Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Completing the Silence ❯ Visiting Sanity ( Chapter 7 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Violet_Nyte 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Drama / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.07.2002 | Pages: 5 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 405 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Drama / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.07.2002 | Pages: 5 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 405 | Status: Completed
LSE // 7-18-02
(Completing the Silence - Chapter Seven: Visiting Sanity)
rated: PG13 - violence, language, content
shounen-ai/yaoi
Visiting Sanity
The walls are gray. Not white, not even eggshell, but full out dingy
gray. They were white at something, I think, but they've absorbed the
darkness and turned gray.
Either that or they've never been cleaned.
The room is small, cramped, not cozy. Two twin beds, one against each
wall, two dressers, two side tables, two rugs. The room is almost
perfectly mirror, except there's only one door, and it's positioned
in the opposite corner as my bed.
I don't know what I was expecting, but this certainly isn't it. There
isn't an old man wandering the walls in his tighty whities screaming
about the end of the world and the other patients have remarkable
control over bodily functions. I haven't seen anyone drool.
I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed, braiding my hair. I'm getting a
roommate today, which makes me happy because yesterday, my first day
here, sucked major ass. Maybe my roommate will be a cute guy and
we'll have brainless, crazy fucks and I'll make Heero jealous and
he'll take me back. Or something like that.
They've put me on a whole bunch of pills, I have no idea what kind.
They seem to be working, at least, I don't have any headaches. Doctor
Ruini is one of the doctors here, but I haven't seen her since I
arrived yesterday.
I guess it's not too bad. Once I look past the fact that I miss my
friends and it's kinda depressing to realize I'm so messed up they
needed to put me away somewhere. It's even worse that Heero was the
one who did this to me. All right, actually it is that bad, but I can
be optimistic, can't I?
The door opens and a nurse leads my new roommate in. It's a girl,
younger than me, and pretty. That is, she might be pretty. I think I
might have lost the ability to judge the attractiveness of a female.
Men, on the other hand...
She throws her suitcase on the bed and glares at the nurse, who
leaves. My roommate jerks open one of her dresser drawers and starts
throwing clothes in. I realize she's doing the same thing I did when
I first arrived.
I guess we're all pissed as hell until they subdue us with medication
and break our spirits with barred windows, starched white nurses and
gray walls. I watch her out of the corner of my eye as I finish
braiding my hair, taking my time.
Once she's vented a little of her anger into her clothing, she sits
on her bed and finally acknowledges me. "What?" She asks, with a
glare.
"Nothing."
"Why are you staring at me?"
"I'm just pleased I didn't get some drooling old man who yells about
the British invading."
"Freak," but she smiles slightly.
"Duo Maxwell," I get up of my bed and offer her my hand. That's how
small the room is. Our beds are separated by a little empty space and
our side tables. Our rugs lay side-by-side between the beds.
The girl looks at my hand for a moment. "Natasha Letoivsky. Sorry, I
don't shake hands."
I let my hand drop and shrug, "I don't square dance."
She stares at me for a while before shaking her head with a slight
laugh, "You're very weird."
I just shrug and change the subject, "First day here?"
"Twenty-sixth. So, why are you here?"
I shrug, uncomfortable with the question. She doesn't get the hint
and continues to stare at me, waiting. She is pretty, with tilted,
almost catlike eyes that shine a very pale blue and striking black
hair cut short around her chin. "Oh, the usual," I say lightly,
"destructive tendencies and the whatnot. You?"
"The government. You know, the whole Russian spy thing. Quite
bothering sometimes." She nods knowingly, confidently. "My comrades
will come break me out Thursday. I'm afraid you'll be getting a new
roommate after that."
I take another look at her, and I see she does look like a spy. Black
turtleneck and tight fitting black pants. She's wearing black gloves
and black socks. I half expect her to pull out a communicator and
start a hostile takeover of a small European country. She also has a
slight roll to her voice, a subtle accent.
"Really? Sorry to hear that."
"You are kind." She blinks those pale eyes at me and smiles, "Are you
a spy?"
"Nope, just your run of the mill ex-soldier."
Natasha suddenly looks at her wrist, pushing back the dark sleeve to
peer at a wrist watch. It's a pale pink and has a cartoon mouse on it.
I stare at it without trying to look like I am. Somehow, I get the
strangest feeling my roommate's completely crazy.
