Standstill | Chapter 6
"Mother, no."
"Relena, please let me do this for you."
Relena shook her head, resolve already weakening. "I don't know, mother..." she murmured, gazing anxiously at Heero's still form on the bed. "This doesn't feel appropriate."
"Relena, I may not be the politician your father was, but I know people, and I know fundraising. This is what I do best. Please, honey, let me help you help him." She reached to take Relena's hands, looking earnestly into her eyes. "I have spent the last forty years navigating the treacherous waters of European high society. I think I can handle one Russian family from L1," she concluded with a cunning smile.
Relena smiled back faintly, appreciative of her mother's timely humor. If there was one thing Marlene Darlian knew how to do, it was schmoozing people into giving her what she wanted. She was always the "people-person" while her father had been the more introverted type. He usually let her mother do all the talking in parties, unless politics were involved. They had made quite a pair, complimenting each other perfectly.
Releasing a heavy sigh, Relena bowed her head down to stare at the floor between their feet, thinking. After Dr. Grabelsky had informed her about the MDS, she had moved from researching Heero's past, to searching for his future. It all began in the present, with locating his living relatives. She didn't bother with his mother's side, since Aoi had been an only child, and distant relatives were less likely to be a match. She knew that his father had been born on L1, and that his family had emigrated there with two children four years prior, so she began her search there. She had found an uncle and an aunt, five first-cousins, and three first-cousins-once-removed. They all lived in the L1 Cluster. Her mother had offered to go on a "diplomatic mission" to L1, to ask them to get tested for a possible donation for Heero.
"Let me handle this for you," her mother pleaded with her, "You should be here with him. I'll go to L1."
Relena looked up again, troubled. "Mother, you have never left Earth in your life. I don't think it's a good idea––"
"Relena, don't make me into a frail old woman," her mother scolded firmly, "Daar ben ik nog niet." (I am not there yet)
So she let her mother fly alone to L1 to try to convince Heero's family to accept him – a notorious Gundam pilot – and be tested for a donation. Her mother, who had been against the war and resented the Colonies, swearing never to set foot in outer space, was now off-planet, fighting for the life of a Gundam pilot. If only her father were alive to see this day...
Relena remained by Heero's side, waiting anxiously for an update. Sick of counting the hours, she sat by his bed, reading to him from her favorite book.
"Every moment her light was growing fainter, and he knew that if it went out she would be no more. She liked his tears so much that she put out her beautiful finger and let them run over it."
Relena paused, looking up from the pages, to glance at his ashen face. She could still feel the ghost of his touch as he had traced his finger lightly over her tearful eyelashes all those years ago. Such a gentle gesture, from such a callous boy. 'I'll kill you', he had promised, walking away. He had never made good on his promise, until now. Seeing him like this... it was killing her inside.
"Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out what she said," Relena turned back to the book. "Then he made it out. She was saying that she thought she could get well again if children believed in fairies."
She laughed quietly, feeling silly for reading him this childish tale. Looking up, she studied his limp form under the blanket, her eyes travelling up the bag of blood dripping life into his veins. She sighed and turned back to the book.
"She fancied she heard answers in the affirmative, and then again she wasn't sure. 'If you believe,' Peter shouted to them, 'clap your hands; don't let Tink die!'"
Relena paused, placing the book in her lap. Lifting her eyes to the bed, she observed the way his long white fingers lay inert over the blanket, curled slightly, but unmoving. Such dainty hands, such long slender digits; better suited for playing the piano, than wielding weapons.
Raising her hands in front of her, she clapped three times.
Nothing.
She chuckled, turning back to the book. He would have snorted at her useless attempt.
"It was worth a shot," she mumbled, and continued reading.
"Many clapped. Some didn't. The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless mothers had rushed to their nurseries to see what on Earth was happening; but already Tink was saved..."[1]
She wanted the same happy ending to their story. There was so much more she wanted to share with him. So much more she wanted to know. She wanted to get to know him, all of him. She didn't want him to go before they shared more than just a beginning. She wanted a middle, a big long middle, before the end.
It had been five days already. They were on the night of Day 75.
Relena paced the ICU waiting room, clutching her phone in her hand. Her mother had texted her when she had arrived at L1 three days ago, but Relena hadn't heard from her since and she's been climbing the walls waiting for another update.
Finally, she took a seat on her regular row of chairs by the window, placing her phone next to her, just in case it suddenly rang, and reached into the leather jacket she wore, retrieving another phone. It was Heero's.
Relena bit down on her lower lip, gawking at the dark screen. The harsh fluorescent lights above reflected on the sleek device. She stared at the bright flares until her vision blurred.
Earlier in the evening, she had used Heero's finger to unlock his phone, pressing his limp digit against the fingerprint sensor. She didn't know what she was expecting to find, but she was hungry for scraps; anything about him that might keep her going. She had added her own fingerprint to the security lock settings; he would have her head for this if he knew.
Looking up, she glanced carefully left and right, and then snorted at her own silliness. As if anyone would know she was looking into somebody else's phone. She unlocked it.
