09

His Illness


Part I

At Risk - Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross

It was another sleepless night.

But, not because of guilt this time, oh no. This time it was that familiar twist in your stomach. That twist every girl and guy gets at some point during life. Damn it. I had a crush.

It had been years, my first and only boyfriend in high school had been my first crush, but even that couldn't hold a flame to the amount of smitten' I was doing over the mysterious man. I tossed and turned in bed, staring wildly at the ceiling. I said I would do him. A hot wave of embarrassment struck me and I threw the covers over my head.

"Don't think about it." I commanded myself, "Don't think about it!"

Despite my desperate pleas to calm myself down, I just couldn't stop imagining those strong hands grabbing my waist, pushing me against a wall...

"Don't think about it!"

It wasn't just his astonishing good looks that had me in thralls, but something about his personality. He saved a damn kitten. A kitten. And the way he effortlessly caught the rocks, hell, I hadn't even seen them flying through the air. My stomach twisted, I was smitten' hard.

"Not good." I whispered to myself, rising from the bed. "Not good."

I needed a cold shower. I needed to calm down. How could I face him in the morning, acting like the fool I was right now? When I entered the bathroom I stood in front of the mirror and slapped my cheeks with both hands, trying to cool them down and get the blush off.

"Calm down Maria. He's gorgeous yes, and tall... dark... mysterious..."

Oh god. I had fallen for a cliche. A complete, utterly common, cliche. I grabbed the edges of the sink and peered into my glossy eyes. I couldn't have a crush on him. He was a total stranger. A possibly dangerous stranger. Just because he saved a kitten didn't mean that there wasn't something more going on. And there definitely was.

The shower was freezing, but it distracted my thoughts from the stupid schoolgirl crush. I dipped my head in and out of the freezing stream, the blush washing off my face. I sighed. This was getting way to problematic.


Itachi was very attentive. Nothing got by him, especially not the tossing girl in the room next to his. She must not have realized how loud she was being, since he could hear every word she was saying.

"Calm down Maria..." His ears perked up, catching the muffled words, "...gorgeous, tall... mysterious..."

She couldn't have been talking about him, could she? It wasn't too far of a stretch, the way she had looked at him when he saved the cat was the stare of a girl with a crush. And of course, her admitting of wanting to have sex with him. He sighed. This would be a problem. He had no time for childish games like this. He was tying up some loose ends for the plan, and after many careful calculations, he was almost done.

Itachi realized yesterday that he had been procrastinating. He was constantly planning, preparing, considering all of the possibilities. There would always be more possibilities, more things to study or test. This realization of Maria's crush on him had been the burning of a bridge. He couldn't let her feelings get too advanced, he had to make the get-away smooth and clean. He had too move forward.

It was time to do it. He flexed his hand under the bed sheet cover. He'd go out next week – no. No more delays. This weekend, he would be ready.

Itachi's mind was so busy with his plan that he almost didn't notice a fire beginning to burn in his lungs. Before he could stop himself he began to cough. The cough sounded loose and wet, like thick phlegm mucus was sliding up and down his throat with each violent expulsion of air. But, Itachi knew better then to think it was phlegm, it was blood.

He was having another attack, and this one was far more violent.

At the end of each cough it had that whistling sound you get when the airways are closing up. They were coming thick and fast now and he was struggling to get enough air. He doubled over the edge of the bed, spewing a thick mouthful of blood over the hardwood. He clutched his pained chest and tried to suppress his violent coughing, but nothing worked.

The coughing didn't subside like it normally did after a minute or two, and now Itachi could feel his throat being torn. He was faintly aware of his door being swung open and a wet haired Maria racing to his side. She stepped in the blood, looking down at her now sticky foot, and a sudden calm but dangerous look overcame her face. Without a word she slung Itachi's, who was still retching, arm around her shoulder and began to drag him out of the room. In a moment they were in the car, and Maria was speeding out of the drive way, ignoring the screeching of her tires.

"Why didn't you tell me!" She yelled, buckling herself and Itachi in with one hand, the other clamped onto the wheel, "You idiot! Why the hell didn't you tell me you were so sick!"

Itachi held his chest, struggling to breath and now finding the edges of his vision going blurry with oxygen deprivation. He sputtered another thick cough, blood landing on the dash of the car. Maria slammed harder on the gas pedal, accelerating dangerously.

"Too... fast..." Itachi gasped, trying to fight of the impending unconsciousness.

"Hell no!" Maria yelled, her gaze focusing on the road, trees whizzing by them, "I'm not letting you die here!"

It was the last thing Itachi heard before his head lulled down and he was greeted with familiar darkness.

