Note: I wrote this for a friend. It was supposed to be a short story but I... failed at that. Obviously it's Gundam Wing and 1x2. This should be published a chapter a week until it's done unless something goes very wrong. As of January 1st 2021 I'm good to go through July. Now I'll shut up and just post the story.
Chapter One: Found
He hated pain charts. The first time a doctor asked him to rate his pain he laughed. Use a scale of one to ten, where one is no pain and ten is the worst you can imagine. What a joke. He could imagine quite a lot. Next they said try to imagine ten as unbearable pain and that was a joke, too. All pain is bearable until you're dead. So when they said to rate his pain he never went above a five or six because he didn't want to lie and didn't like being a bother to others. And that meant doctors and nurses never took him seriously.
Which is how he found himself in Noventa Memorial Preventers' Hospital, ignored by the staff while he barely managed to breathe. Occasionally someone would look in his direction but an outward calm, his default in an emergency, only placated hospital staff further. About twenty two minutes earlier a young nurse asked if there was anyone he wanted to call. He just shook his head silently. Who could he call? There was no one. There hadn't been for years.
Sometimes the nurses would whisper. He'd end up in the hospital and hear them talk in hushed tones about his lack of visitors. About how he had no emergency contact other than Commander Une. But that came with the job. It was the deal he made when Une recruited him: No one could ever know he worked for Preventers. Especially the other Gundam pilots. He would work for Une as a ghost and only as a ghost. And ghosts don't have next of kin.
Staring at the ceiling he focused on breathing. He was nervous, and for once was starting to admit that to himself as the feeling sank him deeper into unease. It wasn't only about the pain in his chest and his difficulty breathing. He was incredibly nervous about being in this hospital. While Une made sure he was kept in a separate ward in a private room reserved for patients who needed to stay more off the record than on, the system wasn't flawless. And right now an entire squad of Preventers was downstairs being treated for wounds received in the line of duty. They'd survived a hellish mission that they only escaped with some engineered luck. When a ghost agent provided singular backup with no fanfare.
And any time Heero, Trowa, and Wufei were in the same hospital with him he constantly feared discovery.
Quatre was frantic.
He'd gotten word of the mission gone wrong but was unable to gain any information on the statuses of his friends beyond a short text from Wufei confirming the three of them were not badly injured. But the bastard gave no answer to Quatre's subsequent calls or texts. Sometimes he regretted not joining Preventers full time with them. As a consultant his privileges weren't always enough to get him the information he wanted but he did, after some impressive pleading, confirm all injured agents were taken to Noventa Memorial. His heart sank when he got that news. Noventa Memorial was the Preventers' main trauma center, and any time a mission ended with agents admitted there something must have gone terribly wrong. He didn't expect Wufei to lie but he sure as hell wasn't assured by their presence at a trauma center.
By the time he arrived at the hospital Quatre was fairly vibrating with anxiety, but as he walked through the automatic doors he realized the entire first floor was equally frenzied. Part of his mind quietly supplied him with what he should have already realized: this mission was a massive undertaking with dozens of agents. The hospital was dealing with a mass trauma. Of course the agents were taken here and of course the hospital was busy.
As he looked about for anyone who could point him in the direction of Trowa his pocket buzzed. He nearly dropped his phone as he scrambled to unlock his screen. In his hands it resumed buzzing again with more messages.
Chang: Status fair. At Noventa Memorial. Sorry for the missed calls.
Chang: My love we are bruised but have no serious injuries. I could not bring my phone on this mission and am using Wufei's. They don't want us making calls so I'm texting.
Chang: Wufei is pretending to be angry with me. He all but offered his phone to steal. He knows you worry. Heero is arguing with a nurse. Take your time getting here. I know you must be on the way. We're on the second floor. Room number TDB but I'll update when we have one.
Tension immediately eased from Quatre's posture and he took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly and closing his eyes momentarily. They really must be okay for Trowa to text so much. Though he'd been pleasantly surprised to find his quiet boyfriend was positively verbose with the written word he knew that if something serious were happening Trowa would keep things short. The trauma center was most likely chosen because other agents were seriously injured, though this thought did not exactly comfort the blonde young man.
Looking around the lobby he spotted a directory. The first floor consisted of the ER and the trauma center. The second floor appeared to be overflow, outpatient procedures, and the rehab center. The directory was positioned on a wall directly next to a row of elevators so when one opened and a nurse rushed out with supplies he slipped inside and pressed 2. Barely a moment later he found himself on the second floor.
