____________________rhythm emotion, or "the right way" - by adire___

[ Part I ]

“Duo.”

Razor blades. That cold, empty voice always made him think of razor blades poised above the gently throbbing veins of trembling wrists, and the way that those blades danced along the syllables always made him shiver despite its familiarity. “Yes?” he murmured, glancing up from his idle task of unbraiding the long, copper-bronze tangle of his hair.

“I won’t be coming to bed tonight.”

He spoke so calmly, as always, standing at the bedroom window--as quiet and unshakeable as the foundations of the world itself, with his wild, dark hair shading those painful sapphire eyes that Duo could never decipher, his hands-hands that the pilot of Deathscythe knew the strength of only too well-pushed into the pockets of his jeans as he stared distantly out the window, mouth compressed into a tight line.

“What?” Duo felt the slightest twinge, an ache of irrational jealousy that he forced down-using the action of setting the hairbrush clutched tightly in his fingers upon the bed as a symbolic action, releasing his unfounded resentfulness just as he released the cold plastic of the brush’s handle. “Why?”

So calm, so dead; if his mouth did not move, Duo would have thought his impassive lover nothing more than a statue. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters!” Duo felt a sudden urge to shake him, but feared the violence that might result; Heero had never seriously hurt him, not outside of the throes of passion, but that did not mean that he could or would not.

“You’re angry.” Varnished agates slid towards him, and then away, dispassionate, uncaring.

Calm.....remain calm..... Teeth gritted, hands curling into white-knuckled fists at his sides, Deathscythe’s pilot glared fiercely at his unperturbed paramour, struggling to rein in his flashfire temper. “Yes, I’m angry; is it so hard for you to answer a simple goddamned question?!”

“I don’t have to answer your questions, Duo.” It would have been easier if he was angry; anger Duo could deal with, counter, understand-but this utter apathy, this complete and total distance was frustrating.....frustrating, and more painful than Heero could ever know. Or perhaps he knew only too well.....”What is it that you want from me, exactly?”

Something within the American boy snapped-and he shot to his feet, pushing himself violently off of the edge of the bed in a silken whirlwind of flying hair, his wide blue eyes snapping with hints of sapphire flame. “I just want you to display some hint of fucking emotion for once, to at least act like you damned well care!!” Duo’s hand clenched into a tight fist over his aching heart, fingers clutching, clawing at the dark fabric as though he might pierce it, pierce his flesh to puncture that throbbing organ that was the source of so much of his pain. Wide, desperate eyes watched Heero, waited for some hint of reaction, anything....and met with nothing. Those steely blue eyes did not even blink, or even turn away from the window, and the pilot of Wing Zero remained, utterly statuesque and frozen.

“You don’t care….” The sudden hot prickling of tears struck Duo as forcefully as the sharp, agonizing realization, and he flinched away from the unseen blow that it aimed at the last reserves of his strength. “You don’t care, “ he repeated, choked-and then suddenly screamed as anger took the place of tormenting anguish, his clenched fists pummeling wildly at this terrible creature that he dared to think that he loved. “YOU DON’T CARE!!!”

Cruel hands suddenly seized his wrists, stopping the blows before they could even strike, and Duo cried out in pain and wretched grief, the strength born of his anger suddenly ebbing and leaving him as helpless as a puppet in the deadly-dark boy’s grasp. “You belong to me, Duo. Never forget that.” His voice was a soft whisper, and this time the razor blades scraped along Duo’s skin, along his wrists, and he felt himself dying, his veins slit by the cold edges of Heero’s voice-the right way, of course, cuts slashed lengthwise instead of crossways to maximize the blood flow. Of course Heero, the cold, efficient killer Heero, would do it the right way.

“Yes.....” he whispered listlessly, no longer struggling against the hot tears that coursed down his cheeks, redirected by the soft rivulets of unbound hair clinging to his face in silken caresses. Those eyes burned him like cold blue fire as he slowly lifted his gaze to search them, hunting desperately for something, some hint of humanity, forcing himself not to flinch. “You own me through my love, Heero....” Duo whispered, and his voice, when it spilled past his lips, was ragged and bitter. “You own everything of me....but I don’t own a damned thing of you, do I? You come and go as you please....what holds you to me?”

“Convenience, “ came the heart-piercing knife of a reply, stated with the same coolness that colored Heero’s every word, that laced his unblinking, icy gaze. Those eyes....those eyes could destroy worlds, those eyes could murder anything that was ever human....

Why do I love you? Duo sobbed, both within and without, slumping helplessly within the strength of Heero’s grip as he felt himself shatter inside, felt the cutting edge of a knowledge that he had never wanted to believe slicing into him relentlessly. I am the God of Death....and you have killed me....

He cried out in pain as his shoulder suddenly impacted violently with the floor-and simply laid there where Heero had flung him, curling into a tight ball of misery and grief and one hand clutching at his bruised wrist. Sobbing, broken, memories playing upon his tightly closed lids in a tormenting mockery-Heero sleeping, almost at peace and yet somehow still dark and distant....Heero touching Duo’s face, brushing his tousled hair from his eyes when he thought Duo himself to be asleep....And the most painful memories, made all the more agonizing for their sweetness.....memories of Heero poised, tense and straining, above his lover’s body, crying out his name in husky whispers as they twined with each other in a wash of sweat-slicked passion, every touch exchanged lingering sweetly.....

All of that….for Heero’s convenience.

He barely heard the soft sounds of the pilot of Wing Zero’s footsteps receding, low and echoing hollowly upon the hardwood floor and terminated sharply by the harsh slamming of the door. Alone....he was alone in the room, alone always, and always had been-he had only been fooling himself into thinking that Heero might ever care, or that he was human enough to even be capable of it.

I will kill you. Heero’s voice echoed in his mind, speaking words that he was so familiar with, words that had been the death of so many opponents....only this time, they were directed at Duo, and he shivered as he slid down the cruel edges of the bladed words and bled away into mind-numbing, miserable despair.

Yes….Heero would kill him. His own love would kill him, and he would die cold and alone on the blood-pooled floor.

He would die cold and alone....

.....and as a monument to Heero, he would do it the right way.

[ Part II ]

"Wufei."

Ice. A voice at his back startled him, and Wufei jerked away from the deck's railing, torn from his pensive, almost angry staring at the night sky by a strange chill racing down his spine. Crackling black eyes that reflected the sparking glitter of the stars overhead blinked slowly, and he drew himself from his thoughts, lingering for a moment of distant, cold-blooded confusion on the odd feeling scraping over his skin, like tiny particles of snow driven by a light breeze that danced and slid coolly over the syllables of his name.

A presence joined him at his side, before he could turn to face the owner of that shivering voice, acknowledge his presence properly.

It was not the company that he would have chosen, if he were wont to choose any company at all.

But at least he was no longer alone.

Loneliness was a strange feeling to Wufei. Only ten minutes earlier he had watched as first Quatre and Trowa, then Heero and Duo, departed-the first pair arm-in-arm, whispering softly, the second walking slowly with a carefully measured distance separating them.

