Chimera of Life
Story Six: Wisdom's Harmony
Chapter Five
By Heartfire
~*~
She gave him a cot by the other side of the garden walls, away from her 'laboratory'. He just woke up one morning in his old room, was greeted by the 'official messenger' with a verbal speech that consisted of-
'Your quarters was reassigned. Follow me.'
And that was it. Since the man didn't tell him to bring anything with him, he just followed him, straight into the garden room. The guard opened the door for him, stayed outside while 'the doctor' greeted him with a shy smile and warm brown eyes.
'I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of giving you a room in here. You won't be tripping alarms accidentally if you get another sleepwalking urge.'
She had motioned with her head for him to follow, and he did. That was when he saw the plain cot with practical sheets and pillows, neatly folded and ready to be used.
He didn't nod, said thank you, or anything. How could he? He always had trouble showing gratitude. It took years for him to learn how to do it with Cathy, so used was he to just minding his own business. This one, her gift of giving him a space in a place where he felt most comfortable in… well… it truly gave him a sense of gratitude for her existence.
Her shy smile become more confident as she kept a steady look on his face, and that… nice dimple showed once again.
'You like it… I don't know how I know, but you like it. I'm glad.'
His sense of self-preservation kicked into high gear, the way it had when Cathy saw through him that first time she talked to him. There were few people who could read him, fewer than he had fingers. He does not like it at all. He prided himself for not showing much and here, she actually understood him.
She motioned towards the exotic plants around the cot with a sweep of her hand. 'Look, these birds of paradise will be your fence. This way, you'll feel that this is your area.'
Trowa chanced a glance towards her. She was talking as if she researched the human psyche and was acting upon theories. Granted, the 'personal space' theory was correct, still… what does she hope to accomplish by taking him out here?
Well, all of that happened a couple of days ago… He was still mulling over that thought, over those recent twist of events, staring at the crescent moon high above the periphery of the glass roof when her door opened. A soft sound trailed to his ears, a sound he was familiar to- suppressed sniffling. The light was behind her, shadowing her frame, making her look as though she just emerged from the sun and then all too soon, the door closed and she was in semi-darkness.
Trowa watched her shadowed form make way towards the sofa, seemingly crumple on it then after a few more movements, she became still. He waited for a decent time before he silently walked towards her frame, anxious to know if she was fine. With only the dim moon to light his path, he was surprised to have made it to her side without stepping on a twig. That same dim silver yellow light gave enough illumination to show him one trail of tear on her cheek.
A single trail. Those were usually the most painful.
Nightmares. It seemed that everyone goes to the garden for respite of it, even the doctor. What does she run away from in her subconscious, though? She keeps on talking of helping him, but why can't she help herself?
The garden cannot keep the darkness out for long. Sooner or later, it will seep through cracks and find her- and him…
Thank God his dreams hadn't plagued him since he started sleeping in here. The place had basically become his home. He sleeps, eats, and works in it, and always just with her.
Funny… he still doesn't know her name. But he did find a 'Christy' signature, heavily imbedded on a fresh leaf of her pad paper when he was looking for something to write on and send to Cathy. He found himself calling her a 'Christy' in his mind. It was better than 'She' or 'Her', although the plain 'Doctor' was a little better than the latter two.
She turned on the sofa. Trowa stood up. 'Good night, Christy.' He whispered in his mind before he turned away and walked to his own bed. It had been quite some time since she had slept in the garden. He'd gotten used to this place being his during the nights, but he didn't mind her visit tonight at all. Didn't mind it at all.
…
"Christy! Dinner's ready! Call your mother and father in." The strong voice drifted to her room where she played with the plant leaves her mother left for her, matching it with the picture book of leaves that her mother gave her during her last birthday.
No… not again… please… once tonight was enough!
A gurgle of laughter left small lips while she hopped on both feet then ran past her yaya's huge legs whose feet were in front of the small stove. "I'll be back!"
She ran into her mother's small garden where she usually found her parents tinkering with test tubes, and a computer. "Mommy! Daddy!"
No answer… She looked up, her eyes catching sight of the metal sheets and over lights.
How come I never noticed that I never saw the sky before?"Mommy? Daddy?" She ventured towards the edge of the garden, hesitating. She had never gone past the gardens before. It was dark… should she? She bit her lower lip.
No! Don't go!Her parents needs to eat… She's a big girl now. Nearly ten! She breathed in deeply then walked forth. It wasn't so bad. It was just dark. That was all.