And then it hits me. We're all crazy here. Everyone in this place
that isn't wearing starched white or carrying a photo ID badge is
crazy. I can't trust anyone here, because they all could be
disillusioned psychotic freaks. And they look at me and they don't
see just another young man but, no, no, they see as something worse,
just another one of them. I could tell them I'm Relena Peacecraft and
fit right in.
God, that's just messed up.
I have to get out of here.
"Lunch time," Natasha chirps, standing up. "Sunday is roast beef.
Do you eat beef?"
"Going off what I saw of Saturday's tuna...Gah, I hate hospital food."
She pads out into the hallway, a dark shadow against the gray. I
follow her down to the cafeteria and collect my plate of slop.
Disgusting. I sit at any random table, and to my surprise Natasha
sits across from me.
I look up at her curiously, "You've been here for nearly a month, I'm
sure you have friends here. You don't have to keep me company."
She widens those crystal hues at me, "It isn't right to fraternize
with these people. Didn't the war teach you anything, Duo Maxwell the
ex-soldier?"
I stare at her, then I smile and, grateful for her company, poke
around at the mess before me. The hunk of brown floating among orange
and green circles would be the roast beef. Quatre would be shocked at
the state of these vegetables. Heero would just shovel it all in, his
Perfect Soldier's mind telling him eat now while he has food in front
of him. I think he has taste buds of steel.
Natasha isn't eating. "That bad?" I ask her, lifting a spork-full to
my lips. Surprisingly, it's edible.
"They must be aware of my comrades plans to free me. They might have
poisoned my plate." She pokes the food around with her plastic spork,
to create the illusion she's eating.
She's so thin already, I wonder how long she's been starving herself
for fear of poison. So I create a fabulous lie and hope my theory of
her insanity is correct. "In the war my generals feared the same
thing, so I was poisoned in slow doses until I built up immunity to
any poison known to man. Why don't we switch plates?"
Natasha looks at me curiously for a moment before breaking into a
grin, "Yes, that would foil their plans nicely. You are a genius, Duo
Maxwell. Wait until they aren't looking...now!"
We quickly shuffle our plates. I get a rush out of it, my good deed.
Natasha eagerly cleans off nearly her entire plate, but after a while
the taste numbs my tongue and I have to stop eating it before I snap.
Despite how hungry I am. I should order pizza. We're allowed phone
calls on Sunday.
We're also allowed visitors.
-------------------------------------------------------- --------------
When his knocks received no answer, Quatre went on and opened the
door, stepping into the dim office. Heero sat behind his desk, typing
away at his laptop. His face glowed, eerily illuminated by the screen
before him. "Heero?"
The typing didn't stop, but Heero barely flicked his eyes up to let
Quatre know he was listening.
"We're leaving now. Are you ready?"
"Not going."
Quatre stepped deeper into the room, "What?"
"I said, I'm not going."
"Heero..."
Heero stopped typing and look up, anger and pain equally twisted
across his face, "You heard what he said!" Regaining composer, his
face took on the blank mask and he lowered his eyes once more to the
screen, typing resuming it's fevered pitch.
Quatre stood there a few moments more before leaving with a sigh.
Wufei was waiting on the stairs, "Well? Is Yuy ready?"
"He says he's not going."
Wufei's eyes narrowed and he started to go give Heero a piece of his
mind, but Quatre reached out and gently stopped him. "No... It's too
soon. Give him a few days."
A muscle in Wufei's jaw jumped, but he reluctantly nodded and shelved
his anger. Quatre shook his head at his friend's actions,
collectively and individually.
Wufei descended down the stairs, but Quatre ducked into Heero and
Duo's bedroom for a minute. Feeling a bit guilty about doing so, he
scavenged through the bathroom drawers. As he had thought, Duo
neglected to pack shampoo or his hair brush.
Clutching the items to him, he went downstairs and out to the car.
Trowa was seated on the passenger side, a paper lunch bag on his lap.
Taking his car keys from the back khaki pocket, Quatre tossed the
shampoo and brush to Trowa before getting in.
"What's in there?"
Trowa opened the paper bag and showed the contents to Quatre. Junk
food, mostly, plus an apple put in to quell whatever objections
Quatre would give. "Duo doesn't like hospital food," Trowa said
simply.
They made the trip in silence. Wufei looked to be sulking, no doubt
still mad at Heero for backing out. Trowa wasn't one inclined to
conversing, and Quatre had other things on his mind than trying to
strike up small talk. Duo was usually the one to keep the talk
flowing.
