I love you Manga. Really. Much love, homes. Sorry about the shortness of the last chapter, I hereby dedicate this chapter to you.
It was at its worst when they replaced his bandages.
They just took so long. They'd start to take of the outer layer then the padding then the gauze underneath that and then they'd take off the cotton padding off of his stumps. They stank of iodine and sweat and his stomach wouldn't stop turning.
The nurses cleaned his legs quickly, which was a nice change, but it was still far too long. He just hated seeing them, hated having to face the reality of it. When they were hidden underneath of his blankets it was out of sight of mind. When they weren't… it was all real. His only condolence was the painkiller they'd give him afterward. The drug wasn't as good as the morphine he'd gotten at first but it was enough so that he could sleep for a while.
He couldn't sleep at night anymore. He'd sleep all day from the painkillers, but at night he was wide awake and itching to get out. Luckily, his roommate was the same way.
Trowa'd just woken up. He pulled back the curtain separating their beds groggily, still wiping the sand from his green eyes. Quatre gave him a small smile. "How was your therapy?"
His response was a shrug of his shoulders. "Chang's still studying which nerves are damaged and which aren't. They're keeping me on the muscle relaxants till they can start the treatment."
A wince flashed across Quatre's face. "Did you talk to him about any meds that don't make you feel so out of it?"
"They don't exist. For them to work, I have to be relaxed and for that, they need to be mind altering." Trowa sat down in the chair next to Quatre's bed. He rested his head into his hands, careful to avoid moving his neck too badly.
They called it Central Pain Syndrome. In the explosion Trowa'd neck and head and gotten damaged, especially the knot of nerves at the base of his neck. At anytime the nerves would go haywire and he'd literally convulse from the pain. And Quatre felt miserable for respecting him more for it.
He couldn't help it. What Trowa said, he knew that he knew what he was talking about. He'd hurt too. His life was falling apart too. Their worlds were falling apart around them and they were stuck in it together.
"How's your mom taking the news? Better?"
Trowa snorted and ran his hand over his face. "She's still terrified that I'm going to die. She wants to come down and see me but her doctor doesn't think it would be wise for her to visit yet. He wants her to not depend on me so much."
Quatre squinted his eyes at him, trying to see something more in him than just stoicism. "Do you agree with that?"
"Yes. She needs to be able to rely on herself. How are your parents?"
"They've been giving me space, thanks be to Allah. I couldn't deal with seeing them right now." He looked down at the dip in his sheets where his stumps ended. "I'm having a hard enough time seeing myself."
Trowa nodded. That was another thing that Quatre liked about him. He knew when and when to not talk.
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His physical therapist knew when and when not to talk. He just didn't care. He'd burst into his room when Quatre had just started to come down off of his painkiller, when he was at his crankiest, and he was so loud and so brash. Duo was so stereotypically American that it made him sick.
And the problem was that he was so good at what he did. Duo could get Quatre so riled up that he'd forget about his legs and lack there of and would just do the damned exercises to get the American off of his back. And then he'd see the smirk on his smug face and it was just so frustrating when Duo was right.
Today had been no different. The hospital specialized in physical therapy and rehabilitation so they had work out equipment that was specially designed for people who'd lost their legs. It consisted of few bars that went over his bed and they were deceptively simple.
He had to learn to rely on his arms, and that took upper body strength. His workouts were constant pull ups, core workouts and even grudging exercising of his stumps. His muscles shook. It hurt. But the pain was different from the pain of his legs, and that was a good change.
Duo was always there to make sure that he didn't slip and fall wrong. He kept a hand on his back and helped him to make sure that he didn't fail. After so much failure, it was good to have someone there to make sure that his losing streak stopped.
"Come on Quatre, just give me five more pull ups and we can stop. I'll even get you a slushie. That's right, hospital contraband, but I'll break the rules for ya."
Quatre glared at him from behind his sweaty bangs. "You're using me sweet tooth against me? You're cruel. Just sick."
Duo's grin was too impish. But Quatre grumbled and did the damned pull ups. He was gasping like a fish at the end of it, but his therapist opened up the room's refrigerator and whipped out his reward.
He nearly pounced on the lime/ice mixture and slurped the syrupy goodness. The brain freeze was sneaking up on him so he took a break. He glared at Duo who was looking at him with an arched eyebrow. "Shut up taskmaster, I'm thirsty."
Duo threw his hands up and smiled disarmingly. "I was just admiring the transformation from articulate diplomat to wild animal. Drink on."
His upbringing gasped in horror as he went back to slurping.
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"I felt better for the first time since the explosion."
Quatre's head snapped up from the pillow and he blinked away his painkiller's fog. "Chang did the electrical stimulation?"
"Yes. On my neck. I twitched at first but when he took out the needles, I felt better. Not normal and they haven't taken me off relaxants, but I feel better already."
Quatre smiled at him, and his face lit up the room, cutting even through the dark.
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Trowa was sleeping off his relaxant when he heard the voices.
Quatre had decided to forgo his painkillers that day because Mawli's father was coming to visit. Their voices were hushed and in Arabic, so Trowa just as easily fell back asleep. He'd see how it went later.
He was crying.
Trowa sat up. He put on his slippers and slipped off of the bed. He pulled the curtain to the side and sat down beside his bed. "It didn't go well?"
Quatre wiped his eyes with his bedsheet. "It went well enough. He needed to hear that Mawli wasn't the bomber, and he wasn't. It's just…" His lower lip trembled and his knuckles were white from gripping his bedsheet. "I hate how Khalique did that and how he killed all those innocent people. And… and how he killed Mawli. Mawli was his best friend and he was his biggest supporter when Khal was anorexic." His voice dipped into a breathy whisper, "I just don't understand."
Trowa looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry. He may have just read a passage in the Qu'ran and taken it too seriously."
Quatre's head snapped towards him, "What do you mean by that?"
"Well…" Trowa looked up at him skeptically, "The Qu'ran is a very violent book. It isn't hard to see how he could get the idea."
"And the Torah isn't violent?" He sat straight up, tears long gone and his lawyer side kicking in. "According to the Torah it is perfectly alright to sell your daughter into slavery. It also says that murder is fine and good if done in the name of the lord. The Qu'ran tells us that it is wrong no matter what to kill the defenseless."
"Then why are people suicide bombing in the name of Allah? The Jews aren't doing that."
"No, they're doing it in broad daylight with AK – 47s and killing children because they may be a 'threat'."
They didn't talk the rest of the night.