Turn around!"Mommy! Dadd-" A scream tore through her seeking shout when she stepped on a suddenly sloping sheet of metal. She fell, her head banging against something, her body rolling and bouncing off those hard metal plates.
She didn't know how long she lay there, but eerie sounds made her open her eyes. Screams of agony and moans were around her. A flash of unnatural green light somewhere she couldn't remember… "Ma! Pa!" She started to get scared. She shouldn't have gone beyond the garden. She moved her feet when something clawed her skin and grabbed her ankle. And then another cold hand grabbed her arm.
'Help me!'
'Get us out of here!'
'Oh God!'
'Please help us!'But none of them made sense to her. All she could feel were cold, clammy hands grabbing her hair, her arms, and her feet. She screamed. She twisted and pulled and screamed, hoping that someone would find her.
"Let me go! Let me go! Mama! Papa! No!"
…
"Let me go! Please! I don't want to! No!"
Her hysterical screams nearly deafened Trowa as he hugged her, stilling her lashing arms and legs in a vice-like grip. "Shhh. It's all right. Shhh." He rocked her gently, back and forth, the way he remembered Cathy did when he dreamt of the many times when he killed and found himself in a pool of blood.
"Mommy! Daddy! Help!"
Her anguished cries tore at his heart. What could she be dreaming that was making her act this way? What kind of parents didn't hear their child cry out for them like this? "It's all right. Shhh." He woke up from her very first scream. When he saw her thrashing her hands and arms, he knew he needed to intervene. "No one's going to hurt you…" He rubbed her back until her arms lagged. He didn't let go when she started shaking violently. Finally, she relaxed.
Slowly, Trowa settled her back on the sofa. She looked tired, a frown on her forehead as if she was concentrating on driving away those dreams. He wouldn't be able to sleep now. Not after being awakened by that terrified scream, fit for a horror movie.
He couldn't deny the panic that went through him, couldn't deny that he raced to be by her side. 'She's a good person,' he argued with himself. She didn't deserve her nights to be plagued by monstrosities.
Once again, Trowa found himself sitting at the end of the sofa, near her tucked toes, and leaning back. Like a relaxed, silent sentry, he looked over the garden, but most of all, he looked after her.
…
Her memory of last night's dreams was fresh in her mind when she woke up. When she felt that alien weight near her feet, she nearly jumped, but she opened her eyes and took in the situation first. It was just Tristan, his tall length stretched perpendicular to the sofa, his head lolled on the backrest with his mouth slightly parted.
She must have cried in her sleep, and he must have heard her and went to her to help. She might be jumping to conclusions, but if she was correct, then he must be unconsciously regaining his humane side. But… with the dreams still fresh in her mind, she wondered again if she was being fair.
Slowly, she got up, taking pains not to wake him, picked up her chair and settled it in front of him to observe. He was most definitely a beautiful specimen. Jessie was correct about that. How come she never noticed before?
Compare his smooth skin, oval shaped face that was more tapered by the chin, giving him a more feminine- yet distinct- structure against the other men within the compound, and she would still say he has the most arresting face. Those firm lips that seemed too tense when he's conscious were now relaxed, and that thick hair still fell over half his face.
She could relate to that as she tucked back a lock of hair that irritated her behind her ear, only to have it spring back on her face. 'Hopeless.' She cut it once, when she was younger, but it just grew like a thorn on a smooth cactus leaf. She had to endure quite a few long months with a lock of hair sticking out of her head, just to have it long enough to tuck back behind her ear again.
'Tristan… Am I being fair?' She searched his face. It was strange that she feels so at ease with him. The only other person she was comfortable with was Jessie, but that was probably because he was not a conventional man… and Tristan was most certainly not a normal man.
He slowly became conscious of a feeling- that of being scrutinized. He opened his eyes and found her, sitting at the edge of her lab chair, right in front of him, her face cupped in her hands. He couldn't decipher what was in her eyes, too guarded.
"Good morning, Tristan." Men shouldn't have eyes as beautiful as those… She found herself staring then-
"Good morning, Doctor." He kept his body rigid, cautious. She never greets him like this, in such a formal tone. Usually, her voice was soft, yielding.
She quickly looked down at her hands, feeling guilty. Quickly erasing her most recent thoughts about his eyes, she contemplated whether or not… Fudge and brownies! Why does she feel so guilty when she was just trying to help? Probably because she wasn't giving him any choice? Then again, he wasn't given a choice when his memory was taken away! "I believe… no…" She shook her head before she continued. "I know I made a mistake."
