Written from four different viewpoints, watch for changes. Not all

characters get equal time.

P

Thanks for everyone that answered my macabre questions, especially my Evil

Twin MnM. Without her, I couldn't have written a great deal of this. I

couldn't have made myself write a great deal of this.

P

I researched for this as best I could, but if I get a few details wrong on a

medical standpoint, again, please forgive me. It's a hard thing for me to

find a balance between dramatic license and medical fact. In most cases, I

tried to choose medical fact over dramatics.

P

This was an extremely difficult story for me to write. Hopefully, it's worth

it.

P

"Hand fits giving so do itbr

That's what the Gospel said to mebr

Life fits living so let your judgements gobr

That's how our future should be..."br

(~Excerpt from "Sky Fits Heaven" by Madonna)

P

centerb~In Sickness and In Health~/b/center

P

[Trowa]

P

/It's over./

P

The words echoed in my mind like the ringing of bells or the sweet strains

of Quatre's violin.

P

/It's over./

P

The war was over. I didn't have to kill any more. I didn't have to hurt any

more.

P

/It's over!!/

P

Perhaps, I didn't have to hurt myself any more. Perhaps, I would have the

chance to heal, to cleanse some of the stains from my soul. With Quatre. He

had promised, in his own way, to help me. I wasn't certain if I could bring

myself to allow him to do so...but I would try. For him, I would try. For

myself, I would try.

P

We all landed at the same airfield. In the distance, there were cars coming

toward us, presumably filled with military personnel and government

officials, or perhaps reporters. I didn't really care; I intended to be

safely out of sight before they arrived. For at least a few minutes,

however, we had the airfield to ourselves.

P

Duo was the first one out of his Gundam. I could hear him yelling as I

jumped to the ground, letting out joyful whoops that neared hysteria. A

small smile slipped out to tug at my lips. Heero and Wufei dropped down to

the concrete runway shortly after. As I walked toward them, Duo pounced on

Wufei, since he was the nearest to him. Wufei shouted, but he made no effort

to escape Duo's enthusiastic embrace. As soon as Heero approached the two of

them, Duo released the Chinese pilot and tackled his lover, taking them both

to the ground. My smile widened.

P

"Trowa!" Wufei yelled, "It's over!"

P

"Yes," I said. "It's over." I glanced toward Sandrock. The hatch was open,

but Quatre still hadn't come out. Duo untangled himself from Heero and

grabbed my hands, spinning me around and around.

P

"Tro! Man! It's OVER! OVER!!!" He sang out. Then he was gone, once more

tackling Heero, who had just begun to stand up.

P

I looked at Sandrock again. The Maganacs would probably be arriving soon, to

whirl us off to a celebration. The war was over.

P

Quatre was still in his Gundam.

P

I walked away from the other three pilots, then broke into a jog as I saw

Quatre appear in the hatchway. He seemed to be having a problem; he was

clinging to one of then handles by the hatch, and he was carrying himself

strangely. I stopped when I was nearly underneath him. "Quatre?" I called.

P

"Hold on a second..."his voice sounded odd.

P

"Are you all right?" I asked, beginning to feel alarmed.

P

He relaxed his grip on the handle and began to lower himself toward the

ground. "I'm okay. Don't worry."

P

I nodded despite the fact that I knew he couldn't see me, not feeling

reassured. He climbed down the side of his Gundam, instead of jumping down

like he normally did. When he was about halfway down to the ground, he

paused for a moment, and his hand slipped, and he fell.

P

I had been half expecting something like that. I caught him with no

difficulty. "Quatre! Where are you hurt?" I asked. His face was pale, the

skin drawn tight against his delicate bones.

P

He shook his head. "I'm not hurt." he said. "I just...I...have a

headache...I must have gotten dizzy. I'm sorry..." he smiled at me and

closed his eyes for a moment. "You always save me." he murmured.

P

My worry drained away. We had been pushing ourselves ruthlessly for unending

months, and Quatre was no exception. Perhaps now that the war was over, he

had relaxed enough to allow himself to feel tired. "It's over." I said,

smiling.

P

"Yes." The word was a sigh of happiness. "Um...Trowa, you can put me down."

P

I nodded and set him on his feet. Immediately, he stumbled, and I grabbed

his arms. "Quatre?"

P

He was still smiling. "It's over." he said. His pale face contorted in a

grimace of pain and he coughed just once, then took in a deep breath. As if

that had been a signal, he began to cough again, and this time he didn't

stop.

P

I went cold. My hands were soon all that were keeping him upright, and I

quickly lowered us both to the ground. I held him against me and felt his

forehead; he didn't have a fever.

P

Quatre's eyes were wide and frightened. I was frightened, as well. I

couldn't begin to think what to do...I couldn't THINK at all. I pulled my

hand away from his forehead as he managed to pull in a deep breath, and then

coughed, very thickly. Something wet spattered on my hand...

P

There was blood on my hand. I yelled for help as loudly as I could.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Duo]

P

Twenty steps from the front of the teeny tiny hospital room to the back.

Turn around, rinse and repeat. And again. And again.

P

I could feel Quatre's eyes on me as he watched from the hospital bed. We'd

taken turns staying with him once the doctors got done with the barrage of

tests they put him through. We were still waiting for the results. Trowa had

finally succumbed to sleep deprivation, and I'd bundled him into a cab and

sent him home. He hadn't wanted to go. Quatre coughing up blood had really

made him wig out. I'd have to say I didn't blame him. It had scared the piss

out of me, and I hadn't been the one holding him.

