The End of His Game
(Author's Note: This chapter's written from Collin's point of view. Just, in case there was some doubt in thoust little minds...)
He looked so small, so frail laying there in that big bed with it's starched stiff sheets and rubbery pillows. The last place I wanted him to be was in a hospital, in the hands of the cold, unfeeling doctors who respected nothing but their own damn paychecks. But Mark said this was the best place to take him, I guess he was right. At least here Angel could get the proper treatment, and be back on his feet in no time. Now, though, looking at his face all contorted with pain when he should be resting peacefully, oh God-they wouldn't even let me touch him.
Everything had been a blur, from the moment he had retched over, heaving all on the cold floor and shaking like a leaf in bitter winter winds, to now. It was so sudden, so frightening. One second he was laughing, the next Angel was completely blacked out. I'm so grateful for Mark, he knew just what to do when all I could think of was to stand there without a clue as to what I could have done to help.
Roger and Mimi were here for a while, but then got into a fight in the waiting room and Roger stormed off, Mimi leaving not soon after. I give them credit, they tried to keep it quiet, but when Roger gets mad, he gets mad. Mark stayed, handling most of the paperwork, while I remained in the room with Angel. I don't even know how we're supposed to pay for any of this.
One nurse had been originally assigned to him, and asked ma a few questions that I wasn't in the mood to answer. I remember the interrogation clearly.
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"Hello, I'm nurse Jan. Please sit down. Now, when did these symptoms first start up?"
"I-I'm not sure."
"When did you first see the changes in his behavior? Were there any?"
Mark had looked at me, and I at him. I couldn't answer these questions. I needed to be in that room, with my Angel, not sitting there in that latex chair answering mindless questions.
"I told you, I'm not sure. If I could just get in and see him-"
"That is out of the question sir. He cannot have visitors at this time."
"I have-"
"Once we have ran some tests on him, we'll see. But not now!"
I hated her, I hated her more than anything at that moment. She couldn't try and stop me from seeing him. I had to see him. I had to-it would kill me if I didn't.
"Please-"
"No."
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I stood with my hands pressed against the glass of a window that shown into Angel's ward. I could see his head laying limply on the semi-soft pillow, his pale lips slightly parted as if talking in his sleep, and he went through partial flashes of REM at different moments. Angel shivered, those blankets weren't half as warm as he needed. If I was in there-
'But you're not.' A voice murmured softly in my ear. I didn't want to hear it.
But if I was-that I would be ready with another blanket in no time. Ha, take that stupid voice. Now I had felt silly, here I was, retorting to my inner phonation.
The door opened on the side, and into his room walked about three nurses and two doctors, all clad in the same white coat, and white gloves, and white pants-they looked like giant teeth. Quickly they began hooking wires up to him, and watching the small pulsing screen in front of them, little pens clicking against their sheets with notes.
/He isn't a lab rat!/ I wanted to yell as loudly as I could. That detached attitude they took towards him-It was all I could do not to scream. He was so small, so helpless, so incredibly ill...
After a few minutes of this watch, they unhooked the wires, talking amongst themselves in hushed voices. Then, they left as quickly and suddenly as they had come in one galloping marshmellow-clad herd.
Hours may have gone by, I don't exactly remember, when the nurse came out and looked at me.
"You may go in and see him now, if you wish. He's got some lung problems which means there will be some minor surgeory done later."
"All right."
Surgeory? They were going to cut him open? The thought appalled me as I walked cautiously into the room. It was all white, and looked as though there were hidden cameras everywhere, that watched your every move.
"Angel?"
That was silly, I knew he wouldn't wake up. But still-
"Angel girl. Are you awake?"
One dark eye fluttered open halfway, then the other.
"Collins? Where...am...I...?"
He looked around, dazed and confused. One of his sfot hands sought out mine in a slightly childish manner. I honestly didn't mind, it was nice to feel his skin against mine again. But, it was cold-his hand was. A bit too cold for someone who had just been sleeping.
"You're in the hospital."
"What?"
He tried to sit up, battled for about two seconds with dizzyness, and collapsed to the bed again.
"I don't like hospitals. Hospitals don't like me. I want to leave. Please Collins."
He was shaking, and I was confused. Since when did he act so scared? So childish? I loved him no less, but this was different, and frightening. His dark eyes pleaded with me, begged me to take him home where he felt safe, instead of in this white room, with it's horrid bed and cold floors.
"They're just going to do a small, routine surgeocal procedure. It'll be okay. I promise."
His eyes flew wide at the word "Surgeocal" and gripped my hand harder.