Trowa mentally frowned. "What is the mistake, doctor?" She didn't answer. In fact, she bit her lower lip. For the past few weeks- months- that he'd worked for her, he knew this as a sure sign of worry.
She stood up from her chair then faced that new, brightly shining sun. He deserved to know the truth. She took away his – what was it that the Americans termed it long ago? Personal rights? Whatever it was, it was not helping her muddled thoughts. "Maybe I should never have given you that serum that day..." She gave a frustrated sigh before she walked away from him, back where she came from late last night, but this time, with no blinding light in the background.
Something she said made his imagination run a-skitter. She gave him a serum? When? He doesn't remembered her offering him anything to eat or drink that didn't came from the assigned platoon servers who came daily with their food. He doesn't remember her ever sticking a needle into his skin.
'Midii…' Her all too innocent face swam in his mind. She would know. Know it and will tell it. He felt a rush of anger through his veins. Impatient anger. She will tell him. 'Or so help me…' His hands shook as he pushed back his bangs, only to have it return in the same place. He's given her enough time. One good thing that came out of being reassigned to the garden- Midii constantly kept him updated on her schedule, and he knew exactly where she was.
…
"Who is Tristan Brigham?"
Midii gasped as she turned around from a half march and nearly collided against Trowa's chest. "Wha-" She nearly grew cross-eyed as she stared at his black shirt buttons, trying to grasp her wits about her. "What?"
"Tristan Brigham. Who is he?" Trowa asked once again, trying to keep his anger from showing.
A startled laugh left Midii's lips as she tilted her chin up and gave him a wary look. "Why, you! Who else?" When Trowa's eyes slanted slightly, her survival instincts kicked in, making her take a step back. It was the wrong move, even though it was unconsciously made.
Trowa's hand grabbed her upper arm faster than a snake about to bite. Midii cringed but he didn't loosen his hold. He knew she could fight. He knew she had used her feminine wiles before and gotten her way. "Tell me."
"Trowa! Let go! The surveillance cameras will see!" It was a weak excuse, especially when trees surrounded them, but beggars can't be choosers.
"You know perfectly well that they can't penetrate through solid objects and we're surrounded by perfectly opaque trees." He pulled her struggling body near, letting his silent fury show in his eyes. "Now, I want to know who Tristam Brigham is, and I want to know now, Midii, or…" His face took on an eerily calm look, "I'm going to leave this place."
He received the desired reaction from her. Her baby blue eyes turned wide with fright, and her body ceased struggling.
"Y-you wouldn't…!" Midii shook her head. He can't! Everything rides on him being in the Center! It was as though heaven sent that he was reassigned to the gardens! When his face didn't register a single trace of emotion, she knew that he would. She looked down at the grassy soil, defeated. Again. By him. "Let go, and I'll try."
Trowa let her arm go, ready to grab her again if she even tried to run away before answering any of his questions.
Midii started pacing in front of him, trying to sort out what she could and couldn't tell him. It was too early… Should she? No. But… A frustrated grunt left her before she stopped in front of him then stomped her foot. "Why are you being so difficult?! Can't you just wait?"
"I've waited long enough. I've played by your rules too long." Trowa reached out and gripped her wrist, pulling her closer to his tense body. "I want answers, Midii, and I want them now."
'So different…. He's so different…' Midii thought as she stared into his cold, unflinching eyes while he breathed fury down her face. Slowly, she felt her body slacken. She couldn't fight him, but she couldn't tell him…
When he saw her shoulders droop and her proud head tilt down, he slackened his hold. It may have been a long time, but she still held something deep in him. Maybe he had been too judgmental about her? He let go of her wrist, trying to figure out if he had been logical with this sudden decision-
Midii took her chance… and ran away. Away from him, from this suffocating soulless center. Away from everything.
Trowa stared at her departing back, knowing full well that he could have stopped her, but not knowing why he didn't. He looked down at his hands, wondering what could have happened if… he hadn't thought of his feelings for her. He knew he had physically hurt her, but… 'Bloody hell…'
He was about to leave when he felt eyes on him. Eyes. No mistaking it, someone saw the exchange. He turned and stared at the direction where he felt it coming from. His instincts were on the mark. He saw the unmistakable glint of golden hair, and then the owner stood up… Dorothy Catalonia.
Surprise hit him akin to an invisible punch into his stomach. 'Dorothy is… here?!' He barely had time to cover his surprise! What was she doing here? When did she get here? Was she going to turn him in? She always was on the wrong side of the game… And yet- she placed her fingers on her lips. An obvious sign of confidence. He had the distinct feeling that she wasn't going to tell anyone, that she was on his side. He must talk to her.
