Author's Notes: Oh wow, I did the really unthinkable here and mixed POV together. I used to write that way a lot but now I realize it's confusing! This story is definitely about 10 years old. Wow. That really blows me away. 10 years is a decade! I still enjoyed writing this and I stumbled across it again so I thought I'd share.
Nothing is certain
Didn't they tell you?
So take my hand
Together we will
Make our own way
They say love is blind
So close your eyes
Together we will
Find our own way
Holding you is
Like grasping the wind
So I bend and go with you
Following down the path
You must take
I think mine is
Here somewhere too
Remember, together we will
Make our own way
Stumbling in through the front door, he closed it behind him with a quiet snap, gratefully dropping the bag weighing down his side onto the floor. The room was dark, save for the faint silvery light snaking its way past the slit in the curtains. Heavy silence pressed in on him from every side. While this ordinarily would have bothered him, would have prompted him to make some sort of noise, even if it was as inane as whistling, tonight he needed it. Tonight he craved the blessed absence of sound and clutched it to him the way a mother might her child to her breast.
A weariness weighed his shoulders down, left his eyes a somber, empty study, in a face absent of all expression. Fatigue pulled at him, settled into his bones clean to the marrow, so that it became as much a part of him as the blood coursing through his veins. It was an effort to move from the spot he stood in now, an effort to even want to go on. Because it seemed, no matter how hard he fought, how much he wanted to believe, nothing changed. Things were rushing past him at an alarming rate, and he was still pushing against that one rock.
Sighing, Duo Maxwell absently coiled the end of his braid around his hand and stepped over his bag, continuing on into the kitchen. Had any of the others seen him now, they would have been shocked to know he wasn't hungry. Far from it. It was hard to think of food when your stomach was twisting in vicious knots, screams still echoed in your ears, and blood still stained your vision. Some dreamed, some faced their monsters in the darkness, where their minds contorted reality into fiction. Duo faced his in the light, walked with them, living a never-ending nightmare.
Pausing to flip a light on, he trudged over to the fridge and bent over, examining the contents. What he wanted, what he craved was something to help him forget. But since he wouldn't tolerate that loss of control, he settled for a bottled water instead, liking the cool burn of it as it slid down his throat and exploded into his queasy stomach. If the fates were kind, he wouldn't lose it in the kitchen sink a short time later.
Why it was all effecting him this much now, he couldn't say. It just happened, while he was sitting there in Deathscythe, his hands curled so tightly around the controls he thought it was going to take a crowbar to pry them off. The trembling had started in his hands, spread to his entire body, and tore through him with a relentlessness that he had been helpless to staunch. It was as if he had been standing outside his body, watching while someone else took the reigns. Sweat had rolled along his skin in waves, left him feeling clammy and feverish.
"A nervous fucking breakdown. Who would have thought..." he muttered, throwing himself into a kitchen chair while he attempted to frown the finish from the table.
He shouldn't have been surprised. How long did he think he could go around killing without it having any effect? Reasons weren't good enough. They were a convenient excuse, and somewhere inside he wasn't buying it. Or maybe he had just had enough. Maybe he was sick of taking lives in the name of peace, justifying it because in the end, it was going to lead to something bigger. Well he had been fighting damn near a year now, and he had yet to see this wonderful ending. Things were certainly going to shit, however. He had seen much fall apart, that was for sure.
"My, aren't we cheerful tonight?" He voiced sourly, staring at his distorted reflection in the plastic bottle.
Tearing his gaze away, he glanced around the kitchen, needing a distraction. It was beyond neat. Every appliance, from the toaster to the can opener had its own little niche, tucked away in a handy corner. The walls were a warm yellow, a sunny color that was supposed to suck you into its cheerfulness. Ordinarily, it might have. Right now, he just found that happiness annoying in the face of his own bitterness. And the irritation skittering across his skin made him want to rip the neatly pinned papers from the fridge, or at least knock them out of alignment. Damn Wufei and his precision.
