Never Lose Hope

Author's Note: There is no previous story to this short one. It is a mere drabble written one afternoon.

Deja stared at him, lying on her stomach, one arm pinned beneath her body. She was shaking, trying to keep the heat that fled with her blood from her body inside. She could not feel any pain in the places she knew were supposed to be hurting, just in her side. It was strange that it was the only place that hurt and yet, with her hand pinned beneath it, she could feel no wound.

Dark blue eyes stared at the dark haired man lying across from her, well within arm’s reach. He was on his back, one arm strung across his bloodied chest and the other draped on the back of her thigh and knee. Short, spiky black locks gingerly lay against her leg. His arm blocked his face from her sight, but she had a feeling he was already gone.

A sad smile forced its way onto her lips, making her stare at the man lying with her in a puddle of their mixed blood. His armor had long since been broken, shattered into pieces that were scattered across the room. His shirt was torn, looking as if it was barely clinging to his form, his pants in the same condition. His staff was somewhere else, having been forced from his hand before.

Unsteadily, she reached to touch him, fingers scantly stroking his side although she did not know why she was thinking the impossible. The scarce touch caused him to twitch, seeming to jerk him into consciousness. Deja paused, simply stopped everything. She could not even feel her heart beating in her chest anymore, and her breathing had ceased as she lay waiting to see if it was not just some after throw.

It was not, however. The dark haired man moved, lifting his arm off the back of her knees a little before relaxing a moment. He tried again a few seconds later, succeeding in placing it on her hand at his side. He rolled his head a bit to look at her, blue eyes as bright as ever.

“Y… you alright…?” he managed to croak out, voice cracking from a dry throat. Deja stared at him, not blinking or breathing.

He moved, lifting his head up once, setting it back down before trying again. A pained groan escaped his lips as he sat up. Something wet rolled down the back of his neck and dripped from his hair. He reached to touch it, feeling the bruise that was already starting to form and the sticky liquid. Bringing his hand around in front of his face, he saw the dark red on his fingertips.

Frowning, he turned his attention back on the young woman next to him. A gentle shake made her grimace and move a little, but not as much as he hoped for. Psymon laid a hand on her upper back, rubbing it lightly while he looked around their surroundings.

“They left…” His voice was soft, nearly a whisper. “Looks like we could get out the way we came in… but… How strong are you feeling?”

“I feel dead…” Deja replied as she tried to push herself up onto her elbows and knees. She did not succeed, but instead, collapsed back onto the floor. “Nothing hurts except my side… Can’t feel anything else…”

Psymon frowned harder, eyes softening into a sad realization. He could see the wounds that she could not feel, and they did not look as promising as she said she said she felt they were. A shard of his silver armor was sticking out of her back; he assumed from between her ribs. And there were several other wounds that did not look like they were going to stop leaking lifeblood any time soon.

“Hold on,” he said tenderly, leaning over her form. He pulled the shard from its resting place and tossed it aside. She sucked in a deep breath, fingers clenching in the dust.

“Now it hurts,” she grit out from clamped teeth. The man gave the spot a rub before he helped her sit up. It was about the time they had positioned themselves to use each other’s body for support that they noticed the multitude of wounds and bruises.

They sat in silence, squirming in little increments in order to make things stop hurting so much. Deja closed her eyes. She felt so tired; she just wanted sleep, if only for a few moments. She relaxed, allowing her head to drop onto Psymon’s shoulder. The pain ebbed away quickly, but he shifted and woke her from her reverie.

“Don’t fall asleep, Deja.” he murmured softly. “You might never wake up.”

“I’m tired.”

“So am I… But someone is bound to come looking for us soon…” The hopefulness in his voice made the young woman’s jaw tremble with the realization that he was only trying to comfort the both of them. Even though deep inside, they knew the possibilities of someone coming to find them.

“Psymon…” Deja breathed. “I love ya. You‘ve been my best… best friend through everything, and…it‘s been a fun run.”