Not surprisingly, there wasn't much to find; secrecy was Heero's way of life. He didn't even have any contacts listed – not even hers. He probably knew all of them by heart, recognizing the caller's number without having it IDed by the device. She expected nothing less.
There wasn't much to find in his email account either. The inbox was empty, and his email folders only seemed to hold bureaucratic documents such as bills, bank statements, pension reports, and other administrative garbage. Nothing of the personal sort – and she must have scrolled through a dozen or so folders. She entered each one, hoping the folder's bland name was just a ruse to hide something more personal. And, indeed, when she reached the letter "T", entering a folder labeled as "Telecom", she finally found what she was looking for; it was where he had stored her emails, the ones she had sent him every now and then.
The "Telecom" folder was where he kept what he must have considered emails of a personal nature, not that she had ever sent him anything personal via email. Most of their communiques were for school. She would send him sections of her thesis and he would proofread them before she forwarded it to her advisor. Heero might not be the most eloquent person, but his grasp of grammar and editing skills were topnotch. He used to have the time for it while on medical leave, but once he had returned to work, she didn't burden him with it any further. It saddened her to see that their last email correspondence dated back six months.
Smiling wistfully, she scrolled down the list of emails.
'Do not use a semicolon when unnecessary', he had berated her in one email, and then listed guidelines for proper use. She had responded with a ;-P emoji, to which he had responded with an atypical :-)
'Do not use "less" when you actually mean "fewer"; i.e. when you're referring to something you can count individually', he had rebuked in another email, adding: (also, you keep confusing e.g. for i.e.)'. She had replied with an offended 'you're such a grammar Nazi!', to which Heero had responded with an angry emoji. That had gotten a laugh out of her; his angry glare in itself should be patented as an emoji, she thought.
Finally, she reached a correspondence between Quatre and Heero, dating back to November AC 201, when Quatre had sent Heero the violin. The first email was from Heero to Quatre and it simply said 'Thank you'.
'You are most welcome,' Quatre had written back. 'I am honored to have been the one to return it to its rightful owner. I'm sorry for your loss. I hope this helps a little.'
Heero had replied a few days later with 'It's more than I could ever hope to gain.' She smiled sadly at his sincere words. Heero was used to losing; it was gaining something that really got to him. A self-proclaimed perpetual loser, he was far more appreciative than most. Only he could rise above such an enormous loss as an amputated limb, and feel grateful for something small he had gained.
Relena looked further through the folder, but she couldn't find any more emails of a personal nature. If he had kept in touch with the other ex-pilots, then he hadn't done it by email or any other communications apps on his phone. His call log was of no help either, because it only contained numbers. She recognized her own number in there, appearing once or twice. She could count the times he had called her on one hand, and still be left with a finger or two. They usually texted each other. Heero wasn't much for talking on the phone.
Switching back to his email app, she scrolled back to his last correspondence with Quatre. She hesitated, biting down on her lips again, and finally pressed 'Reply'.
The cursor blinked over the blank screen, waiting for her input. Her finger hovered over the virtual keyboard, moving back and forth between 'Cancel' and 'Edit'.
She chose 'Edit'.
'Hello Quatre', she wrote, 'this is Relena. I'm writing to you because—'
Because what? She wondered, pausing.
She hit 'Cancel'.
She had no idea.
Sighing, Relena tucked Heero's phone back into her jacket pocket and resumed pacing along the window. Her reflection walked alongside her, mirrored against the night sky. It was stupid of her to think she should reach out to one of the pilots after so many years. What was the point? They couldn't save him. She couldn't save him. It was up to her mother now. It was up to fate. It was up to a bunch of strangers living their lives on L1 with no idea how they were a part of something so much bigger than themselves. It was up to anyone and anything but her.
Relena had never felt more alone.
"You sure you wanna do this?" Nurse Shane asked the next morning, quirking an eyebrow. "Pretty nasty stuff going on down there, with all the tubes, bags and... shit." She smirked.
Relena smiled a little in response, unable to muster enough strength to laugh at the small joke. "I'll manage," she said. "I want to do this for him."
"Alrighty then," Shane shrugged and handed her a sponge. "Don't say I didn't warn you." She waved her hand goodbye as she left the room. "It ain't gonna be sexy bath time, if that's what you're thinking..."
Relena shook her head, scoffing. She turned to the task at hand, walking over to Heero's bed. A bowl of soapy water waited on the night table, along with shaving gel, a cloth, and a razor.
She lifted the blanket, slowly, and folded it down, stopping just below Heero's knees, where his left leg ended. So used to the sight of him under the blanket, she paused to study his brittle form, lying clad in a flimsy patient gown. Her broken toy-soldier.
Leaning over him, she unfastened the laces at the front, and peeled the gown away carefully. His scrawny chest was marred with surgical scars, traces of the ECMO tubing. His white thighs were riven with similar scarring, blue bruises under his skin along the main arteries, streaking all the way down to his bony kneecaps. A urinary catheterization tube was inserted into his penis, pale and flaccid amid a dark mass of pubic hair. A thin pipe filled with dark yellow fluid snaked down the side of the bed, to a drainage bag. Similarly, a rectal tube was inserted into his rectum, connected to a faecal collector bag, which lay tucked between his legs. It was...
