Iris (closed)

[Shula Brighton]

The black text against the super white of the paper stared up from Shula's lap as though it were the viper that bit her. Seriously, there shouldn't be this many forms involved in dying; it was bad enough that before her office blew up, that was what she did all damn day and night and occasionally took home with her. And now that her world was coming to an end, there was more paperwork? Fuck. If there was paperwork in the afterlife she'd scream. Forever, most likely. Shula sighed heavily, thumbing over it all again morosely. She'd initialed and signed her names so many times over the thick span of pages that you'd think she were practicing it like she didn't know it was hers.

Spiritual counseling, did she want a morphine drip, did she want them to try and bring her back once she started to slip or just let her go, did she want them to hang on her bed like vultures for the moment they called her to rush her into the OR to harvest the organs of hers that were still good... She'd never been so terrified. Sure, she'd thought about it lots all her life, but somewhere in her heart she'd always hoped she'd have the choice to die quietly at home in Meissan in her bedroom where she could see the sunset on the mountains in the distance. Or just fall asleep and not wake up. But not this...

An old man sitting on the bed next to her's stood as he bid the sleeping soldier in it goodbye and glanced her way. It was a long moment before she looked up at the man who stared down at what he saw as no more than a child and the paperwork in her lap. A wrinkled hand moved to sympathetically pet between her shoulders. He leaned in close, his soft voice tired and cracked with age. "I didn't tell you this, but... If you ask, there's doctor that will come in to visit you. He'll help you. Make it quick so you don't feel it." Shula's eyes widened as he pulled away, the old man looking at her with unspoken years of understanding.

"But... isn't that..?" Shula's lip tremored slightly. All her life she'd been told to keep fighting, no matter how much ir hurt or how tired she was. Every month she went through painful treatments in order to extend her life just a little longer and live more normally. But now that had been taken from her. There were only a handful more of times she'd see the sunshine, and all of the paperwork indicated she would spend them bound to her bed, drugged so she wouldn't feel anything, and just lie there waiting for her heart and lungs to fail since there was no possible way to get transplants. Most of the civilian hospitals had been destroyed and taken the donors with them, which was why they were so adament about taking hers. The old man sighed.

"It's just an option for you to consider. I've filled out those same papers, but you're just a baby... You can't be any older than my own granddaughter was. Just... don't want to see two little girls suffer." His voice cracked, dark eyes shining with a pain so fresh he was still reeling. Shula moved her hand to squeeze his tightly, nodding gently. She didn't know what she wanted anymore. She had to think, she had to breathe. But...

"Thank you... Leave his name for me? If I have the choice, I'd rather choose how and when." He leaned down, giving her a gentle hug before taking out a pen to scratch down a name in the middle of her notebook. Shula closed her eyes and sighed tiredly, the old man tipping his hat to her as he gave her one of those looks; the one she hated. The one of mixed pity and sympathy and getting a good look at you because they know they'll never see you again. Breathe in, breath out. Feel your heart beat almost against its will, and how it speeds up like a bird in a shrinking cage. As Shula looked back up and saw the old man gone, she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. She needed to think.

She stuffed the paperwork in the notebook and crammed them into her bedside table before scooting to the edge of her bed. Wheechair in park, facing the bed. Scoot to the side and swing the legs over and touch the floor. Start to turn, keep your back straight, and grip the arm rest. Use your arms and upper body for support. Shula gave a small Unf as she moved from her bed to the wheelchair unassisted; she hated the damn thing. Always had. But right now walking was out of the question as he lungs just grew weaker. She yanked out a scratch of paper and scribbled a note for the nurse as she turned off the bed's oxygen and hooked up the mobile tank on the back of her chair. Gone out for a roll. Leave me alone, please. -Lt Col Brighton

The wheels made gentle hissing noises under her small hands as she wheeled herself along the hallway, staying out of the way of everyone else. There was one person she knew she could go to, even if she couldn't talk about what was going on. He knew about death, but he also knew more about life than anyone she'd ever met. Spade. The goofy boss who'd saved and helped her in so many ways over the last few months. He'd be a good distraction, and she wanted to spend as much time with the people important to her as possible before the end came. Tiny knuckles tapped the edge of Spade's door.

"Boss? You up?"