All too soon, they were gone, leaving Wufei to stand in thoughtful, distant solitude upon the balcony of this parapet, feeling strangely bereft within the closed shell of his honor, which would not let him display even the slightest hint of the odd feeling that plucked at the corners of his mind.

Alone with his thoughts, as always. The odd man out, part of the "team" only when it was necessary. And even then....as another cog in the machine, a faceless soldier in battle--he was the faceless soldier that was never seen, the silent killer that moved stealthily along the edges of the fray, destroying with a ruthless efficiency any who dared to face him and paying his price for the undeserved honor of piloting Nataku. Within his mobile suit, he was a god, one among many, divine and terrible....

.....but without it he was simply a boy, barely a man, but more so than the other Gundam pilots with their trivial concerns and utter lack of focus.

His beliefs held him apart, and he would not sacrifice them for the few fleeting moments of comfort that they found in each other; he was above that.

But it wasn't supposed to ache like this.....

“Isn’t it a bit late for you to still be out?”

That voice of the icy winter wind interrupted Wufei's thoughts once more, somehow imperious and demanding and insulting despite its utter lack of tone, of passion. He frowned, his mouth tightening as he turned his head slowly, propping his chin in his hand and leaning his elbow against the railing once more.

“What are you doing here, Yuy?” he said, careful to keep his voice even and distant, as formally neutral as the dark depths of ebon eyes that slid to fix upon a sharply chiseled profile shadowed by the shock of the pilot's wild, dark hair, features at once delicate and yet as hard and cold as granite....tracing from defined brows to the glazed depths of eyes as empty and soulless as orbs of azure glass, and then beyond to the peak of a slightly, but not disfiguringly crooked nose that melded into lips that would be soft and full were they not always set into a hard line.

Wufei had never actually looked at Heero as Heero before, but rather as the pilot of Wing Zero; it was strange to regard him as a human being, or whatever facsimile of it that he presented, and despite his irritation he found himself watching him surreptitiously, analytically, even as he looked away.

Heero, however, seemed oblivious to Wufei's scrutiny, his unblinking gaze staring at some distant point on the horizon as he spoke with a machine's emotionless tone. “I should think that would be obvious.”

Do you insult my intelligence now, Yuy? Indignation made his frown deepen, made his eyes crackle with spears of onyx flame as he jerked them towards Heero once more, drawing his hand away from his face to curl roughened fingers around the bar of the railing as he straightened fully, proudly, biting off, “Hmph. You are annoying me, that is what is plainly obvious.”

Silence.

Heero did not move, or waver beneath Wufei's sharp glare, but seemed intently focused upon whatever point in the distance held his gaze. He did not perpetuate the silence; he was the silence, and with each passing moment grew stronger, colder, more distant as they remained locked in a tableau of unmoving tension, the air between them somehow vibrating with dire intent and some dark color of unspoken thought.

How dare you mock me.... Wufei's hand curled more tightly around the railing to still the anger-induced trembling of his fingers; brows drawing together into a hard line, jaw locking, he hissed softly, "I am speaking to you, Yuy."

"I know."

"Then do you not think that it would be appropriate to answer?" he snapped, slanted eyes narrowing to dark slits as he studied the infuriating impassiveness of the other's features, wishing secretly that he would react, move, something, anything to give Wufei a reasonable and honorable excuse to satisfy his sudden urge to drive a tightly clenched fist into his jaw.

Those cold blue eyes slid towards him, strangely wild and fierce despite their utter deadness, and Wufei suppressed the dark smile that tugged at his lips as the other regarded him in frigid silence. Oh, no you don't, boy called Heero Yuy. I am not as weak as some others, and will not be cowed by your stare.

Move, damn you.

Wufei jerked back in tense, wary surprise as, as though in reply to his silent demand, Heero's hand suddenly snapped towards him--but was not swift enough to stop those iron fingers from clamping about the wrist of the hand still curled about the parapet's railing. With a low snarl, Wufei jerked back against that relentless grip as the pilot of Wing Zero spoke coolly, his mouth forming around the words as a machine's might, "I did not come here to talk to you."

"Release me this instant, " Wufei snapped around gritted teeth, lean muscles straining fiercely as he fought to break free of Heero's unwavering grip. "Release me, or face a sound beating!"

"Your threats mean nothing to me." Slowly, the dead, empty young man turned to face him fully, his hand remaining locked so firmly that Wufei might well not be struggling at all; his muscles did not even seem to be straining against the effort of maintaining his grip.

"They will mean something, " he hissed, "when I kill you."

Laughter. A single snort of mad, derisive laughter, harsh and stinging. "You can't kill me. Besides, " Heero stated slowly, quietly, his voice suddenly turning as dark as his shadowed, piercing eyes, dark and sinister and throbbing with that same black intent that had shimmered upon the air earlier, that caused his grip to tighten to the point of pain as he suddenly, roughly jerked Wufei closer. "You don't really want to."

The pilot of Shen Long stumbled, his eyes flying wide as the sudden full force of the other pilot's strength came into play, a strength that even he, knowing Heero's capabilities, had never quite been fully aware of. By Nataku... he thought in wonderment, his shock bleeding some of his anger away even as he righted himself.

He found himself standing chest to chest, eye to eye, with Heero Yuy, and his fury returned in an instant as he met those dead, hollow, relentless eyes.

"Who are you to tell me what I do and do not want?" he ground out, using his entire weight to jerk back on Heero's grip and succeeding only in bruising himself. "I will not be treated in such a fashion!"

"I will treat you however I want to, Wufei." Now the voice reminded him of sandpaper, and it scraped hotly at his skin as Heero drew him closer still, inexorably, steel fingers clamped unmovingly. "You know why I came out here, " he whispered, and Wufei felt lips brush his skin, his cheek, at the corner of his mouth from their proximity, like a kiss but bearing as much feeling as a corpse's touch.

Why did you come out here, Yuy? Wufei remained frozen, like a caged beast on the verge of a rampage, muscles tensed and straining--and then he gasped as realization suddenly struck him, coiled tight and shocking in the pit of his stomach and made a quaver of a fear that he would never admit to race down his spine. He cannot....he must not....I must not.....

....but you were so lonely, Wufei....

I was not lonely! I need no one, least of all this pathetic creature! I am above that--I am above him!

Then why do you fear? It is a man's right to fulfill his desires. Do you feel you are not man enough? That you do not deserve that honor, just as you do not deserve to pilot Nataku?

Silence!!!

The inner voice that plagued him, taunted him, vanished--dissolved like choking smoke, and as though it had truly been smoke Wufei found that he could breath again, and he inhaled a shaking, raspy breath that seemed to echo terribly in the laden silence.

Glazed vision focused, and found Heero.

The boy had not moved, and only waited, inscrutable and hard and oddly reminiscent of the sapphires that his eyes resembled--beautiful, but glazed and polished into a cutting edge, hard and cold and untouchable.

"Fool, " Wufei whispered venomously, the hand within Heero's grip clenching into a tight fist as his dark eyes narrowed. "What is the meaning of this madness? Do you think that I will succumb to you as that weakling Duo does?"

"Who said that you had a choice?"

