Author: Sphynx
Title: A Light in the Darkness 2/?
Pairings: Future 3+4 (it's there…I promise)
Warnings: Angst, older OOC Duo
Disclaimers: *takes a deep breath* They aren't mine, these loverly boys. Yep…Now I'm going to go resign myself to that fact. *goes off and cries quietly for a moment or two*
Notes: Ok, I really don't know how long this will be. But long it will be. I have created St. Julien's Hospital for War-Related Illnesses, and the policies of the staff are based on both personal experience (mine and other people's) and my imagination. So don't say they would do it another way.
St. Julien's Hospital for War-Related Illness wasn't far from where Quatre was living. It had a good reputation for treating all kinds of illnesses, both physical and mental. If Trowa was here, that meant that he was really sick. Quatre knew that Catherine would try keeping Trowa with her at all costs. Only the most desperate of situations would force her to send him to a hospital. What happened that she couldn't cope with? Why couldn't Trowa seek normal counseling? Thoughts like these ran through Quatre's head as he sped along the highway.
He pulled into the drive more than a little anxious. He hadn't been to see someone like this in his life that he could remember, and didn't know what it was going to be like, or if they would even let him in to see Trowa. He wasn't a relative, and he couldn't just walk in and demand entrance on the basis of having fought together. Not in this place surely. Worse comes to worse, I'll throw my name around. Even though I hate doing it, Trowa's more than worth it. Thoughts and fears ran through Quatre's head as he walked towards the wide steps that lead up from the parking lot to the hospital entrance. The steps looked like an insurmountable cliff to Quatre's eyes. There were so many, and his fear of such places grew within him. What if it is like the movies? What if they patients just wander around docily because they are so doped up they just don't care any more? Or if they try to grab you and won't let go? What if it is full of the tortured screams of tortured minds?
"I can't think like this. I'll never go in." Quatre gathered up his courage and went inside. The lobby was like those of any other hospital, sparsely decorated, full of light, and clean. It was so clean it seemed to sparkle with the light that came from the fluorescent lights. Quatre seemed to know that if he was hesitant, if he showed any uncertainty that they might not let him in to see Trowa. So he strode up to the desk, exuding confidence from his very being.
"I'm here to see Trowa Barton. Can you tell me where to find him?" The nurse behind the desk smiled sweetly at the cute young man requesting entrance.
"Yes of course," she found the name on the computer in front of her, "Sir, may I ask for some ID?" Quatre smiled as he handed her his ID.
"I hope you'll find that in order miss," he remarked when he saw her recognition of his name.
"Yes Mr. Winner, sir. I'll have someone escort you to Mr. Barton's room right away." Quatre could see the young girl's eagerness to help him in anyway she could. It reminded him of the weight his family's name carried.
Presently a young man, seemingly a volunteer, for he wore no specific uniform, came to the lobby. He was bright and talkative as he led Quatre through the maze of hospital corridors. At one point there was a security check and a locked glass door, which they were allowed to pass through with a couple of words. Quatre walked through it all in a daze, excitement and anticipation making him anxious to find Trowa. Then his young guide stopped in front of a door with a small window. Quatre looked at him questioning the hold up.
"We're here Mr. Winner. There are two hours left for visitors. You will be notified appropriately at that time. Mr. Barton has room privileges with his visitors, as well as unrestricted ward privileges, I believe. You will be allowed to walk around as long as you stay on the ward. If you need anything, ask for Eric, I'll be here on duty." With this the young man knocked on the door, waited a moment and opened it. "Mr. Barton, you have a visitor."
"Thank you Eric. Come in, please." The figure in the room stood up from a chair in front of the window and turned around. Quatre stood speechless. There was Trowa looking perfectly fine, no noticeable problem other than a hint of despair in his eyes and a sad resignation in his still rich baritone voice.
"I'll leave you now, Mr. Winner." Trowa started at the name. He looked like a lead weight had hit him in the stomach.
"Quatre?" His voice asked what his words could not. Is it really you? Are you here because you really care? Why has it been so long?
