Long Goodbye
by Angela
August 22, 2008
to think I might not see those eyes
makes it so
hard not to cry
and as we say our long goodbye
I nearly do
--Snow Patrol, "Run"
Ash unconsciously tugged the collar of his lab coat as the elevator doors opened. He'd worn a lot of costumes and a few disguises in his life, but lab-coat-over-jeans-and-t-shirt-equals-doctor just didn't strike him as any kind of convincing camouflage. He was too young, too obviously out of place. He stepped into the empty elevator and hit the button for the tenth floor.
The doors closed and he breathed a sigh of relief. One step closer.
As the floor lurched below him and started its slow ascent, Ash wondered again what the hell he was doing. Blanca must've been crazy, sending him in like that. Wasn't he the one who told Ash he couldn't go in the first place? And Ash, listening to him – pulling the coat over his clothes and trying to sneak around a cop-riddled hospital – what the fuck was he thinking, anyway?
Of course, he knew exactly what he was thinking of. Eiji. The last glimpses he'd had of his friend were terrifying: chalky skin and shallow breathing and blood. Blood everywhere. The memory made Ash's head hurt, his pulse throbbing behind his eyes. He felt like he might throw up – a combination of grief, vertigo, and Blanca's potent painkillers.
When the elevator lurched to a stop on the tenth floor he was relieved of the motion sickness, at least. He held his breath as the doors slid open, trying to organize his face into a mask of professionalism. Doctorism. Suspecting that he was failing miserably, Ash ducked his head and hurried down the corridor.
Room 1012 was about halfway down the hallway, a few yards past a nurses' station and, thankfully, around the corner from the nearest visitor lounge. That was probably where Ibé and the cops hung out, and Ash had no interest in seeing anyone but Eiji that night.
He stood in front of the door, half-paralyzed with fear. He didn't know what to expect or how much to hope for. Eiji would be sleeping, but would he be hooked up to machines, with wires and tubes shoved through his skin? Would Ash be able to find any traces of his vivacious, energetic friend in the battered and wounded boy he was sure to see?
And how would he feel, Ash wondered, knowing it was all his fault?
His hand trembled as it curled around the cold metal door handle. The heavy door opened with a weak kree and Ash took a deep breath. He stepped in and closed the door behind him.
The room was dark, the nighttime glow from its only window dampened further by heavy drapes. In the moment it took for Ash's eyes to adjust, he found Eiji with his ears. His friend's breathing was calm and even, familiar in the pattern of deep sleep.
"Eiji," Ash whispered, creeping close to the bed.
His eyes started registering the weak cast of the row of lights on the wall above the headboard. Yellow, green, and red, they threw a faint illumination over the patient, and Ash's eyes feasted on the face he had been living and dying for all week.
Eiji looked small and pale. A tube was tucked under his nose, supplying him with oxygen, and Ash hated the idea that he might not be getting enough on his own. He stared down at his precious friend, struggling to wrap his mind around the fact that he'd almost died. Almost disappeared forever because Ash selfishly wanted – no, needed – to keep him close.
His hands curled into fists at his sides as he fought the impulse to touch him, to move Eiji's heavy hair from his forehead or to feel the pallor of his ghostly cheeks. He wished – for a million things, really. He wished for Eiji to wake up and smile, or that he could rewind time to that almost-happy road trip to California. He wished that none of this had happened, that they'd met under normal circumstances in normal lives – an exchange student in an everyday high school classroom.
He wished that the quiet, unmoving boy in that hospital bed wasn't Eiji, or that he would light up the way he always did – with happiness or worry or love.
Love. The word hadn't even entered Ash's thoughts before, but he knew right away that it was the right one. They had a love relationship, even if was unspoken and un-acted upon. It didn't make him happy to realize it now, now that it was too late for him to make any of the overtures a lover might. The best thing he could do for Eiji was disappear forever.
Ash wondered what would've happened in another universe – one where he and Eiji had escaped together to Japan the way they'd planned. They would have lived together; there was no question about that. But would they have learned to really feel each other – how to let a simple touch linger into something more complicated? Would they have found a way to express all of the wordless emotions that kept them bound so tightly? He didn't know. Ash's imagination stumbled when he tried to think of kissing Eiji, of sleeping with him.
There was no way to know because that path was broken. Eiji was broken.
Broken.
"Oh god," Ash whispered. His headache throbbed with renewed agony, and he brought his hands up to press the pain in. Through his fingers he looked down at Eiji's motionless face. There was no color there – barely any life. It would take months for him to recover from a wound that serious. In some ways, he might never recover at all. Ash remembered the graceful twist of his body as he vaulted over that alley wall all those months ago. Eiji would never do something like that again. "Look what I've done to you," he breathed in self-loathing.
Even before the tears came, heavy sobs racked his body. Ash welcomed the shooting pains that came both from his head and his bandaged side. He deserved this. All the pain he'd felt his whole life could barely compensate for Eiji's. "Blanca was right," he moaned to himself, the firm support of the wall the only thing that kept him on his feet. "I should've known…"
And he had known, once. He'd tried a few times to send Eiji away. And each time it backfired he'd blamed it on Eiji's stubborn nature, ignoring the fact that he was the one who always caved, the one who never stood firm and forced the boy to leave.