Damn Quatre and the cloying smell of bread invading his senses. The boy loved making the stuff. It probably calmed his nerves. If he could cook, Duo might have taken advantage of that. Right now, he just wanted to grind the loaf into dust. And he wanted to take that dust and dump it over the plants crowding around the kitchen sink. Trowa's plants. Damn him for having a Green Thumb. The stupid things were just as friendly looking as the walls, and Duo wanted to rip each and every leaf from them until they were as bare as he felt inside.
Damn Heero just because. The kitchen was the only place left untouched by him. It was just where he ate, nothing more. Or no, was that a box of bullets he saw tucked away in one of the many corners? It would have been satisfying to dump the entire box down the garbage disposal and listen to the grind of metal as it met up with the unrelenting jaws of steel.
But he did none of these things. He sat instead, calmly drinking his water while only his eyes reflected the emotions tearing him up inside. He wanted to run from them, wanted to tuck them away and forget. Each required too much energy, however, and he was simply too tired to fight them all away tonight. Maybe tomorrow. After he rested, the smile would be back, the easy joking, and the carefree attitude. He would make the sun ashamed to call itself king while it sat high in the sky, and annoy everyone with his unrelenting gaiety. Tomorrow.
* * * *
With a short sigh of impatience, he pulled the sheets aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The lamp next to him glowed softly, illuminating the displeased curve of his lips and the dark snap of temper in his eyes. He set aside the book he had been reading, took the glasses from his face, and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, cursing the headache residing there. It was what pushed him from the comfort of his bed, dragged him from the world of the words he had immersed himself in. It could no longer be ignored, and demanded that he at least find an aspirin or two.
It was a combination of tension and thought. Some of it had moved its way into his shoulders and the back of his neck, making it difficult to even get comfortable while propped up against the pillows. Because he was disciplined, he tried to ignore it. But its insistence seemed to be stronger than his will, for he found the words on the page he was reading wavering more than once, pulling him away and sending his room into focus. His room, with its bare, colorless walls. Well, perhaps not colorless, but to Wufei, white was not a color. It was the absence of all color. And it suited him with its starkness.
There was something that ate at him tonight. A feeling he rarely liked to, or allowed himself to address. It was the knowledge that though he lived here with the others, he did not feel connected to them, or a part of what they were. He felt separate, as if he were waging his own war. Which was as it should be. After all, he wanted to do things on his own. But loneliness tugged at him tonight, mocked him, proved that he was weak. He thought he was above the foolish need for human contact. It was supposed to seem less important in the midst of what they were fighting for. Or yet, was it?
Out of habit, he snatched a rubber band from the dresser as he passed and pulled his hair back, securing it. He wore nothing but pajama bottoms, and though there was not likely to be anyone up at this hour, he still shrugged into a shirt, not bothering to button it up.
Aside from Duo, who to his knowledge, was still on a mission, the others slept soundly. Or perhaps not, he reflected, as his feet carried him into the hall and his ears filled with the rhythmic clacking of a keyboard. Heero, apparently, could no more find sleep than he could. And Chang Wufei wondered if their reasons were the same, if the imprint of countless battles crowded his mind, threatening to push out his thoughts with their dominance.
Padding down the hall on silent feet, he made his way cautiously down the stairs, somewhat surprised to see light flooding from the kitchen. Instinct told him to ignore it, to rifle in the downstairs bathroom cabinet for something to treat his headache and then return to his bed. But he paused, found his body turning that way, as if drawn to the thought of company. He who rarely sought it out, he who turned down invitations needed it tonight.
Duo's head snapped up when he entered, and Wufei thought he read irritation at the interruption, before it fled and the braided pilot forced a smile. The smile itself was strained around the edges, as if the act of keeping it was almost more than Duo's facial muscles could bear. Wufei didn't want to sympathize with that, but he did. Because it seemed to mirror the way he felt inside.
"What are you doing still up?" It came out sounding accusatory. He hadn't meant it that way.
Duo leaned back, rolling his eyes. Same old Wufei. "What's it to you, 'mom'?"
Wufei didn't dignify that with a reply, only remained in the doorway, hand resting against the wood.
Sighing, Duo continued, "If you really want to know, I just got back from my mission. I was thirsty."