Relena's chest quivered at the sight of him. She closed her eyes, breathing in and out slowly. She had to remain clinical about this. This was Heero, but it also wasn't. Not right now. Not like this.
I can do this, she decided, opening her eyes.
Water dripped into the bowl as she wrung the sponge. It was lukewarm, pleasant. She ran the sponge over him gently, sliding it tenderly over his arms, his shoulders, his chest. She cleaned between the legs, careful not to disturb the catheterization tubes.
This is just a body, in need of care, she reminded herself, working her way slowly down his legs, gliding the moist sponge lightly over his pale inner thighs. She stopped where the blanket rested just below his knees, dropping flat against the bed on his left side. Her hands reached down to strip the cover away, but then stopped an inch before revealing his stump.
No, she shook her head, and covered him again. This is Heero, in need of care.
Finished with the sponge bath, she dressed him, fastening the gown over his chest. She tucked him under the blanket, nice and warm. Next, she turned to shave him, smearing foaming-white gel on his stubbly cheeks and chin, mindful of the nasogastric feeding tube going into his nose. She turned his head gently left and right, gliding the razor across the familiar angles of his face. She worked quietly, the languid motions immersing her in a deep meditative calm.
Scooping the shaving gel from his left cheek, the razor revealed the light beauty mark she had first noted back in the PSC. She smiled at the sight, reminded of that first glimpse beyond her handsome hero. Little by little, she cleaned away the white foam, revealing something new. Not her teenage dream, not a symbol, nor a crusader. Just a man, plain and simple. Beautiful in his own right.
Using a moist cloth, she cleaned the residual foam from his face, and then dampened his forehead a bit, brushing his bangs aside. She noted a few scattered hairs on the bridge of his nose, and smiled affectionately at the thick brown patch of hair. She had always thought his eyebrows were a tad on the bushy side. Just another one of his lovable imperfections. She had never noticed this excess hair before, and gazing at his handsome face had been one of her favorite pastimes. She chuckled at the thought of him doing a little secret tweaking behind her back...
Relena turned to her handbag, resting on the nightstand, and pulled out a pair of tweezers. Heero would never allow it if he were awake, but he obviously cared enough to groom his eyebrows, which indicated that the patch of surplus hair bothered him. Respecting that, she leaned over him to tweak his eyebrows.
Under any other circumstances, she would have found the situation highly amusing, but no. This was about caring, not teasing. She was doing this for him, because he couldn't right now.
Plucking a particularly long hair from the top of his left eyebrow (seriously, it must have been over an inch long!), she winced at the pain it must cause, but Heero's features remained utterly inert. Moving on to another long hair sticking out of the rest, she tugged it with the tweezers, but it didn't budge on the first attempt. She tried again, harder.
Heero's face scrunched up in pain.
Relena paused, holding the tweezers up in the air. Could it be? she wondered, watching his face carefully. His expression was as blank as it had been these past few months. Uncertain if she had imagined it or not, she pulled out the stubborn eyebrow hair.
Heero grimaced in pain, a minor twitch of his nose.
"Oh my god!" Relena laughed, delighted. This was the first he'd reacted to pain stimuli. She looked around anxiously, torn between running out of the room to get Shane, or simply shaking him awake.
"Heero?" she called out his name, breathless; "Heero, can you hear me?"
No reaction.
She plucked out another thick hair, this time from the bottom of his thick eyebrow, where the skin was most sensitive.
His hand shot up to grab her by the wrist, immobilizing her in a crushing grip.
"Oh god!" she gasped, gawking in shock. "Heero!"
His eyes remained closed, his features blank, but he was still grabbing onto her hand.
Relena burst out laughing, tears brimming her eyes.
"Hey, come on!" She said, tugging her hand away. Heero's arm fell back limply onto the bed. His brows furrowed, and then relaxed again. He was slipping away. She rushed outside to get Grabelsky.
"This is good," the doctor confirmed once he had a look at Heero's vitals. "He's starting to wake up, getting stronger," he said as he checked the blood transfusion going into Heero's arm. He turned to Relena, pushing his glasses down his nose to look at her sternly. "It's going to take some time."
She nodded, trying to keep a straight face. Trying not to get her hopes up.
"This doesn't mean he's getting better," Grabelsky reminded her; "it just means the blood transfusions are doing what they're supposed to."
"Yes, I know," she said, fighting back a smile. "I know."
However, she still couldn't keep her heart from fluttering happily in her chest.
The next morning, Relena brought the violin and helped Heero run his fingers over it. Nothing happened at first, but then, when she pulled it away, Heero grabbed onto it, refusing to let go.
A thin slit of blue was suddenly visible behind his thick eyelashes, his eyelids open just a tad.