Now there was no choice – not for him or for Eiji. He was going back to Japan as soon as he was strong enough. Ibé would make sure of that. And even if Ash wanted to stop it, he couldn't. He had things to do. His gang. Max. They were all depending on him being strong and focused. He'd let Eiji down – the only penance left was to make sure he saved everyone else.
But he wasn't standing in that hospital room to think about any that. Not with Eiji right in front of him. He opened his blurry eyes and looked down at his best friend. He made up his mind. "I'm sorry," he started, tasting salt from the tears that streamed over his cheeks. "I can't stay beside you anymore." His whisper was barely audible even in the still room. "I'm bad luck for you. For anyone – but you especially. I won't let you get hurt again because of me."
He remembered that night after Shorter died, the things Eiji promised in such an easy voice. In the morning it had seemed almost ridiculous that he'd clung to Eiji like that and extracted such a vow, but Eiji always took it seriously. Until that moment, Ash hadn't realized how much he'd been counting on it. "I'm releasing you from your promise," he said, choking. "Please don't come back to New York to find me."
The clock on the wall thwocked loudly, recording another minute passing. Only two minutes 'til midnight. The cops would be arriving soon. Ash reached out to touch Eiji, but his shaking fingers stopped, still inches away from his friend's smooth face. It hurt too much.
"Sayonara, Eiji," he said, remembering what Eiji had told him about goodbyes in Japan. This one meant goodbye forever.
His shoulders hunched as he turned toward the door. He could barely breathe. Ash stepped into the bright hallway; it took all of his willpower not to turn around, to scoop Eiji up in his arms and steal him away. But that would mean abandoning Max and Bones and everyone else. It would mean running forever, always hiding out. And Eiji might not even survive it. He needed to be in the hospital, safe from Ash's dangerous lifestyle and clumsy attempts at medicine.
"…Ash."
The voice was weak, but unmistakable. Ash turned, incredulous.
He was really there, clinging to the doorframe because he barely had the strength to stand on his own. Barefoot and wearing a pale hospital gown, he looked tiny and worn out. "Eiji!" Ash gasped, too stunned to move.
His friend winced. The effort of staying on his feet had already left a sheen of sweat over his skin. "Ash," he began again, his voice a bit stronger. "Ash, wait!"
Panic broke the spell. Suddenly, Ash could move again. He dived toward his friend. "D-don't, Eiji!" he cried, imagining torn stitches and hemorrhaging. "Get back in bed!"
A heavy voice cried out from down the hallway. Over Eiji's shoulders, Ash saw two familiar figures hurrying around the corner. Fuck. He knew he had to run, but knew just as certainly that he wasn't going anywhere until he saw Eiji safely back into that bed.
"Ash," Eiji was asking, focused and seemingly unaware of the impending intrusion. "Where are you going?" His whole face was open and desperate – he looked terrified at the thought of being separated again.
Bracing one hand against the wall, he took two staggering steps toward Ash. One hand flew to his wound, and his face screwed up in agony. Ash stopped worrying about Charlie and Ibé, about going to jail. He even stopped caring about what happened to Max and the others in Mannerheim's laboratory.
Eiji's legs gave out. He slumped against the wall.
"Eiji!" Ash ran.
His friend looked up, his face still twisted in pain and desperation. "Ash," he called in a small voice. He reached out a trembling hand.
And suddenly Ash's whole universe focused on those thin, shaking fingers. The whole rest of the world disappeared, and all Ash gave a damn about was the boy on the floor with blood seeping slowly through his hospital gown. Being strong and saying goodbye seemed like the foolish actions of a previous life – remote and completely unimportant now. All that mattered was Eiji, and once he reached his side, even the devil himself would be hard pressed to make him budge.
"Ei-chan!" Ibé's desperate bellow cut through everything. Ash saw the recognition cross Eiji's face, turning instantly into panic.
Suddenly that reaching hand was pushing him away.
"Go, Ash! Go, or they catch you!" His voice was still weak, his yell having barely the power of a teasing scold.
Ash ignored it. "Eiji!" he cried again, hoping to bring his friend to his senses. It didn't matter if they caught him. Nothing like that mattered anymore.
Tears burst from Eiji's eyes – not from pain or frustration, but from understanding the situation. He got it an instant before Ash did. If Ash was captured here, it was all over – they would never have the chance to be together again. "Hurry!" he pushed in a slightly louder voice.
Ash gaped at him, still unwilling to move.
The wounded boy sucked in a breath, barely wincing at the extreme pain it must've caused. "Go!" he barked, louder than any order he'd ever issued.
For the first time in his life, Ash simply obeyed. Although it went against every impulse in his body, Ash had no choice but to do as Eiji wished. He turned on his heel and ran.
He was almost to the stairs when he heard Eiji's pain-filled protest. He wanted to turn around but couldn't. Eiji had hurt himself – maybe very gravely – to ensure that Ash could get away. No matter how unworthy he was, Ash had no choice but to treasure his gift.
He didn't stop running until he was in the car. He slumped into the seat, his whole body throbbing with pain as Blanca threw the car into gear and tore out of the parking lot. Ash didn't even notice he was crying until much later, after Blanca had seen to his wounds and told him to sleep.
Ash curled into the grass, not even registering the balmy night and his vigilant caretaker. His thoughts lingered on Eiji, and he slowly realized that he'd been right the first time. He couldn't ever see him again. "Sayonara, Eiji," he whispered to himself, still sniffing on his tears. "Sayonara."