Take Me to the Zoo
Rating: K+
Warnings: Character death
Summary: Yami Atemu was a doctor that walked into something in his life. That something was Yugi, a small child...with only hours left to live.
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! And to tell you the truth, I don't want to own it, with the exception of Yami. But even with him, I'm almost content to just ogle from afar.
Author's Notes: I was in the mood for fluff, so I wanted to write something. For some reason I came up with this. :sighs: I guess that the only thing that I can write is angst, which sucks because I'm not that depressed of a person (or at least I hope).
Yami Atemu was a doctor, a good one. He had saved so many lives and helped so many people, and even when he couldn't, when that one person was incurable to all, it never seemed to phase him when they died. No one close to him had ever lost their lives; he was lucky that way. He didn't know what it truly meant for someone's soul to drift into darkness.
It was late…or maybe it was early; the doctor didn't know. That night was a long one, but not necessarily on his front. A couple of rooms over contained two victims of a car accident. It was bad. They were most likely dead before they even entered the hospital. His colleague that was supposed to be tending to them was devastated over the death of these two people.
Yami could only blink and stare as his coworker tried to hold back tears. She was young, inexperienced. That was the only reason the man could concoct as to why she was so crushed; then again, he was only a few years older.
Yami's shift was finally over, and the young adult was walking towards the elevator, his white jacket already slung over his shoulder. He was tired, and ready to just go home and crash to the soft vocals of HIM or some other American group; crimson eyes started to slide closed a little at just the mere thought.
A door that the doctor was passing opened and one of his superiors walked out, frowning deeply. Yami could hear something behind the door; he thought that it was someone crying. They sounded young, "His parents are dead." The man said.
Yami blinked; this, sadly, was really nothing new to him. Bowing his head a little in respect he apologized to his elder, then looked up to find him sighing sadly, "And his stats are dropping, too. He only has a few hours, if that."
Another blink; crimson eyes looked nervous. Yami had never felt this way before.
"I couldn't tell him," The man continued, looking almost desperate to get out his story, "I couldn't tell him anything other than he couldn't see them. He doesn't even know…"
Yami finally spoke up a little, his head putting two and two together, "Are his parents the victims of the most recent car crash?"
A nod.
"Does he remember?"
No response.
There was a long silence before Yami's colleague shifted his weight and started to walk away, closing the door softly behind him, "Go home Mr. Atemu; it's been a long night."
Only a couple of minutes ago, Yami Atemu was eager to do just that. But now he felt like he couldn't. There was a child in there about to die, and he didn't even know it. He didn't know that his parents were dead, or that he'd never get to see his friends again. He didn't know that there would never be another sunny day for him, or an ice cream while walking through the park.
For some reason, this tugged at Yami's heart strings more than anything ever had before. Without even realizing it, his foot took a step forward and he was bringing forward his keys to unlock the heavy door; his lab coat fell to the floor with a shuffle. He was not a doctor tonight.
The room was the same as any other in that hospital; white walls, white bed, silver machines. That was it. There was no personality, no warmth. Only the smell of antiseptic and something that the doctor had come to know as sickness.
Over the light sound of the respirator and other whirring machines Yami heard a soft song; the child who was sitting up slightly in the bed was crying. He knew that something was wrong, even though no one was going to tell him. This child was going to lose his life confused and alone. He'd never get to rest. Never.
Taking a seat beside the boy, Yami peered closely into the other's pale face, doing his best to ignore the tubes through his nostrils to help his small lungs function. He looked to be about six or seven, yet was small enough to be around five; white skin was marred by burn marks that looked to be cleaned and disinfected, but not covered, and the rest was covered by a thin line of sweat. Or maybe it was tears.
"Shh," Yami found himself saying, brushing soft blond bangs out of the other's round face, "Don't cry."
And then the child looked at him; his eyes were large and violet, but the spark that was supposed to be there was fading fast. Soon there was going to be nothing left.
He sniffed, "Mommy and Daddy were gonna take me on vacation," He said in a small voice, "We were going to see the zoo." A distinct tear, illuminated by the dim overhead lights fell from his lid. He winced at the salt that slid over a burn.
"Your Mommy and Daddy can't take you too the zoo, I'm sorry," Yami said. He knew now why his superior didn't want to say anything to him; the child was cute and innocent. No one wanted be the bearer of such terrible news.
But he still had to know.
"The man in the white coat won't let me see Mommy and Daddy," He said, "I don't know where they are."
The doctor lifted his own pale finger and caught the next tear that was about to fall from violet eyes; the child did not flinch, "What is your name?" He asked clearly.
The fatal question, What is your name. A doctor should never ask a question like that to a dying patient. Things got so much more personal after that. Yet the words slipped from the man's mouth as if he said them every day. He didn't regret it at all.
"Yugi." He said, then paused, blinking those beautiful irises, "Where are my Mommy and Daddy?"
Another question; Yami did not want to answer the other's, "Do you remember what happened before you woke up here?"
A slight shake of the head followed, and crimson eyes got another look in them that had never seemed to surface before then: fear.
"You were in a car accident, Yugi," Yami started, "Your Mommy and Daddy didn't make it. That's why you can't see them."