"Heero?" she whispered, leaning in for a closer look.
His long pale fingers curled tightly around the violin's neck. Slowly, his eyelids fell fully shut. With an aching heart, Relena watched the sliver of blue disappear once more.
Heero let go, his hand falling at his side.
Hour after hour, she observed him carefully for any sign of consciousness, but nothing happened all day. She held his brittle hand, but he never squeezed back. She longed for the blue of his eyes.
Heero's awareness of his surroundings increased within the next three days. He opened his eyes from time to time, but never really looked at her or responded to her when she spoke to him. He just stared off into space before his eyes fluttered shut again. Sometimes he opened his eyes for a brief moment; on other times, he would stare ahead blearily for minutes before drifting back to sleep.
Then, after another day or so, he began tracking her with his eyes as Relena moved around the room. One time, he even turned his head towards the sound of her voice. Grabelsky assured her that visual and auditory tracking was another good sign of improvement.
Next, he began to follow some commands, such as "squeeze my hand", or "look at me". He didn't always follow instructions, but as he got better, he obliged her requests more regularly. With each passing day, Heero scored a better result on the Glasgow Coma Scale. Dr. Grabelsky assured her Heero would be awake soon enough, however he was still not out of the woods. His blood count continued to drop regularly, and hematology had to increase the frequency of his blood transfusions. They said he wouldn't survive more than a day without them.
She brought him the violin again, but his fingers didn't even stir when she pulled it away. She resigned herself to her previous routine, working on his genealogy book on her computer until late in the evening, violin music playing on her phone as she tweaked text and graphics one last time. Heero was right. She did use the semicolon way too often.
Chuckling, she looked up to share this humorous revelation with him. Something was wrong. She walked over to the bed, looking at him closely, and saw wet traces of tears on his clean-shaven cheeks. Two thin streaks, already drying in the cool night air.
"Heero?" she whispered timidly, and when the room fell silent again, she realized that the violin music had stopped playing on her phone. She had left it on the nightstand, playing close to him, but the battery must have run out. She hadn't even noticed. Could that have brought him to tears?
Relena swiftly plugged her phone to a charger and put the music back on, turning to watch Heero's face closely. It could have just been her imagination, or maybe the dim night light was playing tricks on her, but she thought maybe she saw him smile. Just a little, just maybe.
Day 79. Finally, after ten days, her mother called with an update.
"They were quite shocked when I first approached them," she told Relena, who stood outside in the ICU waiting room, holding her phone to her ear while looking out into a stormy night. "It's a good thing I took copies of those passports you gave me. It helped."
Relena nodded, anxious to hear the rest. She was sure her mother had done a superb job handling the Lowenskies, but right now all she wanted was the bottom line. It all came down to this:
"Were they willing to help?" she asked, inhaling deeply and holding the air in her lungs until she felt they might explode.
Her mother was quiet for a couple of seconds, and that was all Relena needed to know. She closed her eyes in despair and leaned her head against the cool wall-to-wall window.
"No go?" she asked in a small, hopeless, tone, doing her best to contain the tears tickling in the back of her throat.
"I'm so sorry, Relena."
Warm tears squeezed out of Relena's closed eyes.
"They were all very helpful, but there was no match, except for a little boy named Mikhail. He's Heero's youngest first cousin, once removed. He had tested positive, but he is only four and his mother refuses to approve the donation procedure. I tried to convince her, but she was very adamant that her son will not go through a surgical procedure under general anesthesia for someone who's practically a complete stranger." She sighed. "Het spijt me zo, schatje." (I am so sorry, sweetheart)
"Het geeft niet, moeder," (It's okay, mother) Relena choked on her tears, which spilled quietly from her closed eyes. "I know you tried."
An awkward silence followed while her mother no doubt tried to search for words to comfort her.
"My flight is not until tomorrow," she finally said, "I'm landing in Luxemburg, so I will go see your aunt Annette before heading back to the US. I will be back by Thursday, okay?"
"Sure, mother," Relena rasped forlornly, her forehead still pressed to the cold window. She opened her eyes to gaze dully at the dark. "Take your time. Have a safe trip."
"Ik hou van je, mijn lieve meisje." (I love you, my darling girl)
"I love you too, moeder. Thank you for doing this."
"Of course. I will see you in a few days." She hung up.
Relena clutched the phone in her fist and remained with her head leaning against the window, tears glistening on her closed eyelashes. She had run out of hope. She was going to lose him. This man she had loved since her teen years, this man who had sacrificed everything for the greater good, a man who had at one point saved the world from destruction, and no one was willing to save him.
The engine rattled and clinked as Relena's battered sedan rolled into the hospital driveway. Every single part of the old car seemed to tremble and prattle, groaning like a wounded animal, before she parked it under a large wilting tree and killed the engine. It had overheated after hours of standing idle in traffic. Not long after having bought it, her car already had one foot in the grave, while Heero had the other.