"Trowa."
Title: A Light in the Darkness 2/?
Pairings: Future 3+4 (it's there…I promise)
Warnings: Angst, older OOC Duo
Disclaimers: *takes a deep breath* They aren't mine, these loverly boys. Yep…Now I'm going to go resign myself to that fact. *goes off and cries quietly for a moment or two*
Notes: Ok, I really don't know how long this will be. But long it will be. I have created St. Julien's Hospital for War-Related Illnesses, and the policies of the staff are based on both personal experience (mine and other people's) and my imagination. So don't say they would do it another way.
St. Julien's Hospital for War-Related Illness wasn't far from where Quatre was living. It had a good reputation for treating all kinds of illnesses, both physical and mental. If Trowa was here, that meant that he was really sick. Quatre knew that Catherine would try keeping Trowa with her at all costs. Only the most desperate of situations would force her to send him to a hospital. What happened that she couldn't cope with? Why couldn't Trowa seek normal counseling? Thoughts like these ran through Quatre's head as he sped along the highway.
He pulled into the drive more than a little anxious. He hadn't been to see someone like this in his life that he could remember, and didn't know what it was going to be like, or if they would even let him in to see Trowa. He wasn't a relative, and he couldn't just walk in and demand entrance on the basis of having fought together. Not in this place surely. Worse comes to worse, I'll throw my name around. Even though I hate doing it, Trowa's more than worth it. Thoughts and fears ran through Quatre's head as he walked towards the wide steps that lead up from the parking lot to the hospital entrance. The steps looked like an insurmountable cliff to Quatre's eyes. There were so many, and his fear of such places grew within him. What if it is like the movies? What if they patients just wander around docily because they are so doped up they just don't care any more? Or if they try to grab you and won't let go? What if it is full of the tortured screams of tortured minds?
"I can't think like this. I'll never go in." Quatre gathered up his courage and went inside. The lobby was like those of any other hospital, sparsely decorated, full of light, and clean. It was so clean it seemed to sparkle with the light that came from the fluorescent lights. Quatre seemed to know that if he was hesitant, if he showed any uncertainty that they might not let him in to see Trowa. So he strode up to the desk, exuding confidence from his very being.
"I'm here to see Trowa Barton. Can you tell me where to find him?" The nurse behind the desk smiled sweetly at the cute young man requesting entrance.
"Yes of course," she found the name on the computer in front of her, "Sir, may I ask for some ID?" Quatre smiled as he handed her his ID.
"I hope you'll find that in order miss," he remarked when he saw her recognition of his name.
"Yes Mr. Winner, sir. I'll have someone escort you to Mr. Barton's room right away." Quatre could see the young girl's eagerness to help him in anyway she could. It reminded him of the weight his family's name carried.
Presently a young man, seemingly a volunteer, for he wore no specific uniform, came to the lobby. He was bright and talkative as he led Quatre through the maze of hospital corridors. At one point there was a security check and a locked glass door, which they were allowed to pass through with a couple of words. Quatre walked through it all in a daze, excitement and anticipation making him anxious to find Trowa. Then his young guide stopped in front of a door with a small window. Quatre looked at him questioning the hold up.
"We're here Mr. Winner. There are two hours left for visitors. You will be notified appropriately at that time. Mr. Barton has room privileges with his visitors, as well as unrestricted ward privileges, I believe. You will be allowed to walk around as long as you stay on the ward. If you need anything, ask for Eric, I'll be here on duty." With this the young man knocked on the door, waited a moment and opened it. "Mr. Barton, you have a visitor."
"Thank you Eric. Come in, please." The figure in the room stood up from a chair in front of the window and turned around. Quatre stood speechless. There was Trowa looking perfectly fine, no noticeable problem other than a hint of despair in his eyes and a sad resignation in his still rich baritone voice.
"I'll leave you now, Mr. Winner." Trowa started at the name. He looked like a lead weight had hit him in the stomach.
"Quatre?" His voice asked what his words could not. Is it really you? Are you here because you really care? Why has it been so long?
"Trowa."