A/N: Sorry everyone, but this one was written in Japan, on a Japanese computer. All of the apostrophes are colons because I could not find the apostrophe key. Also, if there are any other formatting or random puncuational errors, please forgive me but please let me know so I can fix them later when I return to America. Thank you!

Hearts

Ironically, when Dearka realized he was in love, it had been Yzak:s heart that skipped a beat.

Or two. Or three or four.

Dearka hurried to catch the elevator, a worried frown replacing his usual half-mocking smile. An older lady in scrubs smiled at him, or rather she smiled at the large boquet in the young man:s hand. She patted his arm in that familiar way old people you don:t know tend to do.

"I:m sure everything:ll be just fine." The elevator made a ding! And the nurse got offo n the 3rd floor.

Alone in the elevator, Dearka had the sudden feeling that the nondescript but slightly bouncy classical music was not only out of place, but downright oppressive. The 8th floor did not come soon enough.

Dearka gripped the flowers and tried to take deep breaths as he walked down the white hallway. His footsteps echoed.

Room 812, Dearka reminded himself, his heart beginning to pound. Show some courage, he berated inwardly. Imagine what Yzak:s going through right now.

Dearka:s heart gave a painful squeeze and he carefully rejected the idea to go to the 3rd floor to find that nurse.

His ZAFT boots stopped their clicking, and Deraka:s hand raised to the door. Should he knock?

Deciding that it would be worse if he woke the newly-elected Defense Chairman of PLANT, Dearka let himself in quietly.

Yzak was lying in bed, propped up by pillows, reading the day:s newspaper. Without looking up, he started speaking in his newly-perfected authorative chairman voice.

"I:m supposed to be able to rest, and in my book that means no media." His tone had acertain crispness to it, and for some reason that confident, almost-angry note lifted Dearka:s spirits.

"In that case, sir," Dearka began cheekily. Yzak:s head shot up, and his perfect, straight hair swung around his face.

"Dearka! Why d--" didn:t you say so earlier, the sentence was supposed to say. Instead, it transformed into "Why d-do you have flowers?" Yzak looked puzzled.

"They:re for you of course," Dearka explained, setting them by the bedside table. He pulled a chair closer and sat on it.

Concern spread across his features. "Yzak, I just heard...so I came as quickly as possible." Dearka restrained the urge to take his friend:s hand a hold it tightly. He did this by sitting on his hands.

Fortunately, Yzak wasn:t paying attention to his friend:s strange behavior. His eyes had rolled to the ceiling. "Of course, that:s not counting the stop at the florist:s," he commented dryly.

Dearka winced. "They said you were in good condition..."

"Yeah, well, they lied." The former ZAFT commander said it bluntly, taking Dearka by surprise.

Dearka had the sudden and strange sensation of falling into a very deep and dark pit. Backwards. His eyes searched Yzak:s face for meaning. Yzak wasn:t okay?

Yzak glanced over, his blue yes hard. "Anyone who:s a coordinator and only twenty-two is not in good condition if their heart fails for no particular reason."

Yzak slumped back into the hospital bed, his head creasing the starchy pillow. Yzak:s blue, blue eyes were looking upward, as if he were determined not to look elsewhere.

"But..." Dearka began timidly, "how do you feel right now?"

"Oh, fine," came the reply. The confident and almost-angry was replaced by a note of bitterness that Dearka had only heard on few and tragic occasions. Once when Yzak learned he had destroyed a shuttle of civilians, and the second time when Yzak had learned the fate of his mother after the first Bloody Valentine War.

"Fine if you call sitting in a bed all day healthy. Fine if you call not know if you:ll be able to do your job peachy. Yeah, I:m just fine if fine is probably having to give up everything I:ve worked for just because some geneticist screwed up 20 years ago!" Yzak:s fists were clenching to white sheets as if the sheets, not abnormal heart rhythms, were holding him back. "Damnit," he swore quietly, but vehemently, breathing hard.

A machine made a loud and annoying beep. Yzak continued staring up at the ceiling, gritting his teeth, and silence reigned in the small, sterile room.

Suddenly the door burst open and four people in white coats entered and rushed around Yzak:s bed. Dearka stood as a man stepping in front of him to check the dilation of Yzak:s pupils. Another moved the blankets down to put her hand on Yzak:s chest. Dearka expected Yzak to loudly tell them all to piss off, he had been in the middle of a conversation, but Yzak had closed his eyes and was only breathing loudly through his nose.

A different nurse addressed Dearka as she walked around the bed with Yzak:s limp but conscious form."I:m sorry sir, but we:re going to have to ask you to leave now. What the Chairman needs right now is some rest," she explained calmly, shooing Dearka out the door quietly.

As the door closed, he could hear the doctors and nurses speaking quietly amongst themselves.

But not a single word from Yzak.

Don:t forget to look at the next chapter! And review! Thanks!