[Spade Aeries]

"Fourteen bottles of beer on the wall, fourteen bottles of beer! Take one down pass it around, thirteen b--" Suddenly there came a tapping, as if someone were gently rapping, rapping at his chamber door. "Tis some visitor," Spade muttered, "tapping at my chamber door." Only this, and nothing more... Emerald eyes laced with layer upon layer of painkillers of every color, shape, and form raised to behold the door. Ah, but it wasn't his chamber door because he wasn't at home. And even if he was, he didn't have a room; his apartment was all but one single room that led to all. This confused Spade immensely. Where was he then!? "Fuck," he spat out, trying to steady his whirling head before the rapping would come again. This happened every time his thoughts shifted from a daze.

"Boss? You up?" ...who? Boss? He blinked bewildered eyes at the white walls opposing his bed as if they were talking to him. Wait no...it was the person at the door. And it wasn't someone else because they would just walk in... Memories from a few days ago swooped into his mind. Shula. Unless Acra's voice was high on helium. Spade sure as hell was high on something. Wouldn't be surprising.

"I--" Fail. Moving and talking at the same time hurt like a motherfuckingbitchfromhell. He grabbed the shiny-stupid bed railings and yanked his sorry ass to his feet for the first time since planting it there, (which he didn't remember). Something told him he had been more lucid at the beginning of the week and was only getting worse. Worse, he was fucking off the walls and he knew it. Aches and agony wafted off his body as be half walked, half army crawled his way to the door. He fell onto the handle and managed to weakly push it open to reveal the sexy...!

Wheels of a wheelchair. "The...what? Shula why are you--" Painpainpainpainpainpain... Fuck the forty minutes between painkillers. He suddenly remembered why he had been singing--to get his fucking delusional mind off the raring fucking pain. UGH! He laid on the floor flat on his back, which wasn't much of a difference from how he had landed after opening that blasted door from Hades. "This floor is cold," he slurred, sounding all too happy about it, "I like it. Feels gooood. Join meeee Shula!! We can be floor buddies. Screw the military they should pay us for this!"

[Shula Brighton]

There was singing coming from inside of the room, as well as a lot of swearing, and then some shuffling and more swearing. Good to know Spade was up and choerent enough to cruise through his vocabulary at least. She thought about just pushing the door open but thought better of it as the shuffling and swearing came closer; maybe he'd been indecent and needed to pull his shirt closed first or something. Finally the handle turned and the door opened to reveal...

A slug. Spade had apparently sslid down the door to open it, and being grace personified, was now on the floor in front of her wheelchair. Shula couldn't help but smirk a little and let out a faint chuckle. "You know, Boss, you coulda just said 'come in.'" As Spade rolled himself onto his back, he seemed at least happy that the tiles of the floor were cold. The Military should pay them to lay around... Yeah, she couldn't really argue that one. She kind of liked the idea of being paid to sleep. "I'll be sure to update your resume for you so that you can hire yourself out as a professional Military rug," she laughed.

She pushed into the room slowly, siillfully maneuvering around her rather doped-up boss, pleased with herself that she was still pretty good at this, and leaned forward slightly as she parked next to Spade's shoulder. "You want a hand up, Boss, or should we plan a floor party?" Ah, sarcasm. If you can't fix it or make it go away, at least make things funny for a bit so they don't bother you as much. It had always been her crutch and her mask, but it served its purpose well enough that most people wouldn't guess what was under the surface. Shula smiled down at Spade, her hair still down and framing her face, tucked in by the plastic tubing. "I wonder if in your current state I could actually beat you at chess..."

[Spade Aeries]

Spade raised his head and stared at her inquisitively. "You're right I could have, but I didn'! How about that shit." He laughed, winced, and wanted to die a little. He couldn't keep up with the spinning in his head, almost feeling the blood pump random assortments of chemicals through his temples. He hated being so aware of each beat of his heart. It was almost like he was waiting for it to stop or become irregular or...do something not incessantly consistent. In essence, heart beats were annoying. But he remembered showing Shula his... He had never done that. Even now, he was surprised that he had. He wondered what she thought about that... He made cliché moves all the time, but... that was something he hadn't done. Maybe because it was too cliché even for him. Shu was probably laughing inwardly at his trademark failures. And that upset him slightly. Did she know that he was serious--that behind the haze of goofiness he was actually completely logical!? She had to know. She had been working under him for how long now? She knew because they had been through hell together.

