Disclaimer: GS and GSD never belong to me…

Athrun's Fall

Chapter Two

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I go out of my way to visit sick friends. It's one of my virtues."

"You don't have any virtues. I doubt you have any friends. And if you do, I doubt you're that conscientious about paying sick calls."

Cagalli made a tsking sound. "My, my, aren't we in a nasty mood today."

Athrun drew his sleek dark brows into a fierce scowl. "I have every right to be in a nasty mood," he snarled. "My last two weeks would make the Hundred Years War look like a festival. I've been at the mercy of quacks whose stock answer to every question in, "We'll have to wait and see.' I've been the hapless victim of despotic nurses who've taken delight in bossing me, poking me, sticking tubes into orifices I didn't even know I had, and feeding me garbage food. The parts of my body that still have sensation have been in tremendous pain. I think I've got bedsores on my backside. I know I've got a blister on my tongue." He paused to draw in a deep breath. "And to top it all off, you show up. Which brings me around to my original question. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I needed to use your shower," she said cheekily. "Excuse me."

"Don't you give me that-Hey, where—Come back here, Attha. Attha!"

Cagalli left him yelling her name. She leaned against the door she pulled closed behind her. When the drinking glass struck it, her ears absorbed the full impact of shattering glass. She whistled ands through the door called, "Wow, you're really ticked, aren't you?"

"She went downstairs and following her nose, found Pete in a kitchen that had a picture window as large as a movie-theater screen. It offered a spectacular view of the mountainside in the near distance and the Pacific Ocean on the far Horizon.

"Are you a masochist or what?" she asked, Pete looked at her in confusion, holding aloft a butcher knife with which he had been slicing vegetables faster than her eyes could move. "Never mind. Where'd you put my bags?"

Smiling happily, Pete left his work in the kitchen and escorted her upstairs again. "Right next door," he said, nodding toward the room where Athrun was.

"Yippee."

"You don't rike room?"

When she saw that Pete was crestfallen, she hastily inverted her sarcastic into a smile. "No, the room is terrific. Really."

She stepped past him and entered a guest bedroom suite that was twice as large as her whole apartment. It was better equipped, too, having small refrigerator with an automatic icemaker, a two-burner cooktop, and a wet bar in addition to the black marble bathroom that was positively hedonistic. "I knew I should have gone into the hotel business," she muttered as she ran her fingers over teal-green towels that were as plush as expensive carpet.

" 'Xcuse?"

"Nothing. Pete. I was just being covetous. When's dinner?"

"Eight o'clock."

She consulted her wristwatch and mentally accounted for the time zones she'd flown through. "That gives me time for a bath and a nap. Wake me up at seven-thirty." He bobbed his head rapidly. "How long has it been since Mr. Zala had a meal?"

"Not since come home."

"That's what I thought. He's not eating anything?" Pete shook his head. "Fix him a dinner tray."

"Won't eat. Throw on floor."

"Not this time, he won't," she said, her eyes gleaming with determination. "Oh, by the way, a courier should be delivering some equipment here this afternoon. If the van can make it up that goat path," she added as an aside. "And there's a broken glass in Prince Zala's room that needs to be swept up."

Pete wanted to unpack for her, but she shooed him out so she would avail herself of the bathtub with the built-in whirlpool. Sprawling on the king-size bed and pulling the satin sheet over her naked body, she fell instantly asleep. She would have liked at least another eight hours when the funny little servant knocked on the door, then entered carrying a glass of chilled pineapple juice on a silver tray.

"Thanks," she said after draining the juice in one swallow. "I'll be down shortly." Pete scuttled out. Cagalli dropped the sheet and regretfully left the bed. "Later," she told it, giving the satin sheets a lover's pat.

No one would blame her if she waited until the following morning to commence the physical therapy program with Athrun Zala. This had been a hellish day especially following her long trip. But she was being paid well for this job. Never let it be said that Cagalli Yula Attha had taken advantage of the sybaritic surroundings without giving full attention to her patient.

Besides, now that she was here, she was actually anxious to begin. Athrun's condition, along with his negative state of mind, were challenges that she, as a professional, couldn't resist tackling. Even the slightest improvement in a patient was often reason for celebration. Athrun needed the encouragement that came with accomplishing a small goal.

Then, too, the longer his muscles remained flaccid, without sensation or the ability to move, the less likelihood of a full recovery. By now he should have experience some sensation in those muscles. Cagalli couldn't afford to wait any longer to begin his therapy even if she wanted to.

