03-Aug-2000
Category: Friendship, a touch schmaltzy
Rating: PG
Pairings: None
Warnings: A little salty language
Feedback: C&C
Notes: A new story in my "series" The Resurrection Chronicles (see GW Addiction for previous stories). This is sort of the retelling of The Resurrection of T. Barton from Trowa's perspective.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency and are only being used for non profit entertainment purposes.
Dark. Cold. Black.
These are the feelings or maybe they are just images that I feel. I also feel sluggish. I'm tired of feeling immobile. Slowly, I open my eyes.
The place I'm in is dark, which is hardly surprising, but what is surprising is it's warm. I'm not cold at all. I'm still having a tough time focusing. Where am I?
I seem to be lying on a bed of some sort. Somewhere. The room is rather sparsely decorated save for a teddy bear in the corner. Teddy bear? As I take in these unfamiliar surroundings the door opens and a person walks in.
It looks sort of like a woman. The work coveralls do just that. Cover all. I'll assume it's a woman because she is rather petite looking with dark, wild wavy hair. She seems to be carrying a baby bottle. Baby bottle? She notices I'm awake and starts.
"Decided to join the land of the living, ne? How are you feeling?" she said in a loud, cheerful voice. "We weren't so sure that you were ever going to wake up!" She added with a laugh.
I don't know what to tell this creature. So I say the first thing that pops in my head.
"I'm thirsty," I croaked. It hurts to speak. I wonder just how long have I been unconscious.
"Hai, I figured as much that's why I brought you ..." she stopped when she realized she was about to hand me the baby bottle. "Umm, I guess you've graduated to a big cup now. They grow up so fast," she smiled with a fake sniffle and clutched her hand to her heart.
Now I really don't know what to make of this person! I think she expects me to laugh or something. I just stare at her.
"Gomen," she said, "This is a tough situation for you and here I am cracking wise." She found a cup and emptied the water from the baby bottle and brought the cup up to my lips.
"I can't have you spilling water on my fine bedding. Besides I don't know if you really have the strength to hold this cup on your own."
This angered me for some reason. As if to defy her, I reach for the cup with my hands and find that her words are true. This cup feels like it a lead weight. I spill at least half the contents on my chest.
"Ah, don't worry about it, Barton. You were due for a sponge bath anyway."
"Barton?"
She looked up at me. I see in her brown eyes she's trying to decide how to proceed with her next words.
"Barton seems to be your name. Or your last name at least. You were in some sort of accident. My co-pilot and I found you floating in space and brought you in. According to your space suit, your name is T. Barton. Do you remember what the T stands for?" she asked hopefully.
I continue to stare at her. Then I try to think back. My name is T. Barton? Why doesn't that sound right. Then I try to focus on any incident in my life where someone utters my name. I can't come up with anything. I even sing that stupid happy birthday song. Happy birthday, dear ....
"I don't think I have a name. I don't know what the T is for," I say honestly and gauge her reaction. She looks a little sad.
"Do you know why you were floating in space?"
"No."
"What is the last thing you remember?" she asked gently. I wonder about the sad, hurt look on her face. I try real hard to remember something ... anything to get that expression off of her face.
"I remember being cold and in a very dark place."
That seemed to depress her some.
"Do I know you?" Well, it's only polite to ask.
She smiled ever so briefly. "Nah, I'm no good at introductions. Hello Lad. My name is Mel. Captain Mel."
"You are in the military?"
"No, the honorific is self-imposed. You are aboard my garbage barge that I call The Smelly Rose. We are a small ship with a small crew. There's just me and Bill, my co-captain. He'll come by later to keep you company. How would you like some soup?"
I hesitate on the soup offer. I've just spilt water on myself, do I really want to risk hot soup?
She seemed to understand my hesitant look and laughed. It's a strange laugh. It kind of booms loudly, but it's also has a contagious quality to it that makes you want to join in.
"Barton, I'd feed you the soup! I'm not ready to do laundry just yet!"
I relax and allow her to feed me soup with a spoon. I feel embarrassed that I'm being fed like a small child, but she doesn't seem to mind. She keeps looking at me and smiling. After a while I start to smile back.
An older man comes into my room. I'm no good with ages, but he definitely looks older than Mel. Her father maybe?
"Hey Barton, Mel told me you were up. I'm Bill. Bill O'Shea. I'm the co-captain of this rust bucket," he
laughed."Hello."
He stares at me for a moment before blurting out, "Your bladder has got to be killing you by now. Water and soup? Let me help you to the head, son."
I feel my face go red. I do have to go. I have since I woke up but ...
"Let me guess, you were too embarrassed to let Mel help you on that one. You had nothing to worry about there. Mel would have probably serenaded you with dirty jokes, but she would have helped you accomplish your task. She's become quite the little nursemaid since your arrival."
He lifted me off the bed like I was a ragdoll and took him to the small bathroom in the adjoining room. I insisted I could stand on my own and fail miserably. My legs wouldn't hold me up. I crumbled like a ragdoll. Finally we decided I should sit on the toilet to relieve myself. Again I feel like a toddler and I resent this fact.