"I want a hand up," he said somewhat more sanely. "Don't move for me." He grabbed the side of her wheel chair and hoisted himself up from the floor. And gawd did he feel like a bag of organic grass seed! Heaven forbid he actually lose some weight. Or by golly gee he actually watch those work out tapes for other reasons beside filling his trash can with tissues. Spade managed to get on his feet, but he swayed and nearly toppled over onto the wheel chair. "Fuck," he breathed, feeling torrents of nausea take him unkindly. He made his way back over to the bed and collapsed in a heap of manliness. Tinges of red stained the pure white bandages that were intent on suffocating him. He touched his chest and almost passed out.

His vision cleared after holding his head below his knees for about three minutes. And when he raised his head ever so slowly, all he could think about was how much he wanted to become a professional military rug. But not just any rug: a secretarial rug! Think of all the hot babes that would walk all over him. And females weren't clumsy babooning idiots so they wouldn't spill coffee or vacuum him on extra high or throw up on him or-- His rug in his office had taken many a beating. He even accidentally lit it on fire once. He would never want to be his rug... It actually sort of made him feel guilty and cruel. How did his rug feel? Spade almost considered in that moment the idea of forcing those who entered to take off their shoes. Then he remembered that he would have to adhere to his own rule and due to laziness shot it down in his head. He would be Shula's rug any day. And as soon as he got back to Central HQ, he would wash his rug and pamper the ugly thing like no tomo-- Wait, Central HQ burned down. He blinked saddened green eyes and looked at Shula like his whole world had been shattered. "My rug..." He hung his head in a sulky voice. "it's gone..." 'Course he wasn't even thinking about his booze. Who knew what his reaction to that would be...

[Shula Brighton]

There was something to be said about Spade's levels of determination. Rather than just tell her to come in, he answered the door. Rather than let her stand up and help him up, he had her push the brake on her wheel so he could pull himself up. Now he was managing his way back to his bed, unassisted, and looked absolutely ready to barf. All on his own. There was something to be said about being epic, manly and insane all at once. As Spade put his head between his knees, Shula wheeled closer to him, reaching her hand out gently to brush one of the few spots that didn't look injured.

The last few days had been so unreal and moving so fast that it was amazing that anyt of them was still even thinking in complete sentences. Shula rubbed that small patch of shoulder gently, almost afraid to touch him and hurt him more. And right now she didn't know how many more times she'd be able to be with anyone and enjoy their company, sick and hurting or not. "Deep breaths, Boss, she soothed, her voice low and breathy. Deep breaths. Ha. She'd love to be able to do some decent chakra breathing right now, or even just take a normal breath. Or not have her joints and organs hurt so much from this, or--

Those eyes. Those huge, shimmering green puppy eyes. Spade looked at her as though he were a kid who'd just found out that there wasn't a Father Christmas, and it just shot through her little straining heart, making her want to pull her arms around her boss, hug him and apologize profusely. And fix it with puppies. "Boss, what is--"

"My rug... It's gone..." Wait... A rug? What rug? One at his house? Surely not the nasty burnt and stained thing that lived on his office floor like a decrepit and diseased thing that needed to be put out of its own misery. She'd honestly considered throwing it out and replacing it for him on more than one occasion. Shula let out a soft, breathy laugh, and smiled at Spade. It wasn't a front, and the smile held all the warmth within her being, and for a moment was the Bright Eyes everyone in the office had come to know so well.

"You know, Spade... When you get out of here, if it's safe to go through my house, there's a rug I'll let you have. It's really pretty... It's an Ishvallan prayer rug. It even has a Tree of Life woven into the pattern if you look closely for it."