With that sobering thought in mind, she left her suite wearing the same Hawaiian ensemble she had on when she arrived, sans the straw hat. Pete insisted that she eat her dinner in the dining room, though she sat alone at the glass table decorated with burning tapers in crystal holders and a lavish bouquet of orchids. The stir-fry vegetables and fish were delicious. She complimented Pete on the meal as he followed her upstairs carrying a dinner tray for the patient.

At Athrun's bedroom door she took the tray from him.

"If I don't come out alive, you have my permission to smother him in his sleep."

"Won't rike," Pete said, looking fearfully toward the closed door.

"Probably not, but it's only going to get worse before it gets better," she told him as she signaled with her head for him to open the door for her. "Best get started and get it over with." As soon as she had cleared the door, Pete closed it firmly.

Athrun was listlessly gazing out the window. He rolled his head towards the door and groaned when he saw her. "Go away."

"No way. Hey, that rhymes. I'm a poet and didn't know it."

The look he sent across the room was murderous. "Is Lacus responsible for your being here?"

"You don't think I'd come voluntarily, do you?"

"I thought she was my friend."

"She is. She wants to do what's best for you."

He barked a bitter laugh. "If you're the best, God help me should they decide to do worst."

"If it were up to m, I'd let you lie here and rot in your own self-pity." She shrugged. "But you've got lots of money and some of it will come my way if I stay here and give you physical therapy."

"Like hell!" he shouted.

"The accommodations here are fair to middling. The job includes a Hawaiian vacation that I can certainly use. Back home it's cold and rainy, and my tan needs refreshing. What a relief to get away from my regular job. I was working with a patient who is an even bigger jerk than you are… and if you throw that napkin on the floor one more time, Mr. Zala, I'll bloody well throw you down there to pick it up."

Standing with hands on hips beside his bed, she glared down at him. He returned her animosity measure for measure. "Take this tray and your ridiculous bedside manner and shove it both up—"

"I've heard it," she interrupted. "There's not an original insult or abusive phrase that I haven't heard. No matter how obscene, they don't faze me. So save your energy and my time and start eating your dinner. Because you're going to eat it before I leave this room. The sooner you do the former, the sooner I do the latter. It comes down to how long you can tolerate my company."

She set the bed tray across his lap and plopped down on the bed beside him, folding her arms across her middle. The motion plumped her breasts up and out, causing them to swell above the fabric of the strapless sarong. She watched the patient's eyes lower to her chest. But she didn't alter her position. Her expression remained impassive when he insolently raised his eyes back to hers.

"Does a view of your cleavage go with your services?"

"Fringe benefit," she replied with a cheeky smile, "thrown in for free."

"I've seen better."

"Not at this price, you haven't."

"What are you being paid? I'll double it to get you out of here."

"I figure you'd try that." She finished in the bowl of fruit salad on his dinner tray and came up with a pineapple spear. She sucked on it nonchalantly. "But you might as well know right off the bat that money isn't my only motive."

"Don't tell me you came here out of the goodness of your heart."

She made a face at him. "You know better than that."

"Then what?"

"Imagine what a boost it will be to my career to work with the great Athrun Zala. Pretty soon offers will come rolling in from movie stars with lower back syndrome and sports stars with stress injuries. Before it's over, I'll be as famous as you."

"You're wasting your time. I'll never be good for anything but to lie here and stare at the ceiling."

"Wanna bet, duckie? I'll have you walking if it kills me. If it kills both of us. In the meantime we're going to come to hate each other."

"We already hate each other."

She laughed. "So we're ahead of the game. Now be a good boy and eat these nice, plump veggies Pete had cokked for you."

"I'm not hungry."

"You've got to be. You haven't eaten in days. Pete said so," she picked a slice of banana out of the fruit salad and ate it. "He cringes every time your name is mentioned. What did you do to terrorize him, anyway?"

"I told him I was on speaking terms with Buddha and that he'd never reach nirvana if he didn't get out of here and stop pestering me. And the same goes for you."

"No good. I'm not a Buddhist."

"You know what I mean." He turned his head away. "Just get away from me. Leave me alone."

"Not till you've had dinner."

"You can't force me to eat."

"And you can't force me to leave. You can't move, remember?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Get out." He strained the words through a set of straight, white teeth.

"Not until I've given you all the expertise I've got. So that when I'm interviewed by People magazine I'll be able to say in all honesty, and with an eloquent little tear in my eye, that I did everything possible for you." She spread the linen napkin over his bare chest. "Nice pecs. They'll come in handy when you start moving yourself into the wheelchair. Nice form too. Very sexy."

"Go to hell."

