Chapter 10
Makoto mixed the tuna fish and onion into a large bowl, he broke the seal on the jar of mayonnaise that he had purchased on his way home and scooped a liberal amount into the bowl and then added a healthy dose of wasabi paste. He frowned down at the concoction, he was missing something. He looked at the bag of potato chips on the counter but he knew that that was not what he wanted. Mustard, he remembered, he needed mustard.
There was mustard in the refrigerator and he got it out, it wasn't the right type, it was suppose to be a dark brown and spicy, the mustard that he had was yellow and mild, but it would have to do. He could always add more wasabi if he decided it needed more of a kick. He added the mustard and stirred the ingredients together. When he was satisfied that it was mixed thoroughly he scooped a fork full into his mouth. Damn tasty, go figure.
He had no idea where the craving for the odd mix came from. He had simply found himself walking through the market, thinking about what he would say to Asuka if he went back to the hospital again and next thing he knew he was at the checkout line with the ingredients in his basket. Like the hangover remedy that he had put together over the weekend he had no memory of ever having made anything with such ingredients, canned tuna fish was not something that he ate on a regular basis. Yet he had a deep craving for it, and since Asuka had called him at work and informed him that she would be running late and that he would have to eat alone, she had already eaten at the cafeteria, he figured the worse he could do is waste a few thousand yen if it turned out to be totally disgusting.
He opened the plastic wrapped bag of bread that he had bought, not the dark heavy grained bread that Asuka liked to make toast with in the mornings, but cheap white bread that most likely had all the nutritional value of cardboard, but it had to be white bread. He then opened the potato chips and spread them in an even layer over the tuna fish before taking a second piece of bread and covering the sandwich. He used his hands to press the sandwich flat, the potato chips making a light crushing noise as he did so.
"That looks absolutely disgusting," He mumbled to himself as he looked at the flattened sandwich.
"Well it's a good thing I didn't make it for you then." A deep baritone answered him making him jump and look around the empty apartment before he realized that the words were said in his head, not out loud. Then he realizes that what he had thought he heard was actually part of a memory.
He had been standing in the doorway to a kitchen, one much larger than the small corner of the apartment that was his kitchen now. It had been a dark yellow color, with lots of cabinets and a large round table with chairs, the type of kitchen that was designed to be used as a common area as well as a place to cook.
He had been watching the red head, Aya, move about as he made himself something to eat. He had watched as Aya cut the onions and opened the can of tuna fish, as he mixed together mustard, wasabi paste and mayonnaise in a second smaller bowl before unceremoniously scraping it in with the tuna.. Aya had been wearing all black, t-shirt and jeans, over that he wore a green apron. They were on a lunch break from somewhere. He had watched Aya move about the room, the red head's sneakers were squeaking on the linoleum floor. He had been oblivious to the older man watching him from the door way until he spoke.
"That looks disgusting," he had teased while he watched Aya spoon the mix onto slices of bread. He wanted to get a rise out of the redhead, it was something that he remembered he took great pleasure in.
"Well it's a good thing I didn't make it for you then." The red head had said, his voice was rich and deep, his tone matter of fact, if he was bothered by the other mans criticism he didn't let it show.
"Aya," he had said with mock hurt, a hand clutching at his chest, "you are so cold!"
Aya hadn't responded to this, he had simply pushed his way past him and exited down the hallway, sandwich in hand, sneakers squeaking. He had watched Aya leave, smiling to himself. He had then sauntered into the kitchen and stopped. There was a sandwich, cut down the middle sitting on a paper napkin next to the sink where Aya had placed the dirty bowl he had just used.
I'll be damned, he had thought, he made me lunch. He remembered that he had approached the sandwich with caution, as thought it might explode if he moved to quickly. He had scrutinized it for a while, not sure if it was some sort of trick, but he knew that Aya didn't play tricks. He had taken an exploratory nibble of the sandwich, it was really good, he had waited a moment and when it seemed as though he had not been poisoned he had gulped the sandwich down...
Makoto found himself back in the present, his heart racing in his chest. He had remembered something from his past. Albeit something trivial, but still something from the life he once had none the less. He let his hand wander to the slim plastic case of the new cell phone he had in his front pocket, a gesture that was quickly turning into habit, it helped to calm him.