He suddenly felt apprehensive. It wasn't Dorothy, but… something else that was making him feel worried... Slowly, he turned his gaze to the gray walls of the Center. Almost instantly, a red flickering light appeared on the inner wall, and then a message-
"Lieutenant Matthew, Lieutenant Matthew, please report to the Emergency room."
'Thursday…' He was quite sure that Midii could take care of herself. What was this apprehensive feeling that was slowly clutching at his heart, then? Bit by bit, his feet moved. He couldn't shake the feeling that something bad had happened.
Trowa reached the S74 area- the inner garden- entered, and found it empty. He quickly scanned the room. There was no mistake. Christy was not inside. He shouldn't be surprised. She was a doctor, though of plants, and she's like her brother. She must be helping Jessie.
He walked to her desk and saw her neat script on the plain white paper. It was a list of plants in their scientific names. Everything was checked except for one, the last one. Well, there wasn't anything to do but to wait for her.
Trowa sat on the couch, willing his body to relax as hours passed by. Sunset came and he was staring at the blazing orange sky when the door from the main hallway swished open and he quickly stood up, expecting her.
It wasn't her and his anxiety doubled.
Jessie plowed inside, frantically searched the whole garden before his eyes fell on 874 and started for him. "Where is she? Where the bloody hell is she?!"
Trowa forced back the question- isn't she with you?- and instead, asked- "The doctor?"
"Yes! Who else am I looking for?! She wasn't there today! Where is she?!" Jessie reached him, worried, agitated, and more. He barely had time to change out of his blood-spilled attire before he ran in here. She never missed helping during a Thursday drill! Never!
"I do not know." Trowa flexed his hands behind his back. From Jessie's face and tone of voice, he knew there was something to be worried about.
Without anything else to do, Jessie walked to the desk, intent to find out where she… He grabbed the paper- "Achillea millefolium." He looked around the garden, now in half darkness with the sun nearly below the horizon. He could never say that he was an expert, like her, but he was familiar enough to know that- "She doesn't have any woundwort tree- damn!" He looked at Trowa, that impassive face, and he felt like explaining. "Sometimes, we run out of supplies and she gathers some of her plants to help out just in case. I guess her supply ran out too and she thought she'd pick some-" Jessie's eyes widened in shock. "Why the hell am I explaining this to you?! I never explain anything to anyone!"
Trowa could be sure about that! The man was too flighty to be able to give a logical explanation.
Jessie sighed then ran to the full glass wall at the far end of the garden with Trowa right behind him.
Trowa watched as Jessie counted the planes of glass from the corner to the seventh one, and then stop to look at the ground. Trowa followed and he could tell that the pot of bush, nearly as tall as he, was just recently pushed away.
Jessie faced 874, concern etched on his face. "Her supply must have been low…" He looked outside, "She's out there, somewhere… She never missed a Thursday." He pushed at the seventh glass and it easily swung out.
Trowa nearly blinked in surprise- if he wasn't so worried.
"Damn that girl… The only good thing out of this is that Dr. Blake isn't here…" Jessie stomped his foot for lack of anything else to do. He would rather scream, or beat somebody up, but… now isn't the time. He face Tristan, trying to sort out the best possible solution. "Start looking for her, and I'll bring along a search team."
Trowa nodded, more than willing to, itching to start. "Yes, sir."
With a nod, Jessie ran out of the garden while Trowa walked out of the glass garden and into the real, visible world. He saw the shimmer appear on his arms, his foot, the tip of his nose as he walked out of the compound's area. Nausea clouded his senses but he forced himself to concentrate. Mentally, he already decided that the only way to get back inside was to either leave a mark here, or utilize the tree Midii had used when he came here for the first time.
Once fully outside, Trowa knelt on the ground to regain his lost ambiance and to use the last bit of sunlight to distinguish the direction she walked to. Confident, he stood up and hurriedly followed her trail, his eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness.
He was dumb. There must be something wrong with him. Why didn't he follow his logical side when he thought of bringing a flashlight along before he plunged into his search? It was too dark to follow her trail, and he didn't know how long he's been walking either. At least the sky was clear and he could still use the constellations for directions.
