Cat's Paw - Part 5 by Zooie
Standard disclaimers apply

Duo POV

---

It’s all Quatre’s fault, I decide the next morning. He’s the one who made Heero my roommate in the first place. It’s because of him that I am practically dying of curiosity. If it weren’t for his darn good intentions, I’d never have met Coma Boy and would certainly not be lying here playing cops and robbers in my mind.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Quatre’s meddling aside, my overactive imagination is further stimulated by the occasional police officer I see prowling about in the hall. Creepy. I wonder what they’re doing here? Well, besides the obvious.

I examine the curtain that is now drawn between our beds and think. If what I overheard last night is any indication, the police seem to think that the accident he was in was caused purposely. But why would Heero or his dad do that? Unless there was another person in the car... Maybe someone had tried to kill them? Maybe they were royalty from a foreign country and assassins had tried to take them out due to increasing political tension! Maybe rebels were attempting to overthrow their nation and they’d come here seeking sanctuary only to be hunted down and attacked! Maybe the police were bodyguards! Maybe I was sharing a hospital room with the crown prince -now ruler- of a developing second world country!

I laugh at my ridiculous musings. Royalty? Assassins? Yeah, right! Get real! That’s about as realistic as a celibate Bill Clinton! They’re probably just trying to make sure the crash wasn’t purposely caused. Standard procedure, if all the cop shows on TV are accurate.

I’m still chuckling when Nurse Gina comes in with my breakfast tray. Ohh, goodie. Just what I want. Scrambled eggs. Yum yum. Where’s the puke pan?

“Good morning, hun,” she whispers, careful not to disturb the patient sleeping on the other side of the curtain. “How are you feeling?”

“Splendid,” I whisper back. “And I’d feel even more splendid if you managed to finagle me some extra apple juice.”

She giggles. “Sure did, sugar. Two extras, to be exact.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out two tiny cartons of apple juice. Mmm. Morning goodness. The only stuff worth having in this joint. And, oh! Excitement! It’s still half frozen. Apple slushy. Yum!

“My hero! I might live yet!” I dramatically swoon. She grins.

“Eat all of your breakfast and I have it on good authority that you can go to the recreation room later,” she winks, leaving the room to deliver the rest of her trays.

Well, that’s an incentive if I’ve ever heard one. Get out of this room? Hell, yeah! Plus the rec room is pretty awesome. There’s video games and pool tables and ping pong. I can see the Game Cube now...

I only manage to down about half the eggs. Still, for me, that’s remarkable. And since I had slept the night through, I knew I would most definitely be allowed to go to the rec room. They like it when you eat and sleep like a normal person. Makes it easier for them to believe you’re not just going to up and croak any given second.

Now that I have something in my stomach, I can take the pills that are on the corner of my tray. Only twelve today. Hmm. Must be improving. I chase them down with some apple juice and lean back in bed, tired but satisfied.

It is most certainly time for some TV. “History’s Mysteries” will be on in a few minutes. The secrets of the Great Wall of China. Good stuff.

I click on the television set, but put it on mute. I’ll read the closed captions and then Heero won’t be disturbed. I am a very considerate roomie, if I do say so myself, especially considering I’ve never even met my companion. I mentally add Mr. Nice to my list of self-imposed nicknames.

As the show’s opening theme begins, I can tell I’m going to doze off before it’s halfway over. My eyes are already getting kind of heavy...

~+~+~

I am torn awake by the sound of a thunderous explosion. My eyes pop open and I spring up in bed, the catheter catching painfully on my blankets. I take a huge gasp of the oxygen Sucky is spewing out and it of course makes me light-headed. I fall back on my pillows in a half-faint, aching and confused, my mind frantically trying to process all available information into a reasonable explanation.

It succeeds.

Either World War III [1] has broken out and is confined exclusively to this hospital room or Heero has woken up and has claimed dominance over the television set. You get one guess which it is and if you’re wrong, I get to beat you over the head with a stupid stick.

Smart choice.

Heero’s watching a war movie, loud and proud. The crash I heard was courtesy of Audie Murphy and his ragtag group of soldiers. God Bless America. [2]

I heave myself upright and yank Sucky off my face. “What’s the big idea?” I demand hoarsely. He still has the curtain drawn between our beds and all I can see of him is the shadow cast by the sun pouring in through the windows.

“You were asleep.” He calmly speaks over the roar of the television. His voice is perfectly monotone. Joy.

“And you had a problem with that?” I yelp. “Do sleeping people offend you on some deep, personal level? Do you feel this insistent need to wake them up?”

“The nurse said it was fine if I watched television. She gave me the remote control.”

“The nurse said... Heero, I sincerely doubt the nurse told you to scare the crap out of your roommate!” As I speak, I’m struggling out of bed. I know I shouldn’t, not without a nurse or someone nearby, but I’m angry. I want that damn curtain out of the way. I want to see Heero face to face. I want to know what he looks like when he’s awake before I kill him.