Wufei gasped, and then cried out in outrage, a short, harsh noise of startled animal fury that slipped past his lips as Heeros' wiry body suddenly slammed into his, hard, pushing him back against the parapet railing and nearly bending him backwards over the hard edge as cruel fingers seized his opposite wrist, holding him prisoned, the other's body pressed hard against his. "You have two options, " Heero snarled, so close that, once more, his words were like a savage kiss, as savage as the abrupt shifting of his form, the deliberate dragging of body against body, making cloth rasp against sensitive flesh. Wufei was forced to swallow down, hard, to suppress the low sound that welled in his throat as the pilot of Wing Zero continued, "Surrender, or be taken."

"I will not be taken without being defeated in honorable battle!" he cried, almost desperately, more to remind himself of his convictions than to remind Heero, for in the face of the sudden warmth welling within the pit of his stomach he found himself slipping, falling into terrible weakness, yearning, desire. It had been so long.....

Something within the raven-haired young man suddenly snapped, and this time he did not even try to grit his teeth against the cry that forced its way from his lips as Heero thrust against him viciously, as though to accent his point.

I will not be taken without being defeated in honorable battle...., he thought savagely, as though his anger at himself would justify his thoughts, his actions. But I will be taken. It has been so long since I have faced a worthy opponent....

....but you, Heero Yuy, will have to work for your pleasure.

Wild thoughts, wilder kiss, and he suddenly tilted his head upwards, just the slightest amount required to capture Heero's lips in a burning, brutal kiss as he pushed against his grip as fiercely as he possibly could--with very little effect, and yet he could not deny the feeling of smug satisfaction that arose at the low sound of surprise that bubbled in Heero's throat. So even the impassive Heero Yuy can be startled, he thought archly, crackling black eyes burning with a challenge as they bored into Heero's widened ones before sinking closed as he bit sharply, viciously at his lower lip, as though daring him to match Wufei's ferocity.

Once more Heero seemed to answer his thoughts, straightening sharply and using his grip upon Wufei's wrists to pull him fully upright, their bodies pressed so tightly together that it seemed that one or the other must give--but neither relented an inch as they grappled with each other, Heero's lips parting in wild response to Wufei's bruising kiss, tongue savagely plundering his mouth in a way that made the pilot of Nataku shudder and ache, made him want to take him then and there on the deserted parapet, assert his dominance....

He cried out against that feral press of lips to lips as Heero's thigh suddenly insinuated itself between Wufei's legs and pressed upwards, dragging hard against flesh already beginning to throb and pulse demandingly--and then it was Heero's turn to cry out as Wufei's knee slammed hard into his stomach, knocking the wind from him and sending him stumbling backwards, knocked off balance and yet still refusing to release his relentless grip--which was exactly what Wufei wanted.

You are not in control after all, are you, Heero Yuy? A wild smile, dark and powerful, touched Wufei's lips as he pushed his body into Heero's, taking advantage of his imbalance to take him to the ground, sending him sprawling flat upon his back and covering his body with his own, effectively pinning him.

"Bastard!" Heero snarled, before Wufei effectively silenced him with another cruelly fervent kiss, shifting to lever his body upwards so that he was straddling the boy's hips and using the other's own grip to pin his hands to the simulated cobblestone floor of the parapet. A violent upward thrust nearly lifted Wufei completely, and he moaned in wanton, unrestrained pleasure, exulting in this glorious dominance, even in the pain of fingernails digging into his wrists....

.....and then his world turned upside down as a slim, strong body suddenly contorted beneath him, dragging against him agonizingly even as the other's greater strength sent him tumbling over his head to slam painfully into the stone floor--and then a light, yet solid weight was resting atop him, and he found himself staring up into burning blue eyes as mad and secretly terrifying as the smile that curved lips parted to allow gasping, heavy breaths to pass.

"You wanted a battle, " Heero hissed, a note of dark, deadly elation entering his voice, sending another tremor racing down Wufei's spine, dread and delight that he was too far enmeshed to contest warring for dominance within him. "You got one."

"The fight is not yet over, Yuy, " he replied with a low growl, and he felt his own feral smile curving his lips as he began to toss and writhe beneath the wild-haired pilot, struggling to break free and taking a malicious pleasure in Heero's gasping moans every time that his tautly toned body pressed against denim-shielded flesh.

Speaking of which, those jeans would have to go. And soon....even if he had to rip them apart by the seams.

Vicious teeth found his neck, nibbled and bit, nipped and sucked, and Wufei gasped at the lancing spears of fire that the sensations sent coursing through him. It truly had been too long that he had denied himself a man's pleasures; his senses were awash in a flood of rising desire, drowning in a hot red sea that threatened to melt him into nothing, burn him to ash with every touch of Heero's lips and thrust of his sensually lithe body. He wanted to scream, wanted to whimper, but refused to do either--even as Heero suddenly released his grip upon his wrists, leaving them aching and bruised, only to wind his fingers tightly in his hair, cruelly gripping the bound strands hard enough to jerk them from their tie and using them to drag Wufei roughly to his feet as Heero himself shifted off of him and rolled to his feet with a killer's smooth grace. Yessss....hurt me, you bastard, hurt me....

"Let go!" Nataku's pilot hissed, forcefully restraining the high, gasping moans that threatened to break free, and "Not a chance, " came Heero's grim reply as he used that hold to steer a half-bowed, stumbling Wufei towards the door leading into the main building.

They made it as far as the corridor that held the pilots' rooms before the Dragon counter-attacked.

An elbow drove sharply into the other boy's stomach, and Heero grunted, relinquishing his hold to double over momentarily--just enough time for Wufei to slam his shoulder into the other's body, shoving him forcefully against the door of the blue-eyed pilot's own room....And then Wufei was pressed against him, pinning him there with the hot press of his body as they clung to each other feverishly, fingernails raking and clawing hungrily as they attacked each other in another hungry kiss that felt, to Wufei, like a nuclear explosion, white-hot and barbaric.....and abruptly cut off as Heero's hand found the door's latch and released it, sending the door flying inwards beneath their combined weights and casting the both of them to the floor in a tumbling heap, bodies locked in both an embrace and the wild struggle for dominance before they even struck the dingy carpet.

This would be a long night, and a long battle. Wufei would not concede until he could no longer move; his honor would not allow otherwise, even though his body demanded immediate satisfaction--and he knew that Heero would push himself to the point of near-death and beyond before he would accept defeat, push the both of them into realms of uncharted brutality and desire.

Yes, this would be a long battle--long, and pleasurable.

Take me, Heero Yuy.

Take me, if you dare.

[ Part III ]

"Trowa."

Blinking, Trowa paused in his slow, measured steps, drawing away from his drifting thoughts of the young blonde boy whose room he had just left and lifting his head to focus on the source of the low, impassive voice that somehow always reminded him of the coolness of the evening beneath a starless night.

Rather than Heero, however, it was Wufei who stood before him when he turned--Wufei, who seemed just as startled to see Trowa as Trowa was to see him.

Blink. Blink blink.