'Where are you?' His stomach, already in knots, tightened. He couldn't think… 'Bloody hell, Trowa. Concentrate!' He wouldn't be able to find her if he doesn't. Closing his eyes, he willed his body to relax, to listen to the sounds of nature, to feel his surroundings…
He followed his instincts, weaving in and out of the dense trees, cursing those sharp edged leaves, those lumpy roots, and those irritating bugs. He stopped when he stepped into a clearing, feeling the hair at the back of his neck rise. There was something wrong here… He was quite sure that they were far away from the training grounds, but… His eyes scanned the area then settled on the still form at the base of a large, ancient looking tree.
'Christy…' He took a step, then stopped, that uneasy mood going through him again. His eyes slanted as they studied his surroundings and finally, with the soft light from the twinkling stars above, he saw the machine gun on top of a tree just two meters away from him.
In a flash, he knew what had happened and his heart constricted. He forced his eyes not to look at her yet and worked on reaching the trap and disassembling it. If he could destroy the damn armament, he would have, but he couldn't. Instead, right after he was sure that it wouldn't be able to fire again, he headed for her.
She was wearing a white version of her dress, and with the soft light that helped him find that instrument of death, he also saw the dark red liquid that seeped through the white satin and created trails down her right arm. He paused, unable to believe his eyes even when he knew, deep in the back of his mind that something had happened. She sat there at the base of the tree, one limp hand over her right shoulder, her head hanging down against her chest, and her long black hair swept over the left shoulder. If it weren't for the blood, he would have thought she was just taking a nap… but there was blood…
'Blood…' She was bleeding. 'No…!' Something snapped in him. A hope, a fighting chance. She couldn't be dead. Not yet. He ran to her side while he noted the trail of blood from about a meter away from her body. He deduced that she crawled from where she was shot, to this tree before she passed out.
"Christy?" He tilted her chin with one hand, his other checking for a pulse at the base of her neck. He found it. Faint, but it was there. He pulled her hand away from her wound and found that she was shot around her shoulder. How many times, he wasn't sure, but the satin on her wound was hard with mixed dried and wet blood. She was so cold, and so pale…
"Tristn…"
Her slurred whisper made him rivet his attention from the wound to her face. Her eyes were glazed from loss of blood, but there was a hint of a smile, coupled with pain, on her lips.
"Thank… kyh…"
Her eyes closed again and Trowa made up his mind. Gently but hurriedly, he effortlessly carried her in his arms. With a quick check at the stars above, he half ran to the direction of the compound. He saw the flashlights darting here and there and he knew he was near, mentally checking that the lights belonged to the search and rescue team. But he didn't have time for them, and he didn't care if he anyone saw him running either.
Part of the behavior reprogramming or not, Christy needs help and she's going to get it. He crashed out of the forest and into the familiar clearing of the compound, his eyes fastening on the three men where the entrance to the compound should be. The hot pink lab coat wasn't hard to miss, even with darkness all around them. It amazed Trowa that it took so much of his will power to create his usual mask of indifference but thankfully, he was able to manage just as Jessie caught sight of his silhouette and ran towards him.
"Open the doors!" Jessie ordered to the two orderlies he left by the main entrance and met Tristan halfway. He kept his hands from shaking as he checked the diameter of blood on her clothing. "Oh my God…" Jessie closed his eyes to murmur for strength then he scooped her body from Tristan's hold just as he said- "Give her to me."
Without another glance, Jessie ran into the compound, shouting more orders. Trowa stared at the retreating figure, half angry that she was snatched from his arms, and that he was discarded just like that. He wanted to be with her, to make sure that she would be all right… Was he going to be deprived of that?
He glared at one of the orderlies who were left outside, talking to the same thin, pen-shaped communicator Trowa had seen Jessie use before. One by one, the other soldiers came back from the dark forest and the orderly counted the heads, nodding his satisfaction before he turned to face Trowa.
It was Quentin.
"Come on, 874." He motioned for Trowa to come in.
He was feeling rebellious, but the concern he felt for Christy overturned that and he finally obeyed, though unwillingly so. When he reached Quentin, the older man motioned for him to follow.
"Dr. Matthew told me to take you to the observation room."
He nearly balked at the surprising news. Thankfully, Quentin wasn't facing him. Not willing to question the good fate that was offered, he followed him up the stairs and into a pristine room with an inclined glass wall. Far below, Dr. Jessie Matthew worked on Christy. More blood oozed and though he knew how much blood a person could carry, he still wondered where it was all coming from.
"I'll leave you in here. I need to help downstairs."