P

I stopped and glared at the wall, willing it to move. It didn't. I went back

to pacing.

P

"Duo..." Quatre said, his voice tired.

P

"Yeah?" Turn around, repeat. I'd managed to sit still in the chair by

Quatre's bed for a grand total of seven minutes before I couldn't stand it

any longer. I hate not having anything to do. Not that pacing was a lot

better, but at least I was moving.

P

"You don't have to wait around...I'm fine..."

P

I knew I was driving Quatre nuts, but I couldn't help it. Damnit, I was

worried! "You know, Quatre, I bet you'd say you were fine even if you were

trapped under a fallen building and trying to saw off your own leg." *That*

made him think for a minute.

P

"Probably." He finally agreed.

P

"I'm not going anywhere until a doctor-type comes by and tells me that

you're going to be fine." I said. "You really scared the shit out of all of

us."

P

"Sorry. It wasn't as if I was trying to."

P

I grinned at him. "Aw, admit it, Quatre. You were just trying to get out of

having to get your picture taken with five billion politicians."

P

He smiled back at me. It was nice to see him smile, but he was still too

pale.

P

Someone knocked on the door. I let them in--it was the doctor, and he was

carrying a thick manila file folder. His smile was a little too cheerful, a

little too professional. The room was suddenly very cold.

P

"Ah, Mr. Winner...I was hoping that you'd still be up." the doctor said. "I

need to talk to you about the results of your blood test." his eyes flicked

toward me.

P

Quatre saw. "Duo is one of the other pilots." he said, smiling at the

doctor. "I asked that one of them be allowed to stay with me all night if

they wanted. Anything you have to say to me, he can hear."

P

The doctor nodded and sat down at the foot of Quatre's bed. I immediately

sat down as well, on the stupid, hard wood chair that was by the bed. It was

impossible to get comfortable on. I hate having a bony butt.

P

"Mr. Winner, may I call you Quatre?" the doctor waited until Quatre nodded

before continuing, "I have the report on the blood tests we ran on you

earlier." he paused as if to collect his thoughts. "The results are

abnormal."

P

A shock ran down my spine. Quatre didn't get a chance to say anything,

because I jumped right in. "Abnormal as in how?" I demanded.

P

The doctor shot me an unreadable look. "The white blood cell count is much

too high. Nearly thirty times higher than it should be."

P

My stomach clenched, and I mentally hissed at it to stop that. I know squat

about medical tests. I had no reason to be worried. Really. Doctors come and

talk to their patients personally all the time. Shit. "What does that mean,

exactly?" I asked.

P

"We can't be certain without more tests." the doctor said. "We'll need to do

some more blood work tomorrow, and perhaps a biopsy."

P

I looked at Quatre's pale face, and was suddenly very, very afraid.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Trowa]

P

I lay and bed and stared at the ceiling, just as I'd been doing since Duo

had shoved me into a taxi and sent me back to the hotel. I should sleep, I

knew, but I couldn't. I was too afraid. My stomach was churning, murmuring

acidly at me. I couldn't help but remember, over and over, how light Quatre

had felt in my arms. Too light, now that I began to think about it. He'd

never felt that frail before, when he'd embraced me. I couldn't help but

think about how he had been shaken by the coughs that he couldn't stop.

P

My hand clenched itself into a fist as I continued to stare silently at the

ceiling. When we'd gotten to the hospital and Quatre had been rushed off for

a battery of tests and medication, I'd calmly gone to the bathroom and

washed my hand, scrubbing it until all the blood was gone.

P

It was still there, though, I could feel it.

P

I wasn't going to get any sleep.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Duo]

P

My turn for Quatre watch again. I'd volunteered for the shift after Wufei's

this time. When I got in, Wufei was clearing up the remains of a game of

Xiangqi[1]. Quatre smiled brightly at me. We talked for a long time, about

stuff I don't even remember any more. The war, mostly. What we would do now

that it was over. Quatre said that he wanted to devote himself to his

father's companies. I asked him if he was planning to save some time for

Trowa. That got a nice blush out of him.

P

It was probably right about midnight when the doctor came back. He sat down

on Quatre's bed. He wasn't smiling.

P

Shit.

P

"Quatre, I just received the results of the tests we ran early today." he

said without preamble. "Do you want to hear them now?"

P

Quatre nodded. I reached out and touched his shoulder.

P

"There's no right or easy way to go about saying this, Quatre, and I think

you'd like to hear everything straight and unadorned, correct?"

P

Quatre nodded again, his face taking on an expression of detached calm.

P

"The biopsy confirmed our original fears. It's leukemia." the doctor licked

his lips nervously. "Lymphoblastic, acute, very late stage."

P

Quatre made a very small, distressed noise, and I looked down. My hand had a

white-knuckle grip on his shoulder. Through an act of sheer will power, I

loosened my grip. I'd heard of leukemia before. Cancer. Fuck.

P

Dimly, I heard Quatre ask, "How late?"

P

"Very. You should have been exhibiting symptoms for at least the past

month." the doctor said. "If you'd come in before now..."

P

"There wasn't time." Quatre said, as if he'd been expecting to hear that. I

looked at him sharply. He'd been feeling sick for the past month, and he

hadn't even told anyone. Suddenly, I was very, very angry, though I wasn't

sure at what or who. Quatre kept speaking, like it didn't matter. "How

long?"