Man....he looks like shit. Wufei's unbound hair fell in a messy tangle to frame his face, and dark circles underscored his glazed black eyes; several bruises marred his arms and his chest, bared of the sleeveless navy blue shirt that was clutched within his white-knuckled right hand--and as the pilot of Nataku abruptly averted his gaze and slipped from the open doorway of Heero's room to step past him, Trowa could have sworn that there was a slight limp to his step.

Well, he mused thoughtfully as he watched Wufei's retreating back for a few silent moments before he turned to face the other occupant of Heero's doorway--Heero himself, looking only slightly less the worse for wear in his unbuttoned jeans and equally bruise-marred chest. This is quite an unforseen development.

"What about Duo?" he murmured quietly, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans and regarding Heero coolly--almost amused, but not quite. Perhaps it was not his business, but he did not particularly care; he had nothing to lose in angering Heero. Nothing at all.

"Duo does not own me, " Heero replied coldly, in a voice of biting acid that would have served as a warning to anyone else and only caused the tiniest of humorless smiles to curve Trowa's lips. "I own him."

"If you say so, " Trowa answered softly, almost mockingly, a single brow lofting as he tilted his head to the side, jaded eyes regarding Heero just as impassively as the other stared back at him. "What did you want, Heero?"

Silence pervaded for a moment, and Trowa had the distinct sense that Heero was sizing him up as a potential opponent. Try it, Yuy. We may be allies, but I would like to see you attempt to kill me.

"I made the arrangements for your fresh ammunition." Ah, so it was business; of course. "I trust you have fulfilled your end of the bargain."

"Of course." Trowa shifted slightly, resting his weight more fully upon one leg, and felt a twinge of distant amusement as Heero tensed instinctively in response to that slight movement. "A dozen reloadable--"

"Duo....? DUO!!!"

The sound of Wufei's shout was followed by the resounding crash of a body striking an unyielding surface with great force. Both pilots tensed, jerking their gazes down the hall towards the door of Duo's room just in time to see Wufei fling his entire body against it in an obvious attempt to break it down, only to recoil from the surely-painful impact to attempt it again, setting the door to rattling in its hinges.

What the hell...? Trowa felt a sinking miasma creeping over him as he and Heero exchanged wide-eyed, wary glances--before, nearly on the same stride, the pilots of Wing Zero and Heavyarms pivoted on their heels and bolted down the hallway, their footfalls striking heavily against the floor.

The splintering of wood and squealing of metal heralded their arrival as a powerful kick, capable of snapping a human's neck, crashed into the locked door and sent it tearing from its setting to crash and skid across the floor. Heero and Trowa were barely able to slow their momentum and veer to a stop as Wufei bolted into the room, calling out Duo's name once more--and then dropping to his knees on the floor next to the slender familiarity of a prone form, the wash of red pooling upon the floor staining his white pants like a scarlet sunset.

Muffled, choked sobs, mindless and broken, reached Trowa's ears, and he felt his initial dread bleeding away.

Duo was not dead.

Blood....so much blood, crimson death, fascinating, each slow, trickling drip part of a hypnotic rhythm....but Duo was not dead.

Trowa knew that he should do something, anything, but he could only watch, as frozen as Heero, eyes wide, as Wufei dragged Duo's limp, unresisting form across his lap, brushing his blood-matted hair from his eyes and feeling for his pulse--and it was then that the pilot of Heavyarms noticed the twin wounds slashed like gaping red mouths upon the American boy's wrists.

So. The puzzle pieces finally snapped into place, and Trowa saw the entire picture at last--Duo, Heero, Wufei, and the strange tangle born of this night. You had the courage to do what I have so long been denied....I almost envy you, Duo Maxwell. Jaded eyes slid towards Heero, cold Heero, unshakeable Heero--and found his hands trembling, curled into tight fists, his eyes dark with horror, teeth clenched--details only a perceptive observer would notice. Though I think I would have chosen a better reason to do it.

"What's going on--oh my god!" Quatre's voice at his shoulder startled him, and he turned quickly to face him, the instinct to protect him from this terrible sight as ridiculous as ever, considering that Quatre was often, in his own way, stronger than any of the five of them--ridiculous, but there nonetheless.

Quatre, however, had already pushed past them and was kneeling across from Wufei, his quick hands moving swiftly, efficiently, reaching for one end of the trailing bedsheets and pressing it firmly against one of the gushing wounds to stay its flow. "Hurry!" he cried out, brows drawing together fiercely, and Trowa was struck once more by the strength underlying his sweet-natured partner's soft exterior. "Get help!"

Help...yes, help, the thought that had crossed Trowa's introspective mind before. A doctor, before Duo bled to death; Trowa, in his calm acceptance, often forgot how severe death could truly be to others.

It was still a long moment before he moved, before tensed muscles sprang into motion--and then he was away, jaw locking into a hard line as he pounded down the hall, his voice rising in a harsh call for a doctor without any care for the fact that he may well rouse the entire building.

Duo, he thought blankly, the sharp clattering of his footfalls seeming to provide a dark, rhythmic music for his thoughts as he continued to run, run, as though he were running away from that sight that would forever be frozen in his vision....That terrible, frozen smile upon the other pilot's lips, empty and soulless and lost....the abject despair upon Wufei's face, despair and fear written so clearly upon features normally so closed and distant....the flicker of pain, momentary and so swift that Trowa may well have imagined it, in Heero's dead eyes.....

....and always, always, the blood upon the floor, red as life, red as death, thick and hot and seeming to smell of gunmental even from this far away.

"Help!" he cried as he turned into another corridor leading to the infirmary, ignoring the doors that were slamming open and the questioning cries that followed in his wake, and Help, he cried within, his already-clenched hands curling so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.

Help me....help me find Duo's courage....help me achieve my purpose so that I may die.

Someone...anyone....help me.

[ Part IV ]

"Quatre."

Sometimes he wanted to hate the sound of that voice....like now. Like a sandstorm, it was....a sandstorm in the desert at midday, dryly hot and scouring and painful--and so empty, so emotionless, even now, that it made Quatre sick to hear it.

"Yes, Heero?" he breathed quietly, exhaling a heavy-hearted sigh as he rested his hands upon the cool plastic of the sill beneath the observation window looking in on Duo's ICU room, keeping his back turned to the sound of Heero's voice and every word that fell like a gunshot in the sterile, echoing area. Trowa and Wufei were silent on either side of him, but he could feel the tension in the air, feel it emanating from both of them, and almost unconsciously Quatre leaned closer to Trowa, as though to stay him should he do anything rash.

"I'll be handling all of Duo's missions until he's recovered. Make sure it's known."

Is this your way of accepting guilt, Heero? By taking on his burdens? Quatre wanted to turn to face Heero, to think of something to say to make everything right, but he could not--and he flinched with the sound of every footstep that took Heero towards the exit, struggling with the urge to hide his face in Trowa's shoulder and weep, on the verge of calling the wild-haired pilot back, when....

"Leaving so soon, dishonorable wretch?"

Oh, no. Quatre nearly groaned as Wufei's harsh words echoed over the small area, and he had to struggle not to flinch away from the hand that Trowa laid upon his shoulder as he hung his head. He had seen this confrontation coming a mile away, and couldn't think of a damned way to stop it.

