Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Contemplation Indigo ❯ Fluxus Pewter ( Chapter 22 )

 

Fluxus Pewter

(Chapter 22 of the `Contemplation Indigo' series)

 

By DRL

 

Wide awake, I lay still for a while, languishing in the comfortable warmth of Treize's arms. We lie in bed, close together, my head resting on his chest, one arm around his body and my leg, crooked at the knee, lays against Treize's thigh. Treize lies on his back, one arm lightly around my shoulders. He is awake also. Despite the light, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he draws breath, I know this quite well. Even if he were not gently toying with my hair, I would have known it. After almost fifteen years of sharing a bed, I can easily detect the subtle difference between Treize's breathing patterns during sleep and when awake. We lie together in the pre-dawn darkness, companionably silent although we are each aware that the other is awake. We had both fallen into a light doze after the intensity of our lovemaking oh, I don't know how long ago now, but not long; judging from the heat of Treize's body and the dampness of the sweat as yet un-dried on his skin, perhaps only a few minutes.

 

We were lying awake, much as we are doing now, our bodies pressed together. I was experiencing my habitual nightly insomnia, and my restless wakefulness had awoken Treize, as it often did. He had awoken with a semi-erection which, given our relative positions, I could not help but notice. There was a time when this would have irrevocably led to a lusty bout of early-morning sex, but not lately. These days I seem to have lost interest in sex as I have lost interest in everything else I once enjoyed. As usual, Treize behaves with his customary honour and decorum. He doesn't press me or attempt to cajole me in any way, nor does he reproach me. He no longer even makes any advances towards me, thus compelling me to refuse him and Treize is definitely not the sort of man who would claim his conjugal rights by force. He merely endures this enforced celibacy with grace and fortitude, as he does all of the other frustrating idiosyncrasies caused by my current condition. Bless him, he no longer even sleeps in the nude, donning a pair of pyjama pants prior to taking his place beside me in bed, although I'm not sure whether this actually makes things better or worse, but either way, he means well. These pyjama pants are the un-sexiest things that I have ever seen, and I know that Treize must think so too. He would never choose to wear such an inelegant garment (even in his bed), but because of me he is driven to it. Yet again, he has to suffer because of me, stuck as he is with a man who is incapable of being a proper husband to him. This is exactly what I was thinking until it suddenly dawned on me that these were just the sort of negative thoughts I had been warned against in my therapy sessions.

 

I have been undergoing intensive psychotherapy to combat the deep depression I had descended into following my discharge from hospital after the cerebral haemorrhage I had suffered. I was told that apparently this is quite common after such an illness, since the subsequent recovery and rehabilitation can be quite difficult but I knew different, of course. I had begun to lose my mind long ago - way before the brain haemorrhage. I nod politely however, and humour everyone as they assure me that my depression is an unfortunate but inevitable consequence of my recent surgery and will soon pass, keeping to myself and the very few who are in my confidence, the fact that I actually have a history of such mental disorder, so my slow and difficult recovery from the brain surgery probably has nothing to do with it at all.

 

My depression is being treated using a revolutionary psychotherapy technique rather than drugs. Treize has always been against my being given any form of anti-depressant or mood stabilizer, both in the past and now and, he maintains, over his dead body will anyone attach electrodes to my head and pass an electric current through my brain. Astoundingly, such archaic methods are still practiced and, I am assured, quite effective. Not for me, however - for me, the relatively soft option of CBT therapy, which actually does work, although it involves a certain amount of pro-action on the part of the patient and one needs to put in the effort to reap the definite benefits. This I have just done, and as a result Treize & I have just made love for the first time in many months, most satisfactorily from my side, but I'm not sure if it was so for Treize. It certainly seemed so and I'd like to think so, but how can I be sure? I could always ask him, of course. Quatre gave me a piece of advice a little while ago, when I was feeling a little distrait but was too afraid to talk to anyone about it. `Trust Treize' he told me. I have done so ever since and have never looked back; it was sound advice.