Wufei knew it was better if he simply nodded, turned around, and left. On his one of his better days, the Chinese pilot found Duo tolerable at best. His habit of talking for the sake of filling up space was beyond annoying to a person who considered words a form of communication not meant to be wasted. It hardly mattered that he saw beyond the braided pilot's chatter, understood it for what it really was. He didn't need that kind of closeness with another. War bred death, not companionship.
Yes, but if that were so, why was he still standing in the doorway?
Duo looked up from his water, surprised to see that Wufei lingered in the doorway. He had expected the short explanation to suffice. The Chinese pilot was hardly one for conversation, and tonight, truth be told, neither was he. There was a monster inside of him that was tearing him up, clawing to get out and rip something to shreds. He was afraid if Wufei stayed, it would be him that the monster tore up. Which, despite the fact that Wufei was often short with him, would not be fair. The way he felt wasn't the Nataku pilot's fault. It was his.
Wufei half-turned, took in the darkness of the hall, felt the loneliness of it pressing in on him, and reconsidered, looking back to Duo again. There was something in the other boy's voice, his eyes. A haunted look, one Wufei knew only too well. After all, he had seen it many times, while alone, and staring into a reflection he barely knew anymore.
What if Duo wondered too? What if Duo questioned himself, his reasons? Did he? Did the confident, brash, loud-mouthed pilot ever feel as defeated as he sometimes did, when the day wore down to dusk, bringing with it the moon and stars? No... What did it matter if he did? Wufei had never before confided his weaknesses in someone. And he would not start now.
Wishing Wufei would just leave him in peace, Duo shifted in his chair, twirling the now empty water bottle in his hands. It faded, blurred in his hands as he let his eyes go out of focus, let his mind wander, wishing it were easy to forget, to think of nothing at all. But his mind was too crowded with images and noises. It was the images he hated the most. Or maybe it was the noise. Maybe it was both. There were some days, he just wished it would all go away.
The bottle slipped from his hands, hitting the floor with a hollow slap that reverberated around the kitchen as it bounced and rolled away, smacking against the edge of a cabinet before finally falling still.
"Don't you ever sit still for any length of time?" Wufei asked, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them, as restlessness ate at him.
Duo looked up sharply, blue eyes locking with dark ones. He could laugh it off. Make a joke. Do what he always did. But not tonight. Wufei had stepped into a landmine, had opened the Pandora's Box, and now, he was going to get what he was looking for.
Leaning forward, eyes glittering, swirling with storms left dormant for too long, he said silkily, "No. Wanna know why, Wufei? Because sitting still means life passes you by. It means you did nothing while your life wastes away. Life has passed me by one time too many, and I'll be damned if it does it again. Wanna know why else? No? Too bad."
Slapping his palms onto the table, he continued in the same, deceptively soft tone. "I don't want to think too much. I don't like it. So I move, keep myself busy, distracted, so my thoughts don't get the chance to take me where they are tonight."
Wufei remained silent, a prisoner of those angry eyes. He shouldn't have said what he had. It had only added to whatever was tormenting Duo. It was only that he said things without thinking sometimes. Or no, why lie. He said them because he wanted to keep everyone at a safe distance. By insulting Duo, he did so. By treating the other boy as a nuisance, a pest not intelligent enough for his time, he did exactly that. And he could ignore that he cared, even just the slightest bit.
Blowing out an explosive breath, Duo shoved back in his chair, running a hand across his face and dragging it through his wild bangs. "Look, sorry. I didn't mean to unload on you like that."
"No." Wufei spoke up, voice faint. "No," he said again, stronger this time. "It was my doing. I... apologize for insulting you."
Duo gaped, brows pulling into a frown as he tried to decide if he had heard the other boy correctly.
"Wu, correct me if I'm wrong, maybe my hearing's going, but I could have sworn I just heard you apologize."
Biting back the instinctive urge to snap impatiently, Wufei responded instead stiffly, "You heard correctly."
"Well, it's a night for revelations," Duo muttered, oddly feeling less agitated.