P

"Wait a minute!" I yelled. "What the hell do you mean, how long? Are you

planning to die or something? Don't be stupid." I looked at the doctor.

"Tell him to stop being so stupid, doc. Doc?" The doctor only shook his

head.

P

"I'm sorry." he said. "We'll still try chemotherapy, to see if we can force

the disease into remission...if we can, then there is the possibility of a

bone marrow transplant, and we can hope that the cancer hasn't metastasized

[2]. But if it doesn't work..." he didn't finish the thought. He didn't have

to.

P

"How long?" Quatre asked again. He sounded calm. Way too calm. "Please just

tell me."

P

"Three weeks, perhaps." the doctor sighed. "I'm sorry, Quatre."

P

It was too late. Too fucking late. I wanted to scream.

P

"We'll begin chemo tomorrow, Quatre." the doctor said. He stood and patted

Quatre on the head like he was some kind of kid that didn't know what was

going on. "I'll see you in the morning." I decided that I hated the doctor.

He'd said that Quatre was going to die.

P

Going to die. I repeated the words in my mind. They sounded like a foreign

language.

P

By the time I had myself sorted out, the doctor was gone and Quatre was

staring blankly at the ceiling. I made myself grin at him. "Eh, well, you

know doctors, they're pessimists. You're going to get better."

P

Quatre blinked and looked at me. "Of course." he said. "Duo, what's Trowa

going to do?"

P

"I don't know." I said, "but Trowa's a big boy. He can take care of himself

on this one, I bet. You just concentrate on yourself."

P

Quatre turned away from me so that he was lying on his side. "I'm tired,

Duo. Would you mind letting me sleep?"

P

His flimsy hospital gown had slipped over one shoulder. There was a large,

ugly bruise there now, where I had grabbed him. I stood. "You're going to be

ok, Quatre."

P

"Good night, Duo."

P

"Yeah, yeah, good night. One of us'll be here in the morning." then I was

out of the room. The door clicked shut behind me as I headed for the

hospital doors. I could feel my grin still fixed on my face. It felt stiff

and unnatural.

P

Quatre was going to die.

P

I could hear myself panting, like I'd been running a marathon or something.

I stumbled diagonally across the darkened hallway until I hit one of its

sterile white walls, and I leaned against it, my breath coming faster and

faster. I was making little panicked whimpering sounds. It wasn't real. It

wasn't real. It wasn't real...

P

The next moment, I was on my knees on the cold tile floor, throwing up my

breakfast, lunch and dinner. When I was done, I wiped my mouth on the back

of my trembling hand.

P

"Oh Jesus, kid, are you ok?" Someone grabbed my arms and pulled me up, away

from the vomit splattered across the floor. He was wearing a white lab coat.

P

I lost it. "NO!" I screamed. "I'm not ok!" I hit him, but my hands were

shaking so badly that there wasn't any force behind the blow. He looked

stunned. "NOTHING is ok! It's never going to be ok! NEVER!" With each word,

I hit him again, more weakly each time. "It's not fucking ok!"

P

I couldn't cry.

P

That was ok, though, because boys don't cry, do they.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Trowa]

P

Quatre smiled up at me from the hospital bed. The sheets were fresh, very

clean and white. Quatre looked lost in them, washed out, smothered. I

offered him a small smile in return as I reached out and gently took his

hand. There were still bruises on his arms from when I had caught him, and a

new one that Duo had caused. The slightest pressure on his skin would cause

an ugly purple welt, marring his perfection. I didn't want to risk it. I

didn't want to hurt him.

P

When had he gotten to be so thin? He'd never been large, I knew, but he'd

also never been quite so delicate, like a thinly spun glass sculpture. He

was fading. I could think of no other word for it. Every day, he was a

little more ethereal, as if the only reason he remained solid was through

sheer strength of will.

P

His smile never faded, though. I knew that he remained cheerful for us, and

for himself. Wufei, perhaps, would have shouted and cursed; Duo would have

become even more manic; Heero, I think, would have borne it stoically like I

would. Only Quatre could remain this cheerful when facing an end. Only

Quatre was that strong.

P

There was a bulge in the flimsy hospital gown, near his heart. They'd

implanted a catheter there, so they could more easily administer the

chemicals that they were treating him with. I couldn't make myself look at

it; it was too personal. Cancer had already invaded him; now the doctors

were following suit.

P

My life was slowly becoming one large, empty ache, all of my feelings and

strength, and my self being slowly sapped away by something that I could not

even begin to name. I could tell by the way the others looked at me that

they could feel the pull of the black hole that was building itself inside

of me.

P

We no longer talked during my visits. Neither of us had anything left to

say. Most of the time, Quatre was asleep, anyway. He was on a great deal of

pain medication; the cancer had begun to spread to his lungs and his bones.

I would watch him sleep and hold his hand, not letting go until one of the

others came and chased me away, telling me that I should sleep.

P

But I would never let go.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Duo]

P

I don't know what the other guys are made of. They took it so fucking

calmly. Wufei and Heero said nothing after I had told them the estimate of

three weeks. Trowa hadn't said anything to begin with. He'd just gotten up

when it was done, and gone and made dinner.

P

A dinner that none of us ate, now that I think about it.

