afternoon, so don't forget to turn it on."

"Sounds great, Mr. Yuy."

Heero thrust his hands into his pockets and gave a stiff nodd. "Heero-- is fine."

She smiled. "'Heero' it is, then."

"My work schedule is posted on the wall. I ... don't have a cellphone ... but if you need to reach me, leave a message with my boss. I will respond as soon as possible." Heero spied the frayed ends of the tablecloth and he shifted uncomfortably. "Well-- that's it! Do you have any questions?"

"Not at all."

" All right, then I will be leaving. Thank you."

"No problem Heero, I'll see you at about seven then?"

Heero nodded. For all her cheery nature, the nurse seemed competent. He was satisfied. It was more than he could say of the housekeepers cum caretakers he had hired before. He grimaced. Their services were of course, much cheaper but J's care had been compromised. He had no choice but to find someone more qualified, despite the tremendous costs.

Heero slung his backpack over his shoulder and jogged down the front steps. As he turned the corner, he was just in time to catch the bus. Easing through the crush of bodies, he managed to find a seat at the back. As the bus rolled forward, Heero settled in to enjoy the ride. He took careful note of each landmark enroute, knowing that there would be days when even the discounted monthly pass would be too much. He would have to walk.

All in all, he was off to the start of a typical "Heero Yuy" day -- except of course, that it was his first day of college. Heero pressed his backpack to his side and shuffled closer to the window. Sunlight glinted at him through the dark leaves scrolling by. He stared into the filtered green and frowned, wondering what the day would bring.