Title: Shadows of Night
Part: 1/?
Author: focsfyr
Pairing: 2x5
Warnings: yaoi, blood, strangeness, bit of swearing. If you don't like it, don't read it.
Disclaimer: I don't own them and have no money. No copyright infringements are intended.
Archive: my site others please ask
C&C: would be very much appreciated. And yes, that means criticism as well as comments.

Thanks to missa, Amida, Scheherazade, Mevima and Switch for beta-ing.

::thoughts::

SHADOWS OF NIGHT

A weary body tensed as the crash of the closing door shattered the night. Wufei held his breath in anticipation of the other pilots' arrival -- and sighed in relief at the silence that followed.

It seemed he was alone in the safe house tonight, for that he was grateful. No matter how well meaning, he didn't feel up to dealing with Quatre's concerned questions, worried eyes and sympathetic words. The blond fussed over everyone under the best of circumstances, his empathy urging him to try to protect and shelter, even those who had no need of his protection. And while his concern for their well being was touching in a time when caring was rarely admitted and comfort seldom given, it often drove Wufei frantic with the need to get away from the attention.

The same went for Trowa's silence, Heero's criticism and Duo's tireless energy.

Of all the pilots, Wufei felt the closest to Trowa. Trowa respected his privacy in a way that none of the others would, acknowledging his need for silence but lending the comfort of his presence and an unspoken invitation to speak his thoughts, promising without words that yes, he would listen and would not judge.

Trowa was the closest thing to a friend that Wufei had, and it was a friendship that he treasured.

Had anyone bothered to ask which of the pilots beside Trowa he felt most comfortable with, they would have died of shock to hear him speak the name "Duo," but in all honesty, it was true. Caring as Quatre was, Wufei could only take so much sweetness and concern before he found himself itching to chase the blond out of the room and finally have some peace.

And Heero...he didn't even want to think about Heero. The pilot of Wing Zero had absolutely no concept of privacy, having decided early on that it was something that could be sacrificed for the 'good of the mission.' He had a habit of entering without knocking that, while small -- even trivial -- drove Wufei up the wall. And where Trowa's silence was comforting and comfortable, Heero's was anything but. He could almost feel those ice-cold eyes boring holes in the back of his head now!

And his attitude!

Though he hated doing so, Wufei knew his own faults and freely admitted to being a total perfectionist and occasionally, an utter snob. But he didn't radiate criticism with every breath he took...at least, he hoped he didn't.

Besides his patented Death Glare ≥, the Japanese boy had an incredible talent for making anyone and everyone feel like a bug beneath a microscope whenever he questioned them. And he did question them...about every mission that didn't go perfectly according to plan...about each little fuck-up and unfavorable incident. He criticized every move they made, even those that ended up all right in the end, and in general made every one of them acutely aware of their faults and worthlessness.

The Chinese pilot may not like Duo's constant chatter and habit of hiding behind laughter and fake smiles, but at least Duo knew when enough was enough. He knew when to stop poking and prodding at sensitive issues and when a little more pushing was just what was needed.

Heero knew too.

There were certain things one just did not talk about with each of them, but either Heero's people skills were so underdeveloped that he couldn't read the warning signs, or he just didn't care.

Personally, Wufei was betting on the second.

But he wasn't going to have to deal with any of that tonight because the other pilots were apparently out on missions of their own, leaving Wufei to himself.

Instead of having to explain himself, he was free to do as he wished and wash up, go upstairs and fall into bed. He could hardly hear a thing over the ringing in his ears and he felt -- and probably looked -- like he had been dragged face down through hell.

He had every right to after the mess he'd just weaseled his way out of.

It had started out as a simple mission: get inside the base, find a hiding spot, dig in, hack a few programs, plant a few bombs, set the timers, and run.

An easy plan.

A simple plan.

A plan that had been shot to hell only three days later when some idiot guard decided his hiding spot looked like a great place to hole up and get high. Wufei, reflexes dulled by lack of sleep, still managed to kill the intoxicated man before he could draw his gun -- but not before he could press the button that sounded the alarm.

Once the alarms had gone off, soldiers had come boiling out of doors like wasps from a disturbed nest, each one buzzing angrily and with a taste for blood. The death of a gundam pilot was worth a significant raise, the capture -- a promotion and choice of station. And that wasn't even mentioning the pure hero-worship and admiration.

It had taken him the better part of two hours to maneuver his way from the depths of the flood-lit base without being caught, and even longer to work his way past perimeter guards whose fingers just itching for a target to shoot at.

Several of them hadn't even waited for a target. The knowledge that there was an intruder on base, probably one of the notorious gundam pilots, had the soldiers shooting at shadows. A fact that had him balanced on the edge of a knife blade, knowing that if he got hit by a random shot or was seen, he would have no hope of escaping with his life.

