I was cold. So very, very cold. It seemed strange to me, that I could be covered in warm blood yet feel so cold. I had so far avoided looking at my wounds; in spite of the shock that seemed to have settled onto me I knew they were severe. In all probability fatal.
I glanced down briefly, flicking my eyes up and away from the injuries almost as soon as I caught sight of them. It didn't help; the image was burned permanently into my mind. White bone peeked out from under a covering of torn flesh. My left hand almost crushed, a misshapen mass. My shoulder was dislocated, a fierce point of burning that blunted the pain of the other injuries. I was going to die of blood loss long before I felt the worst wounds.
I shifted against the wall I was leaning heavily against. A few pieces of stone gave way, showering me with grit. The wall was damaged beyond hope – the whole area had been blown halfway to hell. I couldn't find the energy to brush the dirt out of my eyes, instead slumping forward so my chin dug my chest. I winced as an inadvertent muscle twitch disturbed my broken leg but the pain dimmed as darkness spread across my vision. I smiled grimly and closed my eyes, waiting to die.
.
"Is he dead?" A familiar voice spoke in the darkness. Its owner sounded surprisingly calm but there was an unmistakable edge of fear.
"I don't know, but if he isn't he will be in a few minutes." Another voice I knew, emotionless. Strange; wasn't I dead then? As the darkness started to recede the pain came back full force. I whimpered softly; no, death wouldn't hurt so much.
"What the – he's alive! Move, people!" the first voice shouted loudly before I suddenly felt someone gripping my bad shoulder. The pain was intense and unexpected. My eyes flew open and I cried out, reaching up automatically to push away the attacker. My hand was caught by yet another person, holding me still as the first set of hands finished their work; putting my shoulder back into place.
Once the joint clicked the pain subsided, dulling into a more manageable ache. Panting, tears standing in my eyes, I looked up at my rescuers. Steady green eyes and blue-grey eyes caught my gaze and held it while firm hands pressed gauze onto the gash in my arm.
"Hold on, Wu Fei," Sally instructed me, worry showing in the tight lines of her face. It was her hands that were attempting to save me, while Trowa handed her supplies as needed and held me still. As Sally looked at her work, Trowa's eyes bored into mine, hard as emeralds, unforgiving. I couldn't tear my gaze away, even as Sally finished staunching the wound and started setting the bones in my leg. It was excruciating but as Trowa's eyes held mine I couldn't even cry out; he seemed to command me to stay quiet and still. Finally Sally stopped touching me and stood up.
"We need to get him to the medical bay," she said hastily, and as Trowa leaned over to pick me up she turned away. "I need better equipment if we're going to pull him out of this one."
Trowa was as careful as he could be but I nearly passed out when he lifted me. My damaged arm swung free despite his care and though my shoulder wasn't dislocated anymore it still burned ferociously. My crushed hand was left hanging pathetically at the end of my arm, wobbling with Trowa's every step. Sally couldn't stand it, seemingly; she rushed over and lifted my arm up gently, folding it carefully onto my torso. I thought I heard her sob once as she handled my crushed hand, but I was focused too hard on staying conscious to comfort her.
Trowa climbed into the back of the 4WD carefully, cradling me against himself as he sat down. He stretched me across the seats and I ended up with my head nestled in his lap. Sally leaped into the front seat and started the engine, looking over her shoulder at me before throwing the car in gear and screeching towards the city.
Trowa put his hand on my forehead. It was very warm and heavy and real. I was tired, so tired, and in agony, but he was comforting me the way he knew how – by simply being there, solid and dependable. I struggled to raise my good arm and reached for his hand before I knew I was doing it, desperate for touch. When he realised what I wanted he took my hand in his free hand, holding it firmly. With him as an anchor I drifted off to uncertain dreams and blessed darkness; he drove away the pain enough for me to sleep.
.
Lights burned above me, sending stabbing pains through my head. I blinked past their harshness, eyes watering, trying to track the blurry shadows that were moving around me. As everything came more into focus I was suddenly aware of noise, machines beeping and people yelling around me. My heart started to beat faster as adrenaline flooded my system and I tried to sit up, tried to get away from the chaos.
"Stay still!" Hands pressed me back to the table. The urgency was clear. I rolled my head to the side and tried to focus on the person standing next to me, but my vision swam and darkness almost overwhelmed me. As I fought my way out of the blackness I felt my wounds again – pain suddenly burned along my arms and my hand. I screamed.
"It's okay Wufei, it's okay!" Another panicked voice. I thrashed against the hands that were pinning me down, desperate to get away, to make it stop hurting. More movement above me, and then suddenly there was an extra set of hands holding my head still. I was somehow looking straight into emerald eyes, half hidden behind brown bangs. The shock made me stop fighting for a brief instant.
"Wufei, you need to stay still," Trowa said quietly, though his voice was shaken. That puzzled me enough that it calmed me, and I regained some small control over myself. The pain beat along my body, demanding my complete attention, but Trowa's gaze steadied me. At least, until more hands held me down and injected me with something. I couldn't help it; I had to fight!