Part II

Just Like You - Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross

The first thing Itachi saw when he awoke was Maria sitting on a chair by his bed, leaned over and sleeping near his feet. He groggily looked down at his tender arms, an IV had been placed in his left and he had pricks on his right, needle injections. He was in a hospital. The floor was slate grey and the walls dove. Above, the ceiling was made from those polystyrene squares laid on a grid-like frame. The light was too bright for Itachi's eyes after the darkening gloom of unconsciousness, so his eyes fell back to the sleeping form of Maria. Her hair was damp and frizzy, and she had smears of blood over her clothes. His blood. She had dragged him to the hospital, disregarding her own life with her reckless driving, and had basically saved him.

Itachi didn't know how to feel. He had never been saved so drastically before. He watched her slow breathing and peaceful form, contemplating exactly why she went to such extreme measures to save him. He knew she had feelings for him, but she didn't even know him, and he wasn't even reciprocating those feelings. It wasn't like he would go noticed in this world, and it would be far easier on her to just let him die.

"Ah, you're awake sir?" A nurse appeared in the door way, holding a clipboard. "How do you feel?" She walked into the room, checking the machines that were attached to him.

"Alright, I suppose." He was caught off guard by his raspy voice, no doubt injured by the coughing fit. "Could you tell me whats going on?"

"Of course," She said, scribbling down notes on her board, "This young lady dragged you in bloody and unconscious, you've been out about seven hours. It's Tuesday morning, 6 AM. We've ran some tests, and the results will come back shortly, the doctor will be in soon to explain everything and go over whatever is found."

Itachi nodded in thanks and the nurse left the room, after checking his throat and listening to his lungs.

Maria saved him. Maria had saved him.

Him, a total stranger, who wasn't worth saving. He who killed his entire family and whose karma was finally catching up to him. He was ready to die by the grip of that mysterious disease. But now, he might be cured. Their technology was much more advanced, and in turn, their medicine. Was this his second chance? Was this his redemption?

As if his thinking had roused her, green eyes fluttered open, then became wide as saucers when she saw that Itachi was awake.

"Oh my god, you're okay..." She whispered, rising from the bed, sitting back stunned in the chair. Suddenly she jumped up from the chair, redness creeping in on her cheeks, "Do you need anything? Food? Water?" She talked fast, her voice rising.

"No, I'm fine-"

"Want me to turn the TV on? I could grab a bored game even, or how about a card game?-"

"Maria, your company is enough. Sit down and stop yelling."

Her face was swallowed by redness and she fell back down into her seat, twiddling her thumbs. For a while they sat in peace, and a few times Maria had opened her mouth to say something, but every time would awkwardly shut it again. Itachi laid in the curtained cubical examining the polystyrene tiled ceiling while they were both quite. There was nothing else to look at. He could hear moans from an adjacent bed and that at least made him glad for the curtains, it meant he didn't have to engage with whoever it was, to show any sympathy he didn't feel.

"I heard you earlier." Itachi said quietly, still keeping his gaze to the ceiling, "It would be best if you don't encourage those feelings."

For the second time Maria shot up from her chair, her face, yet again, turning a brilliant crimson.

"If I do anything that makes you believe I reciprocate those feelings please let me know, and I will stop."

He knew it would probably be best if he shut down her feelings fast, and now. He didn't need a love struck teenager following him around like a puppy, she was enough to take care of as it was already.

"I'm... gonna go get some juice..."

It wasn't the reply he was expecting, but it was good enough. He didn't watch her leave. Now he was alone, except for the other patients also in his room. He was slightly aggravated that he didn't have a private room, the only thing separating him and the other patients was a thin, grossly colored green curtain. Itachi sighed, he wished he could be alone, he could have worked on some more seals, to make sure everything was perfect.

"Love... trouble?" A tired voice came from next to him, muffled slightly by the curtain and possibly an oxygen mask.

Itachi didn't respond to his nosy neighbor, he kept his gave firm on the ceiling.

"That girl... she hasn't left your side... since you came in..." His talking was slow, and he took thick breaths between some words, "You... can't fool me... kid..."

"I never asked her to stay. That was entirely her choice."

Now his neighbor choked out a wet laugh, which turned into a cough, "...Right..."

Itachi looked down at his arm, was it possible to take out the IV now and leave? He had a mission, he couldn't let this stupid illness get in the way. The illness, or Maria. He had to get back to save Sasuke. His hand touched his tender arm, and he contemplated for a while to just take it out. But, he knew that was stupid. He lowered back down his arms and regained his stare at the ceiling.