"Collins, I want to leave. I don't want to be here, I don't-"
Angel fell into a coughing fit, chest rising up and down pitifully, yet, harshly.
"Angel, Angel, shhh..."
I touched his head, tried to soothe away all of his fears. Yet my advances had no effect, for my own fear shook me too hard. What if, what if he didn't get better? The thought made my heart ach and twist inside of my chest.
"Collins-" Angel seemed to realize that there wasn't much he could do, then bit his lip and reveled under the touch like a cat under a stroking hand, troubled expression remaining on his face. "Tom-"
He had never called me that, well, never as in when he wasn't writhing under the sheets at two in the morning after we'd both had too much to drink. It disarmed any sense I had left in me, sending millions of tiny shivers up and down my back. Not many people used my first name, I always had been referred to as Collin. But maybe it wasn't what he said, but the way he said it, sweet face turned up to mine with quivering lips and the uttermost trust wringing through his entire expression. Whatever it was, I couldn't stand it for much longer.
I couldn't figure out for the life of me whether I was relieved or frightened when a nurse returned to the room.
"Time to go. Oh! You're awake!"
She smiled all too good-naturedly, and bustled about in a small closet, emerging again with something like a tube, connected to a strange looking peice of machinery. I was sure that if I got a good look at it I could have identified what it was sooner, but my attention was drawn to the pale Angel.
"This ought to put you right back to sleep." She chirped as if Angel was a small child. I felt a surge of satisfaction as he slanted her a dark look, then muted by a fit of coughing. The nurse from hell attached the small tube to his mouth, ignoring the glare, and flicked a switch. Of course, sleeping gas-for the surgeory.
"Just breathe it in nice and deep...Angel, is it?" She looked on the small sheet, and gave him an odd look, "interesting name..."
Soon, the vapor began to take it's toll, as the brown eyes that had been so forcefully locked on mine before blinked, and fogged over to form sort of a dreamy cast. He seemed to struggle to keep them open, closing them for a moment, then jerking them open like some sort of reversed blink. Finally, the chemicals won, and long lashes grazed the cheeks heavily, while the pale hand previously gripping mine slid limply from my grasp. With a small smile of satisfaction, the nurse turned to me.
"The doctor should be coming in any moment. You'll have to leave."
"Can't I just-"
"Stay for the surgeory? No, but don't worry, your-brother? Will be fine."
"He's not my brother."
"Relative?"
"No."
She looked at me for a moment, and the limp hand I now held.
"Oh, I see. Well, none the less, you'll have to go. He should be fine."
And with that, she pushed me out of the room.
"Collins!"
I turned my head, to see Maureen blinking at me, with Joanne close behind.
"Hi Maureen, Joanne."
"Hey. So, where is he?"
Maureen looked at him, voice hushed.
"He's having surgeory done. They said something about flushing out some of the excess AZT or something. It seems his doctor diagnosed wrong."
"And you still don't know what's up? I mean, it started before hte doule AZT, right?"
"Yeah, but they haven't the slightest clue about that."
"Gawd I hate being in hospitals. They give me the creeps."
The drama queen smiled, and touched my shoulder.
"I really am sorry, but I'm sure it will be okay."
"I hope."
Maureen then scampered off, muttering something about a soda machine. I was left with Joanne, who gave me a concerned look.
"You look tired Collins, maybe you should go in the waiting room and rest."
"No, I want-" A lump formed in my throat, "I want to be here when it's over, so I can go in and be there when he wakes back up. If-"
"If. Well, I understand Collins, but you still need sleep, or at least something to eat. How about I go get you something, all right?"
"Okay. Thanks Joanne."
"Hey, it's no problem. I'm used to getting stuff for Maureen, like this is gonna bother me? Hah!"
Joanne came back, I ate a cup of yogurt. She left, Maureen left. Mark came back, he talked for a little while, then left. Roger and Mimi didn't come back, though I think I saw Roger in the waiting room for a little bit, fighting with a nurse. Me? Well, I sat by the window, looking at the closed curtain around Angel's bed, and praying as hard as I could that it would turn out all right.
It seemed like ages before they finally opened the curtain and left. Before I could enter again though, I was confronted by one of the doctors. He was a nice looking man, with eyes that crinkled warmly around the corners and an easy smile. Now though, the smile was missing from his old face, as was any friendly warmth.
"Are you Collins?"
"Yes, how did you know?"
I hadn't filled out any papers that needed my name, Mark had done all of those, as I was in perhaps too great of a shock to even write "Tom" out.