Yugi didn't understand; he was just too little. For some reason, though, tears still ran down his face; he was in pain. "My tummy hurts," He whispered, curling a little and placing a tiny bandaged hand on his stomach, "I don't feel good."
Yami didn't know why he did it, but hearing this small boy speak of his pain caused another to shoot through the doctor's heart; he was in the white lined bed next to the boy before either of them knew it. He pulled Yugi into his lap, and pressed his larger hand onto the smaller's slightly, feeling the clamminess in his skin, "Here?"
Yugi nodded; his tricolored hair brushed the other's face slightly, making him ruffle his nose. It was internal damage…it had to be; maybe it was from a seat belt gouging into his organs. Yami didn't know. Deep down…he didn't want to know.
"It's okay," The doctor said, rocking Yugi back and forth a little, "It…it won't hurt for much longer."
A few minutes of silence passed; Yami was sort-of enjoying the feel of Yugi resting on his legs. He felt sort of warm, and…nice. He smelled fresh, which surprised him. Usually everything that stayed in these white rooms turned tainted after a while. Maybe children were different; Yami didn't know.
A sob brought Yami out of his reverie. It came from the smaller, who was now gasping for breath as he cried. It seemed to have finally hit, "Mommy and Daddy…were gonna…to the zoo…I…I…"
Yami pulled the child close and hugged him as tightly as he could without hurting him, "Shh…it's okay. It's okay." It wasn't, and Yugi knew it. He continued to cry, knowing that things were never going to be the same for him. He didn't even know that he wasn't going to live. He didn't even know that none of this would matter to him in only a matter of time.
"Do you want me to tell you about the zoo?" Once again, the words just slipped out of the doctor's mouth; this kept happening, though it had never before. He didn't understand what this child was doing to him. He didn't understand why he was feeling such a hole in his chest, or why his eyes felt so moist.
The effect seemed to be enough to calm Yugi down a little. He sniffed as best he could through the obstruction in his nose, and leant back a little so that he could tilt his head to look into the elder's eyes. The violet looked so dull, "The animals?"
"There are lots of animals," Yami said, smiling a little, though it was only by reflex. He did not feel like smiling, "There are lions and tigers…and there are camels that people rode through Egypt." In reality the man had never been to the zoo, and he didn't know if those camels ever rode through the sands of Egypt.
But the look on Yugi's face…the wonder in his smile and watery eyes…it had to of been worth it, "Egypt? Where's that?"
Yami blinked a little, smiling again despite himself, "All the way across the world. They have a great river called the Nile, and pyramids and towers taller than the tallest buildings."
Yugi smiled again. He had such a beautiful smile, such a beautiful personality. And it would all be gone in such a small margin. This child deserved to live out his life…yet it just was not going to happen. It just was not fair.
But Yami didn't stop talking. He answered every one of Yugi's questions, even if he didn't know the answer. He made Yugi forget about his pains and his problems; he made Yugi forget that he'd never get to see the zoo. With Yugi…Yami traveled the world. They walked through the sands of Egypt, and climbed the Eiffel Tower. Together they walked the Great Plains of America, and scaled the whole Mount Kilimanjaro. They scoured the entire world in a matter of minutes, yet it would not be enough. It would never be enough.
And then they went to the zoo…and talked about lions and tigers and bears until Yugi leant back and closed his eyes, that small smile still on his face, "Do they have monkeys at the zoo, too? Do they eat bananas?" His voice was soft and tired.
His time was almost up.
"Of course they do, Yugi…they eat bananas and climb trees and laugh at the people that walk by. Do you like bananas, Yugi? Would you like to be a monkey?"
But there was no response.
Yami squeezed Yugi's little hand that had somehow found its way into his. Yugi did not gasp, or wiggle…he didn't move at all. Yami kept squeezing, though. His breathing sped up and got louder and he said Yugi's name until it sounded like a scratched record. But nothing.
Yugi was really gone.
The doctor pulled the small boy to his chest so that there was no space between them; he held him and rocked him back and forth, felt the tears that were sliding down his face. Yami had never understood; he had never understood what it meant for someone to lose their life. He had never understood that life wasn't fair, and that people died with no reason, or fault, or fact.
They just did, and Yami had never understood.
Lying Yugi flat on his back and covering his small head with the white sheet that kept his legs warm only moments before, Yami Atemu sniffed and wiped a few of the never-ending tears away from his face. His skin was flushed and most likely a little pink, and his fingers shook with a ferocity that he had never felt before.
He tried not to look back as he opened the heavy door of the hospital room, but he couldn't not do it. It just had to be done. He looked at the outline of the small boy that he had made his friend that night, and sucked in a heavy breath as if to tell himself that he still could. He was too small…too young. Too innocent. Too naïve.
Too beautiful.
Yami Atemu never understood what it meant for someone's soul to drift into darkness. Now he did…And it hurt. It hurt a lot.
But he would never go back. Never again.
He'd never forget the small boy named Yugi. He'd never forget the small boy who's only goal in life…was just to go to the zoo.
And so Yami took him to the zoo.
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