“I wanted to turn the sound up a little. I didn‘t know the mute was on,” he explains. Was his voice still lacking in all emotion? Yes, it was. Thanks for asking. “Now I can’t get the volume to go down. I think my hearing might be slightly distorted from the-”

“Distorted... I’ll give you distorted!” I shout. My legs are stronger than I remember and, with the help of the IV stand, I’m able to shuffle my way around my bed towards the curtain. By the time I get there, I’m sweating buckets. I can tell my face is fantastically pale. I know I’m being stupid, but I have to see him. I have to tell this asshole off to his face.

I reach a shaking hand out to the curtain and rip it back. I find myself glaring at a skinny, battered teenager with a mop of tangled brown hair. Now that the swelling is gone, he looks faintly Asian beneath his mass of bandages. He has these huge, slanted blue eyes and a nose that’s so small I wonder if he can even smell through it. He also has some scary looking eyebrows that are just screaming for some tweezers or a weed whacker. I’ve never seen him sitting up before and he looks different. Not as vulnerable and not nearly as friendly.

To my consternation, he actually does seem contrite and is fiddling with the TV remote, trying to lower the volume. However, his efforts are hindered by the huge cast on his right arm and the ace bandage encasing around his left hand.

“Give me the damn thing,” I order, holding out my hand. “No clicker for you.” He looks at it dubiously, then reluctantly forks over the no-good hunk of plastic. I point it at the TV and hit “mute.” Blessed silence fills the room. “Next time ask for help,” I say sternly. He stares at me blankly and we lock gazes for a moment. Abruptly I find myself grinning. He looks so offended.

“Now, then,” I smile. “I’m Duo and I’m your roommate. Pleased to meet you.”

He blinks at me a couple of times, not reacting at all. I wonder if he’s ignoring me. That would be just what I need. I finally get a roommate -a conscious one at that- and he decides not to deign me with his companionship. I can see it now. We’ll share a room, but be mortal enemies. He’ll refuse to speak to me and I’ll torment him relentlessly about his scraggly eyebrows. We’ll hurl insults through the lovely checkered curtain that hangs between our beds. Sometimes we’ll throw things at one another. Thanks to Relena’s gift baskets, I have quite a cornucopia of possible projectiles. I’ll use them wisely and will slowly break down Heero’s patience. He’ll become sleep deprived and desperate. My victory will be short-coming... Then one day Quatre will come in to say good morning and I’ll be dead where I lay, my skull caved in by Heero’s huge leg cast when his temper finally snapped...

“I’m Heero and I know,” he says abruptly, interrupting my runaway imagination. Then he closes his eyes and falls promptly to sleep. I stand there in startled shock for more than a few seconds, just ogling him. Finally, I shrug and toss the bothersome remote onto my bed, shuffling after it.

“Freak,” I mutter. I clamber back beneath my sheets and pull up the blankets. Trust Quatre to find me a dysfunctional human being for a roommate. I’d rather be alone with Drippy and Sucky than with this weirdo. At least they keep me company.

If I’m lucky, no one will know I was up.

~+~+~

It takes Quatre about three seconds to figure it out. The Amazing Migrating IV Stand is a pretty good tip-off, I guess. This morning it was on the left side of my bed. Now it stands to the right. That and the curtain is open. It seems covert operations aren‘t my thing. As soon as the intern entered my room, armed with his stethoscope and lab coat, he knew something was up.

Holy Kleenex, Batman! We blew it!

“Duo,” Quatre chides, “you know it’s dangerous for you to get out of bed without someone here.”

“Someone was here,” I joke. “Heero.” Not that he’d be a lot of help. He’s still snoozing, probably more from the drugs than anything else, and has been all afternoon. He’s actually rather amusing to watch while he sleeps, for he makes all kinds of strange noises and even talks a little. I’d spent a couple of hours just listening to him earlier.

Like I said before, I’m easily amused.

“You know what I mean,” Quatre frowns. “What if you’d fallen?”

“Well, I didn’t, so no sense in worrying about it now!” I optimistically point out. “Hey, is that gum I see in your hand?”

He holds up a plenty-pack of gum. Winterfresh. My favorite. “I heard your mouth was still dry. I thought this might help,” he says, allowing me to change the subject. “I also came to tell you that you don’t need to wear the oxygen mask anymore, but I see you beat Dr. Merino to that decision.” He shoots Sucky an amused look. “At least you turned it off.”

I shrug, my eyes locked on the gum. “We had a little disagreement. I wasn’t comfortable Frenching on a first date and, well, he was. So he’s been banished to the corner. Can I have the gum now, please?” He forks it over into my greedy little hands.

Forget Nurse Gina. Sarcastic comments aside, Quatre’s my new hero. “Have I ever told you how much I appreciate you, Q? Because I do. I really, really do.” I tear open the gum and pop a piece in my mouth. It takes me a while to get it soft enough to chew, but then my mouth starts producing some more saliva and things get a bit easier.

The day is looking up.

“How’s the nausea doing?” he asks me, perching on the edge of my bed. He’s a skinny little guy and the mattress barely sags. Looking at him, one would pin him as about nineteen or twenty. One would be wrong by about five years. Quatre’s funny that way. Over the time that I’ve known him, he’s hardly aged at all. It’s like his body just froze at a certain point. I’m sure it bothers him like hell now, but in twenty years he’ll be cackling in superiority as his peers get face lifts and tummy tucks.