Had they been talking, they would have fallen silent at the sight of
the cold building. At first glance it looked cozy, with red brick
walls and a large garden, but the brick was old and faded, and the
garden was dying and poorly tended. Quatre gave a slight shudder.
Maybe the inside looked better...
The three were issued plastic ID badges that proclaimed "Visitor" in
bright red lettering. Their guide, a smiling young nurse, still new
enough to the job to have enthusiasm, as opposed to her disillusioned
and grumpy co-workers, led them through the facility. "This is our
recreation room, where the patients can have creative rehabilitation.
And here are the state-of-the-art living quarters."
She look down to the clipboard in her hands, "Let's see, Duo Maxwell.
Maxwell ... here we are, room two-oh-six." She knocked once and
opened the door without waiting for a response.
Quatre looked uneasily around at what they'd seen so far. The
patients looked tired, worn. They shuffled around with dazed
expressions, faces numb and void of emotion. He shuddered. The walls
were gray, dingy gray, like they'd never seen any sort of cleaning in
all their lives.
The room was cramped, two beds shoved against the wall and duplicate
furnishings for each side. Duo was laying down on his bed, facing the
wall, but his roommate, a young girl in all black with short black
hair, looked up expectantly. The nurse looked to her clipboard once
more. "Duo is limited to the facility premises, and visitors must be
gone before dinner, at six-thirty promptly."
The girl reached out with her foot and jabbed Duo in the side, "For
you, Duo Maxwell."
They huddled in the doorway, partially afraid but mostly hesitant.
Duo sat up and rubbed his side, looking to the girl, "Ow! I was
sleeping! What? Oh..." He looked to his three friends. "Hey guys,
come on in."
"Shall I make myself scarce?"
"If you would, Natasha."
The girl nodded and stood, gliding past them and out into the
hallway. Wufei let out an angry burst of breath and shoved past
Quatre and into the room, sitting on the girl's vacated bed. Trowa
stepped into the room as well and sat on the edge of Duo's bed.
Duo caught sight of the brush held clutched in Quatre's hand and
grinned, "All right, Q-man! I knew I'd forgotten something," he said
happily, plucking the brush free.
Quatre returned the smile, coming into the room and sitting beside
Trowa. "I had shampoo, too, but they wouldn't let me give you it."
"No, they make use the required stuff. Look at my hair, completely
dull! How am I supposed to have shiny, full hair using their crappy
stuff?"
"I had food, but they took that, too," Trowa announced suddenly.
Duo's eyes widened, "Ah, Trowa, that's awesome! Too bad they won't
let me have decent food. I swear, I think it's one of the
requirements. Starched nurses and bad food."
Trowa got a sudden sly look his face and stood, digging into his back
pocket and coming up with a candy-bar, "I had a feeling they'd
intercept..."
Duo laughed and gratefully took the offered sweet. Quatre look up at
Trowa, wanting to reprimand such scandalous behavior, but his resolve
gave way when Trowa gave all but the barest hint of a smile, sitting
once more.
Quatre grew more and more wary of the situation as the visit
lengthened. Although he seemed cheerful, Quatre could just subtly
detect a difference in Duo's behavior. His thoughts seemed scattered,
and sometimes he looked confused, usually repeating himself or
dropping sentences off all together.
Just when six-thirty loomed close, Duo suddenly grew more serious.
"Where's Heero?"
Wufei looked at Quatre, Quatre looked helplessly at Trowa, who
stoically stared back. "He wanted to come, Duo, but..." He scrambled
desperately for a suitable excuse.
"Ah. I understand." Duo looked down at his hands, joyful smile wiped
off his features. For a moment, sadness hung around him, an almost
visible cloud of hurt, but he looked up and it vanished as he smiled
once more. Quatre was surprised to see lingering anger drift across
his features.
Before anyone could say anything more, one of the nurses appeared in
the doorway. "Time to say good-bye to your visitors..." The pause as
she checked the door plate was only just noticeable, "Duo."
"We'll come back Wednesday, okay?"
"Take care, Maxwell."
Duo followed them to the limits of the facility portion of the
building. The industrial carpeting gave way to polished marble, the
gray walls seemed to fade into a brilliant white. Quatre could almost
believed he imagined the depressing conditions he'd seen. Almost.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Author's Notes: I don't believe there's anything I need to comment on,
I don't think I used any Japanese phrases. What's everyone's opinions
on the story so far? Are you mad at Heero or do you think he's
justified? I love hearing your comments!
Feedback/review greatly appreciated! More chapters soon.
copyright 2002 - Gundam Wing and characters copyright other people.
