Disclaimer: Come on, you don't seriously think I own Shaman King now, do you?
Alone
written by: da-mouse ®
He worked fervently, throughout the day and into the night. As he restlessly researched one medical book after another, he was dimly reminded of another, not too distant time, where the situation was eerily similar.
The time was when he was still a young doctor, freshly out of medical school, and with one, single burning purpose, to cure the illness of the girl he loved.
He had succeeded, she was cured. But now, she…
The hand that had been sketching a diagram of the human heart faltered, the pencil slipping from his grasp, clattering across the page as his head throbbed with intense pain. His eyes bloodshot and weary, and his broad shoulders ached from hunching across the table and mountains of medical books since…
Since when…he could not remember. He had lost the sense of time.
"Darling…you're over-working yourself into exhaustion. Come to bed…"
"I will go to bed, Eliza. Just one more hour…I'm close, I'm very close, my dearest…" He whispered, as he tried to ignore the pain in his head, and picked up his pencil again.
Soft laughter. "Isn't it always like you to say that? Another hour more and you would have fallen asleep here, Johann."
"It's very important, beloved. I need to…I'm nearly there…" He murmured, pushing aside one heavy book and picking up yet another, flipping through the pages without looking at them, locating the pages by instinct.
"I swear, you work harder than all the doctors in this world combined! But I insist you take some rest!" Primarily concerned tone, yet holding the slightest note of reproach.
"Oh, darling…I know. I know you want what is best for me. But try to understand, I must do this." He basked in the soothing cadences of her voice.
Sigh. "Stubborn and dedicated."
"I'll come to bed, I promise. Soon…"
"Promise?"
"Of course, Eliza. I promise. Just a little bit more…" He said fervently, his mind trying to make sense of the long and complicated passage in front of his eyes.
"I'll hold you to that…"
He raised his head to look at his wife, to give her a reassuring smile.
But she wasn't there.
For one short, fleeting moment, he felt confused. "Eliza?"
She wasn't standing beside him, giving him a reproachful look, nor was she standing behind him, giving him a massage, neither was she at the door to his laboratory, bringing him hot tea.
She wouldn't be.
Because she was lying on the gurney not far from where he sat. Pale, cold, but so perfectly beautiful….
Dead.
Reality washed over him, as he realized that he was alone.
The pencil clenched his fingers snapped into half as he stared unblinkingly at Eliza's body, his shoulders trembling. "Eliza…" He whispered brokenly. "Why are you lying there? Weren't you talking to me? Why…why are you lying there? I heard you, I heard your voice…"
She remained silent, unmoving, cold.
Dead.
I heard your voice. Your voice…
The laboratory was deathly silent. No ticking of the clock, nothing. He was all alone.
Raising from the stool, he neared the gurney, almost unconsciously, not knowing what he was doing. He found himself staring at her, her porcelain face, her eyes closed, her face bloodless.
He brushed back a stray lock of hair and rested his pale palm on her cheek.
"Eliza…darling…" He whispered, almost pleadingly…almost hoping for a response from her…almost…
He heard nothing.
Of course he hadn't heard her voice. Eliza was not able to speak. Not anymore. It was all an illusion, his illusion, of warmth, love, Eliza…all an illusion.
Lies.
Drops of water spattered onto Eliza's cheek. She remained as still as stone. Not moving, not breathing, not smiling, not responding…
Dead.
"ELIZA!!!!!" A desolate howl of anguish pierced the silence of the night, a man, dropping to his knees, mourning his loss, his love…his everything. Test tubes, needles, books, papers, they all crashed onto the floor. Tormented sobs ripped from his throat as he continued to hold her cold body, bloodless knuckles gripping the sheet covering her.
"Do not despair…I love you…love you…always…"
Cruel, so cruel were the illusions of the desperate mind.
Eliza was dead.
He…was all alone.
"No. No, I won't…I can't…" He pushed himself up, a new, crazed determination burning in his eyes. "No matter what…I have to…" Almost stumbling, he sat down his table, and pulled out a random journal. "…keep working, keep researching…keep her with me…keep Eliza by my side…with me…with me…forever…"
He didn't want to be alone, never wanted to be alone.
To be lost in darkness, desperation, despair…insanity.
-Finis-
da-mouse ®
posted 14th May
200412.55 a.m.
I'm obsessed with Faust, I really really am. Seriously. Honestly. Well, isn't it obvious already?
Question to ponder: Was Eliza's voice all in Faust's head as he slowly descended into insanity? Or was it real? What do you think? Food for thought =) I...intended for it to be half-half. First half was all his own imagination, last line as spoken by Eliza…who knows? Could be anything.
The usual drill, review/comment/flame/whatever…not expecting a lot of reviews, but if you do happen to drop in, leave your mark! =)