Three

Trowa Barton loathed his job with a passion unparalleled by any other paramedic in the city

Disclaimer: Shin Kidousenki New Mobile War Chronicle Gundam Wing and all affiliated characters are property of Bandai, Setsu Agency. Likewise, X-Men and its characters are owned by Marvel Comics. I’m not taking any credit for these guys, and I’m certainly not making a profit off of this. It’s actually costing me money…

Title: Three

Chapter: II—Tyger

Author: Switchblade003

Pairing(s): I’ll figure ‘em out later.

Warning(s): Overtly religious tones ("In a Switchblade fic??" Lol…); may offend


some readers, and if it does don’t read it!

Rating: NC-17 for violence, adult themes, language, etc.

Archive: www.wuffie.net, hopefully my own site if I can get it up and running—www.geocities.com/Superfutque_que_sound/

Notes: None, really. I need more reviews!!

Review Raves: I got three, so far. Thanks!

Rocky Oberlin: I’m glad that you found your way over here!

Gypsy Tollamer: I’m very flattered, and I hope that you’ll like this chapter, as well!

Suzaku: Sorry about the cliffhanger. Here’s a chapter to make up for it!

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Trowa Barton loathed his job with a passion unparalleled by any other paramedic in the city. Day in and day out calls would come into the Fire-Medical Rescue Precinct Station 12, and he would race to the ambulance with his partner, gun the engine, fight harrowing New York City rush-hour traffic—and it was always rush-hour in Old Towne—and arrive at the scene to find either corpses or people who wouldn’t survive the trip to the emergency room. It was depressing, the number of victims of violent crimes that he had pulled up to, to load into what his partner Duo bitterly referred to as the ‘Hearse,’ and it was beginning to take its toll on the young EMT.

He’d gotten into the field almost two years earlier, after graduating from a private Catholic academy in Flushing. He and Duo had grown up together and had decided to forgo college and join the ranks of the local emergency fire and rescue organization. Trowa was the ‘delivery man,’ manning the radio and switchboard while his younger counterpart administered the necessary medical treatment to their patients to keep them alive long enough to be shipped to the nearest trauma room at Old Towne General Hospital.

So far they’d manage to lose every patient to which they’d answered a call, though through no fault of Trowa’s driving or Duo’s medical attention. They simply always got the losing battles, as their chief had consoled them.

Today, however, the disturbing reality of Trowa’s job was on the back burner as the boy leaned heavily against the counter of the nurses’ station, just outside the trauma rooms at Old Towne General. A characteristic frown tugged at the twenty year-old’s handsome features, bottle-green eyes narrowed at the immaculate white floor tiles in absent concentration. He had the day off, which was a rare occurrence. Consequently, Trowa had absolutely no idea how to make use of this spontaneous gift of free time. Duo was off on a call, though, for once, the brunette’s pager had remained silent. Now, the young man sat brooding.

"Bambi, gef myf my paperwork! You’re drooling all over those transfer files!"

Trowa was snapped abruptly from his dazed reverie as the senior nurse—a surprisingly young woman named Catherine—smacked him soundly on the back of his head. His frown deepened as he brought a hand up to rub gingerly at the offended area, glaring in annoyance at the sprightly girl who stood, leaning on hebowsbows on the countertop that he’d just been forced to vacate, and she smiled jovially at the reserved EMT.

Trowa felt his mouth twitch involuntarily at her antics and he lowered his gaze to the floor once again. Catherine was irritating as hell with her playful charm, and her constant mothering of the paramedics was downright obnoxious, but she was a good person.

"I thought that I had asked you not to call me that," he muttered, referring to the nickname that the entire ward—even the radio dispatchers—used when addressing the tall brunette. "Don’t you have a bedpan to go change or something?"

Cheerful lavender eyes speared Trowa with a bemused look. Catherine ignored her friend’s comment, rolling her eyes good-naturedly and reaching across the counter to adjust the youth’s nametag, which hung from his cobalt-blue uniform at an awkward angle. "You should go out somewhere," she sighed. "Go get something to eat, or at least take a nap. You’re always so grumpy…" The young man shook his head, shooing her hands away irritably and standing to his full height.