"Yes sir." Trowa nearly forgot to answer before the door behind him closed, his attention fixed on the scene happening below. There was a litany he was mentally praying that he wasn't even aware he was doing… finally, he said the phrase in a whisper- "Please be all right…" His hand reached out to touch the glass as if to touch Christy's face while mentally, he willed for her to hang on. He was sure that Jessie was used to these operating procedures, but things always happen.
He stayed where he was until Jessie nodded to Quentin, and the older man motioned for new aides to bring the cot outside. It was over. Finally.
Trowa watched as Jessie leaned down and bestowed a kiss on Christy's forehead. His reaction to the act was a curious zap of annoyance. He took a couple of steps back, wondering about the origin of that unfamiliar emotion when the door behind him opened. Years of discipline were the only thing that helped Trowa's body not to turn and face the door in surprise. Calmly, he turned.
"She lost a lot of blood…" Jessie rubbed his face wearily, a sprinkle of dark stubbles growing across his chin. "If you were even a little bit too late…" He looked away, not wanting to even think of the consequences. "It was a surprise that she even held on that long."
Trowa gripped his fisted right hand tighter behind his back. He knew what Jessie was trying to tell him. She could have died…
A sarcastic grin titled Jessie's lips then he shook his head as if catching himself in a humiliating act. "Geeze… she even got me talking to you like you would understand." With another shake of his head, he stretched out his hands upward then backward. "What a week… Can't wait until this is all over…"
Trowa wholeheartedly agreed.
"Yah know," Jessie tilted his head to one side as he contemplated the soldier in front of him. There was just something unique about this one. "You are different… maybe that's why…" Maybe that's why she's trying so hard. "Well, let's see if you understand this, 874." Jessie ruefully smiled. "She loves those calla lilies that grows near the waterfall in her garden the most." With those last words said, Jessie turned around and walked out of the room, leaving Trowa slightly inclining his head to the side, almost akin to how Jessie studied him.
'Is this a test?' Trowa asked himself. What would happen if he did bring lilies to her-
"By the way," Jessie's head popped in just as the door swished halfway. "She's in A4. That is," His right eyebrow rose in challenge, "… if you're interested."
Then he was gone again. Trowa shook his head. 'What a strange person.' Jessie changes moods more often than the sea waves touch the shores. With a shrug, as though to brush away the heaviness that surfaced the moment he saw her bloody body, he walked out of the room and into their garden.
…
0615 hours
He feels like an idiot. No, he feels embarrassed and like an idiot. The sweet smell of jasmines wafted to his nose and he closed his eyes, wondering what had possessed him. He woke up earlier than he had expected to, especially since he spent the night tossing and turning. Finally, he lay on his cot and stared at the dark sky that slowly glowed with the gradual rising sun.
He had looked at the waterfall, his eyes focused upon those ivory white lilies while his mind replayed what Jessie had said. That was when he just let himself do what had been bothering him and he ended up… walking down the hall with a large beaker full of water, three calla lilies, and a palm's length of sweet smelling jasmine buds.
Trowa hesitated outside Room A4. Never in his life- that he was aware of- had he given anyone flowers. Not once and yet, here he was… Should he clear his throat? Knock? 'Idiot.' She was probably sleeping. She would probably not even know that he came in.
Taking a deep breath, not knowing why his hands grew clammy, he pressed his code against the number pad on the wall and it silently swished open. His heart lurched at the sight of her with tubes of IV's connected to her body.
He took a step inside and the door closed. She was less pale than last night, and thankfully, her long black hair was meticulously arranged over one shoulder. The 'what ifs' that haunted his night nipped at his heel again. Slowly, not wanting to wake her up, he walked to her bedside table and deposited his gift.
"Mmm… Jasmines…"
His gaze snapped to the bed. He saw her move under the blanket, her head tilting towards him and her chest puffing that he knew she was following the flowers' scent. Then her eyes opened and he thanked no one in particular that the glazed look was gone, replaced by the soft, just woken up ones.
"What a lovely way to wake up…" She whispered, her voice hoarse while her eyes was still trained on Tristan's beautiful forest green eyes, the color reminding her of the base portion of a leaf- the darker portion. It truly was a nice way to wake up… to have someone beside her bed who looks at her with concern, at least, she hoped she wasn't imagining the concern in Tristan's eyes. Sometimes, she wonders if it was just wishful thinking on her behalf that she could see emotions in his eyes.
The small smile on her lips made him relax. He felt the need to lean over her bed and give her an embrace and he argued with himself that he was only feeling that way because he was concerned. Just concer- he took a step forward when she moved and grimaced in pain, biting down on her lower lip to stop a painful shout, but not able to stop that gasp of pain that made him ache.
