Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ When angels die. . . ❯ . . . does heaven mourn? ( Chapter 2 )

The ominous tick of the waiting room clock echoed in the oppressive silence of the four pilots. Hiiro and Wu Fei leaned against opposite walls, each glaring at the floor. Duo nervously paced the room, wringing the end of his braid with figity fingers; while Trowa was hunched over in a chair, his face buried in his hands. The lanky teenager's body shuddered with strainuous force of surpressed, guilt-ridden sobs.

The braided boy paused, and glanced at his banged friend. It was strange to see the boy expressing any emotions period. But from the moment the stoic pilot had laid his emerald eyes onto the bloody mess that was his love, the emotions seemed to overtake him, and he didn't seem to be able to get them under control again. It was a bit unnerving.

Duo shook his head, the past couple of hours had been unreal. They flew by so fast, that the crazy events of Quatre collapsing, screaming for the others, their stunned reactions, Trowa's near meltdown, calling the ambulance, waiting for it to arrive, trying to stop the blood flow and wake the boy up, the long trek to the hospital. . . it was all a blur of memory. But this waiting. . . this agonizingly long waiting. . . it couldn't be real.

'It has to be a nightmare. . . right?'

The braided boy sighed, knowing in his heart that this was no nightmare. Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Duo began to pace once more. He had to keep busy. He couldn't think to much. If he thought about it then. . . He paused again. This time fighting with himself to keep a reign on the emotions that threatened to overtake him.

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Duo glanced down at his hands. They were a dark rusty-brown color and smelled like death. He hadn't even taken the time to wash away his friend's blood, and now it had dried, staining his creamy skin.

With an agonizing whimper of realization, the self-proclaimed God of Death sank to his knees in the middle of the waiting room. "Q-Quat. . ." He choked out, tears sliding down his face as he continued to stare at his bloodied hands.

Hiiro's head shot up at the sudden outburst of sound. "Duo?" He asked quietly.

"I. . . I. . ." The braided boy shook his head, his eyes unable to tear away from the grisly immages his hands drew from his memory.

Suddenly, arms were wrapped around him, and a soft voice was whispering into his ear, quiet reassurances that everything would be alright.

Duo fell into that embrace, weeping his sorrows into a dark green tank-top. "I couldn't help him, Hiiro. . . I couldn't. . ."

"None of us could, Duo." Trowa's pained voice cut in from the far side of the room. "He didn't want to be helped."

"Please! Tell me that he'll be alright!" The braided boy pleaded.

The embrace tightened around him. "I'm sure that the doctors will do everything that they possibly can." Hiiro honestly replied.

"However. . ." Wu Fei spoke for the first time, his eyes not moving from the floor. "Being physically alright means nothing if Quatre's psyche isn't taken care of and healed."

"What do you mean?" Duo sniffled, rubbing at his eyes.

Eyes of the deepest obsidian finially lifted to meet those of his friends, "What good is it to heal his body if in his mind he still wants to hurt himself?"

The room fell back into the opressive silence, and it remained that way until the waiting room door swung open. Four pairs of ernest eyes met with the grievous expression of their friend Sally.

"Well!?" Duo demanded after several moments of tense silence, "How is he!?"

"He's lost a lot of blood, Duo." Sally began. She sounded weary, like she had been crying. "This isn't the first time he's done this. . . He. . . He has scars running up and down his arms. . . I. . ." She drifted off, her voice becoming a scarce whisper.

"Is he alright!?" The braided boy demanded, his fists clenching at his sides, "SALLY!?"

"Quatre will have to remain in the hospital for at least a week." She sighed, "He'll then need some therapy. I don't believe that he'll be able to go on any missions for quite a while. . . He's depressed."

"You mean. . . suicidal. . ." Duo frowned.

"That would be self-evident, wouldn't it, Maxwell?" Wu Fei smirked.

"BITE ME, WU FEI!" The boy shouted back, his fists so tight that they were drawing blood from his palms.

"Knock it off!" Hiiro commanded, laying a restrictive hand on the braided boy's shoulder.

"This isn't the time nor the place for your bantering." Trowa added, his voice shaky as he processed the information about his Koi. "What can I do to help?" He asked the doctor.

"Well, you can tell me about any change in his behavior within the last six months. . . That's about how old the earliest scar is." She explained, "And you can be there for him. . . That's about all for now until we know more as to why he's behaving like this."

". . ."

". . ."

". . ."

"When will that be?" Duo asked quietly.

"I don't know." Sally appoligized, "It all depends on him."

". . . oh. . ."

"Common, Duo." Hiiro said, pulling on the boy's arm, "Let's get you cleaned up."

Mutely, the boy nodded, and followed the Japanese boy out of the room.

"Sally, may I see him?" Trowa asked.

"For a brief moment." She allowed, "He hadn't woken up yet the last time I checked on him."

Wu Fei watched as the banged boy nodded and followed the doctor out. He then returned to his spot on the wall, and resumed in staring at the floor.

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