"Wufei, don't--" he started to say, turning to face the Chinese boy at his side--but was silenced by the fierce, murderous stare that Wufei cast upon him....and by the shocking guilt, hot and painful, lingering beneath the glazed sheen of fury in his gaze.

Pale, worried eyes searched for Heero, and found him standing in the doorway, hands clenched into fists at his sides and his wiry shoulders tensed. Silence pervaded his lean form, silence and bleak death, and as he lifted wild, dark eyes to fix their narrowed depths upon Wufei, a quiet snarl peeling his lips back from clenched teeth, Quatre shuddered. Those eyes....those eyes were not human. They were the eyes of an animal, a beast, a killer.....a demon, without remorse or compassion.

Or perhaps....they were only the eyes of a frightened boy hiding behind the strength of his fury.

Eye to narrowed eye, rage to rage, Dragon faced Demon across the room, and the heat of their angry energy crackled in the air between them, holding a helpless Quatre and Trowa bound, motionless, as Wufei's strident accusation burned their ears like the fires of Shen Long itself.

"Well, boy? Have you nothing to say, or will you defend yourself? Murderer!"

Silence, and then a low, venomous hiss, each word laced with daggers of ice. "He's not dead, " Heero snarled, visibly trembling now, as though his straining muscles might burst past his skin to lash in whip-cords at the strong, proud Chinese pilot.

"No thanks to you, " came Shen Long's pilot's derisive reply, and Quatre felt the sinking dread within his core grow, reaching out to swamp him with dismay. "What kind of monster are you, that you'd drive another person to this?" Eyes like black pearls narrowed, burned with fierce contempt. "You have no honor."

"Trowa, we have to stop this, " he whispered, turning wide, desperate eyes upon his suddenly closed and distant lover and reaching out to curl his fingers around the crook of his elbow. "Please...."

"Let it be, Quatre. This isn't our business."

"But Trowa--!" Why wouldn't Trowa interfere? How could Trowa, even isolated Trowa, be so uncaring?

Suddenly it struck him, and he gasped, shifting his shocked gaze first to the silent battle of wills still charging the air with its fiery intensity, and then to Duo, poor Duo, lying unconscious in his bed on the other side of the observation window....before he looked up at Trowa once more, horror and terror coloring his voice as he whispered, "No....Trowa, no....." How could he...after all that they had been through together, after everything that Trowa had taught him, how could he be thinking of it again?

"Let it be, " Trowa repeated once more, coldly, and yet Quatre knew him too well not to notice the slight choking harshness beneath his smooth words even as he jerked his arm away from the blonde boy's grip--and turned his back on him, striding swiftly across the room and pushing his way past an uncaring Heero to disappear out the door.

"Trowa!" Quatre cried out, reaching out as though he might draw him back, but it was too late; he was gone, and he felt his heart breaking like the shattering of fine porcelain.

"What you have done is unforgivable." Wufei's voice suddenly cut across his mind-numbing despair, causing him to lift his gaze to focus it upon the conflicting pair once more to find them standing mere feet away from each other, tensed, fists clenched, braced as though for combat as they snarled at each other like rabid dogs. "Duo cannot exact retribution for your crime, and therefore my honor demands that I must! Defend yourself, miserable creature!"

"STOP IT!!!" Recklessly, Quatre cast himself between them without a care for his own safety, only raising his arms over his head to stay the oncoming strike that Wufei just barely managed to halt before his clenched fist impacted with the pilot of Sandrock's chest. "Please, " Quatre pleaded, staring desperately up into eyes like hard obsidian chips, hoping that Wufei would be more prone to reason than the enigmatic and undecipherable Heero. "Have you all lost your minds?!"

"Back off!!" Twin snarls, malevolent and bestial, sent him staggering with their brutal force, and he recoiled, shrinking into himself and ducking out of the way even before Wufei shoved him aside.

Quatre's sense of helplessness multiplied tenfold as he watched the pair advance slowly upon each other, and he tangled his fingers tightly in the fabric of his blouse to stop himself from tearing out his hair as he began to move slowly towards the door, a low whimper welling in his throat. He had to stop this, had to do something--and suddenly his eye was caught by Duo as the boy turned his head oh-so-slightly, his lips parting in what might have been a moan had he been able to hear through the plexiglass.

Oh, Duo....how can they fight each other when you're injured? A new resolve suddenly blazed through him, resolve and a savage determination to protect Deathscythe's pilot, and he seized Wufei's arm fiercely, glaring up at him with a fire that the young pilot rarely displayed.

"Not here!" he snapped, jaw setting in a hard line. "If you're going to fight, you're not going to do it here!"

Wufei hesitated, faltered, looking down at Quatre blankly before glancing over his shoulder into Duo's room.

Heero chose that moment to strike.

Wufei barely had time to throw Quatre to the side and out of harm's way before Heero's shoulder slammed like a bullet into the other's chest, sending him crashing into the observation window with a painful thud that shook the plexiglass in its settings and tore a strained grunt from the Chinese boy's throat.

"Stop!" Quatre cried, launching himself at them and struggling to pull Heero from his determined throttling of Wufei--and then he cried out as he was thrown to the floor by the force of the brutal kick that connected with Heero's stomach, sending him flying backwards to impact, hard, with the opposite wall.

I have to do something, I have to!! Wincing, Quatre picked himself up--and was nearly bowled over as Wufei rushed past him, strong muscles tensing and exploding to propel him across the room like a shot, a vicious, ferocious snarl contorting his features as he collided with Heero so forcefully that they both fell through the open door, into the hallway, in a tangle of violently thrashing limbs.

"Heero! Wufei!" Sandrock's pilot cried, staggering upright before bolting into the hallway after them--just in time to see Wufei's foot impact with Heero's hip before the pilot of Wing Zero threw his opponent forcefully against the wall with bone-snapping force.

Powerless, Quatre slumped against the doorframe, wringing his hands as he watched them, locked in mortal combat, entwined like lovers, tangled like vicious beasts...and he, on the sidelines, could only watch each tumbling flash of motion, movements almost too swift to follow with the human eye, cruel and sharp and deadly strikes and maneuvers. Turn and twist and thrust....

Stop it...

Punch and kick and the sickening sound of knuckles impacting with flesh...

Stop it stop it stop it....

Low cries, grunts, crunching bone and the two, evenly matched, evenly vicious, faced each other, bloodied and bruised and fists clenched and refusing to relent.

Stopitstopitstopitstopit STOP IT!!!!

Bodies locked once more, and Quatre's fists clenched as he struggled not to scream, struggled to hold still and not interfere as Heero and Wufei strained against each other, breaths huffing hotly in each others' faces as they grappled like competing beasts, hotly furious eyes locked, and then....

"Murderer, " Wufei hissed, and Quatre flinched at the terrible, hateful world. "You don't even care that Duo could be dying right now and it's your fault!"

