Cat’s Paw - Part 3 by Zooie
Standard disclaimer apply

Duo POV

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A few days later, I open my eyes from my mid-afternoon nap to a flurry of activity. Nurses are hustling in and out of my room, rearranging IV stands and changing the sheets on the other bed. They’re in a veritable frenzy. I wonder what the cause is. Usually they’re not this active unless someone’s gone to code. I hitch myself into a sitting position and absently scratch at my catheter. Sure enough; the nurses are so intent on their preparations, they don’t even pause to yell at me.

“What’s going on?” I ask the one closest to my bed.

“You’re getting a roommate,” she says shortly, not even sparing me a glance.

“A roommate?” I repeat excitedly. “Awesome!” They are instantly forgiven for disrupting my siesta. I grin stupidly at the poster hanging across from my bed. So long, asshole, I think at the freakish circus clown the picture shows. He and I have been having some really deep one-sided conversations these past few days, mainly about such enticing topics as balloon animals and popcorn. He’s really not one to discuss the evening news with. Actually, he’s really not very good company at all. Still, he’s better than Drippy. At least the clown resembles a human being.

“Put this on,” a nurse commands suddenly. She’s holding an oxygen mask up to my face and reluctantly I allow her to slip it around my head.

“Why do I need this thing?” I complain, my voice muffled by the thick plastic and the sound of sucking air.

“Test results came back. Doctor‘s orders,” she shoots over her shoulder, already on her way out of the room, spraying that ghetto hospital Lysol as she goes.

Swell. I love my roommate already. Germ-riddled freak.

I catch sight of a bobbing blonde head in the hallway. “Q!” I call, lifting the dreaded mask away from my face. “C’mere!”

The intern pauses, says something to the doctor he’s accompanying, and enters the room. His arms are loaded full of medical charts and his stethoscope is in danger of falling off from around his neck. He has a pencil stuck behind each ear and one of his shoes is untied. His hair is sticking up all over the place. He looks extremely flustered. If he was a cartoon character, he’d have one of those little black storm clouds hovering above his head. Good grief, Charlie Brown.

“What is it, Duo?” he asks, sounding irritable for once. “I’m beyond busy!”

“I’m sorry,” I mutter. I start to fiddle with my blankets. They’re so very interesting. Look, they’re fraying. “I just wanted to know who my roommate was. I was excited...”

I sense guilt as it clamps down on Quatre’s ass. It doesn‘t take much. “I’m sorry I snapped,” he says, speaking very quickly. “We’ve been overrun with patients. There was a huge pile-up on the highway and it seems we’re getting all of the victims. A lot of them are kids and we have to rearrange beds and find equipment and... it‘s a big mess.”

“Well, that explains them,” I observe, jerking my chin towards the whirlwind of nurses as they scurry out of the room, busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “That’s probably who your roommate will be. A car crash kid, I mean.”

“A CCK?” I wince. “Uh, they’re not gonna be all busted up, are they?”

Quatre shoots me a sympathetic look. He knows how I feel about blood and guts and stuff. It skeeves me out, big time. Makes me want to puke. I had this roommate back when I was eleven and, well, let’s just say... Actually, let’s not say anything about it at all. Story over. End of discussion. Period.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he assures me. “But now I really have to get going! And your mask back on!” He shoots me a quick smile and jets from the room.

I’m left alone once more, just me, Drippy, and the creepy clown. Oh, and Sucky the Oxygen Mask. Whoop dee freakin doo.

~+~+~

It’s another two hours or so before my roommate makes an appearance. I pass the time playing Scrabble against myself. It sounds weird, but it’s actually a lot of fun. It’s hard, too, especially if you make your words stick to a theme. Sex is always a good one. You can be real creative with that. However, out of respect for my soon-to-be roomie, I choose the less risque theme of adjectives.

Of course, a lot of the adjectives I know are pretty sexy in their own right.

I can see the sun setting through the huge windows the room features. It’ll be dinnertime soon. I sigh. I still can’t eat solids very well and get most of my nutrition through the catheter. Dinner for me will consist of crappy lime Jell-O or, if I’m lucky, chocolate pudding. If the nurses are feeling especially vengeful, I’ll get oatmeal. Unsweetened. Hello, Willlllbur.

What I wouldn’t give for a hamburger right about now. Not that my stomach would keep it down. No, it would definitely be reintroduced to this world in a very unsavory way. Still, it would taste great for the first thirty seconds or so.

I’m practically drooling behind Sucky the Oxygen Mask. I wonder if I could convince them to put hamburger-flavored air into the tank? Sucky sure wouldn’t complain. He must be just as sick of breathing processed air as I am.

McOxygen Tank. Free toy with every purchase. I wish!

I can practically hear Sister Mary Willis now. If wishes were fishes we could walk on the sea. Darn pragmatist. Not that she wasn’t right. Besides, who am I to wish for anything?! How freaking lucky am I to even be alive?!