[Spade Aeries]

"You know, Spade... When you get out of here, if it's safe to go through my house, there's a rug I'll let you have." When you get out of here. Spade got over the loss of his decrepit rug pretty damn fast. Faster than he got over anything before, really. It was not only from the idea of owning a rug of Shula's, but it was how she worded it--like she wasn't going to make it out of here herself. His eyes suddenly turned serious and it became one of those drastic moments in which he wished he had his sunglasses on to cover it. He smiled a sad smile--one of the rarest things ever to befall his expression. "Com'ere" was all he said as his rough hands brushed against the one on his shoulder. Melty green beheld her steadily and he moved sluggishly to help her from the wheelchair. Like she was made out of glass, he sat her down on his bed beside him, crossing his scrapped legs. He didn't know what to say or do now; all he knew was they were both so damn out of it. Hell, did he normally feel this emotional over a goddamn rug? He was sore and growing sorer. Normally he would have passed out already, but he survived the episode for the first time since waiting the fucking forty-five minutes between treatments. He had thirty-five minutes left until it wore off completely. With Shula here, he could survive thirty-six.

He couldn't see her with his eyes closed, but he knew where she was and had memorized each thread of her bandages. Being an ex private investigator was both a blessing and a curse... His hand found the top of her head, ruffling the hair he knew wasn't supposed to be blond. His own head of brown found its way to her shoulder. He laid there for a while before he had gathered himself enough to speak. "You know," he breathed quietly, almost whispering, "just before Acra and you came to visit...I had my gun pointed at my own head." He lifted himself from her and looked in the red irises of her eyes, meeting opposites. He held nothing: no regret, no sorrow, just...emptiness. Spade never wavered when talking about death. He felt as if he were an old friend--that it was only a matter of time before he was taken too. He hardly believed that he deserved the pleasure-filled life he lead, but sometimes he wondered if maybe it balanced out painful moments like these. He just wanted to see her smile and laugh-- none of that fifteen-minute spiel about rugs until she finally showered the world in sunlight; usually it only took one word--one second... That was another reason why Spade knew something was wrong. It had been wrong ever since Apos forgot to take her back with him... So wrong...that Spade's laid back nature got in the way of prying. He could hear it now...the raspy breathing...her heart pounding to keep up. The tent didn't do that. She looked worse for wear ever since he woke up after being reamed by one of those Cretan assholes. He opened his mouth, but bit his lip instead. Jade studied her with a pained look.

"I didn't pull the trigger because I didn't want to be a bastard like Markus. To you, I--" Why was this so fucking hard. Out with it Aeries you mother-fucking moron! "I love you more than those one night stands, Shu. More than the pack of cigs I smoke a day or the long nights at the bar drinking my heart away until its numb. So I couldn't do it. I had it halfway down and it didn't happen." He moved to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders delicately, not feeling anything when her head touched the bandages around his chest. "So why are you saying that you won't be there to help me dig through your home? I don't want the rug if you don't hand it to me personally, got it?" He ran a hand through his glisteningly damp hair and sighed softly. "You're hiding something...so hide it better." It hurt to say that because all humans were curious once something secret was brought to light. Spade didn't want to know, but at the same time...maybe it was better than he did.

[Shula Brighton]

She hadn't even realized she verbally slipped when the words quietly tumbled past her lips. Damn pain meds, always making your head fuzzy. So as the light came on inside the mind of the great detectcive Aeries as he quickly put some of the pieces together, Shula didn't immediately notice or understand; she was lost in her own hazy world, swallowing down the pain from not being in the room when she should have been. Fuck, why did organ failiure have to hurt? She'd been in pain almost every day of her life, every joint swelling and stiffening. Lungs that always hurt from coughing, ribs so often internally bruised from the heavy spasms. Days where she just woke up crying, unable to move from physical pain and had to call in late to work and dope herself up on vicodin because it was all she could do apart from lying in bed screaming and crying in the dark. The IVIG treatments that came every month always stabbed into her, and hurt. Sometimes she couldn't breathe they hurt so bad, or they'd have to slow it down to make the treatment take eight hours because rushing it all in in two hours would leave her shaking and howling in agony, and for days afterward she'd spend so much time throwing up or being too weak to move. And she was so damn tired. Even with the treatments and vitamins, all the sleep in the world was never enough. She was used to pain, long, long before that Aerugese bastard thought it would be funny to screw with her body. Over the years she'd built up a high tolerance, but now that she'd been pushed to her final days, existing hurt and was incredibly tiring.