It was Wednesday night and Makoto had made up with his wife Monday night, or at least he had done his best to make up with his wife. And for the first night things seemed to have returned to normal. They had talked and both of them had admitted that they had equal amounts of blame for the sudden downward spiral of their relationship. Makoto had agreed to try and be more understanding of his wife's needs and Asuka had promised to back off of the idea of having a baby, for the time being. They had very enjoyable make-up-sex, even though Makoto had insisted on wearing a condom despite Asuka's protests. But Makoto had noticed that she had not taken the slim pink plastic case that held her birth control pills with her when she had gone away for the weekend and Makoto knew Asuka too well to disregard the idea that she might end up pregnant by 'accident' to take any chances. After Asuka had fallen asleep he had gone into the bathroom and masturbated, as an extra precaution against having another dream.
Tuesday morning at breakfast Asuka had been cheery, she had cooked him eggs and made him toast. She had very attentively watched his coffee cup, refilling it when ever she noticed it becoming empty. Makoto had flirted with her teasing her about how good she looked in her nurses uniform and the things that he would like to do to her while she was wearing it. He had not been over whelmed with happiness but he was content and relieved to have an end to the tension, he mentally made a vow to no longer worry about what sort of secrets a comatose man held about his past and to do his best to forget about the foolishness that had invaded his life over the past few weeks.
It was as Asuka was clearing his empty plate that all of his good intentions fell to the way side. "The strangest thing happened yesterday," Asuka had said casually, having no idea she was about to destroy Makoto's new resolve to give up trying to discover his past, "a long term patient woke up, which in itself is rather remarkable, but then he attacked Kuri along with two of the residents."
"What is so remarkable about that?" Makoto had said, amazed at how normal his voice sounded considering the way his throat had suddenly constricted.
"Well most people who have been in a coma for more than a year never wake up and if they do it is a very slow process, they just suddenly wake up and they certainly don't go around attacking people." She was giving him the look that she used when she felt that he was making her explain something that should have been obvious to a five year old. "Your muscles have gotten weak, your tendons have tightened. Your body just doesn't work after not being used for so long, or at least not that I have ever heard of before."
'Unless you're Aya,' an amused voice had said in the back of Makoto's mind, the voice was his own but it had an unfamiliar tone to it. He had remembered how he had felt when he had first woken up from his coma. Weak, disorientated, and stiff he had barely been able to sit up and he had been in a coma for a few weeks, he couldn't imagine what his body would have felt like if he had been in one for over a year. He hadn't been surprised to hear that the redhead had woke up fighting, somehow it just seemed appropriate, but he had been surprised that he had such an ingrained familiarity with someone who aside from knowing about a few scars and the color of their eyes he had no memory of. It was then that Makoto had decided that he had to return to the hospital, that he had to talk to the now awake Aya.
He had spent the remainder of breakfast continuing his flirtations and listing with a smile to the words that he wife spoke but inwardly he had been trying to formulate a plan on how he would be able to get to the hospital and see the redhead without Asuka knowing that he was there to see Aya. He tried to remember if she had a normally scheduled lunch hour, that would be helpful if she saw him he could always say that he was there to take her to lunch. No it wouldn't work, she would get suspicious, she would want to know why he wasn't at work. So it would have to be when her shift was over and he was done at the office for the day. He would leave work early and then wait outside until he saw Asuka leave to head home and then he would go up to the fourth floor and he hadn't been able to think much beyond that. Not sure what he was going to say, what he had wanted to ask.
He spent the whole day staring at the same spread sheets in his office, his office mates were having a grand day and usually he would have been enjoying the show that they presented for him but that day they had been buzzes in the back ground easily ignored while he formulated what he was going to ask the redhead. What was his name? How old was he? Was he married? Did he have kids? He had to keep reminding himself of these fundamental questions for fear that if he was not well rehearsed he would forget them once he saw Aya, as well as to give him strength so that he might be able to ask the harder questions such as what had their relationship been?
