Disclaimer: We own nothin'

Pairings/Warnings: 2x3, mentioned 1x2, 4xR (other's may feature), m/m sex, angst, some fluff/sap, major character deaths prior to story… may add more to this as we go

A/N: A while ago Clara and I discussed working together collaboratively on some fics and we planned on starting an epic 1x2x3… but this little idea ended up demanding to be written so this is our first joint fic! Trowa will be written by me and Duo will be written by Clara. We're going to try and update weekly but as both of us have so many fics we're working on and RL we'll see how we go. Anyway, enjoy! – Miss M

Chapter Two

Life wasn't fucking fair.

Not exactly a lesson Duo Maxwell needed repeating. But hey, it had been a solid few months since anything terrible had happened to him - clearly fate felt the need to completely fuck him over.

It was selfish, that thought, and maybe even shallow. But for Duo, drowning in grief and anger, shallow was about as deep as he was willing to get right now.

Life wasn't fucking fair and it hadn't been fucking easy, either. It should have been, probably. Duo had been born into the kind of high-society family that made you think of American royalty and sure, money was great, but it came with a hell of a lot of expectations, and Duo wasn't good at meeting expectations. Not from the very start.

He'd been kicked out of fancy boarding schools, out of prep schools and finally a military academy and then he'd been kicked out of his storybook home, disowned by his storybook family when they found him blowing the gardener's son and Relena Darlian had more or less adopted him.

More, really. Her father pulled strings and got Duo into her elite school and he finished high school and they shared an apartment together when she moved to New York to try modeling and Duo tried to sleep with as many models as he could.

And then she had met Quatre Winner, or met him again, to be more accurate, because they had both known him as kids - the prissy blond boy who always got picked on and had a smile like the sun - and she moved back to Chicago, since the future Mrs. Winner was not a model and absolutely did not stay up until sunrise most nights, drifting from party to party until she couldn't stand up in her five inch Miu Miu heels anymore. No, the future Mrs. Winner used some of Daddy's money to start a charity in Chicago for women just out of prison looking to make something of their lives.

It should have been a joke. Relena should have slept in bed until noon while an assistant did all of the work and then spent her nights on Quatre Winner's arm at social events, drinking champagne and smiling and thinking only about what she would wear tomorrow.

But despite Relena's love of fashion, despite the fact that she enjoyed parties, she was more than that. She was damned good person and wanted the best for everyone around her, whether she loved them or not. And if she loved you, she didn't just want the best for you, she shoved it down your throat.

So Duo moved back to Chicago too, used Relena's connections to get an in with the handful of high end night clubs Chicago had to offer and he became a club promoter. It wasn't the "best for him" that Relena had in mind - no, that was blind date after blind date with eligible gay bachelors that Duo had nothing in common with - but it was something Duo could do.

He could charm the pants off of anyone, so Relena had always said, and so Duo had always found to be true, and he used that one marketable skill of his to great success.

It wasn't Relena's kind of success - it wasn't helping reformed convicts get jobs or home loans - it sure as hell wasn't his family's kind of success. But it was Duo's kind. It was the kind that meant he made his own way in the world, made his own rules and his own living and meant he had a home, an apartment near the water that was all renovated and industrial, with a big ass bed that was hardly ever empty unless Duo wanted it to be and he had money. Had a bank account and a car and hell, he was saving towards a club of his own and he was almost there. He had investors on the line and things were looking up.

Maybe he didn't have someone special to share it with - unless you counted Hilde Scheibeker, his partner in crime and only twice partner in bed. But maybe that was okay too. Maybe having just this, just for him, was okay.

It was okay, because he still had Relena. Still had the amazing woman who kissed him on the lips, even with Quatre looking on, who called him her love and demanded his presence at all the important events in her life. Who called him up the morning after Quatre finally proposed and told him all about it. Who dragged him along for dress shopping and cake shopping and making a gift registry and lunches with Quatre's six thousand sisters. Who danced with him at her engagement party, teasing him about how he smelled like his date's cologne and resting her head on his shoulder and telling him that she wanted this for him, this moment, this future. Who clapped her hands over her face and shook her head and blushed the same color as the pink champagne in her glass when Duo delivered his toast at her wedding, confining himself to his ten favorite Relena stories, leaving off the dozens and dozens of others he wanted to tell, wanted to share because this girl - this girl was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he wanted to make damn sure Quatre felt the same way. Who called him and told him she was pregnant and it was his job to make sure she didn't get fat. Who introduced him to the most perfect girl in the world, little Liv, the red faced, bawling, spitting image of Relena and Quatre.

But life wasn't fucking fair.

He'd been in bed when Hilde called and told him to turn on the news. He'd been sucking off Heero Yuy, his on again, mostly off again boyfriend and Heero had tugged on his hair a little impatiently when Duo reached for the phone. But Hilde didn't call often, she shared Duo's preference for texting and face to face conversations and if she was calling him in the middle of the night it was important, some disaster at a club or -

Or Relena Darlian dead.

