A/N: So I know I should be working on No Return (which is nearing 70 pages at this point. Another week or so, I think), but my life's been derailed lately. This is me, channeling my angst through Red and Purple. (I need to write a fluffy piece for these two. All I ever do is make them suffer)
Terminal
Red choked mid-sentence, coughing hard a few times, which prompted his co-leader to instinctively reach for the bucket that had found a home on the bedside table and hold it out for his counterpart. Red grasped the sides with shaking limbs as he retched in between wet, hacking coughs that wracked his fragile frame. Purple helped him keep the bucket steady while using one hand to rub comforting circles on the other's back until Red had thoroughly finished vomiting. He called for a servant to replace the bucket while he grabbed a fresh cloth and wiped away any evidence left on the other's face.
"This is so humiliating." Red growled. "I can clean up after myself, you know."
"You're welcome."
Red shook his head and sighed angrily, though it came out as a wheeze. "I just feel so useless."
"You're not useless."
"I'm dying, Pur, I'm not delusional." He said, "Not yet, anyway." He muttered.
"Don't give up now. The doctors think the new treatment is really going to help."
"I'm sure it will. Until this fucking disease mutates again and becomes resistant."
"By then, they'll have something better,"
"So I can do it all over again? You know I'm getting worse. None of the treatments are nearly as effective as they used to be."
"That doesn't mean you should stop trying."
"How many years have you been taking care of me? This started with a few headaches and now can't walk or keep down solid fucking food! I sleep most of the time, and you sit there, cleaning up after me every goddamn day! You're wasting your life watching me die!"
"Would you rather I left you alone?"
"Yes."
"Tough shit."
"Excuse me?!"
"I said: Tough. Shit. I'm staying."
"So you can carry me to the bathroom and clean my vomit. Hell of a life you've got."
"It could be worse."
"And how's that?"
"I could have you not in it at all."
Red stared at the familiar sheets. "I don't deserve you."
"If that was true, I wouldn't be here."
"God," Red cried, "I fucking hate you sometimes."
"I love you."
"That's why."
Purple carefully laid down beside his partner, mindful of the wires and hoses connected to his pale, thin body. Red sobbed against the other until his eyes closed and he fell asleep.
Purple was not an idiot. He'd watched Red throughout the duration of his illness and tried to remain hopeful, even though he knew that his counterpart was living on borrowed time. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Red to something so stupid. The man had been a soldier. There was a time when not a thing in the universe could stand a chance against him, and it seemed cruel that his own body would be what finally defeated him in the end. It had finally reached his spine a few months ago, and cost his co-leader the use of his legs.
Too stubborn to accept it and find a way to cope, Red tried for a long while to defy the damage the virus had done and ended up face-down on the floor every time. He tried on a few occasions to drag himself out of bed and across the short distance to the bathroom when Purple used to give him time alone. It was painful for him to watch someone he'd admired for his strength and determination lose hope so completely. Red had at first faced this disease with the same headstrong and resilient attitude with which Purple had watched him face everything. Seeing his partner succumb to the struggle that rendered him an invalid broke his heart.
It was true that Purple spent his days and nights at the other's bedside. He'd formed a small executive body to act in the absence of himself and Red. They reported to the Tallest daily, though by now, it was done through the exchange of documents. He still had to occasionally make decisions, but he handled those over the phone. His personal attachment to his co-leader was never explicitly stated and despite the blatant indications, as far as Irk was concerned, the more obvious something inappropriate was, the greater the length everyone would go to in order to ignore it. He'd also taken great care in selecting the servants that tended to them directly. He found that those among the lowest ranks in the Irken class system were the most sympathetic, most reasonable, and most helpful. They respected the privacy of their leaders, despite the questionable relationship between them.
It wasn't easy, seeing a sick, fragile man where his lover used to be. He could barely keep himself from crying when he held Red close, feeling his dangerously thin form in his arms.
Days went by, weeks, months … time became a blur as Purple watched Red growing weaker. He counted minutes in milligrams and measured seconds in cubic centimeters. The intermittent beeping of the heart monitor had become something of a lullaby. He remembered how it drove him crazy when they'd first begun monitoring his partner's life signs, but it had evolved into something of a comfort by now.
He still tended to his partner, all day, every day. When things were good, Red would still sometimes try and protest, or tell him to take a walk… to just take some time to care for himself, but Purple wouldn't hear it. Red was no longer capable of movement below his neck, though he would sometimes tell Purple about the "ghost pains" he had every now and again. Red was not pleased with his situation, and he was still easily frustrated, but after he'd lost his arms to the ascending paralysis, he had basically accepted the way things were. He once likened himself to a brain in a vat, and they'd discussed existence and identity in depth (Red had taken up reading as a hobby, as there wasn't much else to do, and having Purple read to him gave them both something else to focus on and talk about). They had finished the list of "100 Books in the Universe You Should Read Before You Die", and then continued to pursue areas that interested them.