A deadly pile-up on the NY-27 had caused traffic jams about a dozen miles long. There wasn't a muscle in her body that didn't feel cramped and a sharp ache pulsated around her eye sockets. A quick glance towards the rearview mirror confirmed that she looked about as bad as she felt, with hair frizzing out of her ponytail, bags under her eyes, and a small red line under her lower lip at the corner of her mouth, created after hours of biting down her frustration.
She was so sick of the Hamptons' notorious traffic. She hoped whoever crashed their car today had died a gruesome violent death! Well, not really, but she certainly couldn't find it within her to offer any compassion. The past few months had turned her a little selfish, numbed by countless excruciating trips up and down Montauk Highway. Traffic accidents and tragedy had become just another daily inconvenience.
Snatching her handbag off the passenger's seat, she turned to the door, but something yanked her back. The bag's handle got stuck around the handbrake. She tsked in annoyance and tugged it free, then stumbled out of the car and thrust the door shut. It bounced back an inch, refusing to lock. Relena kicked it, slamming her boot into the door. The mechanism fastened with an audible click, but Relena gave it a few more kicks for good measure, grunting each time her foot met metal.
Stupid piece of junk! Stupid everything!
She stomped towards the ICU, clutching her handbag under her armpit, boots tapping in an angry rhythm. Her ponytail jolted with each brisk step as she marched into the waiting hall––
––and came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a Preventer duty jacket's back side. The familiar khaki shoulder patches and star insignia hung from a strapping masculine frame. Hit with a pang of recognition, her heart immediately supplied: Heero. Her breath hitched in her throat.
It can't be, her mind hurried to reason. The man obviously wasn't Heero, but he was a Preventer, and he was speaking with Dr. Grabelsky and another man, in a black suit. The agent faced away from her. Presented only with his back, the only notable feature about him was his smooth black hair, pulled back severely and gathered into a thin ponytail at the nape of his neck. His animated hand gestures, sharp and precise, were too expressive to be akin to Heero's.
Her forehead creased with a wary frown.
"Helluva morning..." Nurse Shane was suddenly by her side, huffing in annoyance. "Legal sure have their hands full now."
Relena observed Grabelsky's worried face as he took off his eyeglasses to rub the bridge of his nose. The man in the suit nodded at whatever the agent was saying.
"What's going on?" She turned to Shane.
"Goddamn Previes," the young nurse grumbled, gesturing with her chin towards the tall agent. "This dick came in this morning, threatening to sue!"
"Sue? Who? The hospital?"
"Yes! For saving Heero's life! Can you believe it?" She flailed her arms for emphasis. "Legal almost had a heart attack! They're all over us now."
Relena returned to examine the three men arguing across the large room, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"But... But why...?"
Shane heaved a sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. "Turns out Heero has a DNR order.[2] Agent Asshole over there is like his power of attorney or something," she scoffed, "What does he expect us to do – kill him? Geez!"
Having heard enough, Relena hurried across the room, grabbed the agent by the shoulder and whirled him around to face her. He was taller than her; even taller than Heero.
"What is this?!" she demanded, hissing the words up at his face. He was young, around her age, with severe-looking Asian features and dark narrow eyes that widened slightly as their gaze fell upon her. She was used to this startled reaction. Many still recognized her as the former "Queen of the World".
"Miss Pea–– Miss Darlian," the agent sputtered, then cleared his throat, raising a fist to his mouth. By the time he lowered his hand, he had already regained a cool composure.
"This is... quite unexpected," his halting voice was deep and polite as he noticeably ran his eyes over her. People tended to forget she was no longer sixteen, and she imagined not many expected to see her looking like a train wreck.
"You bet it is!" she flared. "What's with this DNR business? What gives you the right to walk in here, demanding they end Heero's life?!"
"Relena," Dr. Grabelsky stepped in, raising both hands in a pacifying gesture. "Please, calm down. Let Agent Chang explain. Hear him out, please."
"Chang?" Her head snapped up. "Not Chang Wufei? As in..."
"Yes," the agent confirmed, nodding curtly. "You assume correctly."
"B-but..." She lowered her gaze to the floor, frowning. "What... What are you doing here?" Then her confusion morphed into anger, which she directed at Wufei. "Why now, all of a sudden?"
"The hospital's notification only reached me yesterday," Wufei replied, his voice calm and steady.
Relena shot a dirty look towards the man in the black suit, and he smiled uneasily, avoiding her eyes.
"Perhaps we should take this to my office," the man suggested. Relena gnashed her teeth at him, preparing a nasty retort, when Dr. Grabelsky cleared his throat.
"Relena," he rebuked softly, "Mister Henkel is only here to help. He's from our legal department."
"Why do we need the legal department?" she snarled, eyeing the lawyer in contempt; "There's obviously been a mistake."
"I'm afraid not," the lawyer said. "Agent Chang has alerted us to the fact that Heero had signed a No Extraordinary Measures order, which means no medical procedures can be taken to prolong his life, aside from palliative care."
Relena felt the color drain from her cheeks. "P-palliative care?"