That no one had accidentally shot him was amazing. That he had escaped with nothing worse than an injured leg was nothing less than a miracle. He was just lucky that the fall in OZ's mobile suit repair hanger hadn't broken it. He'd thought he was dead for sure when the bullet frayed cables that held the catwalk gave way beneath his weight and he plummeted twenty feet to the floor below.

The cloth of his pants clung to his calf as he limped his way to the bathroom, each step accompanied by a sickening, sticky 'squish.'

His right boot was full, nearly to the ankle with blood. It had that horribly uncomfortable feeling you get when you step in a rain puddle and can feel the water sloshing between your toes. But instead of slowly drying as each step squeezed more liquid out of his shoe, he could feel the level slowly rising, fed by the slight trickle of blood still flowing down his leg.

At least he hadn't worn his usual outfit. Blood was hell to get out of white.

Instead, he had dug through Duo's laundry and snitched a pair of his pants so he'd able to hide in the shadows more easily.

He would have to thank Duo. Stealing his pants may well have saved his worthless life.

Fighting off the wave of dizzying vertigo that momentarily stole away his vision, Wufei stumbled into the bathroom. He leaned against the tiled wall and gingerly sat on the edge of the bathtub/shower before drawing a small knife and cutting away the cloth of his pants leg to bare the wound on his calf. The gash was deeper than he had initially thought, the pain dulled to a fuzzy ache as his body's natural painkillers kicked in. Beneath the crimson smeared across his calf, the skin was slowly darkening to an ugly mottle of blue, red and purple.

Tentative fingers probed at the injury, searching for any possible fractures that he had missed. Finding none, he wet a cloth beneath the faucet.

His wince as the warm water came into contact with his lacerated flesh tugged painfully at his split lip and brought to his attention all the other injuries, more minor than the one staining the water red.

The shoulders that were knotted from tension, the throat that was sore from breathing dry, dusty air. The bruised ribs, aching head, the dozens of scrapes stinging his skin...

He felt like hell.

A quick glance in the mirror proved that he looked it too. The shallow scrape on his cheek was raw and red, making it look like someone had attacked him with sandpaper. It would continue to have that raw look for days until it really scabbed over...then it would just look painful.

Removing his shirt reminded his shoulders about how much strain they had been under in the last few hours and they screamed in protest at being forced to move. The lack of concealing cloth revealed dark bruising where a falling crate had connected with his ribs and several smaller cuts and bruises scattered across his skin. Including an arc of small bruises on his shoulder that made it look as if someone had tried to hook their fingers into the hollow of his collarbone and yanked.

Days spent concealed without the luxury of bathing water had left him feeling filthy, the buildup of grime highly offending his fastidious nature. He could feel his skin crawl at the blood, sweat and dirt that had accumulated, and he didn't even want to think about his greasy hair. It felt like it was going to start growing something nasty at any moment. And the dark smudges beneath his eyes caused by several sleepless nights certainly didn't do anything to improve the overall effect.

All that piled on top of someone that wasn't particularly attractive in the first place...his reflection wrinkled its nose in disgust before looking away and turning on the shower.

::Well, I'm not going to worry about that now.:: It was too late and he was tired. Maybe tomorrow, once he was clean, rested and medicated he would worry about it, but not now. Right now he didn't have energy to waste on caring. There wasn't really anything he could do for the aches and pains, but the gritty feel of someone that hasn't bathed in days could be easily remedied.

Too dizzy from blood loss to wait for the water to reach a tolerable temperature, he stood and stepped into the chill spray, watching in dazed fascination as the water once again ran red.

The slamming of the door woke Duo from a light slumber more suitable for someone camped out on the front lines than someone dozing comfortably in a supposedly secure house.

Acting on instinct, he remained perfectly still, listening intently as whoever had entered the safe house paused, then slowly made their way down the hall. Slipping from the sheets without even making the springs creak, Duo picked up his gun and made his way downstairs, mapping the intruders progress by the sound of his (her?) soft, limping footsteps.

A familiar scent tickled at his nose as he reached the bottom of the steps. Blood. He could taste it on the air along with something else...herbs? No, something sweeter. Peaches -- like the shampoo sitting in the shower, waiting for a certain onyx-eyed boy to return...

Duo snorted softly in disgust for not thinking of that possibility before. But wasn't it too early for Wufei's mission to be over? He wasn't due back for...in the bathroom, the shower turned on full blast...blood, early return -- shit!

Lowering his gun, Duo rushed to the bathroom. He cursed softly as he bashed his shin against the edge of the doorframe in his haste. Then his jaw dropped as he was treated to the rare sight of one very modest gundam pilot stripped to the waist and sopping wet, loose hair falling into his downcast eyes and wet pants clinging to every inch of his gorgeous rear and strong, limber legs. And he hid all that behind such loose clothing...how dare he?