Lately, though, Red was only semi-lucid at best. Purple considered it a very good day if the ailing Irken even recognized him. He couldn't say that the pain in his heart lessened every time it happened, but Purple never blamed him. The doctors had all but given up. They would discover it, whatever it was, once the autopsy was completed. All that was left was to wait for the sick Irken to pass.
Red had been mostly conscious all day, which was a surprising change from the past… hell if he knew, anymore.
"Are you all right?" Red asked.
Purple looked at him with an interested expression, "I think I'm supposed to ask you that question."
"It's easy to lie here and be the one who's sick. It's difficult to be the one who's surviving. I… I really want you to know how much I appreciate you."
Purple smoothed his partner's antennas, "I'm still here, aren't I?"
Red looked at him seriously, "…I don't have much longer."
The violet-eyed Irken sighed, "I know, Baby. Doctors say another week. Maybe two, at most."
Red managed a slight shake of his head in disagreement. "I can feel it in my bones, Pur. I can't explain, it's strange, but I… I just know."
Purple just nodded, not trusting his voice for a moment. "Is there anything you'd like me to do?"
"Just three things, if you wouldn't mind."
"I read through Heidegger for you. There aren't too many things more difficult than that. Well, except cracking the Qwarkkian Paradigm."
Red gave a small, weak, but genuine laugh. "They're not complicated." Red assured.
"Then by all means, ask."
"I was hoping I could kiss you."
Purple looked at his bedridden counterpart with soft eyes, "You can always kiss me." He said, leaning in to meet his partner's lips. He was surprised at how much intensity Red was able to put into the gesture, but grateful nonetheless. For months, it had been nothing but quick, glancing kisses Red was rarely able to reciprocate, or more recently, it was Purple cautiously pressing his lips lightly to his partner's forehead. It felt like ages since they had touched like this, since either of them had really experienced that spark of raw, unadulterated passion. Purple could only think to liken the fluttering sensation in his stomach and the spinning of his head to what he'd felt the very first time they'd kissed. It flashed through his memory in perfect detail, and he felt happiness forcing him to smile against Red's lips. Their first kiss, first real date, first fight, first make-up, first "I love you", first time, first anniversary… he felt just as much for Red now as he ever had. He didn't know if he was crying or not, but he didn't care.
"…You've made me so happy." Purple said, once it had become necessary to break apart for air.
Red smiled. He'd shed a few tears of his own, but Purple quickly wiped them away.
The violet-clad Irken sighed and collected himself. "Two other things, you said?"
"Yeah. Go into the closet we never use. There's a safe in the corner. Your name's the password. Open it, and you'll find a wrapped box. Don't open the box until you've brought it back here first."
Purple was confused and somewhat reluctant, but Red urged him on with an almost excited expression, so he did as his co-leader asked. He found the box Red described, about 12"on all sides and maybe 6" deep. It was beautifully wrapped, so he immediately knew it his partner had not been responsible for the wrapping. He shut the door behind him and to Red's satisfaction, emerged with the specified item. He sat so he could see his partner, with the box laid out in front of him.
"It's for you." Red explained, "Open it."
Purple was severely confused, but carefully opened the gift (the wrapping too beautiful to just tear up and throw away… plus, it was the last present Red would be able to give him and he wanted a something to remember it by). Inside the box, from under some layers of aesthetic tissue paper, Purple lifted what at first glance seemed like a very ancient kind of picture catalog. Red nodded for him to continue and turn to the first page. There was a journal page adhered to the inside cover opposite a collage that consumed the entire picture-screen.
It's Red… incase you didn't know, or I forgot to tell you about this thing and Luci had to give it to you. She's the caretaker I always ask for - little doll of a woman – enormous forearms. I think she wants to smack me for that… anyway. You got called away for a while yesterday (you've fallen asleep in your chair again, I swear, you make the most ridiculous faces in your sleep) and you sent her in to watch me. Long story short, I wanted to do something for you, but I haven't got many options at this point. The social interaction of the lower class is really different than it is at our level. Luci says it's a power thing. She's got people she calls a "family"… they're basically a group of Irkens who really care about each other. One of her "family" members taught her about this… using photo-screens in these books, to remember important stuff in people's lives. Everyone in her "family" makes them, and she tells me it's pleasant to do, and it's a nice way to remember someone once they're gone.
I thought, if I could give you anything, I'd like to give you me.
Purple slowly went through each page, taking all of it in. It was obvious Luci had helped Red a great deal (in the aesthetic department), but Red maintained that he selected and arranged the pictures. Images he hadn't known were taken stared back at him; the two of them laughing together, smiling, one photo in particular of a kiss that appeared to have been taken within the last three years.
"Where'd you get that one?"
"The Blackmail Box downstairs in the OFF LIMITS wing."
"Since when is there a Blackmail Box?"
"Oh, it's always been there. That's what Luci says."
"So, what, the government tracks down damaging paparazzi photos and makes a deal?"
"Basically."
"Good to know."
"I found a lot of interesting pictures. But they weren't exactly appropriate for this sort of project."
Purple blanched. "Please tell me you're kidding."