The monster was still there, still pressing to get out, but Wufei's apology banked him some. Maybe talking would help. He had thought he wanted to be left alone, but he knew deep down he hated it. Everyone left him alone. Was that part of the problem? Some days, it was so much, he couldn't tell. If Wufei was going to stay, maybe he could force the other pilot to help him sort this out. Share his inner thoughts... Could he trust him that much?
Looking at the serious, carefully blank face, with eyes he recognized, he thought he could.
"Wu," he asked, the edge gone from his voice, "could you make some tea? Lemon, please?"
Wufei felt the barest stirrings of a smile, and wondered at it. Wondered how it was this boy was the only one who was able to bring it to him.
"Making tea is simple, Maxwell. You only have to boil water and add the bags," he responded sternly, his amusement masked. But he moved into the kitchen and pulled a pot out to be filled with water nonetheless. It felt good to be busy, to be moving. And his headache was lessening as well.
Duo smiled briefly. Wufei was helpless to stop the sudden rushing of relief at the sight of it.
"Yeah, but you know me. I might boil all the water out daydreaming."
"You are no more absentminded than the rest of us," Wufei shot back, setting the pot onto the stove and turning on the burner.
Inclining his head, Duo eyed him from a slant. "You're starting to scare me. First an apology and now a compliment."
"That wasn't a compliment," Wufei corrected, taking a seat at the table. "It was a statement of fact."
"Compliment. You can't convince me otherwise."
Wufei held a sigh in check. "I won't waste my time trying to do so."
Duo felt another smile threaten to stretch his lips. Wufei was amusing without even trying to be. He was so serious all the time. Even when he was joking. The guy needed to seriously lighten up. Yet, even saying that, he couldn't deny that having Wufei here, in the kitchen with him, and bickering as they usually did made him feel better. It gave him a center, something familiar to grasp on to. Who would have thought the ill-tempered pilot of Nataku could do that for him.
Leaning forward again, resting on his elbows while he propped his chin in his hands, Duo asked without preamble, "What are _you_ doing up?"
"I have a headache," Wufei said without hesitation, not bothering to mention his need for company. That was weakness.
Duo frowned. "Oh yeah? I give great massages. I can massage your temples while our water is boiling," he offered.
"No!" Wufei said, more sharply than he had intended. He couldn't say why the thought of having Duo's fingers on his skin panicked him.
Eyebrows rose. "Okay... Just offering."
"I will be fine."
"That still doesn't explain why you came in here."
"I saw the light." Surely that was not so strange.
Duo snorted. "C'mon, Wufei. You can ignore anything you want. And the last time I checked, you avoided human contact like the plague."
He was going to keep at it. Duo was going to pick at him until he spilled his guts all over the table. The boy was relentless.
"There was no other reason."
Jerking to his feet, he shoved the chair back from him with more force than was necessary, and went to the stove. As if boiling water needed checked on... He just suddenly had this overwhelming urge to get away from those probing eyes.
Staring at Wufei's rigid back, Duo wondered. Did Wufei need it to? Did Wufei need to talk to someone? And if he did, the Deathscythe pilot knew the other would never willingly tell him so out loud.
His dark mood swept back over him, slashed at the chains of the monster, and set him free.
"Do you ever wonder, Wufei," he began, his tone again misleadingly mild, "if the people we kill have families, people who miss them, who mourn their loss? Does it ever occur to you that with each person we kill, we're destroying at least one more life, if not dozens? Our sins don't ever end... They continue on in a never-ending chain."
Wufei jerked around, his face pale, his lips pinched at the corners, "Stop it."
Duo stared directly at him, his gaze boring into the Wufei. "Do you?"
He closed the distance in two short strides, slammed his palms down onto the table, and snarled inches from Duo's face, "Yes! Is that what you want to hear, Duo?! That they haunt me when I walk, steal the peace from my dreams? That their screams follow me, that their blood stains me, that they make me question everything? Is it what you wanted?" He hissed, eyes blazing, and face contorted with rage.
Duo refused to back down. "Yes, Wufei. That's what I wanted. I wanted to know I wasn't alone. That I'm not the only one who wonders if it matters, if all the pain we cause is worth the peace we're supposed to find in the end."