P

I wanted to scream, and yell, and find something to kill. It was too

ridiculous. The war was over. We didn't have to die any more. And then there

was Quatre, dying in the hospital, and Trowa got up and went into the

kitchen to make us all ramen. It was too fucking ridiculous.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Heero]

P

"How are you feeling?" I asked Quatre as soon as Wufei had left the room.

They'd been playing XiangQi again.

P

"I've felt better." Quatre said.

P

I nodded. I was the only one that would ask him how he was feeling, any

more. Perhaps the others were afraid of how he would answer. I suppose I

should have felt honored that he answered me honestly. Instead, I felt

nothing at all. Soldiers have no feelings.

P

If I told myself that enough, I would believe it. I was becoming my mantra.

P

I sat down on the wooden chair by his bed. Quatre turned his head so that he

could see me. There were a few blonde strands scattered over the white

pillowcase and the blanket; he was beginning to lose his hair. "How are the

others doing?" he asked quietly.

P

"As well as can be expected." I said. "Duo is becoming obsessive." I was

more worried than I admitted. He rarely came back to the hotel any more,

instead sleeping at the hospital or disappearing for extended periods of

time without telling us what he was doing. "Trowa and Wufei are handling

themselves fairly well so far."

P

Quatre nodded. "I'm sorry, Heero."

P

"For what?"

P

He closed his eyes. "I'm not smiling for you."

P

"Save them for Trowa and Duo...and Wufei. They're the ones that need to see

it." I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms over my chest. "We're both

soldiers, Quatre."

P

"The others are, too."

P

"Aa." I shrugged. "Maybe you and I understand death the best."

P

Quatre laughed softly. "I should hope you do. You're the one sleeping with

him."

P

"Idiot." I snorted.

P

He grinned for a minute before he sobered. "Do you think you could talk to

Duo for me? I'd do it myself, but..."

P

"Talk to him about what?"

P

Quatre shrugged. "Just talk. He's going to explode."

P

I sighed. "If I can pin that idiot down long enough, I'll try."

P

There was a long silence, and for a moment, I thought that Quatre had at

last fallen asleep, overwhelmed by the pain medication. "What's it like?"

P

"What?"

P

"Having someone that's completely in love with you?"

P

I raised my eyebrows. We were treading on ground that we had never touched

in our previous conversations. "You should know too." I finally said.

P

"Should I?" he sounded bemused.

P

"You have Trowa."

P

"True." he sighed. "I don't want to leave him."

P

"None of us want you to leave."

P

"I guess I don't have much of a choice, though, do I."

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Wufei]

P

I was surprised that Quatre hadn't tired of playing XiangQi yet. That was

all we did when it was my turn to watch him. We laughed and chattered while

we played, certainly, but it was meaningless. Quatre was always smiling. He

was facing the end with strength that I would have never given him credit

for; I was finding, however, that I hadn't really known him before. It was

only now that I was becoming acquainted with Quatre as a person.

P

That only made it harder. I willed myself to be strong and to not care, or

to face the impending loss with the same strength that Quatre was showing. I

couldn't care; I'd already lost too much. I didn't want to lose another.

P

Quatre was the strongest, I was coming to realize. He was more controlled

than any of us, with the sole exception of Yuy...and I was beginning to see

cracks in Yuy's mask; the day before, he had gone out walking in the rain,

and had not come back for several hours. He was disturbed and upset, even if

he did not want to admit it to himself.

P

I would be strong like him, I decided, and not burden anyone else with

whatever I might feel. I wouldn't feel grief, though, I had already told

myself that. We were soldiers, and death was a part of life.

P

Even if the death was an injustice. The war was over; why did we continue to

die? I kept asking myself that question, as irrational as it sounded. We

were born already dying. But this...this slow wasting away...it wasn't

death, was it? It was torture.

P

Quatre and I tied; we were both distracted, I suppose. Shortly afterwards,

he fell asleep. A tiny, restless movement of his head sent something

skittering out from underneath his pillow; it hit the floor with a hollow,

plastic click. I bent to retrieve it. It was an orange bottle of pills.

P

Curiously, I read the label. My hand clenched around it so tightly that I

could hear the plastic creaking.

P

Paxil. [3]

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Duo]

P

I wandered in to the hotel suite we were all sharing. Quatre's sisters had

been nice enough to get it for us; it was the closest place to the hospital

that we could find. I hadn't been back in a while, though. I'd been spending

my nights on a couch in one of the waiting rooms, breathing in the

disgusting antiseptic smell. When I wasn't sleeping or wandering aimlessly

while the others took their turns, I sat and talked to him for hours and

hours like I was trying to cram what should have been the next forty or

fifty years of friendship into a couple of weeks. I couldn't take it any

more. I had to get away, for just a little while, or I'd go insane, and then

I would be even more useless than I already was.

P

I found Wufei practicing Shao Lin forms in the room he'd claimed. He'd

pushed all the furniture over to one wall and was slowly parading around the

room, working on his punches. I leaned in the doorway and watched him for a

minute. It was something normal. I needed to forget for just a couple

minutes. Then I could go back to the hospital and start again.

P

Wufei continued along the wall, then turned ninety degrees at the corner.

Punch, punch, block, step. Block, punch, punch, step. It was comforting. I'd

watched him do it for over a year now.

P

Block, step, punch, block, pause...

P

That wasn't right. He never did that...

P

Wufei suddenly turned, and his fist went streaking toward the wall. There

was a loud crunch...and then he was just standing there, with his arm

through the paint covered sheet rock. He was covered with white dust.