 

I raise my hand and lightly draw my fingertips across the well-rounded mounds of his pectorals, circling his nipples with my fingernail. I feel his breathing deepen. Then, moving myself up along his taller frame, I claim his lips in a sensuous kiss. My own lips are still swollen from the fervent kisses we shared during our recent lovemaking, where we kissed like lovers rather than brothers for the first time in months. I'm pleased to see that the kiss sends a frisson of excitement through my body, proving that I haven't turned completely to ice, despite my diminished libido. I settle myself against him once again, tucking my head beneath his chin and wrapping my arms about his body.

 

“Treize,” I begin, “Was it..., I mean, did you...? “I tail off, not knowing quite how to put it. He gives a low chuckle.

 

“How was it for me? Is that what you are trying to ask me?” I laugh self-consciously.

 

“Yes, I suppose so.” I reply.

 

“As wonderful as ever.” He says and tightens his arm around me. “I've missed you Fei.” He says in a lowered voice.

 

“I suppose you know exactly how long it's been.” I say, somewhat peevishly, suddenly and unaccountably annoyed with him for what is ultimately my own failing. He hesitates before replying, and I know that he is weighing up the merits of telling me the truth and telling me a lie. He will opt for the truth, I hope.

 

“Not at all.” He replies, opting for the lie. “I wasn't exactly marking the days off on a calendar.”

 

“I'm sorry.” I say, an edge creeping into my voice. “You don't understand - I just can't, I...”

 

“It's okay Fei,” He says in a voice of infinite patience, “It doesn't matter. Why don't you try and get some sleep? It will probably be a long day tomorrow, or today rather.” He corrects himself as he acknowledges the fact that it is already almost dawn. I refuse to be headed off, however.

 

“I suppose you are wondering why today, all of a sudden?” I say.

 

“Not at all.” He repeats the lie. “Never look a gift horse in the mouth.” He adds dryly.

 

“Bastard!” I hiss and turn briskly round in the bed, presenting him with my back and placing as much distance as I can between the two of us without falling off the edge of the divan. He sighs heavily and I feel a slight movement beside me, probably him running a hand through his hair, his usual gesture of exasperation.

 

“I'm sorry Wufei” Treize says in a conciliatory tone, “That remark was uncalled for and in poor taste. It was a poor attempt at levity and I'm sorry.” I remain silent; he sighs again. “Look Fei, I am very happy that you felt able to make love today. I enjoyed it very much and I hope you did too, but if it causes you any distress, then don't do it. You don't have to, not on my account.”

 

“Did you gratify yourself?” I ask brusquely, “With your hands?”

 

“I don't think we should talk about this any more...” He begins but I cut him off.

 

“Did you?” I persist through clenched teeth. He hesitates, the truth/lie struggle taking place once more.

 

“Hardly what I would call gratification, but yes, I did..., occasionally.”

 

Finally, the truth! I turn around in the bed again and return to my former position, filled with remorse and self-loathing. What kind of man am I that I reduce my husband to jerking himself off in the bathroom when he has a living, breathing, able-bodied spouse who should be only too willing to fulfil his every sexual need (within reason, of course). Surely this only serves as confirmation of what I have been telling myself all along. I am a poor excuse for a husband and Treize would be better off without me. The words of my therapist break through to my tortured brain and I realise that I am getting into the dangerous territory of negative thoughts again, but I don't care. It's true, after all. Treize places his arm around me again and holds me close against him.

 

“You must be exhausted my pet,” He says gently, “Try and sleep a little.” I shake my head vigorously. “The dreams again?” He asks and I nod in affirmation. “Don't worry,” He says, “I'll be here and I'll stay awake. The dreams won't come.”

 

I'm none too sanguine about this, but Treize is right - I am exhausted. Several successive nights with little sleep and the tumble we have just engaged in have taken their toll and I can barely keep my eyes open.

 

“I love you, my pet.” This is the last thing I hear before slipping into a troubled oblivion.

 

_______________________

 

I extricate myself from the tangle of Duo's limbs and hair, and swing my legs down to the floor, perching on the edge of the bed. I glance at the clock on the nightstand, but I don't really need to. My internal clock knows exactly what time it is, which is why I am awake. I have never needed an alarm clock, unlike my slugabed of a husband. I turn around and look down at him as he sleeps, an involuntary smile tugging at my lips.

