~*Chapter Four*~
The sound of children screaming outside awoke Quatre the next morning, but it was quickly covered by the sound of rushed footsteps running from the poorhouse and down the street. He quickly rose and glances out of his window onto the damp streets below. It had rained the previous night, and the doctor watched as Mueller frantically rushed down the streets, his boots sloshing madly in the puddles. Quatre's ribs ached at the sight of the keeper; he could still feel the gruff man's rigid boot ramming itself painfully into his chest. With a groan, he stood from his bed, wondering why Mueller had been in such a hurry. Then, his mind reverted to the thoughts of Duo and the severe beatings; and he felt a sudden, almost foreign surge to rush down to the asylum and check on him. He quickly pulled out a pair of trousers and a white shirt; pulling them on with surprising efficiency. He pried on his polished shoes over his feet; then stood, reaching for his medical bag. But oddly, he found it open; and a few items were strewn about the dresser top.
"Odd…I left this on the floor closed last night…who could've moved it?" he said to himself curiously; infinitely inquisitive as to why his supplies were strewn about. But he had no time to ponder it at the present; he had much heavier things to worry about; such as the extent of Duo's injuries.
As the doctor scurried down the stone steps, he could feel his ribs ache with even greater pain than before. He finalized that he probably had a few bruised or cracked ribs; but this was the least of his worries. As he passed through the poorhouse, he saw Dorothy and Catherine peering cautiously into the open door of the asylum, and Merian and Wufei were behind them, also leering into the opening.
"What happened, ladies? Gentlemen?" Quatre asked inquiringly, stepped between them to gain access to the foul-smelling room. Dorothy looked at him with the same frightened look the young woman in London had and took a shuddered breath.
"It be a murder, Doctor. Alex be murdered; and Mueller went off t' fetch th' police," she said in a whisper, then turned her face back to the dark room. Quatre looked struck.
"Murdered?" He said quickly, then stepped inside, hurrying up to where the keeper had fallen. Immediately, the acrid, bitter scent of blood invaded his nostrils, but he forced himself not to wretch and kneeled next to the body. What he found frightened him intensely.
The body had been cleanly and precisely cut; there were hardly any marks on the body except where seemingly pints upon pints of blood had spilled onto the stone floor. Upon closer inspection, Quatre drew in a horrified breath. This murder was the same…just like Zechs; just like the children…not one thing was different. The slits had been made at certain points on the body to allow for maximum blood loss, and the killer had first gone for the throat; so the victim would not make any sort of sound when they met their death. There was a look of pure and utter shock and terror on the dead man's pale, rigid face; a gruesome and bloody death mask. Quatre shuddered at the sight.
"What does he want…what can this murderer want from me?" he whispered. His question was answered with an agonized and slow groan from down the hall, which brought Quatre up to his feet. He would let the police deal with this grizzly scene; he wanted nothing more than to confirm Duo's well being. As he neared the darkened cell, he heard a bit of movement, then a mumble.
"Routine…" As he stepped up to the cell door, Quatre regarded Duo with horrified shock. His right eye was swollen slightly and darkened; and blood seeped freely from the corner of his mouth and his nose. He was wearing rags upon his body again; but these were much more sparse than before. He was sitting precariously against the wall; shivering slightly and looking quite reserved and silent. His face was pale and gaunt; and all over his exposed skin were patches of varying bruises. With even more horror, the doctor observed the numerous slash marks on his back; slashes from a leather whip. The door had been left ajar; the murderer must've come after Alex had finished his brutal exorcism. The British doctor rushed inside and knelt at Duo's side, throwing open his satchel.
"Oh, Duo, I'm so sorry…this wouldn't have happened had I not kissed you…" Quatre felt ashamed for causing Duo so much pain as he pulled out a cloth and a vial of alcohol. He dampened the cloth with the antiseptic liquid; then neared Duo; gazing into the Irishman's cobalt eyes. "This may sting a bit…"
Duo chuckled gruffly. "After last night…that alcohol would be considered a tickle, it would…" He leaned his head back against the cold stonewall as Quatre pressed the soothing cloth against his bruised cheek and bloodied lips and sighed, relieved by the kind doctor's gentle touch. Quatre was a bit demoralized by Duo's unperturbed tone at the alcohol; and sighed, looking quite humiliated.
Suddenly, a firm yet placid hand took Quatre's chin and made him look up, meeting cobalt with marine. Then, without pretense, Duo kissed him strongly; full of passion and intensity that betrayed his beaten appearance. He pulled away after a few moments and looked at the doctor with true conviction; regarding the confused yet loving eyes of Quatre.
"No shame, Quatre Winner…" Duo whispered, wiping away a bit of his own blood from the blond's lips with great care. Pain was evident in his eyes with each movement; but it seemed that his aches were trivial compared to the mortified expression that the doctor had borne on his aristocratic features. "No shame…"
Quatre watched him with stunned silence as his patient lowered his arm and leaned back again; letting him continue with the treatment. Duo was unaccustomed to such a gentle and soft touch; especially from a doctor. All the doctors that had handled him had been brutal and rough due to the fact that he was "insane" and couldn't feel pain. A small smile crept onto his usually stoic expression as the British man's hands glided over his wounds, tending them wonderfully.
From the far end of the asylum, a pair of curt footsteps resounded on the wet granite floor, followed by a more lumbering, pounding footfall. There were soft murmurs and the sound of tearing paper, then a soft but firm voice rang out.
"Excuse me, Mr. Mueller, but this is official police business; I'm afraid you will have to leave the scene. Heero here will escort you out. Thank you."
A few sounds of unsure grumblings were heard from Mueller, then the iron door slammed shut, and the footsteps halted shortly thereafter. A soft grunt of annoyance from the one deemed Heero sounded, and the soft whispers continued. They weren't; however; soft enough to evade neither Quatre nor Duo's hearing.
"What do you make of this, Trowa? This isn't your average homicide; after all. The person who committed this act must be someone with knowledge of the human bloodstream. He knew exactly where to cut that would cause the least bit of resistance and the most grotesque death. Note here the way he slashed the neck and the wrists…"
"Yes, I see that, but who could have gotten into here in the dead of the night without awaking any of the people in there? It doesn't make sense, Heero. And Mueller; hulking idiot that he is; has no idea who it might've been."
"I see what you mean. Perhaps we should ask the women and men in there; perhaps they know anything."
"Good idea. Call for the morgue and have them take away this body. We don't want to alarm any more people than we have to."
After the two men left, Quatre shook his head at Duo's confused expression, then wiped away a bit of blood from his forehead. "Alex was murdered last night; as you most likely gathered. Practically five feet away from where you are now. Did you see…who did it?"
Duo shook his head slowly, trying to not bring on an unwanted headache and sighed. "No…I be unconscious right up until ye came in here…I 'ave no idea who might've done it…"
Quatre put his materials back into his satchel after wrapping a bandage around his forehead and sighed a bit.
"I'll be back tonight; I've got more work in the Quarantine today. Please try to rest yourself; and sleep if you can."
The Irishman nodded in agreement slightly and watched as his savior rose to his feet and stepped out of the door. Quatre turned briefly back before his took his leave and smiled back down at the bedraggled Irish youth with admiration unmatched and murmured a last goodbye to him before stepping away; his footsteps splashing lightly in the pools of bloody water. He still wondered though…who was it that wanted his life so badly that they would trail him across the Atlantic…