"Yes," Grabelsky interjected, unease clear on his face. "That means that we were wrong putting him on the Ecmo, but the blood transfusions are more of a legal grey area..."
"It doesn't normally fall within the definition," the lawyer, Henkel, hurried to intervene. "As I explained to Agent Chang, the transfusions are only considered as extraordinary measures in the case of an incurable disease."
"Which MS Syndrome clearly is," Wufei cut-in harshly. "There is no known cure. You were already out of line when resuscitating him," he accused, growling the words through clenched teeth. "Having him rely on blood donations is a––"
"The hospital had no way of knowing about the DNR," Henkel argued, waving his finger at Wufei. "Especially with CPR already underway, performed by someone close to Heero." He pointed at Relena, and Wufei's harsh side-glance soon followed. She ducked her head between her shoulders, chastised.
"Our staff merely picked up from there," Henkel resumed his defense, addressing Wufei. "It's up to the patient to––"
"The patient was flatlining on the table!" Wufei retorted, waving his fists. "He had no way of––"
"Stop it!" Relena snapped, raising both hands to silence the two men. She turned to Wufei, looking up to meet his dark eyes. "What's done is done. Heero's no longer on life support. There's nothing more you can do here."
"I'm afraid Agent Chang is in his full right to intervene," the lawyer concluded. "He's here to represent Agent Yuy's best interests."
"And what do you know about his best interests?" She glared at Henkel, then at Wufei. "You know nothing," she told him. "I'm the one who's been here through every miserable second of it. You don't know anything."
A tense silence followed, both doctor and lawyer watching the fierce battle of will between Relena and the Preventer agent. They stared each other down, mouths severe.
"Come," Wufei finally said, gesturing a hand towards the line of vending machines by the window. "I'll buy you coffee."
Two drivers battled for a single parking spot down below. Relena sat on her regular waiting chair in front of the panoramic window, gazing numbly at the vehicles playing chicken over a damn parking space. She was vaguely aware of Wufei standing by the vending machine a few feet from her. Her eyes stung after staring into the grey light pouring through the window. A storm brewed in the horizon.
Inhaling deeply, she combed her fingers through her hair, arm trembling as she pushed it back from her face, and released a shaky sigh.
"Here," Wufei handed her a steaming paper cup. "Coffee, black."
Relena looked up, inspecting the man towering over her in his pristine uniform and immaculate ponytail. What did she look like, to him? A small defeated woman, sitting slouched in a plastic waiting chair, dressed in rumpled jeans and an oversized men's leather jacket, lifeless oily hair falling over her red puffy eyes...
Looking away to avoid his scrutiny, Relena nodded in gratitude and accepted the beverage with both hands.
Wufei took a seat next to her, holding his own cup of black coffee. They looked outside, surveying the endless duels over scarce parking, while sipping coffee quietly, avoiding each other's eyes.
"His power of attorney..." Relena finally murmured, taking a small sip as she watched an old woman step out of her car, retrieving a walker from the trunk as her husband struggled to step out of the passenger seat. "How did that happen?"
The old woman went over to her husband, helping him out the car and to his walker.
"I recruited Heero, back in '97," Wufei then said, leaning onto his knees with both elbows, coffee cupped between his hands. He hadn't torn his gaze away from the window, watching the elderly couple make their way slowly towards the entrance.
"I offered him a way to put his skills to good use, a place to belong."
"And he took the offer?" Relena marveled, eyebrows furrowing as she turned to him. "Just like that?"
Not long before that, on Christmas '96, deep within Mariemaia Khushrenada's bunker, Heero had vowed never to kill again. She had been right there when the slurred words had left his mouth, seconds after he had fired an empty gun at the small child-turned-tyrant. Then again, he had been severely concussed when he'd said it, before collapsing into her arms. Maybe it had been just his wishful thinking, a small truth slipping past his defenses as they crumbled into unconsciousness. At any rate, it had turned out to be an empty promise.
"He was wandering around with nothing better to do, so yes. He took the offer." Wufei straightened back up, leaning into the seat. "It took some convincing, but eventually he relented. What else was he to do?" He concluded, and sipped some more coffee.
Relena stared at her coffee. What, indeed?
"CTU operatives lead a dangerous life," Wufei continued, his hard features fixed on the window ahead. "Preventer demands that we all have a medical power of attorney, if there's no next of kin. Heero didn't have anyone, so he appointed me."
He swirled the coffee in the cup, staring at the muddy liquid, jaw clenched.
"I'm the one who had to make the call about his leg. He never forgave me for it." Wufei turned to face her, something pained and honest in his dark eyes. "That was when he signed the DNR. I feel obligated to honor his wishes this time around."
Somehow, Relena managed to nod in acknowledgement, her neck stiff.
"You were partners." She set her coffee down on the chair beside her, not in the mood to drink.
"For a while," Wufei said. "We worked together in Beijing."
"Yes, I know. Before he transferred to the Middle East." Heero had mentioned that in passing on their first date, which had been more like a job interview.
"That's right." he frowned, regarding her closely. "Heero told you about that?"