“Are you giving up on me?” he queried, glancing over his shoulder at her. She tipped her head back onto him, closing her dark blue eyes.

“No… I don’t think…” came her whispered reply. “Hard to tell…” Her eyes closed again.

The two remained in silence for quite some time after her words. Deja rested as much as she would allow herself, even though sleep was so much more inviting. Psymon twisted the ring on his finger, thinking of his fiancé.

“So we failed… for once.” His voice was soft, but still sufficient to make her eyes open. She knew what he was thinking, and though she had nothing to show, she too wondered about her love. He was in all likelihood waiting at her apartment by now. He would not worry much, at least not until later when she never came home.

Regretfully, she let the words slip from her lips. “Yea… we failed,” she paused. “For the last time.”

Pysmon sighed heavily. She felt him move, groaned as the pain in her back sparked to remind her it was still there. And then his hand was weakly grasping her fingertips.

“It’s been a fun run…”

“Not giving up on me, are you?” She smirked, hearing him do the same.

“Afraid so. I’m just an old man… compared to you. Ila will understand.” He replied.

“No she won’t… Neither will Tenma…” Deja ground her teeth. Why had she mentioned him?

Her partner said nothing for a long moment. Then, “he’d do anything for you, you know that right?”

“I know…Are you trying to say something?”

He chuckled, tipping his head back on hers and squeezing what he had of her fingers. “Yes… I guess it’s my way of saying my approval.”

“So now you slap a stamp of approval on him? Thanks, Psymon. Might not get to enjoy that approval now.” She grinned even though he could not see it. The grin disappeared when her toes went numb.

“No problem. Live to make your life hell,” came his retort.

Her hesitation made him try to look at her over his shoulder. “Then you’d better live to make it that way ‘til the end, hadn’t you?”

Noises came from the top of the stairwell, attracting the Pysmon and Deja’s attention. Several pairs of feet shuffled about, seeming to be in a hurry. Rushed, harsh words came down in snatches, nothing they could piece together to understand what was going on.

“How long you think you can last on your feet?” Pysmon asked quietly.

“Depends on what I see first. One of them, I’d say five minutes or until they knock me flat on my butt.” She was already using him as a support, getting to her feet. Her knees were mush, calves and thighs straining to hold her up as the entirety of her feet numbed.

Psymon stood on one foot, babying the other by holding it about an inch off the floor. One hand grasped Deja’s shoulder firmly. He called his staff to him from where ever it had been. She assumed he must have seen it somewhere nearby at about the same time as her daggers appeared in her hands.

He leaned on the staff, trying to look natural though anyone who got one good look at the two would immediately know a feather could knock them flat.

“Psymon? This a good time to tell you I can’t feel anything below my ankles including the aforementioned part?” she asked with as much sarcasm as she could muster when her ankles became pinpricked and then nothing.

“I’ll pretend you’re joking.”

“Okay. We both will.” The tips of her fingers began loosing feeling. Her sight fuzzed slightly as well as her hearing. The steps and voices were louder but muffled.

“The steps aren’t that bloody long!” Psymon spat.

Deja glanced at him, not noticing as her grip on the daggers slackened. Her partner seemed about ready to pass out where he leaned on the staff. When the dark blue orbs returned to the stairs, a tunnel circled her vision and dissipated. Then a welcomed sight came before she swore her eyes crossed.

The familiar white-lavender locks and golden eyes, that trench coat and the way he looked her over as more people barreled down the stairs behind him.

“Medics… He brought medics.” Deja swore the man next to her was about to sink to his knees at the sight of friendly people. She smirked, stepping towards Tenma and dropping the weapons she held.

Her vision blacked for a minute, leaving her suddenly wondering when her lover had picked her up. The blonde looked up at him, one hand clenched tightly in the back of his long coat as he cradled her close to him.

“There’s a reason I love you,” were the only words that she managed to mumbled before one of the medics forced her head to the side in order to flash a light in her eyes. Light overcame her sight that somehow led to black.