"It's all right, Tristan." She whispered, noticing his reaction. Then, she looked at her shoulder and saw the wound. Understanding lit her eyes. "Oh… that's right…" her mind recollected what happened yesterday- it must have been yesterday- then slowly, she looked back at him. "You saved me." She knew. She could vaguely remember it, everything was hazy, but she remembered looking at him and feeling… safe.
Trowa didn't answer, but satisfaction was like a sweet drink to his soul when she looked up at him and gave him that grateful smile. And when her gaze traveled to the lilies, the 'oh' her lips had formed was another sweet taste.
She couldn't begin to decipher the happiness she could feel at the moment and when she turned to Tristan, she held out her hand.
The smile she bestowed upon him… it was the first time she had ever smiled like that, and he told himself he wouldn't mind coming everyday with a vase full of lilies if she would only keep that smile on her face. He didn't even think as he neared her bed and reached out to touch the hand she offered. It came so naturally to him. There were no fears, no embarrassment, nothing that popped in his head when he closed that small distance between them.
"Thank you, Tristan."
Trowa mentally shook his head. 'No, thank you.' They stayed in that position for a time, wonderfully content-
"Tut! Tut! What is my patient doing awake at this hour!?"
Trowa's lips became a straight line and his eyes slanted at the sudden intrusion… He should be thankful that Christy had focused her gaze on the- he was sure of it- hot pink lab coated doctor.
"Awww! Isn't that sweet? 874 brought you flowers! I wouldn't mind having a strong handsome hunk like him bring me some!"
Slowly, Trowa turned his head to glare at the doctor only to have his eyes squint to deflect the brightness of the fluttering apple green coat.
"Good morning, Jessie." A chuckle accompanied her greeting as the doctor stopped at the foot of her bed-
"Oh my! Will you look at that! Holding hands?!"
The two quickly released each other's hands. She bit her lower lip while Trowa forced himself not to reveal his own embarrassment… although, his awkward moment was being surpassed by anger towards this high-pitched doctor whom he almost thought to be a considerate human being last night.
Jessie's eyebrow rose as he looked at the stoic Trowa, then at the flushing patient. At the back of his mind, he wondered if there was anything going on between the two… then again, no… No… he's being paranoid. He's looking into things too deeply. Although, if these two had met in different situations, they would probably be a nice couple… "874, go on and eat your breakfast, I need to check on my patient."
He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay and… and… He wanted to stay. "Yes sir." Trowa turned and started for the door. When it opened, he heard his 'name'.
"Tristan…"
Trowa half turned to face her, wondering what she would say. "Yes, doctor?"
"I'll see you soon, all right?"
She smiled again and Trowa almost smiled back, barely catching himself. His anger was gone, replaced by that warmth he had felt earlier when they touched hands. "Yes, doctor." The door closed behind him, a solid barrier, and that was when reality knocked upon his door and he started to wonder… 'What is the matter with me?'
…
Trowa calmly looked up just as a tray of delicious waffles, hash browns, and eggs was plunked on the table while an apple green lab coat blocked his sight of the entrance.
"Hey there!"
It was easy not to pay any attention to Jessie, once you get used to his screeching voice. The man could be a worthy human, if he was even half as serious as… well… Duo. He nearly smiled as he remembered that braided man. It had been too long since he truly thought of his friends… Wufei, Relena, Heero, Hilde, Sally, and Une… and, of course, Quatre. Dear, sweet, overworked Quatre-
"Hey! You listening to me?!"
A seemingly green flag waved itself in front of his eyes- oh. It was his lab coat's sleeve. He gave a blank look to Jessie's direction, showing his boredom-
"I can only keep her for three days at the most, you know."
Now he snared Trowa's attention. "The doctor?"
Jessie rolled his eyes. "The doctor? The doctor? What is up with this 'the doctor?' question?! Who else would I be talking about?!" Jessie raked his hands through his hair, disheveling it some more. "Yeesh! I am definitely going crazy. I mean," He held out his hand in front of him, then started his countdown. "First she got me to memorizing her plants, then she calls me at night, then she runs off to look for a damn plant and gets herself seriously hurt, and now, she got me talking to a zombie! I mean, not that I don't usually talk to you guys like this. It is the only way to keep a sane mind around here, yah know. But still-"
Trowa nearly sighed, zoning out of the conversation. This man was just as talkative as Duo, but at least his friend's voice was pleasant!