"He was with an agent in Tel Aviv," she ventured a guess that might lead him to think she knew more than she let on.
Wufei nodded, falling for it. "Agent Sa'ar," he confirmed. "Seven years older. Dark, exotic. A highly capable agent. Heero was..."
"Smitten?" She uttered sarcastically and Wufei snorted, shaking his head.
"He was eighteen," he corrected, scrunching his face in dismay, "and he had never lived in the real world. I suspect their attachment was more carnal in nature, though I never made it my business to ask."
Relena nodded faintly, recalling what little Heero had told her about the mystery woman... his first love interest. Funny, she had always thought herself as his one and only. Her stomach churned at the thought of him being infatuated with anyone else, let alone when it was purely physical...
"When Sa'ar moved back to Tel Aviv, Heero had followed suit. Stayed there for three years, so I imagine it was a beneficial arrangement. He had made a critical contribution to the division, until..."
"She ended it," Relena surmised.
"Right after he had lost his leg," Wufei muttered and emptied his coffee in one gulp.
Relena lifted her teary eyes to the window, biting on her lower lip, teeth chewing on the red mark already present there. Heero's first broken heart... right after he had lost a limb. Broken both inside and out, it was no wonder his heart had soon taken ill, and later succumbed to alcoholism. She understood, now more than ever.
"Lebanon was a real game changer," Wufei said, and tossed his empty coffee into a nearby bin, scoring a perfect basket with a single free throw.
"Heero lost everything. I tried to be there, but..." he shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back into the chair. "He still resents me for allowing the doctors to amputate. We haven't spoken in five years. I take full responsibility. I'm here to make amends."
"If you want to help him, then don't end his life," Relena implored, placing her hand over his crossed arms. He tensed, looking at her with narrowed eyes, wary. "Save it instead," she insisted. "There must be something we can do. All these men... dying... and for what?"
Wufei pulled back, uncrossing his arms from under her touch. She moved away, placing her hands in her lap. He stood up, rigid. Relena turned in her seat to watch him pace by the window, hands clasped behind his back.
"Preventer alone must employ hundreds of former MS pilots," she reasoned. "Surely, something is being done about MS Syndrome."
Wufei snorted. "The medical community and the politicians are at odds, and we're all caught in the crossfire," he muttered disdainfully. "Researchers are paid off to give a less daunting impression of the statistics around MS Syndrome." He stopped, spinning to gaze out the window, his fingers still locked behind his stiff back.
"It is true that many agents have taken ill, but it's all kept under wraps. Director Une is trying, but she's up against very strong lobbyists in the ESUN. As it stands, the government refuses to give priority to the matter. They won't pour funds into researching a cure."
He peered over his shoulder, glancing at her over his Preventer jacket.
"They'd rather we all just wither away and die quietly."
"And now you're here to see to it that he does," she accused. "You're no better," she glowered at him from her chair, eyes burning as though seething with fire.
Wufei whirled around to face her fully.
"How long would you have him rely on blood transfusions?" he challenged her, his pointy chin rising in a spiteful gesture. "A year? Several? Do you think he wants to survive on blood donations? What kind of a life would that be? How long before the blood bank refuses to sustain his life? And then what? Heero doesn't want this. He made that very clear."
"How can you be so sure?" Relena spat, her cheeks burning with anger. "It's been five years since you've last seen him. Five years since he had signed that order."
"So I'll ask you," Wufei sneered, his thin lips curling haughtily. He approached her, one brisk step at a time, his polished black dress shoes clicking against the floor. He stopped a couple of inches in front of her, hands behind his back as he looked down at her with stern black eyes.
"What do you think Heero would have me do?"
Pinned under his ruthless gaze, Relena faltered. Her eyelids fluttered shut, her mind reeling in a desperate attempt to grasp at straws.
'I feel like falling, but I just...
I keep standing, and it's...
I'm so tired of standing still...'
Heero's pained words echoed dimly in her mind, an intimate conversation whispered in the dark, eons ago...
He wanted release. She knew that. Heero had said so himself, his raspy voice aching for rest.
'I fought through it because I wanted to be a better man for you, Relena,' he had said after he had gotten out of rehab and sought her out to apologize.
'I feel that I should make it up to you somehow.'
Was she the reason he had been struggling to keep standing? Was it all just for her? She had no right keeping him here against his will. And yet...
Her mind flashed back to what he had written in his battered little notepad. His most intimate confessions. She had read and re-read them over a thousand times these past few months, falling asleep on a tear-stained pillow with his notepad clutched to her heart and his whiskey bottle on the nightstand.
Because I need something more.
Because I need help.
Because I'm still fighting this.
Because I need to do better.
Because I want to change too.
Because I want to be like everyone else.
Because I want to be real again.
No. Heero hadn't given up. Not yet. He hadn't opened the bottle. Instead, he had listed all of the reasons why he wanted to keep going, keep trying. He didn't want to be released from his struggle to keep standing. He just needed support to keep upright. He didn't want to struggle alone.