"Sally!" Trowa yelled, his hands almost losing their grip as I began to thrash again. He shifted pressure to my shoulders instead, and I felt a flash of burning where he gripped my swollen shoulder. I felt a tingling, numbing sensation taking hold of my body, and I whimpered, tears forcing their way out of my eyes.
"Don't let me die," I pleaded through the shame that enveloped me, staring up at Trowa as though he was the last solid thing in the world. He looked at me, then nodded sharply, releasing his grip and running one hand softly over my face. His voice was the last thing I heard before the pain washed away in a flood of blackness.
"I'll take care of you."
.
I woke up several hours later feeling like I had been stomped on by a Gundam. The entire left side of my body ached; I raised my head as far as I could off the pillow to see why. I only managed a couple of inches but it was enough. My left leg was covered in plaster, as was my left hand and forearm. My shoulder was wrapped in tight bandages to immobilise it. I also had an IV in the back of my right hand. I sighed and let my head fall back. A low chuckle came from my right, startling me.
"You look terrible," Duo informed me as I rolled my head to the side to look at him. He lounged on the hard-backed chair as if it was the comfiest of seats, braid hanging forwards over his shoulder. I couldn't muster up the energy to glare at him, merely rolled my head back to the centre and stared at the ceiling. He laughed.
"Guess they really worked you over," he said teasingly, but I could feel the bite to his words. I had a feeling that Duo was suppressing some serious emotion and soon Shinigami would make an appearance. Shinigami is scary as hell; even a Gundam Pilot like myself usually thinks twice before tackling him when healthy. I didn't want him to transform here in the hospital so I needed to defuse the situation.
"Yeah, did you get the number of the truck?" I tried weakly, but my throat was dry and I began to cough. Duo leaned forward with a cup in his hand. It had a bendy straw in it. I glared; he shrugged. I fought with my pride and won, letting him put the straw in my mouth.
A few swallows later my throat felt normal again. Duo pulled back and placed the cup on the small nightstand next to the bed. "Better?" he asked. I nodded.
"Much. Thanks." I know I was gruff but he seemed to have been expecting it since he settled back in his seat without another word. He was still angry though so I tried to make conversation, something I'm not normally prepared to do – it must have been the Morphine still in my system.
"Mission?"
"Complete, you asshole. You didn't have to blow up the base while you were still on it, you know!" Duo's tone was joking but his eyes were hard as flint. I sighed.
"I didn't have a choice, Maxwell. They knew I was there, I couldn't risk capture –" Duo threw his hands in the air.
"You're as bad as Heero, I swear it! 'Oh, it's okay, I'll just self-destruct. They'll pick up the pieces afterwards. Ah, slight problem, it didn't work! Now I'm injured!'" His tone got louder as he went on, working up to a full blown rant, and I winced. Sooner or later an orderly would come in and interrupt him and then things might get messy. I tried to get his attention.
"Duo? DUO!" He stopped mid-sentence and looked at me. I raised the hand that wasn't in a cast and patted the bed next to me, a clear indicator for him to come over. He looked nonplussed.
"Uh, Wu, you're okay, right? They didn't change your personality or nothing?" he asked uncertainly as he sat down, and I glared at him. He raised his hands in acquiescence. "Okay, okay, I give," he announced, looking me in the eyes. I nodded.
"Good. I am only going to say this once; I have not changed, I did not self-destruct, and I had no choice in doing what I did. I am sorry for the way things turned out but at least we are all alive," I said firmly, relieved when he looked away. I touched his hand gently where it was placed on the bed. He turned violet eyes wide with shock towards me as I continued.
"Thank you, Maxwell," I said clearly, and watched with amusement the confusion flitting across his face. He looked completely gobsmacked for close to a minute before he recovered.
"You're welcome," he replied, sliding off the bed. "But I think it's time I went; someone else wants to see you."
As he walked to the door I followed him with my eyes, startled to find Trowa standing in the doorway. I hadn't heard him approach, though Maxwell had; apparently the Morphine was still affecting my senses quite a bit. Trowa ghosted in and shut the door behind him, effectively cutting us off from the noise of the hospital. He made his way over to the bed, sitting down on the recently vacated seat. I watched him with a small twinge of embarrassment somewhere in the region of my chest; did he understand why I had seemed so dependant, or did he think there was some other reason for my actions towards him? He seemed to feel my confusion because he didn't let me wait long for an answer.
"Nice to see you awake," he murmured, and I grimaced.
"Don't remind me," I grumbled. He raised an eyebrow.
"Sally and I fought pretty hard to keep you amongst the living, Chang," he said matter-of-factly, reclining in the chair and looking at the far wall. "Stands to reason we'd want to see you awake."
I breathed a small sigh of relief. He wasn't interested in me that way, thank god. It was more to do with saving a patient than actual feelings of affection towards that patient.
So why did the small knot of emotion in my chest refuse to disappear?