To Andrea- I know. I found your review after I posted the last chapter, however, because I was still living on a steady diet of tea. I'm terribly sorry, and hereby award you the non-existing award of Most Faithful Reviewer. And yes, the death of Death's new toy is well-deserved, isn't it?
To Solo's Ghost- Although it would have made for some interesting possibilities, I'm afraid that Trowa's name really is Trowa in this fic. His father, Aurthor Barton, got mentioned a time or two in the first few chapters, if you'll recall. Death to Death's agent! Strange as that sounds…. Funky rally cry.
To Yazzy- I'm so tempted to let Trowa die just to see how you'd react… And I could keep him alive but vegetative, you know…
To Robin Maxwell- I didn't plan on changing what happened based on the reviews I got. It's the same outline that existed before I posted the last chapter. And although this may sound strange, I'm glad you like the last chapter.
To Remiera- Okay, I think I've kept you is suspense long enough. Let's move on to chapter six before you all kill me, and I'll get to work on the seventh and final installment for you.
"Can you at least tell me if he's all right?" Duo demanded. "Please, just tell me if he's going to be okay!"
One of the police officers in the room with him cast a fleeting look of pity in his direction before turning away. The other just glared at him, as if suspecting some deep and sinister ulterior motive behind the request.
"Please!" Duo repeated, close to tears now. "Please!"
"Shut up, punk." The suspicious officer snapped, still glaring at Duo. "We don't have to tell you anything, and you've got no right to ask."
"But-" Duo started to protest, then bit his lip. "All right. I won't ask again."
The door to the spacious office opened, and the last person Duo expected to see walked in, followed by yet another police officer.
"Hello," Death said. "My name is Catherine Riker, and I'm this boy's attorney. Why is he handcuffed to a chair?"
"Because he just murdered someone, lady." The officer behind the desk explained curtly, obviously not liking Death one bit.
"Look, Officer..."
"Valgun,"
"Officer Valgun, Mr. Maxwell did not murder anyone. He shot a man in the process of killing his best and only friend. Considering the psychopath in question, he did the world a favor." Death held up a hand to forestall Valgun's protests. "That isn't to say that he is guilt-free. I don't expect him to get off with a slap on the wrist for this. But he is in no way dangerous. You have no right to keep him restrained like this."
"Your client was carrying four illegal weapons when he was arrested, Miz Riker," The female officer spoke up, although she appeared reluctant to do so.
"I'm aware of that already." Death said. "I've read the report, and I know everything you do. By the way," She continued, turning to Duo, "Trowa's still with us. He's in a coma right now, but the doctor in charge of his care is certain he'll pull through just fine."
Duo nearly collapsed with relief, sagging back in his chair. "That's good to hear." He whispered, closing his eyes.
"Now, my client and I have a meeting with the ADA in half an hour, so either uncuff him or loose your chair. The choice is yours."
"Duo," Death said quietly as soon as the two were alone in the narrow room where they'd be meeting with the DA's representative. "I'm sorry. I had no idea that man would do anything except the job. I didn't know he... he would..."
"I know." Duo told her with a weak smile. "But Trowa's alive, so what does it matter?"
"I fucked this up royally, Duo." Death told him, shaking her head. "You see, the orders I give you don't come from me. God decides who should die; he passes the assignments on to one of the archangels, who give them to me, then I hand them to you. I'm a link in the chain of command, not the head of it.
"For some reason, one of the archangels, Michael, wanted Trowa to die, so he told me that God had decreed it. God gives me reasons, so I thought something was strange when Michael didn't have one, but I carried through with my part anyway. I should have gone back to God and asked Him directly."
"Then... what's going to happen to the archangel?" Duo asked.
"He's already been sent to Lucifer's domain, and one of the Choir has been elevated to take his place." Death told him with a small smile of her own, looking up as the door opened.
"Miz Riker." The thin, dark-skinned man in the doorway said, walking around the table and offering Death his hand. "Joshua Stone, ADA. I understand you want to discuss a plea bargain?"
"What's the use of going to trail?" Death asked, motioning for Joshua Stone to sit. "My client has freely confessed on numerous occasions in the past ten hours that he's guilty. There's no need for a high-profile case."
"And how do you feel about all this?" Mr. Stone asked Duo, raising one eyebrow.
"I killed him." Duo said quietly. "I'm not going to deny it, and I'm not going to try to excuse it. I shot him, and I have to face the consequences now."
Stone, caught off guard by Duo's stark honesty, simply stared at the two for a moment before collecting himself.
"So what do you want?" He asked.
"Man 2." Death said. "No jail time."
"Excuse me? Man 1, 10 years."
"Perhaps you overlooked a few minor details here, Mr. Stone. Mr. Maxwell found the victim in his friend's apartment, sitting in a pool of his friend's blood. The victim threatened to kill my client, and obviously wasn't too concerned about Mr. Barton's health, either. You want a sixteen-year-old boy who was just trying to protect his friend and himself to do 10 years?"