At lunch instead of getting a lunch box and sitting in the employee lounge with his cubical mates he had gone shopping. Being a tall, natural blond in Tokyo had its disadvantages the most obvious being that he stood out like a sore thumb. He would be hard pressed to say the least if he Asuka were to catch him lurking outside of the hospital right after he had called her and told her that he was going to be working late. So he had bought, from street vendors, a hat to hide his hair and sunglasses to hide his green eyes. On his way back to the office he had stopped into a small electronics store and bought a prepaid cell phone. He didn't know why but the impulse to do so had been over whelming and he been unable to resist it. He didn't have a cell phone, Asuka didn't believe in them and since the only person that he ever talked to out side of work was her he had never pressed the issue, but the new voice in his head, the one that had come to life with the knowledge of Aya being awake had screamed for the phone.
He left work early and called Asuka on his new phone telling her that he had to work late but that he would not be in his office, this was an occurrence that had happened often in the past so he did not think that she would find it suspicious. He had waited across the street from the hospital, the cheap hat on his head, chain smoking and peering through a pair of wire framed Burberry sunglasses, or rather a pair of Burberry knock- offs. He seriously doubted that the street vendor whom he had bought them from was selling the real thing, but they helped to disguise him and hide where he was looking. They also made him feel safe, more assured, like the green tinted plastic lenses acted as an insulator between himself and the world.
He watched Asuka exit the glass doors of the main lobby and walk towards the subway with a removed interest. She was taller than most of the women around her, but other than that she did not stand out. She was not beautiful or overtly graceful, she was smiling as she talked with an other nurse who was walking with her but it was not a smile that would light up a room or take your breath away. Makoto wondered if he had met her under different circumstances whether he would have fallen in love with her. If another nurse had been at his bed side when he had regained consciousness would he have fallen in love with that woman? He loved Asuka of that he was sure so why did it suddenly seem as if his wife like himself was living with a false name, that she wasn't really named Asuka but had adopted the name as he had adopted Makoto?
Makoto shook his head as he forced himself to think about the situation at hand. He needed to keep himself focused on the task before him. With heavy feet he forced himself to cross the street and enter into the hospital. The familiar dread at entering the place that had been his home for months returned and it took all of his will power to make himself walk up to the elevator, when he pressed the call button his hand was shaking.
When he stepped off of the elevator onto the fourth floor he had managed to calm himself down. Thankfully he did not recognize the nurse who was manning the nurses station. Yuri's shift would have ended at the same time as Asuka's and the night staff tended to be made up of residents and nurses in training who didn't yet have the clout to gain the coveted day shifts. Makoto let the sunglasses slip down his face so that his green eyes could easily be seen over them and winked at the nurse as he walked by causing her to smile and giggle into her hand rather than ask him what room he was going to visit. Makoto sped up his pace and walked the length of the hallway as quickly as he could in case the girl was to call after him. Mentally patting himself on the back he entered into the private room and froze.
He had completely forgotten about the foreigner. Shit. Shit. Shit. The tall orange haired man was laid out in the large wooden bed, the smaller crimson haired man leaning against his chest. Both men seemed to be asleep but Makoto hadn't waited to find out. The same instinct that would make a creature run from thick smoke in a forest without ever having witnessed a fire told him that to be found there by the German would bring the same result as putting a gun into his mouth and firing it.
He had regained his composure before he got off the elevator in the lobby, the new found voice in the back of his head telling him that he had done the right thing, that he would have to be a fool to let the German find him sniffing around the hospital room. That if he wanted to talk to Aya he would have to find a time when the foreigner was not there.
Before he had left the hospital he casually walked up to the main reception desk where two bored looking young women were sitting. He pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through his wavy locks, he then pushed his sun glasses up onto the crown of his head and smiled at the two women. The looks of boredom evaporated from their faces and they both returned the smile while at the same time eyeing each other trying to size up who the handsome man was approaching.
"Excuse me ladies," Makoto purred, using his newly found talent for flirting, "have either of you noticed a tall man with orange hair coming and going from the hospital?"
"Maybe," the lighter haired of the two said with a half frown.
"Why do you want to know?" The other woman said leaning forward over the desk.
"I am a private investigator and I am involved on a case that involves him," Makoto leaned in to the more receptive woman, causally placing his arm onto the desk to take the weight of his upper body while at the same time letting his hand gently brush against the woman's. "I was just wondering if I might be able to make it worth your while if you could call me if you notice him leaving."
"I think I know who you are talking about," The dark haired woman let her fingers brush against his leaving her painted fingers resting on the back of his hand, "how worth our while?'