"Com'ere. Shula looked up to meet Spade's eyes, a little confused by the sudden sad look in his eyes, completely different from the one she'd seen just a moment ago that had mourned the loss of his beloved rug. This was a look she knew. It went hand in hand with that look of never seeing someone again, when they look at you to memorize every line of your face and body and sketch it into their hearts. Shula gasped softly as her body was lifted out and helped to the side of Spade's bed, disturbed by how little she must have weighed at that moment to be moved as though she were nothing, and surprised he'd been able to do that without jarring her injuries. Her cheeks were already a soft pink from her struggle to breathe, but as her boss leaned to lay his head at her shoulder, they flushed even darker. Well... This was unexpected. Shula sat there silently, letting Spade rest his head there against her body, and listened to the silence that confliced with the racing thoughts in her head, his hand messing lightly with the looose hair that framed her face.

She hadn't meant to come in and hurt him; she hadn't even meant to come in and say goodbye, at least not outright. She was tired of goodbyes since they always meant forever. Even now she never even said goodbye to her coworkers and only that she'd see them later and tell them to be safe going home. The closest she would come anymore to that terrible word was "later." But now that it had really come down to that time in her life where she knew she had to say it in some way, Shula wished there were something she could do to not have to say it; if it meant this look from the people who gave her heart a reason to beat, she never wanted to say it, never ever. Even knowing all her life that some day sooner than what everyone said was fair that she'd have to, she never wanted anyone to know so they wouldn't hurt or miss her. That worked out well, though, didn't it? Spade's soft voice brought Shula out of her quiet thoughts, though hearing what he said made her wish he hadn't. "You know, just before Acra and you came to visit...I had my gun pointed at my own head" Shula's hand went to cover her mouth, eyes widening, glistening faintly with hurt. Spade would... Why?! His life was one of the fullest and most exciting she'd ever seen! She curled up with adventure books to read about the daring men in them and wish her life could be just a tenth as excitng and fulfilling as theirs! Shula's lip quivered, drowning in the pained look her boss was giving her, unlike anything she'd ever seen from him.

Was this how Aaron had felt when they were children? Helpless, scared and confused? Did he feel as hurt and betrayed as she did right now when she had told him he needed to learn to let her go because everybody dies? That because of the treatments and struggle everyone went through just to keep her alive, that her life went against the very laws of nature? She'd never seen her brother look so hurt and had such a hard time understanding how he must have felt until she felt that way too. Spade was an amazingly warm and kind person, and lifed in a way that would have made Porthos proud. And he would want to end it? "I didn't pull the trigger because I didn't want to be a bastard like Markus. To you, I--" Markus? Her gaze softened with slight understanding. She remembered how distraught he was over his friend, and knew all too well how much being left behind hurt.

"I love you more than those one night stands, Shu. More than the pack of cigs I smoke a day or the long nights at the bar drinking my heart away until its numb. So I couldn't do it. I had it halfway down and it didn't happen." Blood-coloured irises shrank in shock, Shula's breath catching as her heart sped up enough that she wasn't certain she'd live to leave this room, let alone to call the number for the angel of mercy she'd been given. Spade... loved her? Like, loved-her, loved her? She hardly noticed her breathing speeding up, her body forcing shallow pants to try and keep up with her racing heart, sharing an expression similar to a rabbit in headlights, torn somewhere between hyperventilating and not breathing at all from the unexpected shock. Shula was trying for the life of her to find her voice and words in any language that had all somehow vanished simultaneously. She was trying desperately to ask why; she was nothing like the women Spade liked. She wasn't ugly by any means of the word, but she wasn't tall, curvy, or well-endowed; most of the time she really did just look like a child stuffed into an Anestrian uniform, or like she was tagging along with an older brother's friends when she went to the pubs with any of them. Shula's shoulders began to shake as Spade pulled his arms around her and pulled her close, close like she had been that horrible fucking night where the only peace had come from listening to his heart to understand that he wouldn't die and leave her alone. "So why are you saying that you won't be there to help me dig through your home? I don't want the rug if you don't hand it to me personally, got it?"

