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4.
"Duo Maxwell, we'll see you now!" called one of Dr. Cantrell's annoyingly perky assistants. Duo rose from his seat in the waiting room and stalked into the doctors' office. The others watched him anxiously. They were still expecting a violent reaction from him, Shinigami's wrath is not easily swayed and tensions were running high. It was Judgement Day. Their test results were in.
* * *
"Mr. Maxwell," Dr. Cantrell greeted pleasantly as the braided man entered her office and threw himself down in one of the chairs opposite her. She cast an assessing glance over him. His expression was guarded but she could see the flickers of distress and anxiety across his features, which was only to be expected. She drew out his file and flipped through until she came upon his test results. She smiled at him.
"Well Mr. Maxwell I have good news for you!" she announced brightly. His purple eyes locked with hers; curiosity piqued. "You have the all clear!"
"I – I'm all clear?" he asked in disbelief. At her nod he felt a powerful surge of relief and then guilt. What should it matter if he lived only to see Heero wither and die? In spite of, or maybe because of, his dark mood, Duo flashed the doctor a winning grin and a victory sign. "Phew! What a relief, y'know?" he suddenly stopped and inwardly cursed himself for becoming so involved in himself and Heero that he hadn't even though of his closest friends until now.
"Are you alright?" Dr. Cantrell asked, seeing him become immersed in thought. The bright grin had quickly faded.
"The others? 'Fei, Tro' and Quat', they're all okay too, right?" he asked an icy fear grew in his gut at the possibility of a negative answer. She had taken too long to answer his question. "They're okay, right?"
"Right?!"
* * *
Heero awoke once more, this time his mind was clear of any adverse side effects caused by the sedatives he had been given. The room was devoid of life. Sharp eyes focused on the folded up wheel chair which was tucked away neatly by the wall. He reached up and rang the emergency bell insistently. Heero Yuy was going on a field trip.
* * *
"Good afternoon Mr. Chang," the doctor greeted as the dark haired young man strode into the room. He bowed respectfully; she found the gesture oddly touching.
"Maxwell has the disease, does he not? He would not speak to us when he emerged," Wufei demanded. He hated this with a passion. Hated the idea that he could lose everyone close to him and be absolutely powerless to stop it. History had a nasty tendancy to repeat itself.
"Mr. Maxwell is absolutely fine, we could detect no sign of cancer within him," she revealed. Wufei closed his eyes briefly in thanks to the higher power which had spared his friend. The unadulterated relief was short lasted. If Duo was fine why had he been so upset upon leaving the office? Catching the question in his eyes Dr. Cantrell smiled sadly. "He asked about the results of yourself and the other two gentlemen and I thought that none of you would have any objections if I told him,"
"Stop drawing this out!" Wufei snapped, his frayed nerves getting the best of him. "Have I got the damned thing or not?"
"You have a small brain tumour Mr Chang," Dr. Cantrell revealed, trying to keep her voice business like. Wufei blinked in shock. He felt fine. "I think it's best if we operate. I've scheduled the procedure for the day after tomorrow; it's the quickest I could book you in. It should be a relatively simple operation but of course there are always risks," Wufei let the words wash over him like a waterfall. He felt fine. Dr. Cantrell stopped talking and watched him with sympathetic eyes.
"I feel fine," he told her adamantly. She simply shook her head.
"I'm sorry," the words always felt so false and empty in her mouth. Wufei visibly gathered himself together.
"Trowa? Quatre? Tell me they're alright?"
* * *
"I'm sorry Mr. Yuy but I simply can't!" the young nurse spluttered nervously. "It's against policy!"
"Do I look like I care?" the retort was spoken in a flat and deadly voice. Despite his diminished physical presence and the headache which was quickly threatening to split him in two Heero was still able to impose an extremely threatening presence. Five minutes later Heero sat in the wheelchair outside his requested destination. The nurse fled; glad to be out of his way. The Japanese youth raised a hand to rap on the door, but before he could complete his task the wooden rectangle was yanked open and Relena stumbled out, nearly crashing into Heero in the process. Tears were streaking down her face. She saw him and hastily scrubbed the evidence of her sorrow away, offering a weak smile.
"H-Heero, how are you – " it was no use, the tears started again and her breath caught in her throat. "Just talk to him will you?" Not waiting for an answer to her desperate request she fled down the corridor. Heero watched her go silently. For a moment he thought his visit had come to late. What had happened to upset her so? Wheeling himself into the room took a lot more effort than it should and left him shaken both mentally and physically.
The room was basically the same as his own. Basic furniture, a bed where the Lightning Count sat and watched him. The said man looked as emaciated as Heero himself and the shining mane of platinum blonde was now dull and lifeless. In fact the only difference in their rooms was the burly orderly who sat in a chair by the window. The orderly looked Heero over and drew himself to his feet.
"Dismissed soldier," Zech's voice was full of the flat, dry mockery Heero had come to associate with his old rival. The man looked Heero over once more before grudgingly leaving the room.
"And that was?" Heero inquired quietly. Zech's smirked at him.
"Suicide watch,"
So that was why Relena was so upset.
* * *
"Mr. Barton, please take a seat," Dr. Cantrell greeted as the tall youth walked in. Trowa sank into one of the chairs and watched her with intense eyes.