P

Slowly, he turned back to look at me as if he'd just noticed my presence,

pulling his fist out of the wall. He walked toward me.

P

I took a step back, and then another. The look in his eyes...scary. Fucked

up. Freaky. A thousand words couldn't describe it. He brushed past me,

leaving smears of white dust across my shirt and pants.

P

"I must not know my own strength." was all he said.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Wufei]

P

It was raining outside. I walked along, uncaring as it mixed with the gypsum

dust that still coated my hair and my hands, turning it into a thin grey

slime.

P

I had to get away before I broke more than a wall.

P

It took a long time, walking in the pouring rain, before I found a place

that was suitable. There were trees, and I could see playground equipment in

the distance; a slide, swings, a merry-go-round. There were no children,

though, no one at all. It was too cool and wet for anyone to be outside.

P

Finally, I allowed my control to slip, just a little, and I threw back my

head and screamed.

P

/No justice!/

P

/The war was over! Why did we have to keep dying?/

P

/Why?/

P

/Why is there no justice?/

P

I screamed and screamed my empty words out into the empty wind until I could

be strong again.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Trowa]

P

I sat down on Quatre's bed and cradled his hand in mine. He was awake, and

though he was smiling, his mouth was pinched. His joints were swollen very

badly today; not even the narcotic painkillers the hospital was giving him

could defeat his pain. Two days ago, he hadn't been able to stand; he

couldn't walk any longer, and was forced to depend on others to take care of

even his most base needs. It had to grate on his nerves, even if he wasn't

showing it. His hand was thin in mine, much to thin. The doctors had told me

that he now weighed less than thirty kilograms[4]. If I held him too

tightly, his bones might snap under the pressure.

P

"Trowa," he said quietly. His voice was the only thing that hadn't been

partially destroyed by the cancer. It was still as sweet as it had always

been...but now, I thought I could detect a faint thickness in it, the sound

of lungs that were beginning to strain.

P

"Yes?" I looked at him. His hair was beginning to fall out in large patches,

baby fine blonde strands littering the pillow and his shoulders. It was

painful to see; I could clearly remember how only a short time ago, he had

been the most beautiful person I had ever seen, not just for his looks, but

for his vitality.

P

"I love you," Quatre said.

P

I looked back up, fighting for control, fighting to keep from being angry or

crying. I wanted to tell him that I loved him as well. I couldn't. I

just...couldn't. Quatre didn't seem to be expecting an answer. He just

smiled.

P

He was beautiful.

P

Was I to lose who I was again? I'd only just found him, and I was still

hiding.

P

I bent over him and kissed him, very gently, on the lips, never letting go

of his hand.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Duo]

P

"Morning, Quatre!" I sang out with my best brand of false cheer as I bounded

into his room. He opened his eyes and smiled at me.



"Good morning, Duo," he said.

P

Someone had put a vase of flowers on the tiny table by his bed. "Nice," I

commented.

P

Quatre laughed. "Heero brought them in."

P

That gave me a moment's pause. I plopped down in the chair by Quatre's bed

and looked over at him...and froze. All of his hair was gone. There weren't

even any fallen strands on his pillow. Someone had swept them away. His skin

was tight against the bones of his face and head; his cheeks had sunken

enough that he was starting to look like a skeleton.

P

No. I couldn't think of Quatre like that.

P

"The rest of it fell out this morning," he said when he noticed me staring.

P

I had to joke. I had to. It was joke or cry. "Isn't your head cold now?"

P

He laughed. "Yes. A little."

P

I pulled my black baseball hat off. It had made it through the war intact,

somehow, but it had been soaked, squashed, smashed, crumpled, and battered

enough that it was softer than jeans that have gotten washed thirty or forty

times, and completely shapeless. I gently settled it on Quatre's head.

"There ya go," I said.

P

He laughed, again. "Great, now everyone's going to think I'm a

troublemaker."

P

I put a hand over my heart dramatically. "Stricken to the core! Quatre,

you're MEAN!"

P

He laughed. "I must be getting better, then, if I'm feeling good enough to

be mean," he closed his eyes.

P

Suddenly, I knew. I don't know how, but it finally struck home. He wasn't

ever going to get better. I was going to run out of laughter soon. Oh God, I

had to get out of there.

P

Jesus...how could I start thinking about things like that?

P

Quatre was dying.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Trowa]

P

Quatre was asleep. I sat down on his bed and gently took his hand, as

always. Duo's ridiculous black hat was settled firmly on his head, and I

smiled despite myself.

P

"Quatre," I whispered, "I wish..."

P

I closed my eyes. It was too painful to say out loud.

P

/I wish for just a little while, you could hold me, and tell me that you're

going to be alright./

P

/Even if it is a lie./

P

/I wish.../

P

/I wish I could give you half of my life./

P

/I wish half of my worthless years would be yours, so you would at least

have a chance to live.../

P

/...with me.../

P

It hurt too much. It was a stupid, cruel little game I played with myself,

that wishing.

P

I sat there, for the rest of the night, and simply watched him sleep.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Duo]

P

It was pouring rain when I ran from the hospital. I didn't stop to think. I

just went out into it, without even my coat, and ran and ran, like I was

going to escape the image of skeletal Quatre in the hospital bed.

P

I couldn't do it any more. I couldn't smile.

P

I couldn't smile!

