Author's Note: This more or less fits with chapters sixty one and sixty two of Witness, timewise. And I'm posting this as the second chapter today, because I can't leave you with Duo "dead." That's just cruel.
Diary of a Protected Witness Part 49
Life After Death
It was like climbing out of a very deep, very dark tunnel. I knew I needed to be somewhere--needed to wake up--but I couldn't seem to muster the energy.
I guess maybe I did briefly achieve consciousness--to find I couldn't make a sound, as there was a plastic tube down my throat, and myriads of wires taped to my chest and arms and places I couldn't even see.
When I moved my head a bit, there was a sudden flurry of activity, and hands pressing down on my shoulders to keep me still, and I gave up trying to stay awake and let myself sink back into the nice peaceful darkness.
The next time I woke up, it was a little easier. The lethargy seemed less intense, and the climb to awareness a bit shorter.
But I still had that damnable tube down my throat, which hurt like a bitch--and I was hooked up to so many machines it's a wonder I didn't need a private power generator to run 'em.
I tried to make a noise, but it came out more like a whimper, and a cool hand settled on my forehead.
"Shh--don't fight the breathing tube--you'll only irritate your throat even more. We'll have it out soon, if you keep up the good progress."
It was a female voice that I'd never heard before, and I desperately wanted Heero. I wanted to know where I was, and how I'd gotten there, and exactly what had happened to me.
I struggled to raise a hand, but didn't have the strength.
Only another street rat would've known how terrifying it was to be in a position of such complete helplessness. I just fucking panicked, and started thrashing around, wanting to escape the wires and tubes and find a safe place to hole up until I could figure out what was happening.
Of course, my wild struggles just wore me out, and over the sound of panicked voices I heard something about a sedative, and then sank yet again into the dark void.
It was the third time I regained consciousness that I finally got some answers.
Agent Alexander was standing at my bedside, his brow drawn together in a scowl. "So--back among the living, I see."
I blinked, trying to focus my eyes a little better. And when I swallowed, I realized that damnable tube was gone.
Of course, my throat also felt like it'd been filled with razors, so my first attempt to speak had me clutching blindly at it and gasping in pain.
"Easy," chided the FBI agent. "They only took you off the respirator yesterday."
I glared up at him, rubbing a hand gingerly over my neck.
"Here," he said, holding a cup to my lips.
I grudgingly accepted a mouthful of ice chips, and let the cold, soothing liquid slowly drain from my mouth into my raw throat.
"I suppose you have some questions," Alexander continued, looking far too smug and amused for my liking.
Of course, he was FBI--I hated him just on principle.
"It's been about a week since Une attacked you at the courthouse."
I felt my eyes widen as I suddenly recalled her stepping up and stabbing me right at the door to the courtroom. I tried to say "bitch," but all that came out was a ragged, painful croak. And it hurt so fuckin' bad I ended up clutching my neck until the discomfort eased up enough for me to breathe again.
"Don't try to talk right now," Alexander sighed, helping me to some more ice chips. "Just listen. You're dead, Maxwell."
I looked sharply at him, taking his words as a threat of some kind, but he shook his head.
"What I mean is, when the paramedics took you from the courthouse to the hospital, my people claimed jurisdiction; attacking a protected witness is a federal crime. While the surgeons were working on you, I told Captain Po to step aside." He gave a small, tight smile. "Then I told her you died on the table."
I know I was gaping at him by then.
"It wasn't much of a stretch, you know," he added conversationally. "Your heart stopped once before the paramedics got to you, once on the way to the hospital, and a third time in surgery. It was touch and go there."
No shit. Now that he'd brought it up, I could remember flashes of pain and intermittent consciousness during the first moments after the attack. It started coming back to me in bits and pieces.
"As far as the world is concerned," he said with a shrug. "Duo Maxwell is dead."
The world? As in--everyone?
I didn't care if it was gonna hurt to talk. "Heero--?" I rasped out in a ragged whisper.
"Everyone. Barton, Winner, Yuy, Chang, Noventa, Tsubarov--and Treize Khushrenada."
I shook my head--not so much in denial, but in disbelief that they could've pulled off such a hoax. How fuckin' ruthless were these people--that they'd lie to my loved ones, as well as the general public? For fuck's sake, they'd lied to the police and the district attorney!
"I know it sounds cold," Alexander admitted. "But it's for the best. As long as everyone thinks you're dead, no one will be trying to finish the job for Une. We can hide you someplace safe until the case against Oz is air tight, and present you when federal charges are leveled against Khushrenada and his cohorts."
Oh, now I knew what his game was. The FBI had, for all intents and purposes, fuckin' kidnapped me! They'd spirited me away, and told everyone I'd ever known I was dead--just so they could spring me as a surprise witness later on.
I lunged up at Alexander, trying to get my hands around his throat, but frankly, I was far too weak to even complete the gesture. Granted, I succeeded in tangling my i.v. lines around his wristwatch; but that was about it.
Fucking hell! Heero thought I was dead! Trowa thought I was dead.
I closed my eyes, determined not to cry in front of the asshole who'd orchestrated this whole charade. But my throat was just choked with emotion as I pictured Heero's face when they'd told him I was dead.
God, the poor man must've been--unthinkably hurt.
A sob wracked my body, and I felt a stab of pain from my midsection that had me gasping in shock.
"Maxwell, would you just simmer down?" Alexander snapped, still trying to fix the mess I'd made of my tubes and wires. "Nurse!"
A uniformed nurse appeared at his elbow, hastily checking me over and clucking her disapproval. "I told you not to let him get agitated, Agent Alexander. He needs rest. By rights, he should be in a hospital--not a private care facility like this--"
"I'll thank you to just do your job," he replied stiffly. "There are reasons for this man to be where he is."
She shook her head. "Yes I know. Your superiors made it very clear--the confidentiality clause." Her stern gaze fixed on Alexander, and I would have cheered her on, if my throat hadn't been so uncomfortable. "I don't care who this patient is, or what your agency is up to--I won't have you agitating him to the point of re-injuring himself."
So there!
She shoved him firmly out of her way, and pointed to the door, and damned if the tough-guy Fed didn't tuck his tail between his legs and beat feet out of there.
I was actually beginning to like the stern-faced nurse. She reminded me of one of the nuns at the orphanage. Not Sister Helen--who was much softer and gentler. This chick reminded me of Sister Agnesine--a stone-cold bitch in a habit. That woman always got what she wanted, and she had the broken rulers to prove it.
The nurse was looking oddly at me, her expression a bit softer. "Are you feeling better, young man? You're smiling."
"Like the way you told 'im off," I whispered carefully, giving her a genuine grin.
She hid a smirk and covered it by checking my pulse and blood pressure. "I don't tolerate interference with my job," she said simply. "He was in the way."
"Always is," I agreed.
I wanted to talk to her more--to see if I could enlist her aid in getting a message to Heero, to let him know I was alive. But my abused throat wasn't up to the task yet, so I simply cooperated with her efforts to examine my bandages and monitors, hoping to earn a few brownie points for being a good patient.
I could bide my time, for now.
TBC...
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