"What's the verdict?" he asked, gauging her reaction to his abrupt question. He had it. He could tell from the way she nervously ran a hand through her hair, her posture, everything about her screamed bad news.
"You're in the early stages of brain cancer. We've decided that the best course of action is to operate and remove the tumour, but – " she was interrupted.
"But it could come back?" it was more of a statement than a question but the doctor nodded in response anyway. "So why bother? Just give me the pills when they are cleared," Trowa had been a soldier from a very young age. He was all too aware of the dangers that came from unconsciousness and the fact that not all doctors could be trusted. If he could avoid having the operation he would. Dr. Cantrell gaped at him.
"I don't think you understand Mr. Barton," she said brusquely, resenting the rebellion and questioning of her judgement. "With surgery the cancer may never come back. You can live a perfectly healthy life and die a natural death. Hormone therapy means that the cancer is always there. It just suppresses it. There will always be a threat hanging over your head and you will never know when it is going to overpower the drugs and wipe you out," There was a moment of silence. Both occupants of the office slightly shocked by the outburst. Trowa studied her carefully while weighing his decisions.
"I'll have the operation," he told her quietly causing her to let out a sigh of relief. There was another moment of silence. Dr. Cantrell shifted uncomfortably under intense green eyes.
"What's wrong with Quatre?"
* * *
"You tried to kill yourself," Heero stated flatly. "I don't understand. Why would you do that?" Zechs smiled self-depreciatingly.
"Why not?" he asked rhetorically. Heero didn't care that the question was not meant to have an answer. Zechs was going to get one anyway.
"How about Relena? Noin? Two people who would rather die than see you hurt! How about – " Zechs cut him off, anger burning in chips of ice.
"Don't you dare lecture me on the vices of suicide Heero Yuy. I've lost count of exactly how many times you've tried to end it all," the words were not yelled but spoken with powerful steel and left Heero suitably subdued with their logic.
"Why?" he simply repeated.
"Why? Because of this," he held up a wrist so thin that it would take virtually no effort to snap it. "And this," he yanked up his top to reveal his starkly visible ribs, Heero's hand unconsciously reached to touch his own jutting rib cage. "Because I am slowly dying anyway! Because the only enemy in sight is the enemy that is thriving inside me. Eating me alive. And all enemies must be destroyed at any cost,"
The cold cut reasoning left Heero hollow inside. Heero was not going to win this argument, because on some deep, intrinsic level he agreed with the blond. He was snapped from his suicidal reverie by Zechs, who had drawn a gun from beneath his pillow.
"All enemies must be destroyed 01. You know it as well as I. Now, who shall go first? Me or you?"
* * *
"Hello Mr. Winner, please make yourself comfortable," Dr. Cantrell made her greetings once more. The false smile on her face was becoming more and more brittle with every young man she saw. On his part Quatre flashed her a genuine, if somewhat tired, smile before sitting.
"Please, call me Quatre," he insisted. She shook her head ruefully.
"I'm afraid not Mr. Winner, it's my own personal policy never to get on a first name basis with any of my patients, I find it compromises my professionalism," she explained. He gave her a knowing look.
"You're afraid of getting too involved," she opened her mouth in shock but he continued smoothly, not allowing her to reply. "Trowa just informed me of his, Wufei's and Duo's results. He said he knew mine but felt it better I heard from you. He was very upset. Am I dying?"
Dr. Cantrell was blown away by this question. This young boy walked into her office looking as cherubic as a choirboy and yet he spoke about death with the same casual air one would use to discuss the weather. It took her a moment to collect her thoughts.
"No, Mr. Winner, you aren't as far gone as Mr. Yuy. However the cancer is move developed in your case so we are unable to operate. As soon as the drugs are cleared I'm putting you onto hormone therapy. I need you to understand that this will not cure you. It will hold the disease at bay. However there are reports of people living to a ripe old age who are on the medication." She explained to him, watching his face, trying to judge his reaction as Trowa had done with her. There was no change in the young mans expression. "There is a side affect to the drug. Since it is hormone therapy the drugs affect the testosterone levels in your body, as this is what feed the cancerous cells. This means that you won't be as," she paused; trying to think of an eloquent way of telling a teenage boy he was going to be virtually impotent. "Virile as you were," He smiled indulgently.
"If it's life or sex I'm going to go with life every time," he told her calmly. "Thank you for explaining the situation, I believe I should go and find Duo. You shouldn't have told him our results, he has got enough problems coping with Heero's situation right now,"
With that he turned and left the office, shutting the door firmly behind him and leaving a somewhat astonished doctor in his wake.
"These boys may just be the end of me,"
* * *
Heero took the gun from Zechs hand and flipped open the chamber with expert ease. Fully loaded. Zech's was serious. He closed the chamber.
"I have no desire to die quite yet," Heero stated and was surprise to find that the sentiment was completely true. He wanted to spend every second he had left with his loved ones. He could see the conviction in Zech's eyes and knew nothing he or anyone else could say would sway him from this course. "However if you are certain that you truly want this, I will end it for you," A slow smile spread across the blondes face at the offer.
"I would be honoured to die at your hand," he replied in all seriousness.
"It has been a pleasure knowing you Preventer Wind, Milliardo Peacecraft, Lightning Count, Zechs Marquis," the prussian eyed boy admitted.
"Let's get this over with," Zech's ordered as he braced himself. Heero raised the gun.
"So be it,"
To be Continued . . .