LSE - "Violet" (ManzokuBiscuit@aol.com)
www.geocities.com/manzokubiscuit/index.html
(Completing the Silence - Chapter Seven: Visiting Sanity)
rated: PG13 - violence, language, content
shounen-ai/yaoi
Visiting Sanity
The walls are gray. Not white, not even eggshell, but full out dingy
gray. They were white at something, I think, but they've absorbed the
darkness and turned gray.
Either that or they've never been cleaned.
The room is small, cramped, not cozy. Two twin beds, one against each
wall, two dressers, two side tables, two rugs. The room is almost
perfectly mirror, except there's only one door, and it's positioned
in the opposite corner as my bed.
I don't know what I was expecting, but this certainly isn't it. There
isn't an old man wandering the walls in his tighty whities screaming
about the end of the world and the other patients have remarkable
control over bodily functions. I haven't seen anyone drool.
I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed, braiding my hair. I'm getting a
roommate today, which makes me happy because yesterday, my first day
here, sucked major ass. Maybe my roommate will be a cute guy and
we'll have brainless, crazy fucks and I'll make Heero jealous and
he'll take me back. Or something like that.
They've put me on a whole bunch of pills, I have no idea what kind.
They seem to be working, at least, I don't have any headaches. Doctor
Ruini is one of the doctors here, but I haven't seen her since I
arrived yesterday.
I guess it's not too bad. Once I look past the fact that I miss my
friends and it's kinda depressing to realize I'm so messed up they
needed to put me away somewhere. It's even worse that Heero was the
one who did this to me. All right, actually it is that bad, but I can
be optimistic, can't I?
The door opens and a nurse leads my new roommate in. It's a girl,
younger than me, and pretty. That is, she might be pretty. I think I
might have lost the ability to judge the attractiveness of a female.
Men, on the other hand...
She throws her suitcase on the bed and glares at the nurse, who
leaves. My roommate jerks open one of her dresser drawers and starts
throwing clothes in. I realize she's doing the same thing I did when
I first arrived.
I guess we're all pissed as hell until they subdue us with medication
and break our spirits with barred windows, starched white nurses and
gray walls. I watch her out of the corner of my eye as I finish
braiding my hair, taking my time.
Once she's vented a little of her anger into her clothing, she sits
on her bed and finally acknowledges me. "What?" She asks, with a
glare.
"Nothing."
"Why are you staring at me?"
"I'm just pleased I didn't get some drooling old man who yells about
the British invading."
"Freak," but she smiles slightly.
"Duo Maxwell," I get up of my bed and offer her my hand. That's how
small the room is. Our beds are separated by a little empty space and
our side tables. Our rugs lay side-by-side between the beds.
The girl looks at my hand for a moment. "Natasha Letoivsky. Sorry, I
don't shake hands."
I let my hand drop and shrug, "I don't square dance."
She stares at me for a while before shaking her head with a slight
laugh, "You're very weird."
I just shrug and change the subject, "First day here?"
"Twenty-sixth. So, why are you here?"
I shrug, uncomfortable with the question. She doesn't get the hint
and continues to stare at me, waiting. She is pretty, with tilted,
almost catlike eyes that shine a very pale blue and striking black
hair cut short around her chin. "Oh, the usual," I say lightly,
"destructive tendencies and the whatnot. You?"
"The government. You know, the whole Russian spy thing. Quite
bothering sometimes." She nods knowingly, confidently. "My comrades
will come break me out Thursday. I'm afraid you'll be getting a new
roommate after that."
I take another look at her, and I see she does look like a spy. Black
turtleneck and tight fitting black pants. She's wearing black gloves
and black socks. I half expect her to pull out a communicator and
start a hostile takeover of a small European country. She also has a
slight roll to her voice, a subtle accent.
"Really? Sorry to hear that."
"You are kind." She blinks those pale eyes at me and smiles, "Are you
a spy?"
"Nope, just your run of the mill ex-soldier."
Natasha suddenly looks at her wrist, pushing back the dark sleeve to
peer at a wrist watch. It's a pale pink and has a cartoon mouse on it.
I stare at it without trying to look like I am. Somehow, I get the
strangest feeling my roommate's completely crazy.
And then it hits me. We're all crazy here. Everyone in this place
that isn't wearing starched white or carrying a photo ID badge is
crazy. I can't trust anyone here, because they all could be
disillusioned psychotic freaks. And they look at me and they don't
see just another young man but, no, no, they see as something worse,
just another one of them. I could tell them I'm Relena Peacecraft and
fit right in.