"At the risk of repeating myself, not until you've eaten your dinner." She held a forkful of food near in his mouth. He refused to open it. "Look, Ace, you're in a state of malnutrition already. Because of the atrophy of muscles and bone, you've got negative nitrogen balance, which mean bad news. Unless you get some protein into your tissues, you're history. Besides that if you pack some meat on those bones, they won't protrude so much, which is one reason you've got decibitus ulcer, or in layman's term, bedsores on your backside.

"Now, I know you can digest because Mu La Flagga told me you could. You've also regained bowel and urinary control, which came as a great relief to me, and which is one reason I'm trying to talk you into eating a full meal. Otherwise, I would pretend I didn't notice that you were starving to death in addition to your osteoporosis, soft tissue ossification, contracture, etcetera that goes with lying around and not doing anything.

"To sum it up. Zala, you're dead in the water before we start unless you eat some of this food. Now, what'll it be?"

He stared at her, then at the fork still held near his mouth. "My arms aren't paralyzed. I can feed myself."

"Good. That's one less duty I'll have to worry about."

She passed him the fork. He looked at it for another long moment. Then crammed it into his mouth. It became apparent just how hungry he was. After that first bite, he ate ravenously, practically shoveling in the food. Because he was so busy chewing and swallowing. Cagalli handled the conversation almost single-handedly.

"I don't know when you saw Lacus last, but the baby has really blossomed in the last few weeks. Lacus is as wide as a barn and her boobs are out to here." She made a motion with her hands cupping air several inches in front of her chest. "Kira's giddy over them. She's convinced the baby is going to come early, though her doctor says everything's right on schedule. They've gotten the nursery painted and ready. All it needs is an occupant.

"Megan, their daughter, of course, can't wait to have the baby home so she can help take care of it. I want to see her the first time she's confronted with a dirty diaper. But her tune will change fast enough. That was an awfully indelicate belch, Zala. More water?

"Kirio, their son is afraid they're going to love the baby more than they love him, so he's being a real pill, and Lacus is letting him get by with it so as not to unbalance his psyche. Kira is acting like a complete dodo. For a man his age his daddyhood antics border on the absurd. But knowing him I guess it's understandable of one is onto that kind of thing."

"What kind of thing?" Athrun mumbled around a mouthful.

"You know, home and hearth."

"That's not for you?"

"Hardly!"

"You don't envy your brother?"

"Are you kidding?"

"You'd rather sleep around."

"What a tacky phrase, Mr. Zala," she said, taking umbrage. "I read the newspapers, same as you. I know what's going on. Nobody in his right mind 'sleeps around' anymore."

"That must really cramp your style."

"On the contrary," she said coldly." I've always been very particular about my bed partners."

"But you've never narrowed the number down to one."

"I think settling down with one man for life sounds boring." He harrumphed and blotted his mouth with the napkin, then tossed it down into the empty plate. "You missed the tapioca," Cagalli pointed out, pleased to see that it was all that was left of the food.

"I despise tapioca and Pete knows it. That's his way of defying me."

"What are you going to do about it," she taunted, "beat him up?"

"Very funny." He closed his eyes and laid his head on the pillow. "All right, I've eaten. Get lost."

"Oh, I can't. Not for a while."

His eyes popped open. "You said you'd leave me alone if I ate."

"Well, I fudge a smidgen. Now, don't look so venomous. We're just getting to the fun part."

"Somehow I doubt that."

She lifted the tray off his lap and set it on the floor near the door, which she opened. "Pete, we're ready," she called. Her voice echoed through the house.

"Ready for what? Look, I ate, isn't that enough?"

"Nope. We start tonight."

"Start what?"

"A smoldering affair." Athrun raised startled eyes. She laughed. "Don't you wish? Actually we start your physical therapy."

"I don't want physical therapy. It won't do any good. I'm not putting myself through that humiliation. Pete, get that crap out of here. What's in those boxes?"

"Portable therapy equipment."

"Get it out here."

"Soon this bedroom will look like a gymnasium. Hand me that screwdriver, will you, Pete?"

"Pete, if you value your job, if you value your Asian ass, you won't lift a hand to—All right, you're fired. Pete, didn't you hear me?" then in a stubborn tone of voice, "I won't use any of this. I mean it, you two. You're wasting your time."

"Will you shut up!" Cagalli yelled at him as she rammed the screwdriver into the palm of her hand. "Look what you made me do."

"This is my house," Athrun said in a tightly controlled voice. "I didn't ask for your services, Ms. Attha. I don't want them. I don't want you."

"Well, you've got me."

"You're fired."