I shrug. “S’okay, I guess. I’m doing everything you told me, but it’s not really going away. I’m kind of used to it, though.”

He frowns. “Are you drinking liquids during your meals?”

I sigh heavily. “No, Quatre.”

“Have you been eating that candy the Kiwanis Club keeps bringing you?”

“No, Quatre. I give it away.”

“Are you eating hot food or room temperature food?”

“Room temperature, Quatre.” Tepid food, in all its glory.

“Do you stay sitting for an hour after you eat?”

“Yes, Quatre. Unless I fall asleep.”

“I think I might recommend anti-nausea medication to Dr. Merino,” Quatre mumbles, looking concerned. “It should have gone away by this point.”

“No!” I protest. “I take too many drugs as it is. It’s not a problem. Really.”

Quatre rubs his forehead. “It’s not good that you can’t eat solid foods, kiddo. We can’t feed you through the catheter forever. We need to get you back on a regular diet.”

“Look, I’ll make you a deal, okay?” I offer desperately. I really don’t want to take any more pills. I’m starting to feel like a cadaver, all pumped full of embalming fluid. Like only the drugs in my system are keeping me from decomposing. “If I eat most of my meals for the next three days, I don’t have to take any drugs. Kapeesh?”

He frowns again. “I’ll talk it over with Dr. Merino. We’ll see.”

Coming from Quatre, that’s as good as a guarantee. My friend has a remarkable aptitude for getting his way. Except with me, of course. I hope one day I discover his secret.

“Thanks, Q!” I give him my best grin.

He rolls his eyes. “Save it for the jury.” But he returns my smile, anyway. “Anything else I can do for you, Duo?”

“Wellll,” I begin. “I do want to take a real shower. I’m getting damn sick of all these sponge baths.”

“I’ll ask Dr. Merino.”

“And I reeeallly want to go for a walk around the ward tomorrow.”

“We’ll see.”

“And-” I check quickly over my shoulder to make sure Heero is still asleep “-I would be forever ingratiated if I could have a new roommate...”

“What? He just woke up! What could he possibly have done to you already?” Quatre sputters. I tell him the TV story. He just laughs. “Give him a chance. I’m sure once he gets used to you he’ll be a lot friendlier.”

“I dunno, Q. He seems kind of creepy. And all these cops keep hanging around. They’re beginning to freak me out. I keep waking up and seeing them hovering around the room.”

“Hmm. I’ll have a talk with them about it. I’ll ask them to try and be more subtle.” Quatre doesn’t sound too happy.

“What are they doing here, anyway?” I ask, thinking maybe I can pump Q for some info. “What was up with that detective, Barton? What’s going on?”

He smirks. “Sorry, kid. My lips are sealed.”

“Aww, come on! You can tell me. I’m not gonna gossip to anyone. I have no one to gossip to!” I shoot him my puppy eyes.

“I can’t tell you even if I want to,” he informs me. “I’m bound to secrecy by the law.”

You can’t argue with that. Well, you can, but it’s probably not a good idea. “Fine,” I pout. “Be that way. I’ll just sit here, by my lonesome, and drive myself crazy with curiosity.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the blonde intern agreeably says. I glare at him. “Seriously, though, Duo. Is there anything I can do for you?”

I pretend to think. “Well... since my chances of going to the rec room were ruined by my little trip this morning...” Quatre nods in confirmation. “... how about some Scrabble?”

“Again?!” he groans.

“Hey, it’s a classic game! You can’t knock Scrabble!”

“Yeah, but I always lose,” he complains, already searching for the game box amidst my mountain of gift baskets. I think the Kiwanis should take out stock in those things. They could single-handedly keep the country’s economy alive.

I preen. “You can borrow my thesaurus, if you want.”

“Is that how you always do so well? You sit around and memorize the thesaurus?” Quatre sets the board up on my tray and we both draw seven tiles.

“It’s not like I’ve got more pressing matters on my hands. And at least I’m educating myself!” My mind quickly assembles the possible words I can form with my letters.

E E P R R T V. Hmmm. Pert. Revert. Tree. Peer. Ever....

“You are quite possibly the strangest kid I’ve ever met. When I was your age, all I wanted to do was lie around and watch music videos. Maybe read a dirty magazine or two.” Quatre arranges his letters on the little wooden stand, his brow furrowed in concentration. He’s determined to beat me this time. He has yet to submit to my overwhelming Scrabble prowess.

“Well, that explains a lot,” I jest. I move my tiles around and am amused to discover that I can form the word “pervert.” I smirk wolfishly. I hope Quatre lets me go first.

 

*******

TBC

*******

[1] Well, this might seem really insensitive, given that the US declared war on Iraq this early morning, but I wrote this last week. I refuse to let man’s inability to avoid conflict shame me into altering my writing. This comment makes me no less of an American than anyone else and it is not a display of anti-patriotic sentiment.

[2] ....see footnote #1....

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