But despite the overwhelming urge to linger in the doorway and indulge in some strategic Wufei watching, the lack of response and the bruises scattered across the smaller boy's body sent a shiver of fear through him. It wasn't like the Chinese pilot to let anything slip by his attention. He was supposed to be the observant one. For Duo's presence to go unnoticed, even if he had been using his natural stealth -- which he hadn't -- was not normal.

Each successive step brought him closer to the oblivious boy, his worry growing as Wufei continued to ignore him.

He laid one hand upon Wufei's shoulder. "Wufei? Are you okay?"

The dark haired boy leaped away from Duo's touch, his startled yelp turning into one of fear as his feet slid upon the water slick floor. Duo caught him inches from his head meeting with the wall and wrapped him protectively in his arms.

After a moment of panic Wufei regained his balance, heart pounding in response to the near disaster. Duo did not release him, even when he felt Wufei tense in discomfort. His skin was much too cold. Duo held him close, pressing the shorter boy close to his body. ::It's just until he warms up.:: he thought to himself, conveniently ignoring the warmth of the other boys blush against his shoulder. ::Nothing more.::

"Umm...Duo?"

"It's nothing personal Wu. It's just that you're hurt and you're way too cold. If you don't warm up soon you'll get hypothermic and go into shock, and the best way to prevent that is to share body heat." It all sounded so reasonable when he said it out loud.

Too bad he didn't believe a word of it. But it was enough for Wufei and at the moment, that was what counted.

Duo shivered slightly as the heat leeched out of his body and cold water slowly dampened his pajama pants where his thighs were pressed to the other boy's. And Wufei was still shivering.

He pulled away abruptly, stripped off Wufei's pants -- storing the fact that they were his away for future note -- and sat the blushing boy down on the edge of the bathtub. Duo sank to his knees on the wet floor and rested his hands on Wufei's knee.

The Chinese boy froze. "Duo, what are you doing?" he demanded, eyes more startled than outraged.

"Your pants are soaked. Standing around in wet clothes isn't gonna do anything to help you warm up." ::Besides, I may never have the chance to see you sans pants ever again.::

Wufei's breath caught as thief's hands slowly slid down the his calf, deliberately caressing every inch of firmly muscled flesh as they drifted down to tug at the knots in his boot lace and slide it off his foot.

Holding Wufei's gaze captive with his own, Duo moved his hands to the other leg and repeated the process, taking note of cheeks flushed with desire and the rapid breaths, of the tongue slipping out to wet sensuous lips.

The sight was too tempting. Duo surged upward, devouring those full lips with his own, claiming every corner of his mouth with his tongue as his hands did the same with his body...

"Duo?"

The braided boy jerked away as if burned when he became aware of the wide brown eyes staring inches from his own.

"What?" Though he didn't intend to, he saw Wufei flinch slightly at the hostility in his voice as he struggled to reconcile passionate kisses and heated caresses with the worried look in Wufei's eyes.

"You're eyes went unfocused and you wouldn't respond when I called you. It's like you were in another place entirely. Are you all right? You don't feel feverish..."

"I should be asking you that," Duo growled, eyes fixed upon his hands as they jerked at the laces of Wufei's boots. "You're the one standing wounded in a shower trying to give yourself hypothermia. And you didn't even notice when I walked into the room! That's totally fucked up! And they say you're the observant one..." he allowed his voice to ramble on, skipping along tangent after tangent and trying to conceal how shaken he really was.

He knew he was being too rough as he jerked the boot off Wufei's chilled foot, but was too wrapped up in what had just happened to care.

What was that? A hallucination? No way, it had only taken a moment or two in real time, not the minutes he had envisioned. A dream? Even in his most vivid dreams there were limits, he couldn't feel the things he touched, not really. He shouldn't have been able to feel the softness of the skin beneath his fingertips, let alone the chill.

So then what? From Wufei's reaction, it couldn't possibly have happened...but from the warmth tingling against his skin, the lingering sweetness on his lips, it couldn't have not.

A hiss of pain drew him from his musings and looked down as he felt a wet warmth trickle across the back of his hand. He had accidentally brushed against the gash on the other boy's leg, breaking the tender scab and sending a ribbon of crimson twisting down his leg.

"Shit!" He lunged for the medicine cabinet and snatched up a bottle of disinfectant and a roll of bandages. Tugging a towel from the rack, he carefully wiped away what blood he could before soaking a corner in disinfectant and pressed it to the wound, not allowing time for protest.

Though he occupied his hands with the cleaning and bandaging of his friend's ::obsession's:: leg, his mind was somewhere else entirely.

For a brief moment, the line between reality and fantasy had become disturbingly vague, and he wasn't quite sure he had answers to the questions posed. ::Where do dreams end and reality start?:: he wondered. Or worse ::How far does it go before dreams become reality?::

He felt like he was losing his mind.

On to part 2