Her eyes shut tightly, unable to fight the falling of the large tears that had been forming in the corners of her eyes, her body shaking slightly against Spade's. Shula took breaths as deep as she could manage, trying to calm herself from becoming too upset as her hands covered her face. "I'm sorry," she finally managed to whisper from behind her palms. "I-I didn't know... Spade, I'm didn't mean to.." Her breath hitched again, swallowing a sob in her efforts to keep from completely cracking.
"You're hiding something...so hide it better." She gave another sniffle, panting to catch her breath as she calmed down, wiping her face with the hospital PJ sleeves. Shula pulled away from Spade's chest slowly, nodding.

"I..I will. I promise, I'll stay." Shula had come in the room to spend a little time with one of her clsoest friends before she couldn't anymre and to say goodbye, only to find she couldn't. Her options were a choice of the lesser evils; waiting and dying in agony surrounded by strangers, having a stranger help end her life, or... "Your impermanence will become clarified to you and you will come to terms with your mortality lest you seek me out." Or she could call on the Aerugese man who did this to her for help, and see what the devil wanted in exchange for her life.

[Spade Aeries]

"I..I will. I promise, I'll stay." Spade bit his lip to distract himself from the torture break dancing on his cranium. Oh sweet Jesus. He took a shuddering breath and then pulled her against his chest, resting his chin on top of her head and shutting his eyes tight before his selfish pain leaked out. "I swear when we get outta here, I'll take you somewhere special. I'll show ya what's it's like to really live, got it?" Best tough guy act ever, but he didn't have the sunglasses to cover the sheen over his eyes when he let go to wipe her tears away. He ran his wet hand along the hospital sheets that were probably used to the treatment. "Listen Shu, there's something you need to know about me." He wasn't sure if this was something she needed to hear or even wanted to, but...Spade always liked telling stories, he had just never told this one.

Spade was a boy unfamiliar with pain when his parents sent him out of Xing. They favored Saeji over him, but he didn't mind. Saeji was just as much a genius as he was, but the kid was stupid enough not to flaunt it like he did: picking up chicks, growing his hair out, and sporting sunglasses... Saeji was the one and his parents knew it before Spade graduated high school. His younger brother would become the emperor of Xing and he would only ever stand in his shadow. It ended up being because of money that he was forced to leave his country. Spade didn't mind that either; he liked traveling. He learned Amestrian quickly and went through a quick college course in Creta to spruce up on the detective lingo. He met Markus then...the dead bastard. Almost wished he hadn't, oh, but he loved the guy. Spade was a lover; not a fighter, but he could do both...and well. Markus and he had a few classes together for a short while, but it turned out to be a long friendship. After all that work too...getting him into the prime minister position! Bastard. He just had to go and fall off a fucking ferris wheel. WHAT THE HELL!? No...it was more than that. Spade kicked him off--he kicked him off and the bastard smiled.

He joined a force as a private investigator: Detective Spade Aeries. Any crook shuddered at the sound of his name, praying their case never ended up in his hands. Then... "I met a girl named Shirley. She joined the force back when I was a detective. Beautiful dame, long hair, piercing eyes--you know the type. But she was unlike anything else I ever laid eyes on. A case came up. The details are fuzzy now, but we were after a man down in the sewers by the name of Frank Summers. I had him at gun point, but Shirley was an implant--she was Frank Summer's wife off the records. That hand I had held helped dismantle the bodies of children... She shot me before I realized she was pointing her gun at me and not the suspect. I was gone then...in a rage of confusion and adrenaline lined with betrayal. I shot her, Shu. I shot and killed the only woman I ever wanted to marry. And I did it with my own hands. Frank Summers got away and I passed out at some point. When I woke up I hardly knew my own name." Spade sighed deeply. "And that was Sakuya...Sakuya Aeries who ended up inventing the name Spade and thinking he was the one that killed Shirley. I guess I couldn't accept it, you know? ...Spade was a neuro alchemist, surprise there. But the Chief told me that Spade didn't exist. It took a while for him to convince me that Frank Summers was the one that had killed Shirey, but I eventually believed him. I changed my name to Spade, swore revenge, and joined the military for access to files that are now just dust in the wind. I started smoking, drinking, you know, the usual. It's not something that I can ever give up now. And the day comes like any other when the cold, hard truth pulls a fast one. I fainted after the discovery of my first alchemic technique...having to do with the mind. I realized that I'm Spade--I'm the one that killed Shirley." Spade smiled then--a true, heart-felt smile. He reached up to brush blond hair out of Shula's face. "How'd you like that story? Shot the woman that shot me, but I didn't die. Isn't that reason enough to believe that I'm bulletproof?" He grinned a lopsided grin and leaned against the cool wall. Emerald eyes held her, masking pain, and trying to drag out a laugh. The meds were long gone from his system by now. Briefly, he wondered if maybe he managed to hold out for the forty-six minutes he promised.