God, that's just messed up.
I have to get out of here.
"Lunch time," Natasha chirps, standing up. "Sunday is roast beef.
Do you eat beef?"
"Going off what I saw of Saturday's tuna...Gah, I hate hospital food."
She pads out into the hallway, a dark shadow against the gray. I
follow her down to the cafeteria and collect my plate of slop.
Disgusting. I sit at any random table, and to my surprise Natasha
sits across from me.
I look up at her curiously, "You've been here for nearly a month, I'm
sure you have friends here. You don't have to keep me company."
She widens those crystal hues at me, "It isn't right to fraternize
with these people. Didn't the war teach you anything, Duo Maxwell the
ex-soldier?"
I stare at her, then I smile and, grateful for her company, poke
around at the mess before me. The hunk of brown floating among orange
and green circles would be the roast beef. Quatre would be shocked at
the state of these vegetables. Heero would just shovel it all in, his
Perfect Soldier's mind telling him eat now while he has food in front
of him. I think he has taste buds of steel.
Natasha isn't eating. "That bad?" I ask her, lifting a spork-full to
my lips. Surprisingly, it's edible.
"They must be aware of my comrades plans to free me. They might have
poisoned my plate." She pokes the food around with her plastic spork,
to create the illusion she's eating.
She's so thin already, I wonder how long she's been starving herself
for fear of poison. So I create a fabulous lie and hope my theory of
her insanity is correct. "In the war my generals feared the same
thing, so I was poisoned in slow doses until I built up immunity to
any poison known to man. Why don't we switch plates?"
Natasha looks at me curiously for a moment before breaking into a
grin, "Yes, that would foil their plans nicely. You are a genius, Duo
Maxwell. Wait until they aren't looking...now!"
We quickly shuffle our plates. I get a rush out of it, my good deed.
Natasha eagerly cleans off nearly her entire plate, but after a while
the taste numbs my tongue and I have to stop eating it before I snap.
Despite how hungry I am. I should order pizza. We're allowed phone
calls on Sunday.
We're also allowed visitors.
-------------------------------------------------------- --------------
When his knocks received no answer, Quatre went on and opened the
door, stepping into the dim office. Heero sat behind his desk, typing
away at his laptop. His face glowed, eerily illuminated by the screen
before him. "Heero?"
The typing didn't stop, but Heero barely flicked his eyes up to let
Quatre know he was listening.
"We're leaving now. Are you ready?"
"Not going."
Quatre stepped deeper into the room, "What?"
"I said, I'm not going."
"Heero..."
Heero stopped typing and look up, anger and pain equally twisted
across his face, "You heard what he said!" Regaining composer, his
face took on the blank mask and he lowered his eyes once more to the
screen, typing resuming it's fevered pitch.
Quatre stood there a few moments more before leaving with a sigh.
Wufei was waiting on the stairs, "Well? Is Yuy ready?"
"He says he's not going."
Wufei's eyes narrowed and he started to go give Heero a piece of his
mind, but Quatre reached out and gently stopped him. "No... It's too
soon. Give him a few days."
A muscle in Wufei's jaw jumped, but he reluctantly nodded and shelved
his anger. Quatre shook his head at his friend's actions,
collectively and individually.
Wufei descended down the stairs, but Quatre ducked into Heero and
Duo's bedroom for a minute. Feeling a bit guilty about doing so, he
scavenged through the bathroom drawers. As he had thought, Duo
neglected to pack shampoo or his hair brush.
Clutching the items to him, he went downstairs and out to the car.
Trowa was seated on the passenger side, a paper lunch bag on his lap.
Taking his car keys from the back khaki pocket, Quatre tossed the
shampoo and brush to Trowa before getting in.
"What's in there?"
Trowa opened the paper bag and showed the contents to Quatre. Junk
food, mostly, plus an apple put in to quell whatever objections
Quatre would give. "Duo doesn't like hospital food," Trowa said
simply.
They made the trip in silence. Wufei looked to be sulking, no doubt
still mad at Heero for backing out. Trowa wasn't one inclined to
conversing, and Quatre had other things on his mind than trying to
strike up small talk. Duo was usually the one to keep the talk
flowing.
Had they been talking, they would have fallen silent at the sight of
the cold building. At first glance it looked cozy, with red brick
walls and a large garden, but the brick was old and faded, and the
garden was dying and poorly tended. Quatre gave a slight shudder.