Heero had said something, mumbled something about her flirting with him at her own engagement party and that had put him instantly back into the "off again" category of Duo's brain because fuck him. Heero was gorgeous and Relena probably would have flirted with him, probably would have thrown herself at him full force back when they lived in New York City and they placed bets on which of them would take home the hottest guy. But that was before. Before Relena had Quatre and she sure as fuck hadn't been flirting with Heero. She'd been nice, teasing maybe, but not everything was about Heero fucking Yuy and his perfect face.

The next call he received was from Treize Khushrenada. It was only the second call Duo had ever had from the guy, the first one had been before the wedding, when Treize was working on the pre-nup and he had wanted to see if there was any dirt he could dig up on Relena, to tilt things in Quatre's favor if a divorce ever happened, and Duo had done a damn fine job of remembering every foul word he'd ever heard used to describe someone who was as much of an asshole as Treize.

But Treize had stopped Duo's angry tirade dead in his tracks this time, hadn't even let him build up any steam, had just told him he was needed for the reading of the Will, that Relena had wanted him for this, and Duo had felt like all of the oxygen in the room, in the whole fucking world was gone.

Relena had wanted him for this.

And then he was waiting in that damn fancy lobby, with the slick black leather couches that reminded Duo of that shoot Relena had done once, with the weird BDSM flair and the leather pants she had taken home and they had shared, had taken turns wearing when they went out clubbing and fuck. He still had those. He doubted either of them could fit in them now. He was still fit, still in great shape. But he wasn't eighteen anymore. And Relena -

Fuck. Relena was dead.

He refused to cry again. He'd done that yesterday. Spent the entire day sitting on the concrete floor of his apartment drinking the bottle of Vodka he and Relena had planned on saving for her thirtieth birthday next year.

It had been such an effort to get dressed that morning, to put on clothes that didn't make him think of Relena. He knew he should make an attempt at looking decent - it was a reading of her Will. He should probably have a suit on. But she'd been his shopping buddy, his fellow clotheshorse and every damn thing in his fucking closet felt like a memory of her. So in the end he'd put on the jeans and t-shirt that Heero had left, at some point over the last year or so, and it was good. Because the jeans were a little big and even though the t-shirt was well washed, faded cotton it scratched against his skin and it didn't make him think of Relena.

He waited for hours, probably only half an hour, but it felt like an eternity in that cold, sterile world and he wondered how Quatre did it every day. How he got out of his bed with Relena, how he kissed her goodbye - and she probably smiled at him, even half asleep because she used to do that with Duo, whenever he left for his job as a bike messenger while she still slept - how he kissed Liv and listened to her coo or probably cry and just left them for this unfeeling world.

Guess he didn't, not anymore. Not now that he was dead.

Maybe he should have been surprised to see Trowa Barton there, or maybe it should have clued him in to what would happen next, but when the tall man walked into his line of sight, looking like shit in his rumpled brown suit, his overnight bag clutched in his hand like a lifeline, all Duo could think was shit.

He didn't know Trowa well at all. Could count on one hand the number of times they had met and still have fingers to spare, and sure, one of those times had been a quick and not entirely satisfying sexual encounter in a fucking coat check, but he didn't know him.

But Quatre had been Trowa's Relena.

Hugging Trowa was probably the only thing that had felt real in the past two days. The solid warmth of him. The firmness of his body. The slightly stale smell of his clothes. It was real and that was good. It was good, but it also fucking hurt, and Duo was equal parts bereft and relieved when they released each other.

He probably should have known - hell, he was the one who asked about Liv, who reminded Trowa that like them, she was alone now - had lost those two glittering people who were her parents.

But he didn't know. Didn't really think about it or connect the dots until Treize Khushrenada had them sit down in the seats across from him, until Duo recognized the blonde woman standing by the window, her arms crossed and her face drawn. Iria, he was pretty sure - the sister Relena liked the most.

Until Treize opened up with the words that hit Duo almost as hard as Hilde's phone call had.

"Quatre and Relena made a provision in their Will for the two of you to share joint custody of Olivia."

Duo felt fairly confident that a full minute, maybe even two, passed before either he or Trowa were able to process those words. And even then -

"What?" Trowa asked, his voice dry and raw, Duo suspected, from alcohol and crying and it would have been funny, in any other situation to see the unflappable Trowa Barton's green eyes so wide and his jaw so slack.

Iria stepped forward.

"They wanted you two to raise her, if anything ever happened to them. It - it was something they both wanted, very much."

"Why?" Duo had to ask, and he felt Trowa's eyes on him at that question. "Us?" He gestured between them. Duo, the club promoter and party boy who had told a story about Relena being drunk off her ass and groping Leonardo di Caprio as part of his toast at her wedding. Trowa, the stick up his ass, barely out academic who - what? counted shit for fun?

Iria nodded.

"Why not you?" Trowa asked, directing his question at Iria. And fuck. Why not Iria? She had been named as a god parent too, and she was Liv's Aunt.

"Because I am now the CEO of Winner Inc. Because my brother spent sixty hours a week at this job and when I was his vice president I spent sixty hours a week at this job and now I have to do both of our jobs until something can be figured out. I do not have the time or the ability to care for Olivia. And because my brother's wish was for his daughter to have a family who did have the time and ability and who loved her and he thought that was the two of you."