"5500 yen," Makoto took the woman's hand in his for a moment and gave it a quick squeeze, "and maybe dinner." He removed his hand and took out a pen. "I'll just leave you my number, if you notice him leaving at any time during your shift just give me a call." He wrote down the number he had memorized earlier during the day and left it for the women. As he walked away from them he could hear them giggle and knew with a confidence he had never felt before that they would be calling him when the German left the hospital.
The next morning he had gone back to the hospital and repeated the same flirtation with the new staff of women at the front desk. One of them had been an older woman and had not been as easily affected by his new found power of flirtation, but the younger one, a plain faced girl with mousy hair had all but offered to find out the orange haired man's identification number and license plate for him.
Makoto took a bite of his tuna sandwich and opened the refrigerator and got out a beer. All he had to do was wait. He was sure that sooner or later one of the receptionists would be calling him with the information that the foreigner had left the hospital and then maybe he would finally get some answers as to who he was and maybe he would be able to find out how Aya had ever come up with such an odd yet delicious way of making a tuna fish sandwich as well.
************Aya had been awake for three days. Schuldig hadn't left the hospital once, the only time the German was not by his side was when Aya was taken for tests. And when the man hadn't stay physically in Aya's presence, he remained a fixture in his mind a whisper of consciousness that was not his own in the back of Aya's mind. Aya found it . comforting. Part of him knew that to do so was wrong, that he should be disturbed by the never ending presence, but when ever he attempted to think about it the thought would evaporate and leave him wondering what it was he had been trying to remember. It was no wonder considering what he was being put through.
Since awakening his world had become an endless parade of doctors. They came to poke and prod him, to ask endless questions, to try and make him remember what he had thought about in his comatose state, and to try and make him move his uncooperative body. Pricking him with pins, can you feel that? Trying to make Aya squeeze his fingers around a plastic balloon with his mutinous hands, can you squeeze harder? Do you know what your name is? Do you know where you are? Do you understand what happened to you? Do you know this man next to you? Do you remember me from yesterday? He had been given CAT scans, PET scans, X-rays, MRIs and cognitive response tests. His blood had been tested for glucose, white and red blood cells, infection, hemolysis, hormones, oxygen, and electrolytes. Yet he could barely sit up, he could speak but only in raspy monosyllables, his throat refused to swallow anything besides his own spit and no one could tell him either why it was happening or more importantly when he would recover enough to leave the endless chemistry experiment that passed itself off as a hospital.
The first time a doctor had called him by the name Winterschlaf Aya had stared at him blankly causing the doctor to frown and scribble something in the chart that seemed to grow thicker and thicker by the hour. Another test that Aya had failed without understanding what it was he was being tested for.
//That's you Kitten// Schuldig had prompted covering his mouth with the back of his hand to hide his smile.
Aya raised his eyebrow, one of the few bodily responses that he had full control over. //Winter's sleep?// He watched as Schuldig shrugged. //I never knew you were so poetic//
//Blame it on yourself, you bring it out of me // Schuldig had tilted his head towards the doctor //He asked you another question, just nod//
Aya did as he is told. The doctor wrote again on the chart in front of him but his brow was not furled that time. //What exactly did I just say yes to?//
//Starting physical therapy// Schuldig had sat on the bed and pulled Aya up against himself so that the smaller man was half leaning on him. Again the doctor had scribbled something down, the frown was once again in place.
The first time that he heard anyone refer to Schuldig by the name Anders Aya had actually laughed out loud. Or at least tried to, the sound that actually escaped from his throat was much closer to a choked wheeze that had caused the doctor to grab at Aya's chart again.
//Alias? You named yourself alias?// Aya had tried to calm himself down before the doctor decided that he was having a fit and needed to be given yet another shot of something, //Couldn't come up with anything better?//
//I used up all my poetic license on you, meine Liebling*// Schuldig had shrugged casually but his smile had been radiant. //Besides it is easy to remember//
Aya found himself craving that smile and doing what his limited abilities would allow to make Schuldig reveal it. He had teased Schuldig about blowing up the hospital by igniting oxygen tanks the first time that he had seen him light a cigarette in the room. He had sent him the mental image of the two of them flying out of the window, Aya having been both the witness to and cause of enough explosions to give a realistic picture, yet at the same time he had made it as comical as possible, both of them covered in soot so that they had black faces, Schuldig's cigarette still in his mouth but shredded so that it looked like a limp flower the look on his face one of confusion. The image had made Schuldig laugh loud enough that a nurse had stuck her head into the room her look of curiosity quickly replaced by anger when she saw that Schuldig was smoking directly below the bright red sign that forbade doing so. After Schuldig had 'tweaked her', as Aya was coming to call the little manipulations that Schuldig did to people, and sent her away, he had sent a picture to Aya of the same explosion but with the nurse flying out of the window instead.