It’s almost enough to make me religious. I wonder if I can get Quatre to buy me a Buddy Christ action figure?

I look down at the Scrabble board and contemplate my letters. P-I-O-U-S, I piece together. Triple word score. Twenty-one points. Woo hoo! Go me.

Give me a break. I’m stuck in a bed all day. You can only sleep so much and have you seen daytime television lately? Maria bonked Tony in the copy room because her fiance Chip screwed Alexis behind the Snack Shack at Sea World, making Destiny her lesbian lover mad, spurring her to kidnap Jackie’s illegitimate crack baby which makes Victor, Jackie’s husband, angry and cause him to hold Destiny at gunpoint until she could be exorcised by a traveling shaman because it turned out she was actually possessed by the devil and was using her ill-found powers to sexually manipulate everyone within a three mile radius. These are the days of our lives.

I’m fishing four new tiles from the bag when I hear the elevator doors distantly ding open. The unmistakable squeaking sound of a gurney comes slowly down the hall, accompanied by the slap of many pairs of feet. I cross my fingers...

A boy about my age is rolled into the room by an entourage of attendants and nurses. He has new casts on his right arm and leg. His left hand is wrapped firmly in a bandage and his face is swollen and distorted. An IV drips into his arm. He’s unconscious.

He’s gonna be barrels of fun. I can just tell. Not that I don’t feel bad for the poor kid...

As the boy is shifted into his bed, Quatre trails into the room. He’s carrying a single chart and it appears to be my new roommate’s. He sticks it into the little plastic box at the foot of the bed and supervises as the boy is hooked up to various monitors. They fuss over the boy for a short while, fluffing pillows and shifting blankets. In no time at all, the nurses are on their way out the door, ready to situate the next patient. Quatre follows them to the door, where I am surprised to see a police officer waiting. They speak quietly for a couple of minutes, then the officer nods and leaves. Only then does Quatre turn his attention to me.

He sits in the chair between the two beds. I can tell his face is freshly scrubbed and he’s not wearing the same clothes as before. Things must have been bad. Very bad. He leans limply back into the chair. He looks exhausted.

“Well, Duo, meet Heero Yuy,” he says abruptly. “As you can see, he’s in a coma right now. He suffered serious head trauma as well as a broken humorous and femur. He has three cracked ribs, severe bruising, and even some mild burns. His father died instantly in the crash and he’s has no other family, as best as we can tell. According to his license, he’s seventeen years old. We’re not sure he’s going to wake up...”

Quatre bursts into tears. I watch stupidly as he covers his face with his shaking hands. I don't know what to do. I have to do something. Quatre’s my buddy. My pal. I can’t just sit here and watch him cry. I have to do something.

In the end I did the only thing I could. I threw up. Thankfully, I managed to get Sucky out of the way first.

Just call me Mr. Compassionate.

~+~+~

Late that night, I’m half-awakened by the sound of footsteps crossing my room. I assume at first that it’s merely a nurse making her rounds, but when the person kicks a chair and curses, I lose that idea pretty quick. My eyes flutter open and I can make out a tall silhouette in the dim lighting. There’s a man standing at the foot of Heero’s bed. He’s wearing a police uniform. He doesn’t look happy.

“Hey,” I mumble, at the height of intelligence, “what’re you doin’ here?”

He turns to look at me, his mouth twisted into a pensive frown.

“Ain’t visitin’ hours,” I tell him sleepily. “Come back t’orrow.”

He ignores me and picks up Heero’s chart, studying it intently.

“You’re not ‘pposed to do that,” I chide him muzzily. My nighttime drugs are stronger than my daytime ones and I can’t help but slur. I watch him as he reads through Heero’s recent medical history.

The police officer returns the chart to its original location and moves to the windows. He runs his hands along the frame and tries to lift the lower pane. He seems satisfied when it only moves a few inches.

Next he turns his attention to the air vents in the ceiling. He unclips a flashlight from his belt and shines it up the duct. I blink at him in wonderment.

“You’re weird,” I say with a yawn. He turns to look at me, refastening the flashlight to his belt. I close my eyes for a second and when I open them again, he’s leaning over my bed, holding his face about three inches above mine. I meep.

“You didn’t see me,” he says in a dangerous voice.

My mind is struggling frantically against the drugs, doing its best to reach “flight” mode. Unfortunately, my muscles remain limp. I’m forced to lie there and stare at him.

“You didn’t see me,” he repeats, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

“No,” I stutter. “Didn’ see you.”

“Good.” He bares his teeth and straightens up. “Sleep well, kid,” he calls as he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

He’s been gone for about five seconds when I press the call button. When I tell the nurses what happened, they refuse to discuss it and tell me to go back to sleep. Frustrated and exhausted, I do.

*******

TBC

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