by Katikat
"What is it today, Wufei?"
Doctor Sally Po asked as she took the young man's slender arm in her hands and
swabbed the crook of his elbow with disinfection. "Rachmaninov
again?"
The Chinese man smiled at her shyly, his
pale, gaunt face lightening up a bit. "Beethoven," he answered and
kept unwinding the tiny headphones from around the small mp3 player in his lap
with his free hand. "Treize insisted that if someone could stop the
nausea, it was Beethoven and his sonatas."
Sally chuckled. "Well, the man's the
expert, right?" She took the new sterile needle the nurse handed her, then
inserted it swiftly, painlessly into the almost invisible blue vein under his
skin. As the therapy progressed, it was more and more difficult to find the
veins under the young man's pricked, bruised skin. That was why she took this
task upon herself instead leaving it to the nurses as she usually did. That,
and the fact that she truly liked the Chinese man.
As she adjusted the drip and checked the
lines, her eyes were invariably drawn to her favorite patient. Wufei half sat,
half lay in the comfortable padded chair, his right arm propped on the pillow
so that the lines wouldn't tangle. Even in his gauntness, with a pale face and
dark circles that gave his almond shaped eyes a permanent bruised look, with a
bald head, covered with a silk shawl, he still looked handsome and attractive.
But her heart couldn't help but clench painfully.
This slim being with bird-like frailty
didn't resemble Wufei's old self in anything at all. When he first came to her
clinic, he was a sturdy, well muscled youth with sun tanned skin and a fiery
look in his dark eyes. He was prepared to fight this sickness and not give up,
to win and live. But over the next six months full of never ending pain and
nausea, she was forced to watch the fire ebb from his heart. She saw
resignation replace his thirst for life. She feared that he was slipping
through her fingers like sand, one grain for each passing day. Doctor or not,
she would never get used to this.
As the poison started to slip into his
veins, she touched his hand to get his attention, for the first tones of the
Moonlight Sonata started to flow from the headphones, distracting him from the
growing nausea that accompanied the therapy. "I will be back soon to check
on you, okay?"
He smiled again, his too large eyes
glinting. "Go and talk to Treize," he said, glancing over her
shoulder to where his lover hovered in the corridor behind the window and when
their eyes met, he waved a little in reassurance. "Tell him something so
that he won't worry, alright? It's hard for him," he added softly, in a
sad voice.
As it is for you, Sally thought as she
squeezed his hand gently and left him to the dripping infusion and Beethoven.
Headed for the door, she took a deep
breath and steeled herself for the questioning that she knew would come as soon
as she stepped into the corridor. Treize Kushrenada was a billionaire, a
business tycoon and one of the most powerful men in the world. Used to solving
problems of international significance before drinking his morning tea, his
lover's sickness was taking its toll on him. He couldn't pummel it into the
ground, threaten it into submission or buy himself into its graces. He couldn't
do anything, just watch the one person he loved above everything in the world
suffer.
Every time Wufei had to head to the clinic
for his chemotherapy, Treize was there to accompany him. No matter what he was
working on, where he had to be or who was waiting for him, he would be there to
drive him to the therapy and pick him up again to help him through the weakness
and nausea that the poison coursing through his veins caused. Nothing that was
happening to Wufei could disgust him or make him turn away. He was there to hold
Wufei when he threw up or to wipe his sweaty face, to cuddle him when he was
cold or to bring the heat down when fever claimed him. From what Wufei told
Sally, Treize was everything a sick person could wish for in his partner. She
just hoped that this fairy tale would have a happy end because if not... She
didn't even want to think about what would happen.
Sally slid the door open, stepped outside
and closed it again. Treize waited for her to approach him. He was leaning
against the metal railing running under the window, watching his lover suffer
through the therapy with eyes closed, listening to the calming tones of
Beethoven's sonatas.
"How is he?" Treize asked in a
soft tone when she joined him.
"As expected," she answered
evasively.
He frowned and looked at her, his eyes
dark and chilly. "If I am to help him, I need answers, Sally. Honest
answers. I can't afford to be mollycoddled." His tone was business like,
but underneath it, she sensed a true fear.
She sighed, stuffing her hands in the pockets
of her white coat. Before she answered, she turned to face her patient through
the glass. "We are making good progress. The drastic therapy was a good
choice."
"I sense a 'but' in there
somewhere," he said.
"Yes, there is a 'but'. The
chemotherapy is killing the disease..." She paused, not knowing how to
finish her thought.
"But it's killing him too," he
added quietly for her.
Sally looked at him and seeing his
tortured expression, for a moment she felt the desire to lie. But then thought
better of it. A merciful lie would not change anything about Wufei's state of
health. "Yes."
Treize swallowed painfully, his face
growing paler. He turned back to his lover and pressed his lips firmly
together. He didn't ask her if she couldn't do anything more for his lover
because he knew that she was doing everything that was in her power.
"Will he... Will..." He couldn't
say it.
Sally reached out and laid her hand on the
tall man's slumped shoulder. "I don't know. I can't promise you anything.
We doctors don't know everything even though we like to pretend as if we
do."
With his eyes still on the pale form of
his lover, Treize asked. "What can I do?"
"There is nothing more you can do
that you aren't already doing," she assured him. "Be there for him,
take care of him and hold him when he needs to cry."
For a moment, Treize was silent, watching
his lover carefully with sad eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.
"I love him, Sally. I couldn't... I can't..." He couldn’t finish.
She squeezed his shoulder to comfort the
distressed business man.
Then there was a crackle in the hospital
radio. "Doctor Sally Po to emergency
room one! Doctor Sally Po to emergency room one!"
"I have to go," she whispered
and waited until the man acknowledged her with a nod. "Try not to worry
too much." When Treize snorted, she added: "He senses it and it's
putting more strain on him. He has the best medical care and he has you. If
there is one chance in hell he will make it, he will. For you and for
himself."
Treize looked at her, then smiled a little
and squeezed her hand that still lay on his shoulder.
"Will you be alright?" she
asked.
He nodded. "Yes. I will stay here a
moment longer though," he answered, his attention back on his lover again.
Sally Po sighed, her heart aching for
them. With a last glance at her patient, resting in the room behind the glass,
she turned around and headed for the lift.
The End