Bittersweet Life

By: Tsukisamu Sayako

This fic was inspired by the Fablespinner's fanfic, "Greased Wing"—the catatonic event.  Your fics are so good, Fablespinner-san!

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not mine, the fic is mine.  Therefore, no suing and no stealing…  ^^;

Warnings: Mentally unstable Quatre…

            Trowa steps into the psychiatric hospital for the 3rd time that day.  The white painted building seems awfully ominous for first-comers, yet Trowa has been here long enough to become indifferent to the menacing appearance of the ghostly building.  His face expresses no feelings but within, his soul is in turmoil.  His eyes are the only things upon his face that belies the true feelings within.  Anguish, sadness, and despair threaten to swallow him up like a torrid sea that erodes the foundation upon which he is standing.

            His footsteps echo through the empty corridor that leads to the elevators.  None of the nurses or doctors wishes to remain in the corridors as if a ghost is roaming the corridors, searching for some unsuspecting host to control.  Trowa thence despises these so-called miracle workers with those needing psychological help.

            The elevator reaches the concourse level with a "ding" to signal its arrival.  Trowa steps into the elevator with a bag of homemade treats and some fast food in his right hand.  He punches in the number to take him up to second floor, where his friend is confined within a plastic prison cell.

            He shifts his feet as the elevator rushes him up to the second floor.  The elevator comes to an abrupt stop at level 2 and he steps out of the elevator, taking a deep breath before he continues his journey to his friend's bedside.  The doctors and the nurses on this floor are much more pleasant than those on the concourse level.  They inform the relatives and friends of their patients with patience and sympathy.  When Trowa enters the ward, he immediately walks to the doctor in charge of his friend's welfare.  The doctor smiles weakly and shakes her head.  Trowa nods with sadness.  He looks into his friend's glasslike prison, where the mental patient is playing blocks on the ground.  It breaks Trowa's heart every time he sees his friend like this.  Now, he doesn't know how broken his heart is to see his love like this.

            He looks at the doctor once again and she signals him to go in, shaking her head when she knows that he has every right to go in; she has already given him permission to do so a long time ago, yet, he is still asking her every time he comes.  She wipes a tear away from her right eyes, sympathizing with what the taller man is going through.  Then, she walks away from the door to visit her other patients.

            Trowa quietly opens the door and then closes it quietly again, hoping his love would not lose his concentration in playing with the blocks.  It has been almost 6 months since that terrible incidence that his love had snapped for the final time.  The war has taken its toll on the platinum gold-haired angel.  It seemed that Quatre was alright after the war, working as the CEO of his company and marrying Trowa despite 28 complaints from his sisters—Iria was the only one that supported this marriage.  He seemed happy as Trowa recalls, his gayety brightened the days of everyone occupying the mansion on the main L4 colony.  Nevertheless, he was not happy.  He carried the scars of his father's death and the death of those that he had killed with him wherever he went.

            It took Trowa a long time to find out about the mental instability of his lover; after all, his lover was an excellent actor.  He never gave anybody hints of his gradual mental retardation, keeping the secret within.  It was only until the accident at one of the WEI-owned factories that Quatre had finally snapped, the deaths of all these people simply crushed his spirits and his heart.  When Trowa reached home that night, no one was at home due to the fact that Quatre had given them a week of vacation.  However, the doors were unlocked and alarms rang in Trowa's mind.  The mansion was like a tomb, the deadly silent seemed to still everything within.  He heard the running of water and the breaking of glass from the kitchen and hurried to the kitchen.  The sight that met his eyes was one that he would never forget.

            Quatre sat on the floor, leaning against the cabinets next to the sink with the running faucet.  A broken bottle of pills was on the floor next to the catatonic boy and a hand was poised to the mouth with a glass of water in the other hand.  Trowa hurried and knocked the pills out of his lover's hand, knocking the glass of water out of the other hand in the process.  Quatre moved mechanically, searching for the fallen pills, but Trowa wouldn't let him.  He held him tightly to him, restraining him from hurting himself and Quatre succumbed to Trowa's force.  Nevertheless, throughout this ordeal, the younger man continued to repeat the phrase, "It's all my fault."  Trowa's silent tears did nothing and he struggled to be strong.  It wasn't until Quatre had tired himself out that Trowa was able to contact Iria, telling her about Quatre's sudden mental instability.  Iria promised that she would not tell the others, yet news got out to the other sisters and Quatre was admitted to the psychiatric hospital in which he inhabits now.