The darkness still enveloped her, but she could feel everything and hear soft voices talking in the background. A hand was holding hers, she knew, but try as she might, her fingers refused to budge. Her entire body acted as though it were filled with lead. So for the moment, she lay still and allowed her eyes to part and reveal the ceiling to her while she listened to the conversation not too far away.

“… so Jelyn told you?” Psymon’s voice.

“Mm-hm.” The noise reverberated through the side of her head gently; making her realize it was not a pillow she had her head tilted against. “She said she felt bad for leading you two into a trap and gave us every detail about where you two were… after she was persuaded, of course.”

“No m-more… m-morphine…” she managed to murmur, rolling her eyes up to look at the one she lay against. He looked down at her and smiled. His fingers put pressure on hers.

“Nurse!” Tenma called a woman in white into the room. She held a clipboard in the crook of her arm. “She wants the pain killer turned down.”

The woman did not look convinced. Maybe she did not believe Deja had said anything; maybe she thought the blonde was still sleeping. She came to check by shining another light in the dark blue eyes.

Deja jerked her head, turning her face towards her lover’s side and squeezing her eyes closed. One of her knees came up, knocking against his leg as she pulled her body away and tried to escape the nurse. She heard three voices yell at her, but her mind never did register what they were saying or why until she was forced onto her back again, gagging.

She had managed to dislodge the breathing tube shoved up her nose and down her throat at the same time she pulled several wires attached to her chest off. A shrill, mechanical scream followed and Tenma left her. Soon after, others rushed in. Two to held her down. Another, a particular man, attempted to force the tube back into place without success. The original nurse and her friend were frantically reattaching the wires, leaving Deja half exposed.

Somewhere behind the wall of medics she heard Tenma yelling over their fanatic directions to her and each other. Psymon was yelling, too. Her fingers clenched, scratching at the sheets. She felt she could not breathe with the man trying to reinsert the tube.

“Stop!” came Tenma’s voice again, this time louder and with venom. “Take the damn tube out! She’s awake and can breathe for herself just fine at the moment! Get the wires back on, and then get out!”

Deja nearly threw up as they slid the tube from her throat and nose. Instead, she coughed and sputtered. The two who had held her down released her, and the nurses were pulling the sheet over top of her again. Several at a time, they shuffled out of the room, her lover’s golden eyes narrowed, making sure each left.

Her partner lay in his own bed, watching her shudder from the memory of the breathing hose. Absent-mindedly, she remembered none of the nurses turning the morphine down.

Once more, Tenma slid onto the bed next to her. He placed an arm on the pillow above her head so that she could tip her head against his ribs again. She noted he was sitting closer this time and searched for his hand, her digits fumbling across the familiar terrain of his leg and… There was his hand, his fingers playing gently with hers. His other set of fingers combed through her hair.

“No more morphine…” she said more clearly this time. The light haired man chuckled and took his hand from hers, returning it to her shortly after.

Psymon laughed quietly also. “Nice to see how much you care about the rest of the world, Deja,” he joked.

“At least she’s not begging for more,” retorted Tenma, still petting her hair. Her mind was starting to clear. “How’re you feeling?”

Blue eyes rolled up towards him. “How do I look?”

“Like shit.” He grinned.

“Then that’s how I feel.” She smiled slightly in return.

Psymon interjected, “That’s good… Much better than dead.” The three chuckled quietly before he added, “Now, Tenma… why not fill Deja in on everything from your side since she was out for that.”

“Heh… Yea, guess I’d better do that, huh? Well… I was at your place, Dej, waiting for you about a half an hour before you were supposed to show up. Remember that red haired girl who gave you that tip? Jelyn’s her name, if you didn’t already now…” Tenma continued on, telling her everything. And slowly, it all made sense, down to the very last moment when it was only Psymon and she in that basement.

Her partner, having heard the story before, fell asleep and managed to interrupt Tenma with his snoring at one point. Deja instructed the light haired man to just pull the pillow from under his head and place it over the dark haired man’s face. Her lover then slipped back onto her bed without disturbing her wires and the like to tell her the rest.