"He talks in his sleep." I almost laughed, but the situation didn't exactly call for it. "I'm afraid we have some bad news. The symptoms that were discribed before the double dosages of AZT all point to acute sensing disorder, which often happens to HIV cases. We were right in our thoughts, and the nerves around his stomach and neck are frayed a bit. Pneamonia also seems to have hit him, and with his AIDs problem, I'm sure you realize the grave situation. Whatever doctor he went to obviously didn't know what he was doing, because taking the double dosages of AZT has damaged much in his stomach, and clogged parts of his throat."
"So," I began, trying to keep my voice from breaking, and my knees from collapsing, "what you're saying is that there is no hope in helping him."
"We could try hooking him up to IV pumps. But that could keep him in the hospital for weeks, even months. And honestly, I don't think it'll do much."
"Then, he's going to die?"
"I'm sorry."
I hated the hospital. I hated the staff. I hated their calm attitude and indifferent feelings. I hated the fact that they wouldn't do anything. That they couldn't do anything, to save my Angel. I hated the doctors, and the nurses, and the white walls, coats, and the IVs. I hated HIV, and AIDs, and pheamonia, and the doctor that had told him to take double the AZT. But most of all, he hated himself for not getting Angel here earlier. For not seeing earlier. For not acting earlier. It was a void unfillable.
I pulled away from the doctor and entered the room again. This time, it felt even more stifling than the first time I had been in there. He was half awake, the pillows were the only things keeping him relatively propped up.
"Collins?"
"It's me."
His voice was scratchy from the tests, but still carried over that light tone quality.
"What did they say?"
"What did who say?"
"The doctors. What did they say?"
"They said-they said-"
"That I'm going to die? I could have told you that."
I sat on the edge of her bed, sliding my arm around her bony shoulders and hugging her close. Angel pressed his head against my arm, closed his eyes, and murmured something inaudibly. This was how it was supposed to be. Angel and I, together, forever. But forever was ending too soon.
We sat there like that for a while, just listening to the sound of employees scurrying up and down the hallway. Some looked in and gave us a weird look, but I didn't care. I was with my Angel, with my life, and nothing could touch me there. Finally, he pulled back a little, and looked up at me-I knew that the time had come to say goodbye, I just didn't want to do it.
"Collins-"
"...Yes...?"
"I love you."
He closed his eyes, and rested up against me, almost bonelessly. In an instant his final breath was taken, not even leaving enough time to hear my reply.
"I love you too."
(Author's Note: This chapter's written from Collin's point of view. Just, in case there was some doubt in thoust little minds...)
He looked so small, so frail laying there in that big bed with it's starched stiff sheets and rubbery pillows. The last place I wanted him to be was in a hospital, in the hands of the cold, unfeeling doctors who respected nothing but their own damn paychecks. But Mark said this was the best place to take him, I guess he was right. At least here Angel could get the proper treatment, and be back on his feet in no time. Now, though, looking at his face all contorted with pain when he should be resting peacefully, oh God-they wouldn't even let me touch him.
Everything had been a blur, from the moment he had retched over, heaving all on the cold floor and shaking like a leaf in bitter winter winds, to now. It was so sudden, so frightening. One second he was laughing, the next Angel was completely blacked out. I'm so grateful for Mark, he knew just what to do when all I could think of was to stand there without a clue as to what I could have done to help.
Roger and Mimi were here for a while, but then got into a fight in the waiting room and Roger stormed off, Mimi leaving not soon after. I give them credit, they tried to keep it quiet, but when Roger gets mad, he gets mad. Mark stayed, handling most of the paperwork, while I remained in the room with Angel. I don't even know how we're supposed to pay for any of this.
One nurse had been originally assigned to him, and asked ma a few questions that I wasn't in the mood to answer. I remember the interrogation clearly.
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"Hello, I'm nurse Jan. Please sit down. Now, when did these symptoms first start up?"
"I-I'm not sure."
"When did you first see the changes in his behavior? Were there any?"
Mark had looked at me, and I at him. I couldn't answer these questions. I needed to be in that room, with my Angel, not sitting there in that latex chair answering mindless questions.
"I told you, I'm not sure. If I could just get in and see him-"
"That is out of the question sir. He cannot have visitors at this time."
"I have-"
"Once we have ran some tests on him, we'll see. But not now!"
I hated her, I hated her more than anything at that moment. She couldn't try and stop me from seeing him. I had to see him. I had to-it would kill me if I didn't.
"Please-"
"No."
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I stood with my hands pressed against the glass of a window that shown into Angel's ward. I could see his head laying limply on the semi-soft pillow, his pale lips slightly parted as if talking in his sleep, and he went through partial flashes of REM at different moments. Angel shivered, those blankets weren't half as warm as he needed. If I was in there-
'But you're not.' A voice murmured softly in my ear. I didn't want to hear it.
