Disclaimer and Acknowledgements: I don't own Gundam Wing, it is (I believe) the property of Bandi Sunrise and Tokyopop, and probably many others who are not me. No money was harmed or changed hands during the making of this fic. Soundtrack is Nothing at All by Air Supply. This came about due to a symbiosis of song and picture, and is therefore dedicated to haraamis for the stunning drawing of Wufei and Quatre. Wufei POV.
There it is again. That ear-splitting klaxon our captors sound at random times to prevent us from getting restful sleep. That's their plan anyway, although it's futile since Quatre and I are both adept at showing defiance. After only two days, he's learned how to fall back into a deep slumber seconds after the sound. Me? I keep careful track of the time between the blasts to work out a pattern. I think about things. I watch Quatre sleep.
Is it pride to say I'm more than competent at many things? Rather it would be false humility to pretend I'm not. I was a leader of my clan, and we prospered. I have wiped out entire divisions of Leos, and mobile dolls, and out-thought OZ commanders. I've become a master of every martial art I've studied. I wrote dissertations that had professors seeking my opinions.
And sometimes Quatre, sometimes I think I've become competent at you, too. When the nightmare of reality invades the sanctuary of your dreams, I can hold you so the night slides by easily. I know when you need to take your fears and frustrations out on my body, and I know that other times when you give me that warm, languid look the night will be wrapped in pleasure.
And at other times...ow. Right. I forgot for a minute that rib was broken. I'll have to remember not to do that again.
There was a time when I thought that strength was power. If you could overwhelm your opponent you were right, but if you lost you became stronger until you could win, proving your worth. I was so young when I thought there was only one kind of strength in the world.
I'll never be strong in the way you are, Quatre. I'm too tired for self- delusion, so I might as well admit it. I'm probably smarter than you are, but you're more clever. You agonize over having to be ruthless, but you never hesitate when the time comes. And you're strong enough to love. You take this mutual reassurance we have and somehow transform it to love.
I can fight heaven and hell and all who stand in my way, but I can't fight you. We can be apart for months and it doesn't matter, I can still feel you. I'd be lost without you. Yet every time I try to tell you, I don't. You'll need something from me, or I'll need something from you, and we'll fall back into the same dance of knowledge and control we've become comfortable with.
Three thousand, five hundred thirty eight... three thousand, five hundred thirty nine... there. Man that's loud. Right on time. Stupid fools. Don't they realize any regular occurrence can be predicted and overcome? Now I'll be able to sleep four hours, and when the guard checks our cell we'll be ready.
Good night, Quatre. Sweet dreams.