Aya had quickly deduced that Schuldig disliked that nurse immensely and he then passed the time sending Schuldig different scenario's staring the woman. Most of them were things that he remembered happening in the old American cartoons that featured Bugs Bunny that he had watched as a little boy. Cliché or not sending Schuldig the image of the woman having tonic poured onto her bald scalp causing tulips grow on the top of her head or having her chase Schuldig through doors each one getting smaller and smaller making the woman shrink each time she entered one until she was so tiny Schuldig was able to smoosh her like a bug under his shoe always earned him one of the smiles that he craved so he kept coming up with new ways to torture the nurse.
It should bother him that he wanted to see Schuldig smile, that each time he saw the man bare his teeth and his eyes glitter with amusement he could feel his stomach hitch and his heart beat a little faster. Schuldig was a dangerous person, Schuldig was his enemy and he should have been trying to get as far away from the man as possible not coming out of doze in a panic if Schuldig was in the bathroom when he awoke, nor should he not be able to fall asleep unless Schuldig was sitting on the bed with him letting Aya use his chest as a pillow. These things should have stripped every nerve in Aya's body raw with the base wrongness of it. But the more that he tried to think about it, to convince himself that he was in danger with the man always in such close proximity, the more he found himself panicking over the idea that the man would leave, to the extent that he had to have some sort of physical contact with the German to calm himself down.
The third evening after awakening, right after the sun set Schuldig starts to pace the room, swearing in a multitude of languages that would have impressed Aya if he wasn't so nervous by the sudden change in Schuldig's behavior. Aya watched the man walk back and forth across the room like a caged animal. His sky blue eyes darkened to a deep cobalt with anger before he becomes aware of Aya's eyes wearily following him. In the time it takes Schuldig to cross the room to stroke Aya's cheek he has composed himself.
"I have to go to work Kitten," Schuldig's voice is soft in contrast to the storm that is still present in his eyes.
A monstrous fear makes it hard for Aya to breath and he grabs at the hand that is against the side of his face with as much strength as he is able to evoke. The idea of Schuldig leaving him alone is unbearable. He feels that he is going to fall into some deep chasm that he will never be able to revive from if Schuldig leaves him, "No," he forces through his damaged throat, saying anything more is impossible with his current impairment and the sudden constriction of his chest.
"Oh," Schuldig's response is half way between a groan of ecstasy and a cry of regret, "It won't be for long, I promise. I have to go, I don't want to." He kisses Aya's forehead and then his temple, "trust me I want nothing more than to stay." He rubs his face against Aya's and Aya can feel the stubble from three days without shaving on the older man's face.
"You come back?" Aya hates himself for asking, for being so weak for being so needy. He should not care especially about someone like Schuldig, but telling himself so does not stop his heart from pounding erratically, does not make the silence the voice that is screaming from somewhere deep inside that tells him he will be alone so alone without the telepath.
"Always," Schuldig presses his forehead against Aya's, "I have waited so long for you, longer than you could ever understand, and I will always come back. I swear."
"Ok," Aya lets his hand fall back to his side, exhausted from such trivial movement.
"Besides I could really use a change of clothes, this suit could walk out of here on it's own." Schuldig plucks at the collar of his shirt for emphasis, "And I will bring you back something good." Schuldig smiles down at Aya and pushes the hair out of his eyes, "Is there anything special that you want?"
"Toothbrush," Aya can feel the fear starting to subside and he vaguely wonders if it is Schuldig's doing. But he is beginning to feel too tired to think about it.
"Alright I will bring you a toothbrush," Schuldig leans down and gives Aya a chaste kiss, his lips a butterfly's touch on the other man's. He lets out a deep sigh and forces himself to straighten himself and step away from the bed.
Aya closes his eyes and turns his head away from the door not wanting to see Schuldig leave.