Dead, empty blankness suddenly wiped the anger from Heero's contorted features--and then, suddenly, a wild, enraged roar burned from his throat, and he flung himself at Wufei with a renewed ferocity that caught the Chinese pilot by surprise, making him stagger and falter--a crucial moment of weakness that Heero took every advantage of, using his weight to bear the other down to the ground and cruel hands grappling for his neck, fully intent on choking the very life from him.

Wufei, however, would not die that easily.

Strong legs bunched as Heero's weight crashed into him, catching the majority of his mass and propelling it upwards even as Wufei's body contorted, and Quatre pressed his knuckles to his mouth in trepidation as Wufei flipped the other pilot over his head, rolling behind him to pin him with his weight, straddling his thighs and palms digging harshly into his shoulders.

"So you do care, " he hissed, bowing over Heero so that his words branded their way into his lips like some twisted mockery of a kiss, his eyes boring almost painfully into the other's. "You are simply too spineless to show it."

Silence ensued, thick and heavy, as Heero stared hatefully up at him, eyes narrowed to mere slits of demonic fury, seething with cold, murderous rage--and then Wufei's involuntary cry shattered the night as he struck the floor painfully, thrown there by Heero's sudden, vicious heave.

Quatre leaped forward with a wordless cry, fully prepared to throw himself between them and risk his own life to stop Heero before he surely killed Wufei--but Heero pushed him aside as though he were nothing, less than an insect.....and stalked past him, his hard, stiff steps echoing like gunshots in the hallway as he disappeared into the darkness like a stalking predator, leaving Quatre and a gasping Wufei alone.

"Heero...." he whispered softly--and then a grunt from Wufei jerked his attention back, and he dropped to his knees next to him, a careful hand pressing against his back to aid him as he sat up slowly, clutching at his side. "Are you okay?"

"Get your hands off of me!" Nataku's pilot hissed, and Quatre jerked back, eyes widening.

"Sorry, " he murmured, folding his hands across his knees, his own helplessness gnawing at him like some vicious, savage animal as he watched Wufei in wide-eyed concern as the other pilot pushed himself slowly to his feet, for a moment staggering at the pain of his injuries before he straightened proudly, throwing his shoulders back and forcing his hand away from his undoubtedly bruised side.

"I'm fine, " Wufei bit off--and then he pivoted sharply on his heel, and was gone as quickly as Heero, stalking swiftly and angrily down the hallway, heading in the opposite direction from the one in which the other had departed.....and now Quatre was truly, desolately alone, kneeling in the center of the deserted hallway with his clenched fists clutched tight to his chest.

Why can't I fix this.... he thought harshly, bowing his head and squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he hunched in on himself. I can't fix anything...anything!

But there was one thing that he could fix, one thing that he had the power to do something about.

One thing that he had to do something about.

He found Trowa out on the parapet where they had spent the evening; his glimmering jade eyes were focused distantly on the Earth sky, staring up at a glowing moon that never looked quite the same from the far-distant Colonies.

"Trowa, " he started to breathe, but before his first soft footfall even disturbed the silence the other's hand rose to stay his words.

"Isn't the moon beautiful tonight?" the taller youth whispered, tilting his head back and tossing it slightly to clear the sharply cut cascade of his chestnut hair from his eyes.

"Yes...." Quatre answered softly, biting his lip for a moment before slow, drifting steps carried him across the parapet's floor to stand at the other's shoulder, his hands folded loosely behind his back. "It is, " he continued, tilting his head back to look up at the round, luminous orb for an instant of introspective thought before shifting his gaze to Trowa once more. He seemed....softer now, somehow; more human, less withdrawn, less absorbed by that silent, subtle determination and desperation.

He was Quatre's Trowa again, rather than that frightening, empty boy without a name who sought only to complete his existence so that he might die.

Quatre's Trowa....and quite alive.

"Trowa, " he whispered....and then fell silent once more as the other turned to face him, liquid eyes of glimmering emerald soft and almost, almost warm as they looked down at him, the tiniest of smiles tugging at one corner of the other pilot's mouth.

"I know, Quatre. I know, " Trowa breathed quietly, and Quatre exhaled a low sigh that seemed to draw his tension and fear with it as the air bled past his lips.

Gentle arms enfolded him, and he sighed, resting his forehead against Trowa's shoulder as he clung to him tightly, closing his eyes and simply languishing in the warm sense of relief washing over him as Trowa pressed his cheek against his hair, soft words and softer breaths stirring pale hair as he whispered quiet words of reassurance, sincere despite their slight reluctance. "Don't worry, Quatre....."

".....I'm not going.....anywhere."

[ Part V ]

"Heero Yuy."

Heero averted his eyes as he spoke into the voicecom monitor just outside of Duo's room, as though the machine could somehow see him, accuse him, mock him for his sins with its cold mechanical voice....a voice so like his own that once, long ago, it might have disturbed him.

I will kill you, he thought, the words coming to him by rote....but this time the truth of them stung more terribly than anything had in so long....perhaps too long.

He had almost killed Duo through his cruelty, as surely as if he had held a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

I am a monster, he thought bleakly as the door slid open and he stepped slowly into Duo's room, every movement pulling at the much-deserved bruises and possibly broken bones that Wufei had inflicted on him only hours before--for the second time. A cruel, inhuman monster...and I have made myself, moreso even than Dr. J.

Peaceful...Duo looked so peaceful, despite his deathly paleness, and Heero thought of the many nights that he had watched him in his slumber, watched the tranquility of his rakishly cast features and every rise and fall of his slumbering breaths as he pondered the other's life, humanity, and the puzzle of his depth of feeling. But on those other nights, Duo had not appeared so fragile, so helpless, small and vulnerable within the cradle of machinery--monitors and wires and tubes leading to IV units creating a nest of life-sustaining technology around his slender form.

Duo.... Slow, drifting steps took him to Duo's bedside, and then he froze, tensing at a sudden ache that made his insides knot with an unfamiliar feeling. What....what is this pain....?

"What's wrong with me?" he whispered softly, staring down at the distant serenity of Duo's slumbering features. "What have you done...?" Rough fingers, clumsy in their attempt at gentleness, lifted to brush the soft waves of the slender, lovely pilot's hair from features that seemed somehow animated even in their relaxed state, and Heero sighed, closing his eyes as he bowed his head, allowing his hand to fall to rest upon Duo's cheek.

"I don't understand....but I'm sorry." he breathed, so quietly, voicing aloud the strange thoughts that plagued him, that he ignored relentlessly, that he had never, ever wanted to admit. "I....exist to fight, and to die....as do you, and yet you make room within yourself to love me....and I don't understand how you can. I'm a monster, Duo....not worth loving....not worth this. You're so warm and alive, and I...." He trailed off, dark eyes slipping open to regard the boy in quiet wonderment, fingertips ghosting over his cheek in the unfamiliarity of a tender caress. "I'm so cold, Duo....so cold, and I....I don't know how to be otherwise. I....never wanted to know, before.....How can you go on, day by day, killing and loving?"