The anger drained from Wufei, fell around his ankles, shattered, and brought with it the weariness that forced him to take his seat again.
"I lied..."
"What?" Duo asked.
"I lied. I came in here because I wanted... no, I needed to see someone, to be with someone. And I knew it was you."
Shocked, Duo could only stare at Wufei's bowed head.
"I wonder, Duo, if it matters. But I have to tell myself it does. What we did, what we do, it can't be for nothing. I won't let it. Will you?" He demanded, lifting his head.
"I... don't know."
"Not good enough," Wufei retorted severely.
Water hissed as it fell over the edge of the pan and struck the hot surface of the stove. Thrown off balance, Duo latched on to that, and rose, needing to get away from Wufei for a moment. He hadn't expected the Chinese boy to do that to him, to open up so suddenly, and so easily.
"Duo..." And he sounded tired this time.
Hadn't he wanted someone to find him, Duo reflected? Hadn't he wanted it to be Wufei? That silent, distant pilot who said more in two words than another said in a million? Wufei, who could understand how he felt, and make it somewhat bearable with his simple words.
"Give me a reason," he said suddenly, before he lost the nerve.
"What?" Wufei asked, sounding puzzled.
"Give me a reason to keep fighting, Wufei. Give me something to come back to."
Wufei felt his breath catch painfully in his chest. He hadn't mean to say what he did earlier, to admit that he actively sought out Duo's company. But it was the truth. And perhaps the truth should never be taken back.
"Are you... saying..."
Duo spun around. "Don't play dense, Wufei. I'm baring myself to you here, don't hurt me."
The pain grew, the pressure intensified. Not again. He couldn't let anyone depend on him again. He had failed once before. Never again.
"Wufei..."
He could hear it, the pleading in Duo's voice. He closed his eyes against it. How could he? How could he care like that again?
The silence stretched out between them. It left Duo feeling cold, foolish, and ashamed. How could he be so stupid? He risked everything in those few words, and Wufei was going to crush him. He could feel it. He wished he had never opened his big mouth...
Wufei clenched his fists, fought against panic. Control was important to him. Being alone, meant he was in complete control. He only had to worry about himself that way. He would never be responsible for another. But being alone was lonely. Without human contact, he only felt half the person he could be. Half the person, without warmth, laughter, and smiles. Duo's smiles, laughter, and warmth.
Maybe he could. Maybe he could risk it. Just to feel, just to see what it was to care and be cared for, just to fly.
"I'm sorry," Duo mumbled, turning back to the stove to stare blindly into the water steaming there. "I shouldn't have said anything."
"Only," he began softly, almost too low for Duo to hear, "if you give me a reason to keep fighting. Something to come back to."
Duo froze. "Are you saying..."
Wufei smiled. It felt good to smile. "Don't play dense... Duo."
Moving away from the stove on not altogether steady feet, Duo came to the table, looked down at the seated Wufei, whose lips still bore the trace of a smile. In the middle of it all, he had his reason. And it mattered, oh how it mattered.
"It won't be easy. I hog the covers and I talk too much," Duo said, his tone uneven.
Wufei reached up to lightly tug on his braid. "I'm used to sleeping alone and I don't talk enough."
He smiled. To Wufei, it was beautiful.
"We can work around those faults."
Wufei nodded. "Yes... and any others."
"Speak for yourself," Duo returned playfully.
"I am," Wufei returned, yanking harder on the braid.
"Maybe," Duo admitted softly, leaning over slowly, "I don't mind if you speak for me."
Wufei's nerves jumped, stomach tightened, and mouth parted slightly as his breath caught.
"No?" He asked stupidly, eyes locked with Duo's.
"No..." Duo agreed, eyes drifting shut as he covered Wufei's lips with his own, erasing all coherent thought and taking them down the path to blissful oblivion.
The water was forgotten, on the stove that Duo had not quite turned all the way off, so that it boiled itself away, leaving a steam that could not quite rival the heat created between two pilots as they found their reasons in each other.