P

/He's going to die./

P

/And there's nothing anyone can do./

P

/He's going to die, is dying right now, as I'm running through the rain ,

thinking these worthless things to myself, trying to make myself feel

better./

P

/I don't have a right to be sad. Do I even really know him?/

P

/Am I crying for his sake? Or for mine? Or for Trowa's? Or for his sisters'?

Or the Maganacs'? Or for all the people that are never going to know him?/

P

/Sister Helen might say that it's just God calling him home. FUCK GOD! He's

a selfish, uncaring bastard to deprive us of him! To deprive HIM of

everything in life that he should have had!/

P

/He'll never be angry again. He'll never be happy again. He'll never see the

sunset or the stars or get to home base with Trowa. We'll never get to take

him out on his first legal bar crawl when he's twenty-one. He'll never eat

cake on my birthday. He'll never know what it's like to grow old with

someone he loves./

P

/How can he die?/

P

/How can he die???/

P

/HE NEVER HAD A CHANCE TO LIVE!!/

P

I ran until it was dark, and my braid was dragging my head down, completely

soaked through with water. Then I ran more, trying to find an escape,

something.

P

I don't know how I managed to find my way back to the hotel. Pure homing

instinct, I guess. The guests shied out of my way as I half staggered

through the lobby, toward the elevators. A bellhop tried to stop me. I guess

he thought I was a vagrant or something. I shoved my card key in his face,

stumbled into the elevator, and flipped him off as the doors closed.

P

Fuck them ALL!

P

I stood in the elevator, shivering and dripping water all over the floor.

When it reached the penthouse suite level, I staggered drunkenly out, and

right into Heero's arms. He caught me more out of reflex than anything else,

and held me tightly when I tried to push him away.

P

I couldn't do this. Not any more.

P

All the strength left my body and I sagged in his arms.

P

Boys don't cry!

P

I was crying.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Heero]

P

I didn't need to ask what was wrong. I held Duo tightly. He was shivering

like he was going to break apart, nearly hysterical sobs tearing themselves

from his throat. The baka was dripping water from every possible surface;

he'd obviously been out in the rain for a long time. He was so caught up in

his emotions that he didn't notice when I carried him into the bathroom and

dried him off, or when I put him in bed, then crawled in with him. He clung

to me like a lifeline; I held him so tightly that I was surprised he didn't

complain about not being able to breathe.

P

In a deep, secret part of myself, I felt relief so profound that it almost

brought tears to my eyes, that I wasn't losing Duo.

P

And for the first time in a long time, I felt ashamed.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Trowa]

P

It was Duo's turn at the hospital; he hadn't gone for the last two days. I

wished that I could thank him, and tell him how hard I knew that it must be

for him, but I couldn't speak. I couldn't speak if I wanted to stay in

control.

P

Quatre's weight had fallen to twenty-four kilograms [5]. He had begun

vomiting profusely yesterday, and the doctors had finally admitted defeat

and stopped treatment. The chemotherapy wasn't going to help him; nothing

could stop the cancer. All that was left was to make him comfortable until

the end, they said.

P

I let my eyes slide over to the phone. They would call, they said, when it

was time.

P

The thoughts weren't productive. I let my breath out slowly and returned my

attention to the task at hand. My sleeves were rolled up as far as they

could go; I was up to my elbows in soapy water. I had cooked yet another

meal that no one had eaten, and now I had to clean it up. I could have let

the hotel staff do it, but I had decided firmly against it. The suite had a

kitchen, and I would make good use of it. Menial, mind-numbing tasks,

however useless, were what I needed. I needed not to think. I needed to stay

in control.

P

There was a sharp pain, and I pulled my hand out of the water. Blood was

running freely from one of my fingers. Cautiously, I reached back into the

sink and retrieved the plate that I had been scrubbing. It was the next to

last; the rest of the hotel's dishes were already neatly stacked in the

drainer.

P

The plate's surface was marred where a chip had been knocked out of it.

Unusual.

P

Blood made thin and runny with water slid down across the white surface of

the plate. I watched it for a long moment before, very deliberately, I threw

the plate at the floor and watched it shatter, scattering pieces of white

porcelain across the tiles.

P

I reached for another plate.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Wufei]

P

I paused in the middle of the form I was doing, idly licking sweat from my

upper lip. I needed this. I needed to concentrate on my body and think of

nothing else. Then I could be strong.

P

I cocked my head to one side, listening. Something had interrupted my

exercises, bringing me out of the half trance I had put myself in.

P

There it was again, the sound of something shattering. I walked quickly from

the spare room and toward the main suite. I sped my pace and headed for the

kitchen as the sound of more agonized smashing bled down the hall. Right

before I reached the kitchen, Heero intercepted me, his gun in his hand and

primed. I nodded to him and we ducked into the doorway.

P

The room was destroyed. Almost nothing was left on the counters, and broken

dishes and glasses littered the floor. In the midst of the wreckage stood

Trowa. He was breathing heavily, his eyes so wide that the whites were

visible all the way around. As we watched in shock, he grabbed a bowl from

the counter and flung it against the wall. The shards showered down on him,

one cutting his forehead open. Blood began to run thickly down his face.

P

"WHY?" he screamed, throwing another plate. "It's OVER! We don't have to die

any more!" he grabbed the kitchen table and overturned it, crushing a chair

under its bulk. "WHY?" he screamed again, grabbing another chair. He looked

in our direction wildly. I don't think he could even see us. With another

scream, he threw the chair.