"We have only Mr. Maxwell's word on that threat." Stone reminded her. "And if one teen can get away with murder, others will try, too."
"And if the state punishes a minor so severely for protecting himself, your law-abiding citizens will have a hard time sleeping at night." Death countered. "Besides, all I have to do is outline the victim's past criminal record and mention what he did to Mr. Barton, and the jury will not only acquit Mr. Maxwell, they'll probably want to give him a medal to take home."
"Then why not take this to court?"
"Because Mr. Maxwell has been through enough already. I don't want him to see the inside of a jailhouse. Ever. Especially not in a station where the officers cuff minors to chairs and think it's acceptable!"
"You can't very well expect me to let you have your way here, do you?"
"Fine. You want a trial, you've got it. C'mon Duo." Death snapped, standing and striding towards the door.
Duo stumbled to his feet and followed, wondering what exactly was going on here.
"I thought you didn't want your client to see the inside of a jailhouse."
"I'll post his bail if it comes to that." Death informed the ADA coldly, her violet eyes turning dark gray with distaste. "You'd better come prepared to loose, Mr. Stone, because I am not letting you lock this boy up."
"How does your client plead, Miz Riker?"
"Not guilty, your Honor."
"What about bail?"
"$5,000, your Honor."
"That's ludicrous!" Death protested with just the right amount of indignation. "My client is an emancipated orphan with a job that barely covers his monthly bills! His only form of transportation is a motorcycle, which the police have already impounded. He doesn't even own a passport!"
"Bail is set at $2,000." The judge said after a moment, giving her gavel a token pound. "Next."
True to her word, Death posted Duo's bail before he'd been in the holding cell more than ten minutes, then took him immediately to the hospital.
They ran into a small delay when the nurse manning the desk at the head of the ICU hall refused to admit them to see Trowa.
"Family only." The nurse said firmly, looking down at Duo with obvious distaste. "We don't let just any punk waltz into an intensive care unit because he wants to."
"Duo?" A voice behind the twin brunettes asked, sounding tired. "Duo Maxwell?"
Duo and Death turned to face a small, haggard woman with short auburn curls and sad blue-gray eyes. She looked somehow defeated, stress lines crisscrossing her otherwise pretty face.
"Are you Duo Maxwell?" She asked, sighing gratefully when he nodded. "I'm Catherine; Catherine Barton. I'm-"
"Trowa's mother," Duo interrupted, taking her proffered hand in his own. "I know; he's told me a lot about you."
"Is it true what they're saying on the TV?" Catherine asked, the sorrow in her eyes deepening. "Did you kill the man who… who…"
"Yes." Duo answered grimly.
"Good." The woman said, just as grimly. "I'm just sorry Trowa had to… to suffer like that before…"
"It's all right, Mrs. Barton," Death said soothingly, stepping around Duo to embrace the poor woman. "Your son's going to make it; I know he will. And that bastard will never hurt anyone ever again."
"There is that," Catherine agreed softly. "If nothing else, there is that." She paused to wipe her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve before continuing. "I expected to find you in Trowa's room when I got here, since you're out already."
"This young lady here won't let us in." Death said, indicating the nurse behind the desk. "Do you think youcan talk her into letting Duo in?"
"I can certainly try," Catherine promised, stepping around the two and up to the desk.
In no time at all, Duo was in Trowa's room, planted in a chair next to the bed. Death and Catherine were talking in the hallway, their voices a soft murmur that rose and fell at odd intervals.
For some reason, lying there in the hospital bed, Trowa looked much worse than he had in the apartment last night. Maybe it was the fact that without the blood and smashed surroundings, he looked like he should be awake, like he should be sitting by the window reading, or trying to get someone to listen to his CDs, not lying there with his eyes closed and a tube in his arm to make sure he got the nutrients his cells needed.
Whatever it was, it made Duo's stomach churn to see such an alive person so close to death. He'd killed dozens of people over the course of his lifetime, and although he'd regretted it, it didn't haunt him. But this… this was different. This was an innocent person dying for no damned reason at the hands of a psychopathic bastard who deserved a hell of a lot more than a bullet to the brain.
Dammit, Trowa, wake up! He wanted to scream. He wanted to smack the boy that had somehow become so important to him until he opened his eyes again. He wanted to hurt someone. He wanted to cry.
Instead, he just sat there, holding Trowa's hand, praying he wouldn't die.
"Stay with me, buddy," He whispered, closing his own eyes against the glare from the hall lights.
"I think," Death said quietly, peeking around the edge of the door, "that he's asleep."
"Then we should let him sleep," Catherine whispered, a faint smile crossing her lips. "He deserves some rest, don't you think?"
"Yeah," Death agreed, easing the door closed most of the way. "Would you like to get something to drink?"
Catherine nodded silently, and the two slipped down the hall, past a small blond boy dressed in a candy stripers' uniform. He smiled politely at them before stepping into Trowa's room.
Quatre smiled in spite of himself. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to find one Duo Maxwell in Trowa Barton's hospital room, holding hands with the poor boy and out like a light.