Maybe the inside looked better...
The three were issued plastic ID badges that proclaimed "Visitor" in
bright red lettering. Their guide, a smiling young nurse, still new
enough to the job to have enthusiasm, as opposed to her disillusioned
and grumpy co-workers, led them through the facility. "This is our
recreation room, where the patients can have creative rehabilitation.
And here are the state-of-the-art living quarters."
She look down to the clipboard in her hands, "Let's see, Duo Maxwell.
Maxwell ... here we are, room two-oh-six." She knocked once and
opened the door without waiting for a response.
Quatre looked uneasily around at what they'd seen so far. The
patients looked tired, worn. They shuffled around with dazed
expressions, faces numb and void of emotion. He shuddered. The walls
were gray, dingy gray, like they'd never seen any sort of cleaning in
all their lives.
The room was cramped, two beds shoved against the wall and duplicate
furnishings for each side. Duo was laying down on his bed, facing the
wall, but his roommate, a young girl in all black with short black
hair, looked up expectantly. The nurse looked to her clipboard once
more. "Duo is limited to the facility premises, and visitors must be
gone before dinner, at six-thirty promptly."
The girl reached out with her foot and jabbed Duo in the side, "For
you, Duo Maxwell."
They huddled in the doorway, partially afraid but mostly hesitant.
Duo sat up and rubbed his side, looking to the girl, "Ow! I was
sleeping! What? Oh..." He looked to his three friends. "Hey guys,
come on in."
"Shall I make myself scarce?"
"If you would, Natasha."
The girl nodded and stood, gliding past them and out into the
hallway. Wufei let out an angry burst of breath and shoved past
Quatre and into the room, sitting on the girl's vacated bed. Trowa
stepped into the room as well and sat on the edge of Duo's bed.
Duo caught sight of the brush held clutched in Quatre's hand and
grinned, "All right, Q-man! I knew I'd forgotten something," he said
happily, plucking the brush free.
Quatre returned the smile, coming into the room and sitting beside
Trowa. "I had shampoo, too, but they wouldn't let me give you it."
"No, they make use the required stuff. Look at my hair, completely
dull! How am I supposed to have shiny, full hair using their crappy
stuff?"
"I had food, but they took that, too," Trowa announced suddenly.
Duo's eyes widened, "Ah, Trowa, that's awesome! Too bad they won't
let me have decent food. I swear, I think it's one of the
requirements. Starched nurses and bad food."
Trowa got a sudden sly look his face and stood, digging into his back
pocket and coming up with a candy-bar, "I had a feeling they'd
intercept..."
Duo laughed and gratefully took the offered sweet. Quatre look up at
Trowa, wanting to reprimand such scandalous behavior, but his resolve
gave way when Trowa gave all but the barest hint of a smile, sitting
once more.
Quatre grew more and more wary of the situation as the visit
lengthened. Although he seemed cheerful, Quatre could just subtly
detect a difference in Duo's behavior. His thoughts seemed scattered,
and sometimes he looked confused, usually repeating himself or
dropping sentences off all together.
Just when six-thirty loomed close, Duo suddenly grew more serious.
"Where's Heero?"
Wufei looked at Quatre, Quatre looked helplessly at Trowa, who
stoically stared back. "He wanted to come, Duo, but..." He scrambled
desperately for a suitable excuse.
"Ah. I understand." Duo looked down at his hands, joyful smile wiped
off his features. For a moment, sadness hung around him, an almost
visible cloud of hurt, but he looked up and it vanished as he smiled
once more. Quatre was surprised to see lingering anger drift across
his features.
Before anyone could say anything more, one of the nurses appeared in
the doorway. "Time to say good-bye to your visitors..." The pause as
she checked the door plate was only just noticeable, "Duo."
"We'll come back Wednesday, okay?"
"Take care, Maxwell."
Duo followed them to the limits of the facility portion of the
building. The industrial carpeting gave way to polished marble, the
gray walls seemed to fade into a brilliant white. Quatre could almost
believed he imagined the depressing conditions he'd seen. Almost.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Author's Notes: I don't believe there's anything I need to comment on,
I don't think I used any Japanese phrases. What's everyone's opinions
on the story so far? Are you mad at Heero or do you think he's
justified? I love hearing your comments!
Feedback/review greatly appreciated! More chapters soon.
copyright 2002 - Gundam Wing and characters copyright other people.
LSE - "Violet" (ManzokuBiscuit@aol.com)
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