'My name. The one I was born under. It's Seiki. That's as far back as I can possibly go...'
'So I'd laugh. Would that be so bad?'
'I had fun today... We should do this more.'
'Has it ever occurred to you that we might share the same interests?'
'Being together makes it a little easier to move forward.'
'Life turned out to be so... ordinary... didn't it?' she had asked, back in the car.
'Yes. It did,' Heero had agreed.
Relena had assumed he meant that as a critique, life being a boring disappointment, but he hadn't meant that at all.
Heero was right where he wanted to be.
Relena stood up, stretching to her full height in front of Wufei. Shoulders back, breasts front and center. She looked him squarely in the eyes, and he frowned, his stern posture recoiling a little.
"He would have you tear that DNR to shreds and shove it where the sun doesn't shine," she spoke firmly, feeling her blood pumping hot through her veins. "Because Heero wants to live. I know that for a fact."
"Because he has you?" Wufei scoffed.
"Because we have each other," she retorted, keeping her voice steady and strong, confident as though addressing a room full of hostile politicians.
An awkward silence fell between them. Relena refused to look away, and Wufei's face seemed to have frozen in bewilderment.
Then, it cracked with a small smile. He huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he moved away, taking a seat.
"Five years is indeed a long time," he muttered to himself, sighing as he slumped back in the chair. He reached a hand behind his head, scratching above his ponytail while gazing up at the ceiling. "What would you have me do, then?"
Relena paused, thinking. She tugged her jacket down, smoothing the wrinkled leather, and settled back into her seat. Her eyes found a young couple out in the parking lot, walking smiling to their car, the young man holding a baby carry-cot, and the woman holding her slightly-bulging belly as she wobbled by her husband's side.
"I found his family," she said, gazing wistfully at the young parents. "On L1."
Wufei lowered his head back down to regard her with obvious interest.
"An uncle, and an aunt... a bunch of cousins... On his father's side."
"That is... commendable," he acknowledged, turning to look at the couple and baby stepping into a shiny SUV. "I didn't know he has a family."
"He doesn't know either."
"Then how...?"
"He told me his name," Relena fixed her eyes on Wufei, as fierce as she could manage. "Before he got sick."
Wufei's lips parted slightly, but he remained speechless. Relena studied him tensely, trying to convey her point with a sharp glare. Seiki had told her his name because what they had... it meant something. More than a first teenage crush, more than a physical infatuation, more than anything they'd had before.
"I see," Wufei let out thoughtfully.
"I've been keeping busy, looking for any scrap of information I could find," she continued, "but there's no one left of his immediate family. His mother died on Bulge in '86, and he had lost his father on L3-X18999, back in '88. No siblings."
"Impressive," Wufei praised, something akin to respect in his voice. "I always assumed Heero never knew his parents. He told you this?"
"Some of it," Relena shrugged her shoulders, "The rest was just... research."
Wufei nodded, his lips curling into a hint of a smile.
"There was one match," she continued. "Out of his third-degree relatives. A little boy... Mikhail Lowensky. Four years old. His mother refused to go through with the donation. She didn't want to risk her son's life for someone like Heero."
Wufei nodded, his face grave. "That's understandable."
"Yes," she sighed, "but it also means I'm out of options. We can't find a match in the registry. Heero's Space-born... it's hard to find a match Earth-side. Something about the blood just isn't the same... The products he's been getting here are barely keeping him alive."[3]
Relena heaved a sigh, her shoulders slumping as she hunched forward in defeat.
"He's going to die soon."
They each stared at their feet, saying nothing.
"Then there's nothing more I can do here," Wufei concluded and stood up. He reached his hand towards her, offering a handshake.
"Goodbye, Miss Darlian," he said, and she reached up for his hand, holding it in a loose grip. He shook it firmly.
"I wish there was something more to say, but as it stands, I have nothing to offer, so I must take my leave."
She stood up, letting go of his hand.
"Does this mean you're..."
"Leaving, yes," he cut in, before she could ask what he was going to do about the blood transfusions. "I have important business to attend to. I'm sorry."
"It's quite alright," she murmured politely, numb. "Thank you, Agent Chang. Thank you for coming all this way. I'm sure he would have appreciated your support, past resentment regardless."
Wufei nodded once, a curt gesture of his chin, and walked away, leaving the ICU waiting room. Relena remained standing by the window long after he'd gone, feeling a little... lost. Abandoned to her grief once more.
She grieved for Heero, and she grieved for the world he had fought to save. There was so much more to correct about the world. If she truly wished to go back to politics, she surely had her work cut out for her. In the very least, she would make sure Heero didn't die in vain.
[1] Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie, Chapter 13 – Do You Believe in Fairies?
[2] DNR: Do Not Resuscitate
[3] Researchers have observed the effect of long-term space flight on the blood. Extrapolating from that, it's safe to assume that a Colonist's' blood count and chemistry would differ slightly. I imagine it would affect compatibility between an Earther to a Colonist when it comes to stem-cell or bone-marrow donations. But what do I know? ^^;