"Anyways, that's beyond the point. What I'm trying to say here is that if I know her as well as I do," Jessie leaned to 874 conspiringly, "She'll be back in her lab, working like Dr. Jekyll. She's a workaholic, yah know." Jessie nodded as he said those last few words, almost as if he was imparting a secret.
Trowa clicked back in to the tête-à-tête. "What are you saying, Dr. Matthew?" He asked in his best toneless voice.
Jessie's grin reached ear-to-ear, glad to see 874 responding to his question and Trowa had the sinking feeling that he was about to receive a life sentence. "What I want you to do is to look after her. I'm a bit busy right now with some patients, and I need someone who's close to her to keep an eye on her once I let her go. Got that?"
It wasn't as if he wasn't going to look after her, anyway. "Yes, sir." He'd do more than that. He'll make sure she recovers as quickly as possible.
"Also, remind her about the skin rejuvenation operation once her wounds heal."
Trowa gave a nod. "Yes, sir."
"Splendid!" Jessie reached out and ruffled Trowa's hair in happiness, withdrawing his hand only to start eating his delicious breakfast.
One glance at the shiny metal tray under his plate and Trowa saw his hair with ends pointing to every direction. He resisted the urge to comb it, remembering his observation that none of the soldiers take heed of their appearance. To try to keep his anger, he glanced around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Onie. It's rare for him to eat at the cafeteria nowadays. Usually, Christy would order in their food. The teen would eat with Jessie and the other medical assistants, but today, he wasn't there. Disappointment flickered through him and he wondered how such a young boy could affect him so much. Without the silent Onie to observe how his sister's accident affected him, and not wanting to spend any more time with Jessie, Trowa stood up, ready to get back to work.
…
"You've kept the garden for me."
The whispered gratuitous words flowed over Trowa like the warm sunshine that filled the garden, and like the plants inside, he basked in it. He knew she would notice. It wasn't that he wasn't used to compliments. Cathy have often encouraged him and publicly admired his works, if he did a good job. But with her, it was just different. She turned around for the third time, in the middle of her garden, faced him then smiled that radiant smile that first- and only- time he visited her. He had missed that smile.
"I knew you would look after them." She walked closer to him, took his right hand in both of hers then looked directly into his face. "I truly appreciate it."
That was her version of a hug, or so he logically surmised. Whereas Cathy would openly hug him, the nearest physical contact he had ever seen the doctor do was to hold his hand in both of hers, give it a slight pressure, and show her gratefulness with her eyes. It was nice, but… Trowa mentally sighed. There was that questionable 'but' in the air, and he couldn't figure out what it was.
She let go of his hand then looked away. Her cheeks felt hot- was she coming down with a fever? And why was it that she was staring at Tristan's… lips? Oh dear… There must be something wrong with her. She had been staring at his lips since… well… her earliest recollection was two weeks after he moved into the garden when she heard him moaning and she checked up on him just to make sure he was all right. He was also thrashing about on the cot and she walked over to his bed and held his hand, talking to him. When he relaxed, she had studied his face and her eyes fell on his lips…
Her fingertips tingled as she remembered reaching out, stopping halfway, then curiosity and the want overcame her fear and she touched his lips gently. So soft, but they looked firm… She traced his lips with her fingers, then when he stirred, she pulled back. Suddenly feeling scared, she ran back into her room. Once inside, she had stared at her hand, then she moved to her desk mirror and staring at her image while she slowly brought her fingers to her lips. Her insides became like mush and she didn't know why she felt like smiling and deprived at the same time.
Maybe she should ask Jessie if she was coming down with something. Although… she feels healthy enough. This must be a passing phenomena… it must be! She hadn't read or heard of anything that would constitute to these horridly confusing feelings.
Trowa frowned, sensing a sudden change from her. A certain tenseness… "Is there something wrong?"
She was so muddled with her own thoughts that she didn't even realize that he asked her something that wasn't in their programming. "No, Tristan. There isn't anything wrong." Forcing her face to show calm, she faced him and waved her hand to her table, intent to focus her wandering mind. "I was just wondering how I would be able to work without using my right hand." She white lied as she looked at her slinged arm.
"I will help."
A small, soft smile lighted her face as she looked back at Trowa. She already knew he would. He'd become important to her, and it was not only because she was starting to depend on him. "I know you will." She started to walk to her 'lab'. "Let's start. I'm already behind."
Trowa smiled. Jessie was correct. She is a workaholic.