 

Although he is quite a man, his face, in repose like this, looks almost as young as it did when I first met him, when we were both little more than children - what was it, fifteen years ago? Although I smile at the memory as I recall that the first thing he did was to shoot me, these were hardly good times for us. It upsets Duo greatly to think back to those days, although it marked the beginning of our relationship and of our love for each other. I force it to the back of my mind also as I rise and cross to the bathroom, closing the door lest the sounds of my ablutions awaken him prematurely. I may call him a slugabed, but he particularly needs the rest just now. He only went to bed a few hours ago after a late session in his studio.

 

He's working on a commission at the moment, so he keeps rather irregular hours. When his muses inspire him he goes off to his studio to work, whatever time of the day or night that might be. I'm not wild about him going out alone at all hours, but that is how he works and there is not much I can do about it. I can hardly forbid him to go. I can just imagine what the upshot would be if I did that! I suppose I could go with him, but I work an 8.00-6.00 day, so I cannot sit up all night watching Duo paint and besides, he doesn't like me around the studio when he is working. He says that my negative vibes impede his creativity. Negative vibes indeed! It's not that I don't like Duo's art, it's just that I don't understand it.

 

I shower and dress, then I leave the room (quietly) and descend to the kitchen where I proceed to prepare a pot of coffee. I do it for Duo really, although I usually partake of a cup myself, more because it is there rather than because I actually want it or need the buzz. I open a cupboard and scan the array of carefully labelled jars filled with the flavoured coffee that Duo favours. Tiramisu today, I think.

 

As I set the beverage brewing I glance up and catch sight of the calendar on the wall. Among the various domestic aides memoirs that Duo has written in on various days, today's date has been circled boldly with a red marker pen. Suddenly all other thoughts flee my mind and I sink down onto a stool at the breakfast counter.

 

Wufei.

 

Our friend has been in and out of hospital several times during the past year and today he is due back in again. Duo has circled the date, as if either of us were likely to forget it. It is nothing much this time, just a check-up or something apparently, but nevertheless..., I would feel much happier about it if he did not have to go at all, especially after the last time, when he went in for routine tests, and almost never came out again! My heart gives a lurch of fear as I recall the moment I learned what had happened.

 

I was at my office that day, chairing a meeting with some senior members of my staff when my secretary put a call from Duo through. I was annoyed when the conference-room phone rang, but also apprehensive. The only person my secretary has instructions to put through during an important meeting is Duo, and Duo knows better than to interrupt a meeting unless it is vitally important. I was prepared for bad news, and there was only one way in which the news that Duo finally imparted could have been worse, and by all accounts this development was a distinct possibility.

 

Duo barely held himself together as he imparted the news. He told me, in faltering, tear-choked words just this side of complete hysteria, that Wufei had had a massive brain haemorrhage and that his condition was critical. He said that he was on his way to the hospital and that he would meet me there. As stunned as I was by the news I had the presence of mind to nip that idea in the bud immediately. In his current state, the last thing I was going to allow Duo to do was to drive. I didn't want to be visiting both he and Wufei in the hospital. That was when it first began, but I didn't realise it at the time. I drove home and as soon as I walked through the door Duo launched himself at me and fell sobbing into my arms.

 

When he had regained his composure somewhat, I drove us to that country club that Chang's doctor calls a hospital. When we arrived we were directed to a waiting room, where a smart receptionist told us `His Excellency and his party' were to be found, managing to make the thing sound like a social event. We followed the directions we were given (nothing so crude as `follow the yellow line on the floor' at this facility), and found the relevant room, but before we entered Duo turned to me, his face a studied mask, laid a patronisingly gentle hand on my arm and said, `Now Heero, we have to be strong, for Treize.' As if I was the one who had been dabbing at my eyes with a hanky and sniffing all throughout the journey! I merely grunted non-commitally and we entered the room.