"Didn't I mention that you can't fire me? No? Oh, that was part of the deal. Pete, hold this trapeze in place while I secure it to the wall. A little higher. There."

Athrun fumed while she, with Pete's assistance, set up the trapeze and two pulleys behind his bed. "That'll do for now," Cagalli said, stepping back to review their handiwork. "We won't need the other stuff until later, so just leave it downstairs for the time being. Thanks, Pete." She patted the top of his head. "You can close the door on your way out."

"You've gone to a lot of trouble for nothing," Athrun said after Pete had withdrawn.

"I know guys who would dearly love to have a trapeze installed over their beds." Far from smiling, he glowered more intensely. Cagalli sigh. "So much for levity. By using this trapeze, you can shift your weight and relieve pressure off any one spot. Unless you've grown fond of those bedsores." She smiled teasingly, but his face remained stony. "And anytime you want, you can exercise your upper torso and arms with the pulleys. That'll accomplish two things. It'll give you an appetite. If you get bored with the pulleys, I can bring you some dumbbells."

"Which is what you must think I am. A dumbbell. I won't bother myself with this. It's futile. I just want to—"

"Pout. Feel sorry for yourself. Sulk. Wallow in self-pity because you've finally found something that money can't buy."

"Yes!" he hissed. "And why not?" angrily he gestured down at his motionless legs beneath the sheet. "Look at me."

"I was about to, "Cagalli said calmly. Before he was prepared for it, she whipped back the sheet.

Athrun sucked in a startled breath. So did Cagalli, though she managed to hide it. She's seen bodies by the hundreds in every shape, size, and condition. She's never seen one this well made. It was proportioned like Michelangelo's David. But much more virile. And tanned.

It was obvious that he'd missed several days' meals. His ribs were individually delineated. It was obvious that before his accident he had been athletically active. The muscles of his things and calves were well defined it was also obvious that he could satiate even the most demanding woman.

"Very nice," Cagalli said with a studied air of indifference. "I can see why you're upset that such nice muscles are no longer working for you." She draped a white gym towel over his lower abdomen. "Let's get started."

"Doing what?"

"What the other three therapists tried to do before you scared them off. I'm going to take each joint through a passive exercise, rotating each one to the extent of its range."

"You're right. They all did that. It's a waste of time."

"My time. Hardly wasted because I'm being paid so well for it. And you haven't got anything else to do. So you might as well lie back and keep your mouth shut."

He summed up in two terse gutter words that he'd like to happen to her. She frowned down at him. "You're in no shape to do that either. Sorry. You're missing a real treat. And I'm afraid that once you're capable of it, you won't want me. If you think you hate me now, wait until I get to PNF."

"What the hell is that?"

"Physioneurologic facilitation."

His eyes sparked with dark fire. "That sounds dirty."

"It's nothing to look forward to, believe me. But for right now, passive exercise will do. Tonight, we'll keep you on the bed. But tomorrow morning, we'll tart standing exercise and then moving you to the mat table."

"Standing exercise?"

"On the tilt table. I know you're already familiar with it, so don't pull a dumb act on me."

"I hate that damn thing."

"It's not much fun, I'll grant you that. But you don't want your blood to pool, do you? Besides, standing aids in urinary drainage. I'd hate for you to have to go back to a catheter because while you're supine that can cause infection, stone formation, and vesicourethral reflux."

"Can we talk about something else?" he asked, his face turning pale.

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?"

"Nothing."

Standing beside the bed, Cagalli took his right foot between her hands and began rotating the stiff ball joint. "How often had Pete been turning you?"

"He hasn't."

"You wouldn't let him."

"That's right. It's humiliating."

"You're supposed to be turned every two hours."

"Yeah, yeah."

"No wonder you've got bedsores on you're backside. What good are you doing it you won't let people help you?"

"I'm used to helping myself."

"A self-reliant, macho man."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Under the circumstances it's a stupid, counterproductive attitude to take. But," she rushed on when she saw he was about to take issue, "if you want to be self-reliant, then you can learn to turn yourself in bed." Seeing that she had his interest, she explained, "That's where the trapeze will come in handy. If you're self-conscious about using it, I suggest you practice when no one is around. Feel anything?"

"No."

She moved around the end of the bed and took his other foot between her hands. "Want to talk about it?"

"What?"

"The accident."

"No."

"I'm sorry about your friend."

"So am I," he said quietly, closing his eyes. "But maybe they're better off than I am."

"What a stupid thing to say. Do you honestly think that you'd better off dead?"

"Yes," he said bitingly. "Better that than being a useless lump for the rest of my life."

