"Mea Culpa" (latin – "my fault")
by Haeli J
Angst, slight shounen-ai (4+3) This is my first fic I've actually finished and been happy with… Catherine might be a little bit of a bitch in this one, but personally, I don't blame her. Er… enjoy!
I've never cared much for hospitals.
I'm not quite sure why. Maybe because every time I'm in one either I or someone close to me is near death. But then, who else goes to hospitals, other than doctors that is, if everything is perfectly fine?
I take a deep breath, trying to gather my nerves as I push through the double glass doors that read "ICU Waiting Room" in large white letters. If that characteristic smell of hospital was present before, it's nothing compared to in Intensive Care. Sterile, filtered air combined with medicines and plastic…enough to make my already jittery stomach turn.
A middle-aged woman is fast asleep on the couch, her head pillowed on her husband's lap. He looks up at me with weary, empty eyes - these two have obviously been waiting here a long time, waiting for a miracle to save whoever is in the next room. Kind of like me.
The nurse walks over to me. Who am I here to visit? I tell her the name, my voice shaking slightly as I speak it. Am I his kin? …No, I answer truthfully. Just a very close friend. Close enough to be family.
She's sorry, but I'll have to get special permission to visit him. That's a load of crap if I've ever heard one. If she was really sorry she'd notice the broken, empty look in my eyes and let me in to see him.
A door opens and two familiar people emerge – his sister and their sort of surrogate-father, the ringmaster. Catherine's tear-filled eyes meet mine and she crosses the room to meet me-
SLAP. I stagger back slightly under the force of her blow. I fully expected this, though not sure of the reason beforehand – either because it's all my fault for taking him away, or because it took me this long to gather the courage to come up here to visit him.
It's the former argument, the one I most feared. How dare I show my face after what I've done, she says. If he hadn't left with me, If I hadn't stolen him away, he'd never be in this position. Never would have been on the battlefield in the first place, never would have gotten hurt. Fresh tears fall from her reddened eyes onto her already tear-stained cheeks.
My eyes burn, but they have no more tears to cry. I ran out hours ago. Damn it, Catherine… none of this is news to me. Don't you think I know this is all my fault?… You don't even know what I do, that all of what he did out there was to keep me safe…
What's the matter? She demands. What's wrong, you damned heartless coward, don't you even hear about a word I'm saying? Don't you even care that this is all your fault?!
I look up to meet her eyes with mine for the first time since she struck me. This last comment has most definitely struck a nerve – I feel that terrible anger building, that frightening rage I had hoped never to feel again. I manage to suppress it – no matter what she says, I will not hurt her.
"Catherine," I say in a quavering voice barely above a whisper, "I care… so much more than you can possibly understand…" A painful knot rises in my throat and I feel suddenly nauseous. I sink into the nearest chair, my legs no longer able to support me.
She stares at me, not moving, only watching to see what I will do next. I look up, but I can't meet her eyes any more – it's too painful. I ask her quietly to leave me alone, please. She stands for a moment until the ringmaster says something to her and leads her out of the room.
The nurse is watching me, as are the man and his wife, who was probably awakened by our commotion. I can feel their eyes on me. I lower my face into my shaky hands. I still have no tears to cry.
Time passes – I'm not sure how long – the woman falls asleep again, as does her husband this time. The nurse goes into one of the rooms to check on a patient.
I could go in there, it occurs to me. Nobody would know. Until she went into his room, the nurse would not know – she'd probably think I just broke down and left. The opportunity is perfect…
And yet I can't do it. Why? Why did I come this far, if I can't go in there? …What's wrong with me?…
Maybe I'm realizing that Catherine was right all along. I'm no good for him, all I do is get him hurt. All because, for some reason I can't fathom, he returns my love for him. He loves me, and how do I repay him? By getting him killed.
Allah forgive me. Trowa, forgive me. I'm no good to you any more.