Due South - part 6
by KatiKat
"Duo, I need more bandages!" Trowa shouted as he and the shipīs
healer tried to stop one of the sailors from bleeding to death. The young man
fell from the rigging, after being knocked off by a strong gust of wind, and
after hitting the deck, he broke his leg, the bone digging through the skin,
making him bleed badly.
Tearing the door of the small supply cabin open, Duo ran in, grabbed the clean
strips of linen and ran back to his friend. "Here," he said. When the
storm began and the captain accepted Heeroīs help on the deck gladly, Duo
decided he had to do something too. Privately, he admitted that his reasons
werenīt all that altruistic - as long as he had something to do, he didnīt have
to think about the danger Heero was in outside.
Trowa nodded in thanks, his face smeared with his patientīs blood. "Do you
think we will need to amputate?" he asked his fellow healer quietly, so
that the delirious sailor wouldnīt hear him.
The shipīs healer - Lipkin as Duo found out - shook his head. "I donīt
know. If the bleeding doesnīt stop..." Lipkin was a middle aged man, but
right now with his face creased with worry, he looked ancient - at least to
Duo.
The braided young man swallowed and tried to look everywhere but the gaping
wound. He didnīt mind blood, but this was different. He could see the manīs
bone!
Suddenly the ship lurched and the floor seemed to vanish from under their feet.
The ship dropped - probably quickly descending from the crest of a wave and
shooting down its steep wall. Duo staggered, then tumbled to the ground while
Trowa and Lipkin caught themselves on the sides of the table on which their
patient lay. The young man screamed in pain.
"What the...?" Duoīs question was cut off as one of the lamps
dangling violently from the ceiling fell of the hook and smashed on the ground.
The lifebearer managed to roll to the side as the oil splashed around, catching
fire immediately.
"Duo!" Trowa shouted.
The braided man scrambled to his feet, snatched one of the woolen blankets
prepared for the drenched sailors and then he proceeded to hit the flames
vigorously, slowly getting the fire under control. In spite of the cold air,
Duo was drenched with sweat when he finally dropped to his knees, the fire
extinguished, the sick bay stinking of burned wood and wool. His lungs burned,
just like his hands. He coughed, tears streaming down his face, then looked
down at his blistered hands. They hurt. A lot.
Someone dropped to their knees in front of him. "You okay?" Trowa.
The healer took Duoīs burned hands into his blood-splattered ones and gently
turned them. The fire didnīt catch the palms, only the back of his hands. The
burns werenīt serious, only very painful. Trowa smiled at him. "Itīs not
so bad. I have a salve that will ease the pain."
Before Duo could say something, the door leading up to the deck burst open,
showering both men with icy water. The friends scrambled to their feet
immediately as three men - the two on each side carrying the one in the middle
- stumbled down the steep stairs, water cascading down the narrow ladder.
"What happened?" Lipkin shouted as he pushed Trowa and Duo to the
side, showing the drenched sailors where to lay their comrade.
"The mast went down, broke like a splinter," one of the sailors
answered, panting for breath. "They are bringing one more man down."
He helped to settle the unconscious sailor on the bunk tucked out of the away
against the shipīs hull. "The other saved General Kushrenadaīs life. He
pushed him out of the way and was hit himself. He got tangled in the ropes and
almost went overboard along with the mast. But the General saved him."
Another pair of feet started to descend down the stairs and when the tall
figure of the newcomer came fully into sight, Duoīs breath caught in his
throat. "Rufus..." he whispered. Over the shoulder of the muscled man
a limp figure hang. A very familiar figure... Duo screamed. "Heero!"
*-*-*-*-*-*
Milliardo cursed as another wave came crashing against the hull of the ship. He
staggered, almost falling to his knees. He was used to travelling on the sea
and this wasnīt his first journey on the Peacemillion II either but he had
never experienced such a storm.
Another wave shook the ship and little Zechs started to cry. Shinigami, lying
close by the cradle, raised his head from his paws and whined softly, looking
from the cradle to Mil and back.
The blond man made his way from the door he had to close again, since it kept
opening itself as the ship shifted from side to side to where his child lay.
"Iīm coming, nothing to fear," he called softly, then added,
"your Bearer is scared enough for the both of us." As he reached the
cradle, he took the wailing boy in his arms and pressed the small head to his
neck as Duo taught him. "Shh, everything will be okay. Iīm here, Shini is
here..." And your Sire is out there in the storm. He knew that he couldnīt
be mad at Treize since just two years previously he would have been out there
too, enjoying the thrill of danger - however stupid it seemed now that he was
holding his son in his arms.
The ship shifted to the side, the floor suddenly sloping. Mil staggered,
hitting the edge of the table with his hip. He closed his arms around his son
protectively as Shinigami pressed himself against the blond manīs left side.
The cabin was illuminated only by the oil lamp that was hanging from the
ceiling and swinging from side to side in a maddening rhythm, hiding the room
in shadows. The blond lifebearer stood, now facing the windows. He couldnīt see
anything but darkness outside since the storm snuffed the last shimmers of
daylight.
And then he noticed it - a spiderweb of cracks in one of the window panes. His
heart clenched with horror and he swallowed a curse. He quickly moved over the
unsteady floor to the bunk. The child was still whimpering softly, but Mil
didnīt have the time to comfort him now. He caressed the tear-streaked face,
then took the pillows and covers and made a safe nest for the boy so that he
wouldnīt fall off the bed.
"Shinigami, stay," Mil ordered the dog and pointed at the spot next
to the bed. Animal or not, Mil was sure that Shini would make sure that Zechs
was safe.