But if I was-that I would be ready with another blanket in no time. Ha, take that stupid voice. Now I had felt silly, here I was, retorting to my inner phonation.
The door opened on the side, and into his room walked about three nurses and two doctors, all clad in the same white coat, and white gloves, and white pants-they looked like giant teeth. Quickly they began hooking wires up to him, and watching the small pulsing screen in front of them, little pens clicking against their sheets with notes.
/He isn't a lab rat!/ I wanted to yell as loudly as I could. That detached attitude they took towards him-It was all I could do not to scream. He was so small, so helpless, so incredibly ill...
After a few minutes of this watch, they unhooked the wires, talking amongst themselves in hushed voices. Then, they left as quickly and suddenly as they had come in one galloping marshmellow-clad herd.
Hours may have gone by, I don't exactly remember, when the nurse came out and looked at me.
"You may go in and see him now, if you wish. He's got some lung problems which means there will be some minor surgeory done later."
"All right."
Surgeory? They were going to cut him open? The thought appalled me as I walked cautiously into the room. It was all white, and looked as though there were hidden cameras everywhere, that watched your every move.
"Angel?"
That was silly, I knew he wouldn't wake up. But still-
"Angel girl. Are you awake?"
One dark eye fluttered open halfway, then the other.
"Collins? Where...am...I...?"
He looked around, dazed and confused. One of his sfot hands sought out mine in a slightly childish manner. I honestly didn't mind, it was nice to feel his skin against mine again. But, it was cold-his hand was. A bit too cold for someone who had just been sleeping.
"You're in the hospital."
"What?"
He tried to sit up, battled for about two seconds with dizzyness, and collapsed to the bed again.
"I don't like hospitals. Hospitals don't like me. I want to leave. Please Collins."
He was shaking, and I was confused. Since when did he act so scared? So childish? I loved him no less, but this was different, and frightening. His dark eyes pleaded with me, begged me to take him home where he felt safe, instead of in this white room, with it's horrid bed and cold floors.
"They're just going to do a small, routine surgeocal procedure. It'll be okay. I promise."
His eyes flew wide at the word "Surgeocal" and gripped my hand harder.
"Collins, I want to leave. I don't want to be here, I don't-"
Angel fell into a coughing fit, chest rising up and down pitifully, yet, harshly.
"Angel, Angel, shhh..."
I touched his head, tried to soothe away all of his fears. Yet my advances had no effect, for my own fear shook me too hard. What if, what if he didn't get better? The thought made my heart ach and twist inside of my chest.
"Collins-" Angel seemed to realize that there wasn't much he could do, then bit his lip and reveled under the touch like a cat under a stroking hand, troubled expression remaining on his face. "Tom-"
He had never called me that, well, never as in when he wasn't writhing under the sheets at two in the morning after we'd both had too much to drink. It disarmed any sense I had left in me, sending millions of tiny shivers up and down my back. Not many people used my first name, I always had been referred to as Collin. But maybe it wasn't what he said, but the way he said it, sweet face turned up to mine with quivering lips and the uttermost trust wringing through his entire expression. Whatever it was, I couldn't stand it for much longer.
I couldn't figure out for the life of me whether I was relieved or frightened when a nurse returned to the room.
"Time to go. Oh! You're awake!"
She smiled all too good-naturedly, and bustled about in a small closet, emerging again with something like a tube, connected to a strange looking peice of machinery. I was sure that if I got a good look at it I could have identified what it was sooner, but my attention was drawn to the pale Angel.
"This ought to put you right back to sleep." She chirped as if Angel was a small child. I felt a surge of satisfaction as he slanted her a dark look, then muted by a fit of coughing. The nurse from hell attached the small tube to his mouth, ignoring the glare, and flicked a switch. Of course, sleeping gas-for the surgeory.
"Just breathe it in nice and deep...Angel, is it?" She looked on the small sheet, and gave him an odd look, "interesting name..."
Soon, the vapor began to take it's toll, as the brown eyes that had been so forcefully locked on mine before blinked, and fogged over to form sort of a dreamy cast. He seemed to struggle to keep them open, closing them for a moment, then jerking them open like some sort of reversed blink. Finally, the chemicals won, and long lashes grazed the cheeks heavily, while the pale hand previously gripping mine slid limply from my grasp. With a small smile of satisfaction, the nurse turned to me.
"The doctor should be coming in any moment. You'll have to leave."
"Can't I just-"
"Stay for the surgeory? No, but don't worry, your-brother? Will be fine."