A quick hoist and not only had Bill pulled up my boxers but he also has me up in his arms and carrying me back to the bed.
I'm tired of lying in bed so I attempt to sit up. I manage it after a few tries. I thought Bill would step in, but he grinned at me and said, "Gotta learn sometimes, right?"
"How long have I been here?" I hoped that knowing this would cause some clue I've been missing to pop out.
"We found you I guess two weeks ago. We thought you were dead, boy. You sure looked dead."
"Why pick me up then?" I asked confused.
"We started collecting bodies along with refuse a few years ago. With this war, so many soldiers get lost in space. We do it to help families. Can you imagine? Your child or lover dies in battle but there's no body to bury? Bodies are concrete things. You see them and after you bury them, you move on with your life. Without that body, you are in limbo. You live with false hopes that the reports were wrong and any minute your loved one will come home. We just help these poor souls to come home."
I start to wonder. Do I have any loved ones? Is there a parent or lover waiting for me? I close my eyes and try to concentrate on any face I can from my past. But I draw a blank.
Bill misinterprets my closed eyes. "Son, I didn't mean to depress you, or tire you out. Why do you get some sleep, ne?"
Gods, I'm tired of 'resting'. I can't stand it anymore. It's time to join the living as Mel would say. I wonder what Mel is short for ... Melanie? Melody? And just what the hell does T. stand for in my name? Thomas? No. Timothy? Nope. Trey? Travis? Nothing sounds or feels right. I guess I'll just settle for Barton for the time being.
This amnesia stuff is really bizarre. I can't remember anything beyond my existence on this ship. My past is an empty slate. Yet, I can talk, think and remember how to do the most basic things. I sort of go into autopilot and not think about these accomplishments at all.
Today, I'm going to stand up on my own. Step one, sit up. I'm getting better at this activity. Mel has stopped doing that 'leaning, let me help' dance she does when she thinks I'm going to fall or hurt myself. Sitting up ... good.
Step two, swing legs over to the side of the bed. This is a trickier maneuver. My legs feel like lead. I can feel every muscle in my legs, groin and stomach protest. I ignore the pain and get my legs to swing over the bed. My feet are on the ground. Periodically I would lean over my lap to force my feet to stop tingling from disuse and remember how to support weight.
Step three, stand up. Easier said than done. But as Bill says, you have to learn sometime. That time is now. I push off the bed with my hands and find that I am standing. It all feels precarious like I'm standing on a high wire, but I find my balance.
Now what? Do I try to walk or do I call this a day. I find I am sweating from this simple effort that any toddler can accomplish. While I puzzle over what fate to take, Mel comes into my room.
"What the hell are you doing boy? Are you crazy? You're still too weak to ..." She stopped and started to smile. "Damn! You've got that mastered. Can you walk?" She said, beaming with some strange pride.
"I don't know."
"Want to give it a try? I'm here to catch you if you need me," she replied, her eyes starting to glisten a little as she dazzles me with her big smile.
I put one foot forward. Before I can shift my balance properly, Mel is doing her 'let me help' dance. I don't fall. I put the next foot forward. Bill has now come into the room and is trying to still Mel's nervous dance. He's smiling at me. So is she. I take one more step before I stumble and Mel is by my side in a shot, half-dragging Bill with her.
"Looks like it's time for that rest now, eh Barton?" Mel asked. They start to move me to the bed before I ask to sit in a chair. So while Mel holds me up, Bill brings a chair over and I sit.
"Bill, our boy is growing up!" she said half-jokingly. I don't know why I feel comforted by these two people's good wishes for me. If I understand everything correctly, we are virtual strangers. Yet they both exhibit a strange parental pride in me. I should be embarrassed. I mean, I think Mel has to be only a few years older than me, but I feel warm and a little happy in their presence. It feels good.
After my walking escapade, I got stronger. But I also got easily bored. Sitting around with nothing to do one day, Mel happened by.
"Barton, sorry we're not blasting rebels or troops anywhere. No one ever said the life of a barge operator was a thrilling one," she said apologetically.
"It's okay. Mel, why do you have a teddy bear in this room?" I decided a week of politely saying nothing about it was plenty.
She laughed. "Oh, that's not mine! I swear! It belongs to one of Bill's kids. They usually travel with us, but Margaret wanted them closer to home."
"Margaret?"
"Bill's wife."
"Oh." I was a little disappointed. That was kind of a non-story. "What is Mel short for?"
"Nothing."
"What do you mean?" I asked curiously.
"My father wanted a boy. I'm named for my dad's favorite author, Herman Melville, a nineteenth century writer. My Christian name is Mel Tierney. He told my ma, he didn't want a child boy or girl with some wussy girly name. So when people asked, my ma would say it's short for Melanie or when I was being a pest, Melancholy. Mel suits me fine. Could have been worse. Could have been Herman."
"I have to agree. Mel does suit you," I smiled.
"Ah, so how would you like to earn your keep here? Until we can get to a port where you can get help."