When the doors opened it was the smell of cleaning supplies that hit him first. With automatic doors leading outside to fresh air, the lobby didn't have much of a distinct hospital smell. Here on the second floor the smell nearly reached out to smack him on his face. It also appeared that the chaos he experienced downstairs was swapped for calm here. Though no one looked to be lazing about, the people in scrubs on this floor looked busy, but not overwhelmed. With no one seated at the nearby nurse station Quatre began to type a text inquiry to Wufei for a room number when was interrupted by a sweet voice. "Hello! Can I help you?"
A young woman was standing before him holding what looked to be freshly laundered bedding. She wore an easy smile over her face and looked very eager to assist him. Quatre's phone found its way into his pocket. She looked a bit like one of his sisters. Big brown eyes with a hint of mischief even as she completed a serious job.
"Yes, please. I'm looking for my partner. He's one of the Preventers agents brought in and I know he's on the second floor."
Quatre made a mental note that her name tag read "Marcela" while her expression shifted into a slight frown. "You'll have to be more specific, dear. This whole floor is half Preventers agents right now."
With the signal that this could become an actual conversation Quatre easily fell into old social skills. He developed a pattern with strangers that he'd learned from growing up in a large family with tons of guests and servants rotating in and out of the house on a regular basis. Stay pleasant, keep things light, pretend you know whoever is talking to you as though they're a dear friend you haven't seen in years. This method almost never failed to get him exactly what he wanted while making the other party feel appreciated.
"It's all right, Marcela, I understand you've been quite busy today. And I'm betting you haven't gotten everyone's name yet with all the commotion." She nodded, her eyes brightening when she realized he wasn't upset. "I'll describe him for you. He's got very distinct brown hair and-"
"A LONG BRAID!" she chimed in excitedly. "Oh I'm so glad you're here! Nurse Ayele and I were wondering if our Jack would ever get a visitor. You'd think with those good looks he wouldn't be alone but no one ever comes for him other than the Commander." She leaned forward with her eyes as wide as they could go, making her look like a child about to spill a secret. "For someone whose name changes on all of his admission records because They want him to stay anonymous it's a wonder no one's recognized him from that hair!"
She was still talking but Quatre didn't hear as he felt the world fall away. Could it really be that Duo Maxwell was here in this hospital? He and the others searched for so long to find their missing friend only to discover not a single trace of him. Could it be that he was here under their noses the whole time? A ringing in Quatre's ears signaled his senses coming back and a slight burning in his lungs told him he'd been holding his breath for however long it took him to come out of his stupor. Mercifully his body automatically followed Marcela while she idly chatted and brought him through hallways, presumably to her mysterious braided patient.
All the board meeting with Winner Enterprises, Preventers consultations, and the wars, lest he forget needing nerves of steel in two wars, none of that prepared him for the sinking feeling now in his stomach or how it radiated outward and crept through his body and down his limbs until his fingers and toes tingled. What would happen if this really was Duo? And what would Heero think? That poor bastard spent more time than anyone looking for their friend. Quatre had a gut feeling Heero still casually looked for any leads pointing to the whereabouts of pilot 02 when he had free time. If Duo was here, on the same hospital floor… It would provide closure as well as a new beginning.
Marcela was reaching for a door handle and her voice floated to Quatre behind her. In a sing-song voice he heard her ask "How are you feeling, Mr Gibson? I've got a surprise for you!" Over her shoulder Quatre peered into a private room with one empty chair, some medical equipment, and a single bed with an occupant whose chestnut brown hair and long braid were unmistakable. It was the patient's face that surprised Quatre. Familiar features were set into a very unfamiliar scowl, and when violet eyes met aqua that strange expression added a hint of surprise and anger.
The blonde young man struggled not to reflexively raise a hand to his heart or gasp at the sight before him. Here was the friend he searched for. And that friend was very clearly unhappy to see him.
Marcela felt all her excited energy drain when her mystery patient reacted to his surprise visitor without any joy and then turned to her with eyes that said "I'm going to kill you." There was nothing left for her to do but fidget uncomfortably and back away from the now rabid animal laying before her in its hospital bed. Later she would recall mumbling some sort of excuse to leave but any words she said were reflexive. Whatever she said would forever escape her, though the look in those wild violet eyes would stay with her for years.