"He's not my brother."
"Relative?"
"No."
She looked at me for a moment, and the limp hand I now held.
"Oh, I see. Well, none the less, you'll have to go. He should be fine."
And with that, she pushed me out of the room.
"Collins!"
I turned my head, to see Maureen blinking at me, with Joanne close behind.
"Hi Maureen, Joanne."
"Hey. So, where is he?"
Maureen looked at him, voice hushed.
"He's having surgeory done. They said something about flushing out some of the excess AZT or something. It seems his doctor diagnosed wrong."
"And you still don't know what's up? I mean, it started before hte doule AZT, right?"
"Yeah, but they haven't the slightest clue about that."
"Gawd I hate being in hospitals. They give me the creeps."
The drama queen smiled, and touched my shoulder.
"I really am sorry, but I'm sure it will be okay."
"I hope."
Maureen then scampered off, muttering something about a soda machine. I was left with Joanne, who gave me a concerned look.
"You look tired Collins, maybe you should go in the waiting room and rest."
"No, I want-" A lump formed in my throat, "I want to be here when it's over, so I can go in and be there when he wakes back up. If-"
"If. Well, I understand Collins, but you still need sleep, or at least something to eat. How about I go get you something, all right?"
"Okay. Thanks Joanne."
"Hey, it's no problem. I'm used to getting stuff for Maureen, like this is gonna bother me? Hah!"
Joanne came back, I ate a cup of yogurt. She left, Maureen left. Mark came back, he talked for a little while, then left. Roger and Mimi didn't come back, though I think I saw Roger in the waiting room for a little bit, fighting with a nurse. Me? Well, I sat by the window, looking at the closed curtain around Angel's bed, and praying as hard as I could that it would turn out all right.
It seemed like ages before they finally opened the curtain and left. Before I could enter again though, I was confronted by one of the doctors. He was a nice looking man, with eyes that crinkled warmly around the corners and an easy smile. Now though, the smile was missing from his old face, as was any friendly warmth.
"Are you Collins?"
"Yes, how did you know?"
I hadn't filled out any papers that needed my name, Mark had done all of those, as I was in perhaps too great of a shock to even write "Tom" out.
"He talks in his sleep." I almost laughed, but the situation didn't exactly call for it. "I'm afraid we have some bad news. The symptoms that were discribed before the double dosages of AZT all point to acute sensing disorder, which often happens to HIV cases. We were right in our thoughts, and the nerves around his stomach and neck are frayed a bit. Pneamonia also seems to have hit him, and with his AIDs problem, I'm sure you realize the grave situation. Whatever doctor he went to obviously didn't know what he was doing, because taking the double dosages of AZT has damaged much in his stomach, and clogged parts of his throat."
"So," I began, trying to keep my voice from breaking, and my knees from collapsing, "what you're saying is that there is no hope in helping him."
"We could try hooking him up to IV pumps. But that could keep him in the hospital for weeks, even months. And honestly, I don't think it'll do much."
"Then, he's going to die?"
"I'm sorry."
I hated the hospital. I hated the staff. I hated their calm attitude and indifferent feelings. I hated the fact that they wouldn't do anything. That they couldn't do anything, to save my Angel. I hated the doctors, and the nurses, and the white walls, coats, and the IVs. I hated HIV, and AIDs, and pheamonia, and the doctor that had told him to take double the AZT. But most of all, he hated himself for not getting Angel here earlier. For not seeing earlier. For not acting earlier. It was a void unfillable.
I pulled away from the doctor and entered the room again. This time, it felt even more stifling than the first time I had been in there. He was half awake, the pillows were the only things keeping him relatively propped up.
"Collins?"
"It's me."
His voice was scratchy from the tests, but still carried over that light tone quality.
"What did they say?"
"What did who say?"
"The doctors. What did they say?"
"They said-they said-"
"That I'm going to die? I could have told you that."
I sat on the edge of her bed, sliding my arm around her bony shoulders and hugging her close. Angel pressed his head against my arm, closed his eyes, and murmured something inaudibly. This was how it was supposed to be. Angel and I, together, forever. But forever was ending too soon.
We sat there like that for a while, just listening to the sound of employees scurrying up and down the hallway. Some looked in and gave us a weird look, but I didn't care. I was with my Angel, with my life, and nothing could touch me there. Finally, he pulled back a little, and looked up at me-I knew that the time had come to say goodbye, I just didn't want to do it.
"Collins-"
"...Yes...?"
"I love you."
He closed his eyes, and rested up against me, almost bonelessly. In an instant his final breath was taken, not even leaving enough time to hear my reply.
"I love you too."