Considering this, he'd felt justified in bringing an extra blanket with him on his rounds; he immediately covered Duo with it, easing a pillow between the other boy's head and the wooden arm of the chair.
Poor guy must be exhausted. He thought, his smile taking on a slightly paternal cast. I hope they make it through this okay.
His mission accomplished, the blond slipped soundlessly back into the hall and continued on his rounds.
Duo swam up out of a dream in which Trowa was perfectly healthy and teasing him for being so worried. It took him a moment to separate reality and fantasy, but he finally did, and almost broke down crying. Trowa wasn't all right. He would be in the future – maybe – but he wasn't now, and now was all Duo had the energy to think about.
"Duo?" A quiet voice asked from by the door, and Duo turned sharply to see who it was. "I'm not sure if you know me; my name's-"
"Quatre." Duo supplied. "Quatre Winner. What are you doing here?"
"To tell you the truth," Quatre said sheepishly, "I was worried about you. I stopped by last night and made sure you were okay, but I guess I'm just a worrywart. How are you feeling, physically?"
"About as well as can be expected." Duo answered, untangling himself from the blanket that had somehow wound up on top of him during the night. "Emotionally, though…"
"I can guess." Quatre paused, then continued. "I've heard that talking to comatose patients actually improves their health to an appreciable degree. Just thought you might like to know. I need to finish my rounds, then I have a weekend meeting at the school, but my cell number is on the table in case you need me, okay?"
"Uh… yeah." Duo managed as Quatre slipped back into the hallway, leaving him alone with Trowa again.
"Duo? Duo, we have to go now." Death said quietly. "They're not going to wait for Trowa to wake up for your trial."
"But-" Duo protested, looking up at his boss/mother/older sister, his eyes tired and full of pain.
"I know." Death told him, kneeling next to his chair and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I know, baby, I know. But we have to do this. I wish you could stay here until he wakes up, but you can't. You have to come with me."
"But… just a little bit?" He asked, letting his head loll sideways so that it rested on top of hers. "A few minutes? Just to say goodbye?"
"I guess," Death conceded, reaching up to stroke his hair like she used to when he was eight and prone to nightmares. "But only two minutes; no longer. I'll drag you down to the courthouse kicking and screaming if I have to." She smiled, managing to coax a weak grin out of him before she stood and stepped into the hallway.
Duo didn't remember much of his preliminary trial; he spent most of it sitting next to Death and staring blankly at the table in front of him. A few of Trowa's neighbors took the stand, as well as an expert of some sort, although Duo couldn't for the life of him remember anything any of them said.
He didn't get to take the stand himself that day; when he was called, he fainted before he made it five steps.
"And that's what you get for living off soda and the occasional bag of chips for a week." Death announced firmly, tucking Duo into the spare bed in Trowa's room. Catherine Barton had paid to keep it free so that Duo had a place to sleep besides the chair he'd occupied his first night there.
Duo, rather than replying, just groaned and rolled over so he was facing Trowa.
Death laughed, bent to kiss him lightly on the forehead, and ruffled his bangs.
"Get some sleep, kiddo." She told him, walking out the door and closing it firmly behind her. And stay with us. She added, her smile fading. Stay with us just a little longer, my son, and I promise I'll make everything all right again.
"Just us again." Duo said softly, smiling. "I swear, Death's such a mother hen. If you think she's bad now, you should have seen her when she first got me. Every time I so much as skinned my knee, she freaked." Over the past five days, Duo had told Trowa more than he'd told any one person, Death included. "And she was always singing. She sang to me at night when I went to bed, she sang when she played with me, she sang when I was sick, she even sang while we were doing chores. True, she wasn't very good, but at least she enjoyed it." Duo's smile widened as he thought of one song Death would always sing to him to make him feel better. "She was always doing this one song from a movie we watched; it made me feel better every time she sang it to me. I'm not a very good singer, but I'll try, since it's for you, okay?" He paused, as if waiting for an answer, then began to sing very softly.
"Look into my eyes; you will see what you mean to me… Search your heart, search your soul; when you find me there, you'll search no more… Don't tell me it's not worth trying for. You can't tell me it's not worth dying for. You know it's true; everything I do – I do it for you…"
He paused abruptly, sure he'd definitely heard something this time. He climbed down from the bed and took the three steps to Trowa's side, searching frantically for some sign that the other teen was waking up.
"Dammit, Trowa," He cursed half-heartedly, taking Trowa's hand in his own. "Wake up! I need you; you're everything to me now. I'm not sure when or how, but somewhere along the line, you became the single most important thing in my life, and it's pretty damned rude of you to not be awake to tell me whether or not you love me, too! So come on, you selfish ass! Wake up!"
"Duo… you're loud."
And I'll stop there, because that's such a perfect way to answer Duo's monologue! I have kept Trowa alive and not vegetative just for my lovely readers, and now he'll be able to testify at Duo's trial! The jury's gonna give him a medal to take home! Take that, Joshua Stone!