 

Treize was seated in a club chair, one leg crossed neatly over the other and looking as soigné as ever. How he does it I don't know, but that man manages to maintain that look of elegant refinement whatever the circumstances. I was surprised to see Trowa (another dapper looker), seated in another chair that had been drawn close. Looking at the pair of them, one would have been forgiven for thinking that one had just entered the lounge of a gentleman's club rather than a hospital waiting room. I looked around for Quatre, but he was nowhere to be seen. I hate occasions such as this because although I might feel sympathy, I am not much good at showing it or giving comfort. Fortunately though, Duo is and he came across with exactly what was needed. Treize, ever the gentleman, had risen as we entered and Duo rushed across the room and gave him a big, warm hug. I went across to Trowa and he told me briefly that Wufei was still in surgery and his condition was still critical. As we were talking Quatre blustered into the room, and for the first time ever I saw him give his immediate attention to someone other than Trowa. He did the same as Duo, enfolding Treize in a sympathetic embrace. Both Trowa and I saw that Treize was in good hands as far as the comfort went, so we left them to it and stood in the wings until we were needed.

 

I watched as Quatre and Duo sat with Treize. The poor man was obviously beside himself with worry and his anguish was plainly written on his aristocratic features, although he managed to maintain his stately bearing. As I regarded him, the thought that first come to me as I listened to the news about Wufei from Duo came back to my mind. To my shame, all I could think of was how glad I was that it wasn't Duo. I should have been thinking of how terrible it was that it had happened to Wufei, but although this went without saying, the thought that first occurred to me was that I was glad it had not happened to Duo. As I said, it had begun back in my office when Duo first broke the news to me. My first reaction was shock at the terrible news, but as I listened to Duo's voice I recalled thinking `thank goodness you are safe and well'. I quickly pushed the though from my mind, but it remained on the periphery of my consciousness and kept coming back to me as I drove home, and now, as I read at the pain and anguish in Treize's eyes as he looked at Duo and Quatre without seeing them, I began to wallow in my selfish thoughts once more.

 

I though about how I would feel if I had been told that Duo had suffered a brain haemorrhage and was near death. I looked at Treize and my heart went out to him. I could only imagine what he must be feeling. Once again I thought how glad it was that it wasn't me. I hope to redeem my self by saying that I wasn't thinking of how glad I was that I wasn't going through what Treize was going through, but how glad I was that Duo was fit and well and driving me crazy, rather than fighting for his life on an operating table, although this mere semantic probably does not enhance my image in the least. I glanced across at Trowa and wondered whether he was entertaining the same thoughts. I couldn't tell by looking at him of course, so I thought I would do a little probing.

 

`Trowa,' I asked him, `What would you do if something happened to Quatre?' He looked sharply at me, then averted his eyes nervously.

 

`Nothing is going to happen to Quatre.' He said curtly. He cast a tender glance across to where Quatre sat with Treize and Duo, then he looked down at his shoes, refusing to meet my gaze.

 

I assumed from this that he had indeed been thinking as I had, but his way of dealing with it was to bury his head in the sand. I gave him a pitying look. He knew as well as I did that Quatre was just as vulnerable to mishap as anyone else and that merely saying what he had would not make it so, but if this was how he dealt with the issue, then who was I to burst his bubble, however fragile? I did not subscribe to this ostrich-attitude, but I merely looked on and gave thanks to any deity that would listen that this was not happening to my Duo.

 

The sweet aroma of the coffee fills the kitchen and I hear the machine make the final gurgling sounds that herald the end of its percolating process, indicating that the beverage is ready for consumption. I rise from my seat, retrieve a mug from the tree on the counter and pour myself a cup. After adding sufficient sugar and cream to render the drink palatable, I turn my back to the counter, lean against it and take a contemplative sip.