            Two months passed and Quatre was still catatonic, continually muttering the phrase over and over again whenever he was awake.  An IV was hooked up since he was unwilling to eat.  His limbs were restrained to keep him from hurting himself after the first night, when he had wrapped the blanket around his neck trying to strangle himself to death.

            It wasn't until the third month that Quatre came out of his catatonic state.  However, Trowa now wonders if the coming out of the catatonic state was better than the state that he is in now.  His angel knows nothing of his past and does not even recognize his friends.  His mentality has retarded to that of a 5 year old and he plays blocks, draws, and do what a 5-year-old would do all day, when kept within a room.  Yet, even with the five-year-old mentality, he is just as cheerful and as friendly as before his nervous breakdown.  He sought out friends the first day he started eating, but to no avail.  It saddened him that no one wanted to play with him.  When Trowa visited him, his first question was "Do you want to play with me?"

            Trowa was almost shocked when Quatre had asked him that.  He had expected him to recognize him.  Nevertheless, he had to accept the fact.  Within a week, Quatre saw Trowa as his papa and Iria as his auntie as they are the two people who visit him daily.  He saw his doctor as his mama since she is always there for him.  He loves them very much and has grown to be attached to them all.  He has become very naïve and very trusting—that was a characteristic that no one can change.

            When Trowa comes in that time, Quatre immediately abandons his blocks and runs to the taller man.

            "Papa!" he cries happily.  He hugs Trowa tightly and laughs cheerfully.

            "How is my little one now?" asks Trowa, playing along with Quatre, knowing full well that Quatre is going to stay like this for the rest of his life unless some miracle happens, bringing his Quatre back to him.

            "Hungry," Quatre says shyly.  Trowa laughs and Quatre blushes.

            "Well, look what I've got for you."  He gives the bag he had been carrying to Quatre, who immediately takes the stuff out of the bag and places them on the bed, where a tray of dinner lays uneaten.  Trowa frowns.

            "Quatre, why didn't you eat your dinner?"

            "I don't like the food.  It tastes awful."

            "You haven't taken a bite out of it, how do you know?"

            "I just know.  Besides, you brought me dinner already," Quatre says opening a container of mashed potatoes from Kentucky Fried Chicken.

            "You should at least each the fish," Trowa scolds him.

            "I will, I will.  Once I finish this mashed potatoes," Quatre complains.  He scoops some mashed potatoes and places it in his mouth, his mouth watery from the aroma.

            The entire evening thus goes like this.  Every evening, it is the same thing, Quatre doesn't eat his dinner until Trowa tells him to and the two of them play like a father with his son.  When it is eight, Trowa puts the younger man in bed and leaves.  To Quatre, Trowa lives in this building, when he actually doesn't.

            That night, after he had put Quatre to bed, Trowa lingers a bit longer, putting the containers back into the bag, which he would throw out after he leaves the room.  He looks at Quatre's peaceful face once again and leaves the room quietly, turning off the light as he walks out.

            Once the door shuts closed, Quatre opens his eyes and looks at the door with sad eyes.

            "Why did you let me live, Trowa?" he whispers into the quiet room.  He had in fact regained himself, but he acted as if he didn't.  He doesn't want to see any of the others anymore, but he knows that he can't escape from this hospital.  Nobody can understand him, so he can only raise this mask of a mentally unstable person day after day until he does go crazy.  He smiles wickedly at that thought.  If he is insane, he wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore and he would be sent to the madhouse.  He doesn't dare to laugh but only smiles at that thought.

            Outside, Trowa leans against the door, sadness overwhelming him once again.

            "Quatre, why can't you come back to me?" he says despairingly.  He then walks away from the door, leaving behind his little one, who is planning, with an unstable mind, the rest of his life.


Yeah, I know it's kinda bad.  XP ^^;  But this just came to me after reading Fablespinner's "Greased Wing" and Mary Elizabeth Braddon's Lady Audley's Secret.  Poor Trowa and poor Quatre, in a way…  Anyways, R/R please!!!!