Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Cat's Paw ❯ Chapter Six: Male Bonding ( Chapter 6 )

Thank you to Liquid Green, Victoria, Ace, Amalthea, and Emily Hato (who cracks me up) for their reviews of the last chapter.

Cat's Paw 06

Quatre was right. A few days have passed and the initial tension between Heero and I is already much reduced. We've been talking during the times we're both awake and are actually starting to form something of a friendship. At least I think we are. We certainly have a lot in common. After copious amounts of prying and a lot of talking about myself, I've finally managed to get him to open up a little. Though he usually won't say much of anything, when he does decide he wants to talk... he won't shut up.

He seems to have had an interesting life. He won't really tell me a lot about it, except to say that his parents died when he was a baby and his Uncle Odin got custody. He refers to his uncle as "Father" and it's pretty obvious he's the same dude who bit it in the car wreck. He also talked a little about a man called Dr. J and it's pretty obvious how much he admires the guy. Mostly, though, he just talks about wanting to leave.

He's in pretty much the same situation as I am. If he had a family to call his own, he'd be out of this place by now. However, since there is a marked shortage of foster families willing to care for ill teenagers, he has become a semi-permanent hospital resident, too. I'm not sure what's going to happen to him once he's recovered, but for now I'm going to enjoy his company. It's infinitely better than being alone, even if he doesn't say much and shouts weird stuff in his sleep.

To be honest, I'm not sure the hospital knows what to do with him, either. He's seventeen years old and to place him with a foster family for less than a year seems kind of useless. There's debate going on about whether he should be declared a legal adult now. They seem to be leaning towards that option, especially since Heero has an substantial inheritance coming his way. His dad apparently saved up some big bucks or had an impressive life insurance policy, maybe both. I'm betting they let him stay here until his casts come off, then send him off into the world.

The cops have still been hanging around. Occasionally I'll see one lurking in the hallway, pumping the nurses for updates. I don't know how successful their attempts are; it's easier to put a porcupine in pantyhose than it is to get information from the nurses. There are times when I'll awaken in the middle of the night to find them in our room, too. They're usually doing something exciting and titillating, such as checking the bathroom for boogeymen. I don't know if they ever found one, but they did locate the little surprise I left for them under the bathroom sink in the form of a very realistic-looking fake tarantula.

Gotta love those Kiwanis gift baskets.

Every time I see them, I get the distinct impression that Heero should be in a room by himself. It doesn't seem safe to be sharing a room with him. When I suggested as much to Dr. Merino, however, he chuckled and told me not to worry.

"This is probably the safest place you could possibly be, with all the cops they've got running around," he assured me.

He completely misunderstood. I'm not worried about Heero being a danger to me. I'm worried about me being a danger to him. I mean, if the guy is so important or in so much trouble that he needs a personal police escort, he probably should not have a roommate. What if something happens? I'll just be in the way. Unless they think they can use me as a first alert system, or something. I can be awfully loud at times.

You have violated my perimeter. Please back off.

Still, the perpetual police presence doesn't seem to bother Heero at all. He seems very laid-back about the whole thing. He's just as cool as can be, even when the coppers shine their flashlights under his bed at lights out. He doesn't even seem to notice them.

Heero's taking the death of his uncle remarkably well. He hardly seems to think about it at all. Personally, I think I'd be a depressed, weepy mess. Heero, however... he just seems to ignore it completely. Although I admire his determination, I'm slightly disturbed. It just seems so cold-hearted. It was his surrogate father, for crying out loud! But then, I'm an unclaimed orphan. I have no perspective. Maybe he's reacting precisely the way he should.

We spend a lot of time talking. At least I do. He has yet to tell me to shut up, so I just prattle on endlessly, jabbering about anything and everything. It's not that he's bad company or anything. He just doesn't talk much. He simply has nothing to say, unlike me. I never seem to run out of words.

Honestly, that's just the way I am. It's not that I mean to talk a lot. I just think out loud. Most of what I say is simply stream of consciousness. Under normal circumstances, I can usually control the urge to yap uncontrollably when the situation requires it. However, I've been deprived of decent companionship for way too long and the side-effects of one of my pills includes short-lived hyperactivity. This combination is probably why very few of my recent conversations are coherent or well-structured. This is also probably why Heero finds it very irritating to speak with me.

"Would you repeat that?"

"I said, do you want to watch real people dying or fake people dying? The war documentary or the action movie, Heero. Which do you want to watch?"

"I don't see what that has to do with Sister Mary Anna's adoration of chimney pots."