 

Duo..., he's a pain in the ass, he drives me to distraction and sometimes I would like nothing better than to bind him, gag him, lock him in the cellar and throw away the key, but I cannot imagine my life without him. I have known him for so long and we know each other so well, that if the unthinkable were to happen and he was somehow taken from me, there would be a great void in my life that could never, ever be filled. Wufei and Treize come to my mind once again, as they very often do these days. Seeing Wufei as sick as he has been lately has shaken me up a little, just the mere thought of it ever happening to Duo. Treize came dangerously close to losing Wufei after the brain haemorrhage thing. If I transport myself into his shoes back then, I can still only guess at the hell he must have gone through. To be honest, I don't know how he wasn't driven mad! Physical pain - that I am no stranger to and that I could cope with, but emotional pain - now that is another matter entirely. I think I would have gone out of my mind if I had had to sit there day after day beside a comatose Duo, not knowing whether he would ever come round, and if he did, whether he would have suffered brain damage or not, and if so, to what extent. Sally told me that people in Treize's situation often did break down and that she was keeping an eye on him. She needn't have worried though - Treize is made of sterner stuff. He kept his sanity (and his suavity).

 

As I said before, Duo and I have been together for such a very long time and under such circumstances I suppose it is quite easy to take someone for granted. I know that I was guilty of doing this to Duo a little while ago. He was always there and had been there for a long time, and I guess I just always expected him to be there, whatever I did and however I behaved towards him. Our relationship had always been somewhat volatile, and we fell out and made up again quite regularly. It has been said that I can be a little harsh and I admit to being a little mean to Duo sometimes, but I got my first real wake-up call around 18 months ago. I did a really selfish and thoughtless thing and Duo got really upset about it and walked out on me. It was by no means the first time he had done this, but he usually only stayed away one night, two at the most (at Quatre & Trowas more often than not). This time, however, he stayed away for much longer, so much so that I believed that he was never coming back. He certainly swore that he never would! For the first time I got my first taste of life without Duo, and it wasn't pleasant. Nothing I did made any sense without him and life soon became quite pointless. I became quite depressed, which is the last thing I expected, always believing that I was not that type of person, and I soon reached the stage where I would have done anything to have him back..., anything at all.

 

He eventually came back to me, but over three hellish months had passed and by that time I was quite desperate. I learned my lesson very well, and although we still fight with each other fairly regularly, I will never let things go so far again, and I will never, ever take Duo's presence for granted again - he is too precious to me to ever risk losing him.

 

Suddenly I get the urge to do something nice for him, to show him how much he means to me. Perhaps I'll buy him that cabin in the mountains he has had his eye on. He has shown me the property details from the real estate agent once or twice, but I haven't shown too much interest so far, I must admit. I'll dig them up and make an appointment to at least view the place - that will make him happy.

 

Pleased with my decision I put down my now cold coffee, with a view to going off to look for the property details that Duo gave to me, but as I do so I see him descending the stairs to the ground floor of our duplex. Dressed in an old t-shirt and ratty sweat pants, he pads silently across the hardwood floor on bare feet, coming to rest in the entrance to the kitchen. He stands for a moment and gives way to a yawn as he scratches inelegantly at his nether regions, before he enters the kitchen, crosses to where I stand leaning against the counter and plants a perfunctory peck on my freshly-shaved cheek.

 

“Mornin' `ro” he murmurs as he reaches behind me for a mug, preparatory to pouring himself a cup of the flavoured coffee, the scent of which is currently permeating the entire apartment and is probably what has fetched him from his bed so soon after his having retired to it.

 

I take in his rumpled clothing, sleep-mussed hair and bleary-eyed expression, and on impulse I grab the arm he has extended towards the mug-tree, spin him round into my arms and give him a long, passionate kiss. Never one to be slow-witted in such a situation, Duo's surprise lasts but a millisecond before he wraps his arms around my neck and kisses me back with a passion and fervour that threatens to surpass my own. We kiss for long, languid moments, then we break and Duo pulls slowly back until his gorgeous eyes meet mine.

 

“Not that I'm complainin' lover,” He says with a quirky smile, “But what was that for?”

 

“Nothing,” I reply, “I'm just pleased to see you.”

 

____________________________

 

 

Treize waits until I am comfortably seated before taking a seat himself. Although it is of considerable weight, I edge my chair closer to his and I reach out to take his hand, entwining my fingers with his and clasping his hand tightly. I am nervous, although I have no real reason to be - another symptom of my depression. Treize looks at me and gives me a reassuring smile. As I meet his calming blue gaze I feel my anxiety begin to quell a little, and I smile back. We tear our eyes from each other and look across the vast mahogany desk to the portly form of Dr Steven Scrivener. He smiles benignly back at us, and my anxiety melts away completely.