He half-laughed, half-sputtered. "See, can't even kill myself with a gun. So I'll just opt for lung cancer if my liver doesn't fail first!" It was a joke, but it was the truth. Leave to Aeries to joke about his own suffering. It was all just a bad gag that people laughed at anyway. He shut his eyes and sucked in a deep breath to keep himself from crying like a little girl.

[EXIT THREAD?]

[Shula Brighton]

Well that certainly made things more difficult, Bright Eyes. You've just promised you'd live when the odds are completely stacked against you. What if you can't give that man whatever it is that he wants? What then, genius?! Shula shut her eyes tightly, trying to silence her racing mind as Spade put his chin over the top of her head. She sat there pulled so close against Spade's chest that it hurt, not from neglecting her dosage times, but the mental hurt of what was weighing down on them both. She could feel his warm breath against the top of her scalp and shuddering breaths, which did nothing to make her own tears feel like falling any less. Right now she was doing the one thing in her life she'd never wanted to do to anyone, ever, and that alone was killing her. Anything to make it not hurt any of them! "I swear when we get outta here, I'll take you somewhere special. I'll show ya what's it's like to really live, got it?" As his hand moved to sweep the liquid from her face, she couldn't help but nuzzle her cheek into his palm gently.

She hated being this weak and vulnerable, especially where people she cared about could see. All her life she'd been told to be strong, to fight no matter what, to keep going no matter how tired she was... And now all she wanted was sleep even though she knew she might not wake up tomorrow morning if she did. Shula nodded softly, loving the idea of seeing someplace new, or leaving the hospital... of living. She let out shallow, shuddering breath to calm herself before letting her eyes move back up to Spade's, hating the feelings pulsing through her body. When she was little her mother had told her that Ishvalla created them from sand and his own fiery blood, and that today that fire still burned inside every Ishvallan. Her name was Bright Eyes; and except for that first year when her health dropped so low, her family said they could always see her fire, and she herself could feel it. Except for now. Now it was reduced down to embers in her eyes. The morning was still early, but it was sunset within her. And Shula hated that Spade and she both knew it. "Listen Shu, there's something you need to know about me." Her head tilted slightly, wondering what it was she'd need to know.

In the haze that had been the last several days, and since coming to Central to work under him, Shula had progressively seen someone that she wasn't sure anyone else saw or paid attention to. Like seeing invisible movement from the corner of your eye only to find it gone when you turn to look. She knew there was more, but never sure how much, even though some days he would leave her wanting to see the man underneath the shades. Tiny flashes of truth in the office where it was easy to overlook that slowly became more apparent though still just as brief. All the times she'd joined him and a few others for drinks, or all ordered Xingese takeout to eat together as a small dinner party. He was still Spade, but just sometimes she'd swear she could see something there. Shula listened carefully as Spade opened up. Her breath stilled as pieces from a larger puzzle than she'd ever guessed to began to come together to create a picture that she'd been wanting to see for so long.

So this was Spade. A man named Sakuya, who shot the woman he loved after she betrayed him on every level possible. Shula's breath hitched as realization and understanding settled over her slowly, her eyes never straying from Spade. She'd finally gotten her wish to see the man behind the shades, and that was a man who was still hurting terribly and who had just bared his naked soul to her. As Spade smiled at her she wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands, caught and held in place by the raw sincerity of his smile unlike some she'd never seen at work. Her small brown hand reached up to pet the back of his wrist as he moved a little of her bangs out of the way. "How'd you like that story? Shot the woman that shot me, but I didn't die. Isn't that reason enough to believe that I'm bulletproof?" Shula forced a tiny smile, taking his hand as her boss leaned back and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Spade... I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine..." Being lied to had always upset her; being lied to by someone that you wanted to spend your life with... Was that why he never kept a committed relationship and lead a life of one night stands? She wouldn't really blame him if that were the case; something like that would make anyone suspicious and not want to get too close again and risk it. "See, can't even kill myself with a gun. So I'll just opt for lung cancer if my liver doesn't fail first!" That pack a day and litre of alcohol a day would kill him if he didn't slow down, even if he couldn't stop now. But why was he confessing this to her now? Because she was going to die? Or is it because you want me to know who you are before I go? She shook her head gently, still holding Spade's hand and tracing the lines of his palm with her fingertips, ember-like eyes watching her fingers. Without really meaning to, she began to draw the symbol for Om onto his skin, just as she'd done with her own blood on his bandages.