I will not cry. I do not cry. Something hot and terrible stung at his eyes, and he squeezed them shut once more, drawing his palm away from Duo's cheek to press it lightly to the edge of the bed, fingertips just barely brushing at the other boy's limp, bandaged wrist. "I can't match your duality, " he continued, as though Duo could somehow hear him, as though he could open his eyes and find the other smiling at him in that brilliantly disarming way that he had. ".....I can be either a killer, or a lover, and I must be a killer....I don't know how to be both, like you."

His own silence choked him, and his weakness....but he would not allow the cold anger that surged within him to take control, to dominate him as it always did; that was what had caused this in the first place, and nearly took Duo's life. "I don't know how to be like you, " he repeated in a low, tortured voice, shocking himself with the terrible feeling laden in his tone. "But gods, I wish that I did...."

"Heero...."

That low, raspy voice startled him, made his heart leap in surprise almost as much as the sudden, weak shifting of the hand resting next to his own, pale, cool fingers moving feebly to cover his own. His head lifted sharply, eyes flying open, and he stared down at Duo, watching in shock as thick, dark lashes fluttered slowly before lifting oh-so-slightly, revealing glazed slits of jeweled blue that regarded him steadily above the curve of a faint, weak smile. "You....you....." A sudden fit of broken, harsh coughing cut him off, and Heero leaned closer to him in concern, instinctively gripping his hand more tightly as Duo's eyes squeezed tightly shut and he turned away. It was a long, tense moment before the chestnut-haired pilot relaxed, falling limp once more....and then he turned that fragile smile upon Heero once more, his glassy gaze somehow seeming to mock him despite its dullness. "You...jackass...." he forced out, smile widening further. "You expect me....to believe that load of bullshit?"

Heero could only blink at him in surprise as slender fingers tightened about his own--and then the strangeness of a smile touched his lips, forced muscles into an unfamiliar curvature as he breathed out a low sigh of relief. "You're awake, " he said quietly, his mind struggling to think of something coherent to say, trying to force him to deny every word that had spilled past his lips--but he could not, not now, now that Duo had heard every word, and in this moment his pride would not allow him to back down...and so he must face his shame, his humiliation....his terrible honesty.

"You're brilliant, " Duo rasped, his good cheer refusing to desert him even in his weakness, and Heero could not help but spare a moment to wonder at his strength, a strength that differed from his own, or Wufei's, or anyone else's--and then he averted his eyes as Duo's gaze narrowed further, peering at him suspiciously. "And you're a mess."

"You're hardly one to talk, " he answered, squeezing the other's hand gently. "You look like hell, and you're not the one who got the crap kicked out of him by Wufei."

"What the hell...?" Duo's eyes widened, and then he was forced to pause as another painful cough choked his throat before he spoke again, his voice weakening further with every word. "Damn....why did you two get into it? And did you bust his ass, too?"

Heero remained silent for several moments, exhaling a low sigh and keeping his eyes downcast; something within him did not want to tell Duo, did not want to disappoint him by telling him what he and Wufei had done, or remind himself of his own overwhelming guilt. Finally, with a soft sigh, he shrugged, beginning to draw his hand from Duo's--but the other pilot, despite his weakness, would not relinquish his grip, and reluctantly he fell still. "He's not in much better shape, " he murmured, watching him out of the corner of his eye, and was surprised to find that it was not a fact that he was proud of. "We just had a disagreement about something."

"I see...." the other murmured thoughtfully....before he looked away from him, eyes suddenly hooded, his brows drawing together darkly. "Did you.....?"

"No, " Heero replied, more sharply than he intended as his shame crashed down on him once more, making him jerk his eyes away swiftly once more. "Wufei found you."

"Oh..." Duo murmured softly, listlessly, and Heero struggled not to cringe at the quiet pain and disappointed resignation that colored his voice. What was wrong with him...why should he care if Duo hurt, if Duo needed....something from him, something that Heero would never be able to understand?

"Maxwell, I...." he forced out, but was cut off by the surprising strength in the other's voice as he spoke firmly.

"Don't. I heard everything, " he said, and once more the firmness of his grasp surprised Heero as slim fingers tightened further, as that jaunty voice softened into gentle humor. "You don't have to say it again; you might hurt yourself trying anyway, " he continued, and Heero felt strangely comforted in a way that he was unwilling to admit that he even needed.

"Just don't do anything like this again, " he whispered, forcibly ignoring that annoying prickle in the backs of his eyes as he slid his gaze to that face once more, unable to take his eyes away from those smiling features that he had come so close to losing, that he still would not confess to needing.

Duo's smile widened into a rakish grin, and that familiar twinkle of impish mischief in his eyes almost, almost made Heero smile once more, and the urge was suppressed only with the greatest of masterful control. "Or what?"

"Don't push me, Maxwell."

"My name is Duo." Wide eyes stared up at him, compelling and liquid and glimmering with hints of a wild, reckless challenge that laced his faltering voice with both laughter and some dark beckoning. "Say it."

This time Heero could not help but smile, oh-so-slightly, as he bowed over the other's prone form, leaning closer, so much closer, meeting his gaze now unwaveringly and his voice dropping slightly, strangely gentle even to himself. "Say what, Duo Maxwell?" he murmured softly--and then, before Duo had a chance to reply....he kissed him.

Softly, tenderly, he pressed his lips to the other's, his eyes slipping half-closed as he watched Duo's lashes flutter downwards to brush against his pale cheeks, felt him falter at the unfamiliarity of Heero's sweetly soft touch, so different in comparison to his normal wild, passionately ravaging kisses....and then soft lips parted against his own, and Duo melted beneath him as Heero inhaled softly of each of Duo's out-breaths, tasting him slowly, savoring him in a manner that he had never taken the time or care to before and watching as his features smoothed into an expression of sweet, abandoned bliss. Gods, I hate myself.... he thought, the thought hovering darkly in the back of his mind and marring this strange new warmth and wonder that crept over him, overwhelming his senses almost too subtly to notice. But I love you, Duo Maxwell....I love you.

Warm breaths mingled as he drew away oh-so-slightly, his gaze never straying from Duo's face as the beautiful boy's eyes drifted slowly open, liquid and sweet in their warmth as they fixed upon Heero's close-hovering features. "Why do you always kiss me with your eyes open, Heero Yuy?" he whispered, and "I like to watch your face when I kiss you...." Heero breathed into his lips in reply....and then temptation touched him with warm velvet fingers once more, and he twisted his hand to lace his fingers in the other's slightly chilled digits, careful of his wrapped wrist....And then, once more, he kissed him.

He could have died in that kiss, died in the warm, sweet melting of it, in the slow surge of emotion that tried to sweep him away and instead lapped at him like an ocean washing over an unmoving stone--wearing at him relentlessly, and somewhere deep within his core he knew that eventually it would wear his resistance down to nothing....And although that day would not come any time soon, for a moment the immediacy of the knowledge was enough, the immediacy of the knowledge and of the boy lying before him, the boy who forced a trembling hand upwards with what little strength he had to tangle his fingers in Heero's hair.

And for once....Heero submitted.