 

“Well now young man, “He says affably, “How do you feel?”

 

“Fine.” I reply, and for the first time in a very long while, I actually do.

 

“Good.” He says briskly, as though he had expected nothing less. “Now the results of your latest series of tests have come through,” He leafs desultorily through the sheaf of papers on the blotter before him, “And I think we can safely say that you are doing extremely well. In fact, you are well on the road to a full recovery - physically anyway”. He adds, and this addendum jars my newly-lifted spirits a little, but I smile through it. The doctor continues, unaware of the effect of his throw-away comment.

 

“Your corneal transplants are fine so far, although we will keep you under observation for a further twelve months. Rejection is unlikely at this stage, but not impossible, so better safe than sorry. Your stitches will be removed later this afternoon, which is why we are having this little interview now. We will remove all of them today, which is a measure of how well you are recovering from the eye surgery. Some people who do not do so well have their stitches removed in stages. It will be local anaesthesia only, but I'm sure you will still not feel up to listening to me droning on after the procedure. The laser surgery to correct your vision can be undergone at anytime after the stitches have been removed, then you'll be as good as new.”

 

`As good as new?' I stare blankly at Dr Scrivener. He is so very good at coming out with such statements. At the moment I feel as though my whole life has been irrevocably changed and I will never be the person I once was. Some might say that this is a good thing, but just the same... He carries on talking, but I am not really listening. I've lost myself in my thoughts again, not bad thoughts this time, but they will get worse the longer I indulge in them - they always do.

 

“Now your recovery from the brain surgery is also going well,” The doctor says, “Very well indeed. I'm very pleased with your progress and, as I said, your recent test results were extremely positive....”

 

I raise my brows sceptically at this. It is all well and good for him to say this, but for me the recovery was long, arduous and extremely painful. Dr Scrivener seems not to have noticed my dubious expression and he continues.

 

“... Although I hear that you are still experiencing some uncomfortable symptoms.” I say nothing, but Treize nods emphatically. Dr Scrivener runs his pen along the typewritten list that lays uppermost on the sheaf of papers before him. “Ah yes...,” He taps the pen on the desk rhythmically as he studies the list, and inexplicably the sound irritates me. Just as I draw a breath preparatory to telling him to stop it, he stops tapping and looks up from his papers, giving me an apologetic little smile, as if he had read my thoughts. “I know that you are probably feeling a little anxious about all this,” He runs his pen up and down the page (making no sound this time), “but it is all quite normal and is really nothing to worry about.” Now if I had been given a dollar every time this man has said this to me, I would be twice as rich as Treize and Quatre put together!

 

“Don't worry about the headaches,” He continues, his eyes cast downward as he studies the list, “They can last from anything between two weeks and two years but unless you experience one as intense as the one prior to your aneurysm rupture, the chances of re-rupture are almost zero, although a second aneurysm is always a possibility. I see here that you experience drowsiness and fatigue during the day, but insomnia at night. We'll talk about that later. Incision pain at the surgical site, back pain, jaw pain..., these will all pass with time. Now, the constipation...” My eyes widen abruptly and I shoot a glare at Treize as I feel the hot colour flood my cheeks. He refuses to meet my gaze and merely squeezes my hand. It is clear to me that between Treizie, Hugo and this doctor, I am to be stripped of every shred of privacy and dignity. Is it any wonder that I am depressed? “...this is a rather unfortunate side effect of your pain medication. Hugo will give you something to help.” He looks from me to Treize, then back to me again. “Now unless you have any questions, we'll get you down to theatre and get those stitches removed.”