Red just grinned wider.
The other shook his head and returned to the book. Red had written him notes at various points, eventually, his handwriting changed and Purple assumed that was when Luci took over. "When did you have time to do all this?"
"Most of the end was more Luci than me," he confessed, "but… occasionally, Luci would slip a sleeping pill in your coffee."
"What?!"
"You needed to rest, too, you know. You really started to wear yourself thin. I worried. Luci didn't want to, but I asked her. And I had to get this thing finished. It was important to me."
Purple shook his head. "I'm happy you did. Thank you so much."
Red smiled. "You're welcome." He yawned, "Just one last thing."
"Whatever you want."
"Please stay with me. I'm not scared to die… I never was. I'm scared of being without you."
Purple curled against his partner, draping an arm across his chest and pulling him close, "Me too."
"It'll be all right, though."
Purple laughed bitterly.
"I won't be in pain. I haven't left this room is so long, Pur… I haven't seen real light in a year, maybe more. For so long, I've done nothing but wait in the darkness. Soon, I'll finally get to sleep in the light. And I'll miss you every second we're apart, but someday, I'll see you again."
"What about me?" He asked, his voice shaking with tears, "What am I supposed to do when you're not here anymore?"
"Sweetheart, I've always been here."
"…Please don't leave me."
"Do you remember that Earth television series Zim sent to us? About the space station?"
Purple nodded. "Babylon 5, wasn't it?"
"That's it. You remember that line I liked?"
"Which one?"
Red sighed, calling to mind the exact line he was fishing for, "Something like… 'I believe that when we leave a place a part of it goes with us and part of us remains. Go anywhere in these halls, when it is quiet and just listen. After a while you will hear the echoes of all of our conversations, every thought and word we've exchanged. Long after we are gone, our voices will linger in these walls for as long as this place remains. But I will admit that the part of me that going will very much miss the part of you that is staying'. You'll always have some part of me with you."
Purple cried and Red whispered sympathetically, lacking the physical ability to do much else. Night gave yielded to the day and life went on uninterrupted. Purple had held Red, like he promised, and though they didn't exchange words while most of the ship was asleep, they remained awake and comfortable, finding a strange sort of ease in each other's silence.
"How are you this morning?"
Red looked worse than Purple had ever seen him.
He put a hand to his partner's face and Red just sighed tiredly and savored the feeling of the other Irken's skin. "I love you so much, Red. Don't ever forget that."
"I love you, too." He managed in a thin, cracking voice.
"Shh… rest now."
Red tried to protest, but Purple stole his response with a chaste, loving kiss. "Sleep, love. I'll see you again in the place where no shadows fall."
Red smiled contentedly, nuzzling into the hand against his face. "Goodnight." He said, "I love you." He sighed and closed his eyes.
Purple held him, resting his head on the other's chest. He listened to the steady beat of the heart monitor and the rhythmic flow of his partner's labored breathing. In and out, in and out, in and out… and nothing.
A strange sort of peace washed over the other Irken in that moment as he lay there calmly. He was not numb, detached or even shocked… just at rest. Red had held on for him, in spite of his own physical pain, he waited as long as he could – until he was sure that Purple was ready to let him go. He would still mourn for his lover, there was no question about that. He would grieve and he knew he had many dark days ahead. But at the end of them, somewhere, he knew Red would be waiting for him in the light.
Allusions, References, and Notes
Allusions/Refrences
Red calling Luci a "little doll of a woman… enormous forearms" is from the Psych episode, "Ghosts"
The brain in a vat theory is the hallmark of Descartes
Blatant Babylon 5 references at the end: I have always been here, the place where no shadows fall, the entire G'Kar quote (that always makes me cry), and sleeping in light
Notes
Heidegger and I have a special relationship. I took a class with a professor who thought it'd be a good idea to teach a Heidegger to group of second-year philosophy students. My brain exploded. Several times.
I thought it'd be neat to have a scrapbook with those digital screens (especially for a high-tech society), and I've always had a soft spot for scrapbooks. The mental image of Red trying to assemble one while ill was too heartbreaking not to use.
I don't know why I named the caretaker Luci. In my head, she's a spunky, motherly-type woman (I'm probably think of my friend's mother)
I'm terrible at gift-wrap. Therefore, so is Red.
Red was intentionally dosed with an experimental biochemical weapon at a "treaty negotiation" in neutral space. There is no way you could know this, but yeah. That's how it happened.
It's not contagious because the virus needs to mimic and manipulate the host's DNA, it's like a super-vaccine, only instead of making the host's body immune to a new virus, it renders the host immune to the treatment. And, you know, I needed it this way for the story.
A/N: Life is so fragile, so fleeting. You can see it coming for a year and it's never any easier in the end. I guess I just needed a way to get everything out. It's been quite a catharsis; I think I'm through half a box of tissues. I lost someone in my family last week, and I'd like to dedicate this to them. I love you, and we'll meet again in the place where no shadows fall.
Feel free to offer critique. I always appreciate it.