He submitted to Duo, submitted to the needy desperation of his kiss, lips parting to allow Duo's tongue to quest forth to taste him, rough texture stroking at the inside of his mouth and exploring the warm depths thoroughly, making the first stirrings of a liquidly warm inferno bubble in the pit of his stomach. I love you, Duo, he cried out desperately once more, his mind repeating over and over the words that his pride, his mouth, his murderer's soul would not say--and through the touch of his lips, through that yielding kiss, he communicated that warmth, that newly-realized depth of feeling, and knew the instant that Duo himself realized, knew the sudden joy that flushed through the other through the renewed intensity of that torrentially passionate and yet infinitely tender kiss.

"Well. I'm surprised to see you here."

A taunting, coldly haughty voice at his back startled him, and Heero jerked away sharply, pivoting on a twisted and protesting ankle to fix a dark glare upon the one who dared to interrupt them, agate eyes trailing over the long, lean body that he had desired so fiercely on this very night and that was now propped almost lazily against the doorframe. His pale features were cleansed of the blood that had streaked his fine skin only hours before, his hopelessly mussed hair combed and tied back neatly, severely.

Wufei. Honorable Wufei had witnessed his moment of weakness, with his dark, flashing eyes that even now bored into him--and in a sudden, breathless flash of insight, Heero knew....Wufei understood. Everything--from Heero and Duo's strange relationship, to Heero's pride and relentless devotion to his duties that drove him to this folly, to the something strange that charged the air that Heero could not even put a name to.

He understood....and he envied them.

"Wufei! Hey, man....heard you two had a little scuffle, huh?" Both boys turned to look at Duo as he raised his voice in cheerful salute, and both could only blink at him in nearly identical expressions of bemused startlement as the long-haired pilot fluttered his dark, lush lashes coquettishly. "Ya'll wouldn't've been fightin' over lil' ol' me, would ya?"

"Don't flatter yourself, " Wufei muttered grimly, and yet even the stoic Chinese youth could not disguise the mild humor in his tone as he strode across the room towards them--and for a moment, Heero found himself captivated by the natural fighter's grace that made his every step sway with a dark, hypnotic rhythm, strangely sensual and bringing to mind the sensation of Wufei's body atop him, beneath him, pressed so fiercely against his own....

"Heero...? Yo...Heero!"

Blinking, dazed, Heero shook himself sharply and jerked his gaze towards Duo once more, features settling into practiced impassiveness as he looked down into that wild, rakish smile. "Yeah?"

"Since when do look at Wufei like he's a side of beef, huh?" Duo's eyes narrowed slightly, his smile fading away as he peered up at Heero, and had Wing Zero's pilot not been struggling to hide his sudden guilt and shame he might have noticed the light note of mocking humor underlying his partner's solemn, suspicious tone. "Just what have you two been up to?"

"Nothing, " Wufei interjected sharply, before Heero even had a chance to respond, dark eyes flitting from one to the other before fixing on the ceiling, and Heero barely suppressed a vicious curse. Everyone knew that Wufei couldn't lie with a straight face; it was a wonder that his prized "honor" would allow him to utter falsehood at all, and the blatant untruth of his words seemed to scream in the air around them.

Silence reigned, in which Heero avoided Duo's eyes and Wufei suddenly found the ceiling quite fascinating...and yet, for a single moment, blue eyes found glittering ebon, and Heero and Wufei exchanged a glance of silent understanding....which seemed to be the cue that Duo was waiting for.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing they gave us pretty big beds, huh?"

"What?! If you think I'm doing that again, you're--"

"Duo, it's not like that--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down!" Laughing, Duo tugged his hand free from Heero's still-present grip just long enough to brush his hair from his eyes with slender, shaky fingers before taking his hand in a firm grasp once more as he turned his heart-stopping, undeniably wild smile upon Wufei. "What's the matter, Wufei? We're not good enough for you?"

Wufei only blinked at him, caught completely off-guard and stunned into total silence--and Heero himself could barely comprehend this sudden turn of events, wide eyes watching Duo as though expecting him to suddenly transform into someone else....but then he knew that, somewhere in the back of his mind, he had been expecting this. As well as he knew Duo, even if he could not quite understand his free, rambunctious warmth, he should have known that a heart as open and accepting as the American pilot's would be open to almost any possibilities.

After all, someone who could love Heero....could do anything.

Sapphire eyes met crystalline cerulean, and Heero simply nodded slowly, shortly, making Duo's smile widen with tenderness and approving warmth. He could do this....he was Heero Yuy, the perfect soldier, and if he set his mind to it he could do whatever he wanted to--and nothing would stand in his way. It would be hard....He could barely accept loving Duo, and to open himself to another would be one of the most difficult tasks that he had ever faced.

But Wufei....Wufei might even be able to help him. He understood the Chinese pilot now, understood his distance and coldness for something very similar to what drove Heero himself....determination, and ruthlessness, and perhaps even the slightest hint of a secret fear of a pain that had nothing to do with flesh and blood and bone. It would be different, so different from the way things had been before; he could no longer use Duo, no longer wanted to, and Wufei would not stand for such treatment....but the hardship just might, in some distant time to come, be worth it. This relationship would be a war.....but it was a war that Heero would not lose.

The perfect soldier never lost.

"Chang?" Duo whispered, and as one they turned to face the pilot of Shen Long, watching him in inscrutable silence....and Wufei, flinching beneath the intimacy of such a personal use of his name and suddenly faced by twin stares of determination, took a step backwards, dark eyes flitting from one to the other warily, a sudden shield of careful glass sliding over that faint glimmer of confused longing that had clawed its way to the surface of that distant shell....and then even that melted away as Chang Wufei, pilot of Shen Long and a man of upright, unwavering honor, bowed his head in resigned defeat.

In that instant, Heero was reminded of that moment when Wufei turned to face him on the parapet, remembered that single flash of wildness, of desperation, of deeply human longing and pain that burned in his eyes before it melted away into formal distance....and he wondered how blind and self-centered and uncaring that he, supposedly so observant, truly was that he had not seen that within Wufei before, that well-concealed emptiness deep at his core that existed only where there was a total unwillingness to surrender, that pushed him to speak even now, prompted his reluctant and yet covertly desired acceptance.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Wufei murmured, and Heero could not help but smile once more as the golden chimings of Duo's laughter suddenly brightened the room, interlaced fingers holding even tighter.

"Damn straight you're in trouble, " Duo cried gleefully...and Wufei only groaned, shaking his head as he took another step closer to the bed, tentatively lifting a hand to rest it upon the sheets as he took his newfound place at their side, and the pilot of Wing Zero's gaze shifted slowly from one to the other and back again, watching them both in speculative silence as they remained in a moment of quiet, simple existence.

Heero.....Heero's world had changed inexorably in one night, and yet stayed the same--but one thing would never be the same. He would never, could never be as cruel to Duo as he had been, and no longer even wanted to with the banishing of the fear at his core that had created a murderous barrier between them.

He would continue to pilot his Gundam, continue to function as efficiently and ruthlessly as always--but here, now, he had been given not only a second chance to atone for his sins with Duo, but a third in Wufei--and this time, he would not ruin it. This time, his mission was to discover rather than destroy, to protect rather than kill. This time there was no enemy other than himself....

And this time....he'd do it the right way.

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