Itachi was just beginning to wonder when Maria would get back when another person appeared in the doorway. He assumed this person wasn't a nurse though, since she wore a long white lab jacket. This doctor had the posture of a soldier. While she walked towards him Itachi took note that every action she took was precise and purposeful. She smiled in the cold and distant way professionals do. Itachi could never relax around such expressions. He was a master of it himself, so he knew what was behind that calm and guarded face. Her eyes were devoid of any make-up and her hair was in a tight bun, not a strand out of place.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Martin." Her voice was as professional and smooth as her appearance. Itachi nodded in greeting. She shuffled a few papers in her hands, and Itachi caught sight of a few numbers on the pages. His test results, he assumed.

"Where's Maria?" Dr. Marin looked around the the small curtained section, then back to Itachi expectantly.

"She went to the Cafeteria to fetch juice."

Dr. Martin nodded, her eyes lingered on her sheets of paper. "Would you like her to be here while we discuss the results? We can wait for her if you'd like." She looked up, now focusing her honey brown gaze on Itachi. "We'll go into my office to talk of course."

Itachi contemplated for a moment, "No, we can do so without her."


The cafeteria was run by an ex-army cook who loved bleach. Even the aroma of the mediocre food was overpowered by the scent of it.

If you tried to lick a plate or a tray it would taste of bleach too. But at least there was a lot of food and it all arrived piping hot on the dot of seven when it opened. He even did stuff like tacos. Grey tacos, mind you. Hospital food always had an undertone of grey. When I was younger and visiting Dad I would sneak some food out of the cafeteria and devour it away from the bleach smell, then it didn't taste half bad. It's amazing the effect that smell had on the taste buds.

I stood in front of the glass faced fridge, contemplating apple or orange juice. My foot tapped, and I weighed the pros and cons. Should I grab one for the weirdo too?

"It would be best if you don't encourage those feelings."

Nah. He could survive without one. Finally deciding on apple juice, I propped the door open with my hip and picked a small one.

What was his deal anyways? It wasn't my first rejection, but damn, couldn't he have let me down a little easier? He treated it like it was some sort of business deal. Too cordial, too cold and way too nonchalant.

I saved him! Saved him! He ruined my jeans, and I was so scared, I thought he was going to die. Even when the nurse said he was stable and I should go and rest, I didn't! I stayed with him! And the thanks I got was a love rejection. With a little too much force I slammed a toonie down by the cash register to pay for the juice. Stupid boys.

Oddly enough, his room was on the exact same floor my fathers was years ago. Two floors up to the left of the cafeteria. I didn't even have to consult the signs to reach it. I still had hazy memories of this place, the patchy hallways, and the bleached smell. The way to his room was down a long hallway so narrow that if a wheelchair or trolley were to come to other way I'd have to dip into a side room to let it go by.

The walls were once painted, you can tell from the cream flakes that remain, though mostly they show the grey undercoat beneath that. It was an old, small hospital. In my anger filled teen years I had blamed my fathers death on just that; if there was new technology to treat cancer it would surely have been at a new, fancier hospital. Not in one where people only seem to go to die.

I paused in the hallway before my pace quickened. What if he was going to die? Dr. Martin issued so many tests, the boxes on the blood test sheet were all practically filled in. I was running now, counting the numbers above the doors. I shouldn't have left him. What if he died alone? What if he died alone, just like Dad had? Every few seconds I passed a different set of doors with a hand-sanitizer dispenser: to oncology, to geriatrics, to maternity. I bypassed them all heading for room 2027.

I almost didn't want to go into the room once I reached it, but before the twist of worry could stop me I raced through the door, and found nothing. No one. He was gone, as well as his IV pole. I could feel the color drain from my face. I was only gone for a half hour.

"Maria?"

The sudden voice made me spin around, and I almost dropped the juice box. Behind me in the door was Dr. Martin in her white lab coat glory, and him sitting in a wheelchair, holding onto the IV pole. Dr. Martin's brows were furrowed, "Are you alright dear? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"I'm fine!" I said a little too loudly, "Totally fine!"

Dr. Martin had to pull a lot of strings to get this rolling. Since he didn't have any proof of... existence, it was dodgy to get him tests. Even more so if he had to be prescribed any medication. But, Dr. Martin was a long time friend of my mothers, and they often did favors for each other. What exactly these favors were I wasn't sure, but right now I wasn't worried about that. I was glad that she had done this despite the questionable illegalness, and glad that he wasn't dead. Even if I couldn't meet his eyes, I was still happy he didn't die.

"I have Microscopic Polyangiitis."