As he turned to walk toward the automatic bay doors of the End and ambulance came screeching to a halt outside—his ambulance—and the loading doors flew open, paramedics and interns flocking around out of nowhere to pull the gurney out. Duo jumped out as well, racing alongside his patient and throwing vital signs te doe doctors as they hauled the stretcher towards Trauma One. Trowa rushed to catch up, and his eyes widened at the sight of blood-matted bright hair and the sheer volume of crimson liquid covering the blonde’s clothing. He had seen many a trauma case before, but it never got any easier.

"What happened?" he asked softly, and his partner glanced over at him with melancholy violet eyes, just then noting his presence. They stood outside the wide, swinging doors to the ma rma room, watching the doctors and interns as they moved about the victim, a young boy perhaps a few years younger than the braided medic.

"We found him in front of Saint Paul’s. It looks like he jumped," Duo murmured, wincing visibly as the youth’s clothes were cut away from his body, revealing bloody gashes, contusions, bruises… The American shook his head. "The first one I manage to get to trauma and he’s a jumper."

Trowa nodded dumbly, staring at the boy inside the sterile room. "It was the weirdest thing, though…" He sighed, scratching the back of his head thoughtfully, and he laughed, a hollow, nervous sound. "When we found him, he was covered in these… black feathers… Hundreds of them… And he has some kinda strange endoskeletal development on both of his shoulder blades. We noticed it when we were sliding the board under his neck."

Duo turned away from the scene unfolding beyond the douboorsoors and crossed his arms over his chest, an atypical frown pulling at his normally grinning face. "Trowa, I don’t mean to sound cryptic or anything, but it almost seemed like… Like that kid was trying to fly off the roof of the cathedral."

The brunette’s gaze shot away from the window before them and to his friend’s face. The American’s eyes flashed ruby for the briefest of moments, and then the frown slipped away, and Duo was himself again. "I’ve got to head back to the station and catch some shut-eye." He laid a hand on Trowa’s shoulder before walking back towards the automatic bay doors. "See ya, Tro."

The other paramedic barely registered the absence of his comrade, however. His mind was mulling over what the braided menace had said, his emerald eyes riveted to the to the blonde boy lying motionless on the gurney beyond the double doors.

Abnormal bone growths? I’ve heard about this before… Trowa scowled, Duo’s words bouncing around in his head. "It was almost seemed like that kid was trying to fly off the roof of the cathedral." He pondered this information carefully, rubbing at his temples, and suddenly everything snapped into place. Luminous verdant eyes sparked with hope, suddenly. Could he be…?

Trowa stared vigilantly at the pale, blonde-haired creature on the operating table, watched as the doctors stabilized all of his vitals after intubating him, and as the people slowly began to filter out of the room, the EMT made his way inside, approaching the table cautiously. It was definitely a risky thing to try, but if it worked…

The brunette stood at the boy’s side, hands clutching the cold steel of the table, and he closed his eyes and concentrated. Forcing his conscious being upward and outward, he searched the surrounding area for another connection, for anything else that resembled his own abilities, and he touched on something that shocked him into opening his eyes with a soft gasp of surprise. He had suspected it, but the confirmation was still incredible.

This boy was not ‘just another jumper,’ as Duo had so eloquently put it; he had some kind of telepathic ability, which meant that… Trowa smiled slightly, for the first time in a long while, and he reached forward a tentative hand, brushing sweat-soaked, auburn-blonde bangs from the youth’s face. You’re just like me. And Duo, he sighed inwardly. You have the curse, as well.

The young EMT pulled a chair up to the boy’s side, intent on waiting for him to awaken. If he had been correct in his assumptions—and he tended to be right about these kinds of things—then this suicidal young man had a hell of a lot more in common with he and Duo than either of them had initially thought.

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TBC.