P

That act pulled us out of our shock as Heero and I both ducked. I ran

forward, dodging another chair, and grabbed Trowa's arms. The taller boy

continued to scream, dragging me across the floor as he struggled. "Trowa!

Stop it!" I yelled. It did no good. He couldn't hear me. "Heero!"

P

He was instantly on the other side of Trowa, grabbing his other arm more

securely. Between the two of us, we held him in one place while he raged.

P

This wasn't Trowa. It couldn't be.

P

"Trowa!" I yelled again. Heero drew back his free hand, having long since

dropped his gun, and slapped Trowa as hard as he could.

P

Trowa's eyes widened for a moment, the sanity returning to them, and he

simply collapsed to his knees, pulling us down until we were kneeling on the

pile of sharp dish shards. There was blood everywhere...on the floor, on his

hands, running down his face and mixing with the tears that were flowing

from his eyes. He covered his face with his hands and sobbed, still held

between Heero and I.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Heero]

P

I shook my head and closed the first aide kit back up. Between the two of

us, Wufei and I had gotten Trowa into his bed, bandaged him, and forced

tranquilizers into him. He was asleep now.

P

Wufei was leaning on the wall outside of Trowa's room. He nodded to me as I

came out. "Sleeping?"

P

"Aa."

P

Wufei nodded again. "Someone needs to clean up the kitchen," he said

quietly.

P

"Aa."

P

"We can't ask the hotel staff to do it."

P

"Aa."

P

We found buckets in a janitor's closet on the next floor down. The broken

dishes were too sharp to put in bags.

P

Once again, we were kneeling in the middle of the wreckage. My knees stung;

when Trowa had pulled us down, I must have sliced them open. It was a small

pain, something I could ignore.

P

/Pick up the shard. Put it in the bucket. Pick up another, careful of the

sharp edge. A tiny pain; nicked myself anyway. /

P

/My hands are trembling. Why are they trembling?/

P

/Pick up the broken glass.../

P

/Why are my hands shaking?/

P

/Ignore it; pick up another shard.../

P

/They're still shaking! Why?/

P

/Drop the glass in the bucket. It shatters./

P

/My arms are trembling now. They won't stop. Why? What's happening?/

P

I stared at my hands with fascination. They were shaking, harder and harder.

The tremors were moving up my arms, into my shoulders. I could feel my legs

trembling as well.

P

"Heero?" Wufei paused in the middle of picking up a set of broken tumblers.

"Heero? Are you all right?"

P

"Aa." My voice sounded...afraid? What? I continued to look down at my hands.

There were tiny cuts all over my fingers, and blood was pooling in my palms.

Droplets of it began to spatter down on the floor.

P

/Why are my hands shaking?/

P

Wufei cursed, and suddenly, he was across the floor and his arms were around

my waist. I buried my head against his shoulder. I couldn't stop shaking.

Why?

P

"Wufei?" I asked. My voice sounded strange...

P

"It's okay, Heero..." he said. He was shaking too.

P

My eyes burned and stung. It felt strange. The fabric of Wufei's tank top

was getting damp under my cheek. "It's okay..." he said again. Water

droplets...tears? were falling hotly on my shoulder.

P

/Why?/

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Trowa]

P

I stared up at the ceiling, my mind still fuzzy with the tranquilizers. I

couldn't understand it; why was I still feeling? The emptiness should have

eaten everything away.

P

I didn't want to feel.

P

My eyes burned, and I closed them. Why was I still doing this to myself? Why

couldn't I accept the inevitable in this situation like I had every time

before?

P

/I wish.../

P

Quatre was dying. There were no more wishes.

P

A dim sound jangled across my nerves, shredding away what was left of the

drug-induced lassitude. The phone. There was a pause, and then the door of

my dark room opened, letting in a tiny shaft of light.

P

"Trowa," Heero said.

P

"Yes."

P

"That was Duo. He says it's time."

P

I closed my eyes tightly for a moment and fought for control. "I know."

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Duo]

P

The rest of the guys arrived about ten minutes after I called them. Heero

and Wufei were looking as calm as always. Trowa, though, was pale...and he

had a bandage stuck on his forehead. I didn't ask. I didn't care.

P

We arranged ourselves around Quatre's bed. The only sound in the room was

his breath bubbling and rattling. No one's supposed to sound like that when

they breathe. The doctors had told me that the cancer had almost completely

eaten away his lungs now, and he'd caught pneumonia somewhere along the line

because his white blood cells were defective. Quatre's sisters had decided

not to put him on a respirator. They'd already said their good-byes...it

wouldn't be right to keep him any longer.

P

I wasn't even sure if he could really see us, at first. His eyes were open

wide as he struggled to breathe. He wanted to live.

P

Trowa gently lifted Quatre's almost skeletal body into his arms, and I took

Quatre's hand. I could see every bone, feel how brittle they were under his

too hot, papery skin.

P

Outside, I could hear someone crying out as if they were in agony; Rasid. I

could hear the dull murmur of people praying; the Maganacs. As if some

miracle would suddenly occur, and Quatre would be well again.

P

/Oh please God, give us a miracle./

P

/I'll never doubt you again./

P

/Please God, give us a miracle.../

P

I was making soft choking sounds, trying to keep back the tears that wanted

to leak from my eyes. Damnit. Quatre's fingers curled ever so slightly

around mine. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to live...but there was

so much pain.

P

Trowa murmured something very softly to Quatre.