"Nothing. I just wanted to know what you'd prefer. 'Jeopardy' is over, so it's time to change the channel. 'Wheel of Fortune' is on next and I hate that show. And Sister Mary Anna didn't adore chimney pots. She just thought copper flashing was cool. Say, did you ever see a picture of the Vanderbilt mansion in Old Westbury, NY? It gives new meaning to the phrase, 'copper flashing!' That thing's blinding!"

"Why don't we just turn the TV off for a while? Nothing's on."

"Background noise, my man! Filters out the hospital noises. Trust me. You don't want to hear them."

"No, but I would like to hear myself think."

"Then you should talk more!"

"Don't you ever get tired of talking?"

"I don't, but my mouth sure does. Speaking of which..." I take a sip of water from the glass on my nightstand. My throat's a bit sore. "Ahh, much better!"

"Duo. I'm tired. I want to sleep." Heero stares at me with his serious blue eyes. They kind of scare me, those eyes. They're shadowed and still and somehow lacking in all emotion, much like his voice. I tell myself it's the painkillers they have him on, but I know in the back of my mind that's not it at all.

Quick, Lassie! Fetch help! Timmy's personality fell down the well!

"Oh. Okay," I look down at my covers. "I didn't know I was keeping you awake."

He continues to gaze steadily at me. "You should sleep, too. You've been up all afternoon."

I grin at him. "That's 'cause you're such riveting company!" He completely misses my sarcasm. It goes flying straight over his head, whoosh and all. "Hey, did you know that Rosie the Riveter wasn't really a riveter? She was actually a welder."

"Dinner will be arriving in an hour. Now would be the perfect time to nap."

"Nah," I flap a hand at him. "Then I'll just be pissy when they interrupt my beauty sleep. It's easier to just stay awake. There was this man, once, who stayed awake for years at a time. Can you imagine?!"

"Do what you want. I'm going to sleep." And he did, just like that. Out like a light in the blink of an eye. I've seen it a dozen times now and I still don't know whether to be impressed, jealous, or extremely creeped out.

I sigh and direct my attention back towards the television. The History Channel is showing a documentary about WWII aircraft carriers. They're showing original footage from the war. Planes exploding in midair, flaming wreckage crashing into the ocean. It's morbid, but yet oddly fascinating. I wish Heero were awake to watch this. He loves war shows, especially if there's heavy artillery involved.

"...mmm... No! Won't let you!!" He's doing that sleep-talking thing again. Damn. That was quick. Usually it's quiet for at least an hour before that starts up. I sigh and turn the volume up on the TV. He goes temporarily deaf when he sleeps and I know it won't disturb him.

"... never did anything to anyone! Leave 'im alone..."

"...No! Lies! It's lies!..."

"...hate you!!!"

"Oh, Jesus. Wake up, Heero!" I call. His cries are getting increasingly stronger and, if they get any louder, the nurses will come running. Then they'll want to put Heero on sleeping medication and he'll argue with them and they'll try to slip it into his food or IV, but he'll know and fight with them and everyone will get mad and start yelling and....

"...NO!"

"Heero! Quiet!" I shout. I'm pretty sure he won't hear me, but it still makes me feel better if I try. Hey, I like him well enough, and if I can save him a little grief, I will. They psychologists are already all over him like a pack of rabid chipmunks. If they find out about the weird stuff he says when he's asleep, who knows what they'll do. Probably slobber all over themselves in their effort to "help" him.

I don't like psychologists much. Self-serving bastards. Never did me any damned good.

"... over my dead body!"

An awake Heero talking is a near-miracle. An asleep Heero talking is an everyday joy.

"HEERO! SHOVE IT!" I bellow. And, wonder of all wonders, this time he actually does. He mutters under his breath one final time, then settles down into a deep sleep. I shake my head and glare. The things I do for him...

A police officer I don't recognize sticks his head through the door. "Everything okay in here?"

I grin at him. "Just fine and dandy!"

He looks dubious. "Are you sure? I heard shouting."

"Oh, that was just the TV," I assure him. "War documentary. Very exciting. Care to watch?"

I can tell he doesn't believe me, but since nothing is wrong he has no choice but to leave.

-end chapter six-

Zooie-Notes

How many stereotypes can you find in this one? O_o

Review Responses

I've never done this before, but I want to reply to a few things that were said. First, thank you to Liquid Green, Emily, and Ace for their reassurances about my subject matter. I'm glad to hear I'm not offending everyone and their mom. Second, thank you to Emily for writing reviews that make me laugh. They convey such intense energy that I tend to inanely giggle when I read them. Third and lastly, thank you to everyone for all the amazingly positive feedback. Here I was all worried that people would think this was demented!