"Who says you will be? Your spinal cord wasn't severed. I know people who've had theirs severed and they're far from useless. They're productive human beings with jobs and families. It's all in the attitude you take."

"Does this lecture cost extra?"

"No, it's thrown I for the stupid, for the ignorant, for those with bad attitudes. Your prognosis for a full recovery is very good, though it might be a long time in coming."

"But not guaranteed."

She tilted her head to one side and eyed him knowledgeably. "None of us is guaranteed tomorrow, Zala. Besides, from what Lacus and Kira tell me, you're a gambler. Not only do you relish taking life-threatening risks like mountain climbing, but business risks as well. Didn't you, against the advice of your board, recently buy out a flounder chain of hotels in the Northeast? And hasn't that chain turned itself around?"

"Luck."

"Don't you feel lucky anymore?"

"Would you?" he challenged.

"Yeah. Lucky I wasn't renting space in a coffin."

He cursed lavishly and turned his head away. "How much longer is this going to take?"

"Could be weeks. Months maybe."

"I mean this. This…what you're doing now."

"An hour."

"Damn."

"Does it hurt?"

"No. I wish it did."

"So do I, Athrun."

His head snapped around and he shot her a hard look. "Don't you dare pity me."

"Pity?" she said, laughing shortly. "I wouldn't think of it. You're got enough self-pity. You're oozing the stuff. You sure as hell don't need mine."

Methodically she went through the regimen. His mind seemed detached from his body. He had no connection with it. What hadn't been shut off by his accident, he had closed and his head averted, taking no interest in what she was doing. When he looked at her, it was with unmitigated hostility.

"That's enough for tonight," she said at last/ "There is some constriction, especially in the lower extremities, but that's because they've been neglected since you left the hospital and is not a result of your accident."

"Thank you, Marcus Welby. Now, will you get your tush out of here and leave me in peace?"

"Sure. I'm exhausted."

"Take all that junk with you." He nodded toward the metal trolley Pete had rolled in earlier.

"What, that?" Cagalli asked innocently. "That stays. We'll need it tomorrow."

She removed the gym towel and re-covered him with the sheet. As she was bending over him to straighten it, he caught her forearms. His fingers and hands had seemingly suffered no loss of muscle control, flexibility, or strength. His grip was surprisingly hard.

"You want me to feel something?" he asked silkily. "Then why don't you do the physical therapy you do best?"

"Which is?"

The smile that had caused hearts all over the world to patter spread across his lips. He dropped one eyelid in a suggestive wink. "Come on, Cagalli. Hot little tart that you are, I'm sure you can think of something that would be good for me, a trick guaranteed to raise even a dead man. Why don't you straddle my lap and see the extent of range you get."

"Let me go."

He didn't. Instead he gripped her arms tighter and draws her down closer to him. "I've been lying here watching you sashay back and forth like you owned the place. I've listened to your irritating, nonsensical chatter till I'm sick of it. That smart mouth fo your is bound to be good for something besides making wisecracks. Let's see just how good you are at your job."

He yanked her down and kissed her hard. His tongue speared through her lips and plumbed her mouth with sleek, expert precision. He slid one hand around the back of her neck while his other moved to her breast. He kneaded it through the strapless bodice of the sarong, then pushed his hands inside and rubbed his fingertips back and forth across her nipple.

Cagalli wrestled herself free and backed out of his reach. She pulled her dress back into place and shook her hair over her shoulders as she squared them. Her mouth was wet and red from his kiss. She licked her lower lip. It felt swollen and bruised. And it tasted wonderful.

That unnerved her more than anything.

"It's going to take more than lewd propositions to scare me off, Mr. Zala. That kind of behavior is juvenile and unoriginal. It's characteristic of a healthy man who suffers an accident like yours to become an abusive sexist only to prove to himself that he's still a man. Be as disgusting and decadent as you want. It'll reflect on your character, not mine."

Furiously, he pounded the mattress with his fists.

"Why'd they send you? You? I mean—dear God!—you top the list pf people I would least rather have around."

"Vice versa, pal, but for as long as it takes, you're stuck with me."

"When this is all over," he said in a voice so menacing it sounded like a growl, "I'll personally kick you out of my house and back to the mainland."

Cagalli's eyes twinkled. "I thought you said you'd always be a useless lump." She laughed at his whey-faced expression when he realized he had trapped himself.

"Look at it this way. Kicking me back to the mainland will give you something to work toward. Nighty-night, ace."

OOoO

So, what do you think? Hope you like it. Please read and review… ^-^