P

Quatre whispered back. He said, "Yes...it's beautiful. But..."

P

/Oh God, Oh God, please give us a miracle...Please...I'm begging...I've

never begged before./

P

Trowa murmured again, and Quatre shut his eyes tightly, his face twisted

into a rictus of pain. His breath came harder, more unsteady with each

passing minute.

P

Then suddenly, he smiled, and didn't breathe again. His hand was now loose

in mine, boneless.

P

"No..." I said. "Damnit, Quatre, what are you playing at. You can't leave

us!" I tugged at his hand. I knew...I knew he couldn't hear

me...but...maybe...maybe...I tugged at his hand again. "You can't leave us.

Damnit man, this isn't funny. Stop it." I could hear my voice rising until I

was screaming hoarsely. "No! Damnit, stop playing! Stop it, Quatre! No! You

can't just leave like this! It's not supposed to happen this way! The

hero's...supposed..." I was breathing heavily now. My stomach hurt. My eyes

hurt. I hurt. "...supposed to...supposed to...ride of into the

fucking...sunset! DAMNIT!" I closed my eyes so tightly that brightly colored

sparks began to dance in my non-existent vision.

P

"DAMNIT!" I screamed again, still holding his hand. It was growing cold. I

let go of it suddenly. I didn't want to touch it. No. No. No. No....

P

I jerked away from the...shell...that used to be Quatre and threw myself

willingly into the black, screaming darkness where I wouldn't have to feel

any more.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Wufei]

P

"DAMNIT!" Duo screamed. He slid from his perch on Quatre's bed, falling down

into the space between the bed and the wall. His knees came up to his chest

and he curled up into a fetal ball, rocking slowly back and forth, clutching

his braid in his hands and crying like he would never stop. I glanced at

Heero, who stood at the foot of Quatre's bed. He was staring at nothing, his

eyes wide. Abruptly, he turned away and walked over to the window, legs

stiff.

P

For a moment, I wanted to yell at him, berate him for leaving Duo. For

leaving us.

P

But Duo wasn't the only one feeling pain.

P

I had to be strong. I had to show the same strength that Quatre had. He'd

only made a sound in pain once. My eyes were burning, my throat was closed

up so tightly that I knew I wouldn't have been able to speak even if I had

wanted to.

P

My XiangQi set was still under his bed, I knew. I would have to pick it up

when it was time to leave. We weren't going to ever play again. My cheeks

were damp.

P

We'd only just said hello a few short weeks before. It was wrong to be

parting ways already.

P

Slowly, I leaned forward and touched Quatre's limp hand. The thin, delicate

skin was cold under my fingertips.

P

He'd faced the end well.

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Heero]

P

/Soldiers have no feelings./

P

I turned away and walked toward the window, unable to watch any longer as

Duo began to scream at Quatre. It was weak of me. Very weak.

P

/My hands are shaking again./

P

/Why?/

P

/My stomach hurts./

P

/Why?/

P

I stopped in front of the room's only window. I could see the other in dim

reflection; Trowa, still holding Quatre's corpse, unmoving. Duo, falling off

the bed and curling up in the corner. Wufei, reaching forward to touch

Quatre's hand.

P

I could hear Duo wailing, softly, like a lost child. I wanted to go over to

him, and hold him tightly, reassure myself that he was still real, still

alive.

P

I couldn't.

P

/Soldiers have no feelings./

P

My hands were clutching the windowsill so hard that it creaked. My knuckles

were white. Deliberately, I turned my gaze out, to what was beyond the

window. There were clouds in the sky, but for the first time in

days, it wasn't going to rain in the afternoon. There were acres of green

grass outside the window, neatly trimmed, and trees that were just now in

full leaf. I could see people walking, or sitting outside in wheelchairs to

enjoy the watery sunlight.

P

Duo was still crying.

P

I glanced down at my hands, still clutching the windowsill, and watched as

hot droplets of water shattered on my knuckles.

P

/I feel sick./

P

centerb* * */b/center

P

[Trowa]

P

I could feel Quatre struggling in my arms, fighting to breathe, fighting to

live. We both knew that it was a useless reflex of the dying; he couldn't

win.

P

We couldn't win.

P

I wished that I could breathe for him, that if I held him tightly enough,

we'd melt into one and he could be whole and strong again. I would never let

go.

P

It hurt too much. I was too empty. Always empty. "Quatre," I murmured softly

into his ear, "can you see the end?"

P

His eyes widened, and he took in a choking breath. "Yes," he whispered. His

voice was weak. It hurt to hear. "It's beautiful. But..."

P

/I wish.../

P

I closed my eyes tightly against the pain, pressing my cheek against his.

"Let go, Quatre." I whispered to him. "Just let go."

P

I held him tightly as he shook and struggled, until I felt his face move,

and he smiled, then was still.

P

I held him until there was nothing left.

P



P

centerb* * */b/center

P







[1] Metastasis--when cancer spreads to other parts of the body, forming

"satellite" tumors.

P

[2] XiangQi is what is known as "Chinese Chess" a two-player game that's

very difficult and involves even more strategy, planning, and sheer

brainpower than regular chess, in my opinion.

P

[3] Paxil is a very powerful antidepressant

P

[4] Quatre's normal weight is about 90 lbs, for anyone that can't imagine

the metric system. 30 kilograms is about 66 lbs.

P

[5] 24 kilograms is about 53 lbs.