Milliardo then made his way back to the rear windows, the floor running away
from underneath his feet. Reaching up, he unhooked the inner shutters, which
were fastened to the ceiling. All he had to do was lower them and lock them in
place. This way the water wouldnīt get in even if the window panes broke.
But at the moment the first heavy panel of wood came down with a loud bang, the
ship lurched violently. Milliardo didnīt expect it, so he lost his footing and
fell to the ground, his head hitting the edge of the table. When the ice cold
wave came crashing through the window, he was already unconscious.
*-*-*-*-*-*
"How is he?" Treize asked Trowa, his voice barely audible over the
roar of the waves. They were standing in the shadowed sick bay, watching the still
figure of Heero lying on one of the bunks. With Rufusī help Trowa stripped
Heero naked, throwing the wet clothes to the ground with the intent of taking
care of them later, then dressed his unconscious friend in a plain linen shirt
that Duo had quickly brought from their cabin.
The healer sighed. "I donīt know. I didnīt find any broken bones but the
wound on his head doesnīt look good. It worries me that he still hasnīt woke
up." Trowa frowned. "It may be a simple concussion or something
more." The green-eyed young man threw Treize a quick look. "I donīt
want to worry Duo, though."
Treize nodded, understanding Trowaīs concern fully. They both turned to look at
Duo where he sat on the side of the narrow bed on which Heero lay montionless
under the warm blankets. The braided young man hadnīt left his loveīs side
since the moment they brought Heero in, holding the Enforcerīs cold hand in his
bandaged ones, eyes fixed on the pale bruised face, half of which was covered
with a thick bandage. They both looked like statues, carved out of white
marble, never moving a muscle.
Suddenly, the door of the sick bay flew open, Duo the only one awake not
reacting to the loud bang as it hit the wall. "General!" called the
panicked young sailor who rushed in, wide-eyed.
"What is it?" Treize asked, motioning for the young man to come
closer.
"Something happened. We heard something from your cabin and now your mate
is not responding and the door seems to be blocked. We canīt get in."
Treize felt as if an iron fist clenched his insides. Not his family. Not again!
Not waiting for another word, he flew out of the sick bay and down the narrow
corridor.
"Go!" Lipkin waved Trowa off, making it clear that he could handle
the sick bay alone.
Trowa nodded and hurried after the General. When he finally reached him, the
taller man was already banging on the closed door of his cabin, calling his
loverīs name. Milliardo didnīt
respond though. There was a sound of crashing waves coming from behind the door
and the terrified cries of the small child were growing louder by the second.
And the door still wouldnīt budge even though both Treize and Trowa threw
themselves against it with their shoulders. Suddenly, the healer looked down,
realizing that his boots were soaking wet. Treize followed his sight and paled
as his eyes settled on the ice cold sea water leaking from under the door.
"Step back!" Treize ordered Trowa and when the healer followed the
order the general whirled around in the narrowed corridor, his leg kicking
high, hitting the thin planks filling out the doorīs hardwood frame. There was
a crack as they splintered and when the general repeated his motion the second
time, they broke apart. Together, the two men tore the upper half of the door
apart. On the other side they were met by a complete, unforgiving darkness.
"Light!"
Trowa unhooked the lantern that dangled from the ceiling in the corridor and
handed it over to the general who pushed it through the hole in the door and
gasped with shock as the flickering light illuminated the devastation inside.
The windows were gone, empty frames open to the storm outside, giving the water
- sea water and rain alike - and cold wiind access to the room and its
occupants. Only one of the shutters had been let down but since it was unlocked,
it kept hitting the window frame every time the ship bobbed on the violent
waves. The water was already standing ankle high in the cabin and on the
surface of the water splintered wood swam. And among the rubbish, Milliardo lay
on the floor, Shinigami keeping his face above the surface by the collar of his
shirt that he held in his tightly clenched jaws. The blond lifebearerīs face
was pale, streaked with blood gushing from the deep wound on his forehead, his
lips already turning blue. And on the bed, safely tucked in a small nest of
blankets and pillows the baby lay, crying loud, arms and legs flailing in the
air.
"Mil!" Treize shouted, lowering the lamp to see what was blocking the
door. One of the chairs had been thrown across the room by the wave that broke
in through the windows and lodged itself under the door knob. The general
cursed. Try as he might, the piece of furniture wouldnīt budge.
"Let me," Trowa said, touching Treizeīs arm. The aristocrat moved
aside, holding the lantern high as the healer squeezed himself through the
small opening with the flexibilty of a cat. Once on the other side, Trowa
kicked the jammed chair aside and the door swung open.
Treize rushed in, quickly hanging the lamp on the hook in the ceiling, then
crouched down by his mateīs side. As he gathered the soaked, shaking form of
his unconscious lover in his arms, Shinigami let go of the shirt he was holding
in his teeth. Though concerned for Milīs welfare, Treize took a moment to pet
the dog on the head. The beast had saved Milliardoīs life after all. "Good
job, Shinigami." As if understanding, the black dog wagged his tail.
"Take him to our cabin," Trowa shouted over the noise of the crashing
waves as he moved to the bed and took the terrified child in his arms. At the
same moment, another wave swept through the cabin, almost knocking them all to
the floor.
"Rufus!" the general called as the captain of his personal guard
appeared in the doorway, looking widly around the room. "The
windows."
The tall man understood immediately, moving quickly through the cabin to take
care of the problem while the general lifted the dripping body of his lover off
the floor. Following Trowa out of the room then, Treize clutched Milliardo as
close to him as he could, praying to all the gods he knew to not take his
second family away from him too. He knew that this time he would not survive
it.
TBC