"You really shouldn't wish life away, Spade... Especially not when there are still so many people still who need you in their lives." I've been dying all my life; nobody ever asked me if I wanted to die. They just kept telling me over and over that's how it was and that would be my fate. But you, Spade.... Shula's gaze moved back to Spade's eyes, certain that by now he was wondering where the damn pain meds were. She knew she was. [color=green]"The hospital already has my paperwork, but you have the authority to override what I signed if you so choose. So how about we make a deal you and I... I'll try harder and keep fighting to stick around... But only if you do the same."[color] All of her paperwork said to let her die as quickly and quietly as possible, but she had just given Spade the choice to tell the doctors to fight nature and try to revive her. She knew if she was too far gone the best they could hope for was unconsciousness living from a machine. She didn't want that, but if there was a chance she could be fixed and other people wanted to take it, she would fight for them. Shula gave another soft squeeze to Spade's hand, too tired to hold any tighter when the room's door opened again.

A large male tech came in, presumably to tend to Spade's next dose of meds, as well as the nurse who had been coming into Shula's room the most. The woman really was rather attractive, so she hadn't been totally lying at least. "Lieutenant Colonel, I swear, if you don't stop sneaking out of your bed I will restrain you to it." The male tech moved to the side of Spade's bed, hanging up fresh IV bags from the post, jotting notes down on the clipboard. Shula frowned softly with a faint sigh."What's it going to do," she grumbled. "Kill me?" Julie moved to Shula's side, giving Spade a warning look as though he were the reason his underling wouldn't behave and helped Shula off his bed and back to her wheelchair. Shula looked back over at Spade as the nurse in Hello Kitty scrubs began to wheel her out of the room. She smiled faintly, though a genuine fear was welling up behind her eyes as she locked onto Spade, worrying that she wouldn't see him again consciously. Since she signed her papers and started failing, they had already begun the process of keeping her pain med doses high enough that she couldn't function and were trying to make her sleep as much as possible. "I promise I'll fight it, Spade. I won't close my eyes." If she could she'd take just the late morning pain meds and refuse the sleeping drugs, hoping that if she were a little compliant she wouldn't be tied down to keep her from sneaking off again.

Shula was very quiet as she was pushed back into her crowded room and back into her bed, honestly sick of the smell of sterilized death that came with all hospitals and clinics. She was quiet and deep in thought as Julie rehooked her IV lines and only spoke up enough to ask they not give her more things to help her sleep and if communications were working well enough that she could make a phonecall. The phone was placed on the bed as Julie left. Shula didn't know how long she'd manage to stay awake for but it was long enough to make a call as she reached into the drawer and pulled out her notebook, opening it to the middle. Shula stared hard at the number for the doctor she'd been offered. An easy way out. Shula bit her lip, thinking over her three options. Could she really just accept that this was where she got off the train, or after the things she'd jut learned turn away from the light of life? Could she live with the consequences of what might happen? Taking a deep breath, Shula picked up the phone's receiver and began to dial a number she didn't think she'd dial again and waited. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Click

"Mama?" Shula smiled tiredly, holding the phone away from her ear a moment as her mother went into overdrive. She wouldn't tell Amira what her baby girl's current predicament was, or her three possible solutions that had been narrowed to one. She didn't need to know that. All Amira needed to know was that for now her baby was safe, and that everything would be okay. "Mama, I'm okay. I promise, everything's going to be fine. I just... wanted to call and say I love you, Mama." She didn't know what would happen. She didn't know what the Aerugese man would want. But as soon as her med dose was over, Shula had decided that she would call him and see what she would have to do in order to save her own life.

Exit Thread

The day's events are continued in Complications of the Heart

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