 

Questions? Oh, I have questions alright. Such as why do I have these sudden mood swings, irrational feelings of sadness, emptiness, hopelessness and anxiety, why can I take no interest or pleasure in anything, not even sex with my husband (although it was certainly interesting and pleasurable this morning). Why do I feel so listless and tired all the time, but at night I cannot sleep? Why can I not focus my mind or concentrate on any one thing? Why, when I have so much to live for, do feel like I want to die? Why does this thing afflict me so - why me? I do not pose these questions though. The question I do ask is somewhat less rhetorical.

 

“Once the stitches are removed, does that mean I don't have to come back here?” I ask somewhat hopefully. Dr Scrivener laughs.

 

“Yes it does,” He replies, “But I'm wounded that you look so happy about the prospect.”

 

“I..., I'm sorry,” I flounder, “I didn't mean...”

 

“I know you didn't,” The good doctor waves away my apology, “And even if you did I could hardly blame you.” He adds. “You must have had enough of this place to last you a lifetime. Now,” He directs this next statement to Treize, “we'll get this young man down to theatre and then I'll talk to you about the other thing.”

 

I know that he means my depression and I shift even closer to Treize and tighten my grip on his hand. Admitting to myself that I suffer from such a disorder is bad enough, but talking about it to others is extremely difficult for me. It disgusts me that I am so weak as to succumb to this... this thing. I can feel it coming on, and I try to resist, but it just overpowers me, engulfs me, saps me, and I have not option but to submit...

 

__________________________

 

 

He is asleep now, deep, restful sleep for the first time in months. I can tell by the evenness of his breathing and the stillness of his body. No murmuring, tossing and turning as there is when the dreams come. I hope I am not being too precipitate, but I think that things will get better quite soon.

 

The minor surgical procedure that he underwent this morning went like a breeze and the stitches in his eyes are gone now. I am quite pleased about this since I found the tiny v-shaped sutures around his irises most disconcerting. They could only be seen when one stared deep into his eyes, but I had more opportunity to do this than most. His vision has deteriorated a little once again, but Dr Scrivener is not unduly concerned about this and he says it will improve again shortly. I hope he is right - the last thing Fei needs right now is a setback such as this.

 

Strangely enough however, Fei seems singularly unconcerned about this development. He's been absolutely marvellous today, which is why I think that happy days will soon be here again. On the way home from the hospital he actually telephoned Duo Maxwell to ask if he wanted to come over to watch a martial arts film with him. I had purchased said film for him some time ago because I though he might enjoy it, but hitherto he had not, so far as I knew, shown much interest in it. This loss of interest in his usual hobbies and pastimes is one of the symptoms of his depressive condition. As I said, however, out of a blue sky he invited Duo oveer and the two of them sat and watched the movie, volubly egging on the hero and jeering at the villain like a couple of schoolboys. In fact, so enthralled were they with it that they sat through the whole thing twice! My heart sang with joy! It was the first time that Fei had shown a real interest in anything in such a long while.

 

It didn't stop there though. Wufei then suggested that we all go out for dinner: Quatre, Trowa, Heero, Duo and the two of us, even going so far as naming his preferred choice of restaurant. Needless to say we all acquiesced, and we all had a very good time. It was just like old times and I the others noticed the change in him too. Trowa went so far as to draw me aside and ask what happened at the hospital, `because whatever it was', he said, `it sure has put him in a good mood'. The evening tired him out though, and he was a little more subdued on the homeward journey. It was still relatively early but we excused ourselves and went up to our room. The others understood - Fei is definitely recovering well from the brain surgery, as Dr Scrivener confirmed this morning, but he still tires quite easily.

 

We took a relaxing bath together (another thing that Fei once enjoyed, but had recently lost his enthusiasm for) and it was then that he mentioned that it might be a good idea if he started working on a new book. Reigning in my utter delight, I told him that yes, perhaps it might and I listened as he outlined his ideas to me. If I needed any further confirmation that things were beginning to look up, he initiated a night of passionate lovemaking, during which he was as enthusiastic, inventive and pliant as ever he had been.

 

Afterwards, as he lay in my arms, sated and contented, I encouraged him to try to get some sleep, assuring him that I would remain awake lest he be plagued by nightmares again. `'S okay', he said drowsily, `I don't think the dreams will come tonight.' Somehow, I don't think they will either.

 

 

 

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