"That would be great." Am I that transparent or is she a mind reader? So off to the bridge. Bill showed me how to operate the claw. It was a large claw like mechanism that resided outside the ship. You operate with a joystick. You try to grab large bits of metal or other floating debris not natural to space.
As I handle the controls to the mechanical arm, I find it all feels strangely familiar. I seem to be pretty good at gathering space junk, even items Mel and Bill both felt were too small to be handled with the claw.
"You're a natural, kid!" Mel smiled as she pushed my bangs out of my eyes. From that point on, I was given a work schedule. I got an hour on Moby, (that's what Mel called the mechanical arm in honor of her namesake). And the rest of the time I was doing menial, but satisfying tasks.
It's weird. You would think I would be spending every waking hour trying to remember who I am. I do sometimes, but since nothing wants to come, I don't force it. I'm less upset that way. Bill and Mel gently try to say things they hope will jar my memory, but I haven't found that it helped any. I don't remember being in OZ. From what Bill has told me about that organization, I have to wonder why I was part of that group. Maybe my past was too painful and my brain thought I needed a vacation from the trauma.
I noticed Bill and Mel having a serious discussion in the galley before they saw me.
"I don't know what we should do, Bill."
I tried to exit gracefully.
"Oi, Barton, stay. This concerns you." I turn around and sit down. I wonder what the problem is when I see them staring at me closely. "Barton, we are a few days from the nearest colony. Colony L3. It's a pretty bustling area. I'm sure we could find someone who can help you with your amnesia. There has got to be some good doctors, right? But here's the thing. We like having you around. So don't think we're trying to pawn you off on the nearest saps or anything."
"We just need to know what you want us to do, Barton," Bill said.
I really had to think about this. What did I want to do? "I like being here with you both. But I guess I should try to regain my memory. That's the right thing to do, yes?"
Bill spoke, "Well, as a parent, I would want to know what happened to my kids if they ended up missing."
"Barton, you are a special guy. I'm sure there's someone missing you somewhere," Mel followed up with a near quiet sigh.
The fact that anyone might be looking for me never occurred to me. "I guess you have a point. I'm grateful for you both looking after me. You didn't have to do it, but I'm glad you did. I will never forget your kindness." Mel's eyes were sparkling with tears she was trying hard not to shed. She smiled, kissed my cheek and left the room.
"Nor will we forget you, Barton," Bill said. "Damn dust! It's always getting in my eyes!" I pretend not to notice Bill fighting back tears also.
All too soon we were at the spaceport for Sector R42483 of colony L3. Mel was fussing over me. I let her. Saying goodbye won't be easy. These people strange as they are feel like ... family.
"Don't forget to tell us what that T stands for!" Mel jokes. "I'm betting Thomas, but Bill seems to think its something like Ted. There is money riding on the knowledge, kid."
"I will, don't worry."
"I know Mel drilled this into your brain last night, but if you want us to come get you, we'll be back here faster than the wind."
"Thanks, Bill."
As we all walk off the ship together it feels weird. I'm leaving the only home I've ever known. Or at least ever remembered. I try not to look my guardians in the eye because I know it will start them and probably me crying. Bill had called a friend who knew a social worker. This person met us on the docks of the space port.
I instantly didn't like this man. Especially when he looked over my "family" like they themselves had escaped from a loony bin.
"Mr. Barton, I can get you in to see a hynotherapist in the next day or so. Do you need for me to arrange for a place to stay for you and your 'friends?'"
I find myself glaring, but this officious creature takes no notice. "I have made arrangements, thank you."
"Here is the doctor's business card. Be there tomorrow at 9 sharp," the little man said with relief that he didn't need to bother any further with me or my strange entourage.
"What an ass! Bill, where did you find this guy at? Anal Retentives R Us?" Mel sneered as the social worker left. I couldn't help but laugh.
"He's the cousin of an old friend. I didn't say I knew the guy. But I have to agree he's a dickhead. Barton, are you sure you want to do this?" Bill asked earnestly.
"I'm hoping the doctor won't be as bad. No, I'll stay for a little while."
"Where will you live?" Mel asked.
"I'll find someplace, don't worry." I barely got the last word out before she grabbed me in a tight embrace. I could scarcely breathe.
"Mel, down girl! Let the boy get some air," Bill admonished before giving me a quick hug. "I hate that we have to leave you, but we have to stay on schedule or Margaret won't forgive me."
"That's Bill-ism for he won't get any nooky if he's late," Mel laughed.
Bill glared. I blushed.
They left soon afterward and I found myself wandering around the streets of the town. The weather was a bit cold, but I just kept my eyes straight ahead before bumping literally into a young woman in the street.
"Trowa! It's been quite a while!" The brown haired girl with blue eyes said.
Trowa? What kind of name is that? I look stupidly at her before she speaks again.
"Trowa? What's wrong? Are you alright?"
I guess my name is Trowa.
She took my hand and we went to a warm restaurant. She told me her name was Catherine and she was my sister. We work in a circus. She brought me home with her back to the circus. I tried filing all this information in my head. I have to remember to tell Mel & Bill that they were right. I wasn't alone in the world. I had a family.
~OWARI
(:./babaca/resurrect4)
