Fortnight
Coda
by APs
Betas: None. I wanted this to be a surprise, even for them, so this is all my fault!
A/N: Happy TWO YEAR anniversary! Here's the deal: there are three epilogues here. That's right, three. You can pick whichever one you like best and ignore the other ones, or mix and match, but they are all hypothetically possible from where I ended. No, I am still not giving any straight answers. Their titles tell you the pairings and they are not from Wufei's POV. Please read them before you groan.
Hopefully you'll read and enjoy! I would love to hear from everyone and I will be replying via PM from now on. Thank you everyone: Alerters, Watchers, and Reviewers alike! You are all awesome.
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I: 5 Months, 2 Weeks
The car was still running, hell, still skidding to a stop, when Duo Maxwell burst from it. The quiet, familiar neighborhood was awash with flashing lights and noise. Bad noise. That muted noise you only get after the fact, when all that's left is the cleaning. An ambulance screamed away as he flashed his badge at the locals, hoping they wouldn't check his clearance and knowing it didn't matter. He had every right to be there. The only van left outside the house was the coroner.
He jogged up the front walkway. The door was open, hanging crooked from the bottom hinge, but everything else was so normal. So familiar. For a second as he crossed the threshold, a bombed out church flashed before his eyes. He smelled burnt flesh and blood; his stomach rolled. Inside was the same, but so different. The tidy house was cold and exposed and ruined. The coffee table was broken, the couch cushions missing, a window in the back broken, the carpet tracked with dirt. He let it all roll off him and followed the hushed activity toward the back. Past the bathroom and the guest room to the last room.
The scent of blood hit him again, real this time and he stopped. The door was open, he could hear murmurs and see motion, but the act of walking into that room was suddenly very hard. The air was thin with disturbance, sweat cold on his skin. Whatever had happened, he was too late. Too late to even say goodbye this time.
His back found the wall, an old friend from early mornings of many sleepless nights. The hallway was too, too bright. Every light in the house was on. That never happened. Everything was so stark and alien. It made his skin crawl, his scars felt tight, like fingers grasping all over his body. He couldn't breath, but never stopped, automatic and impossible. He wondered if he would throw up and knew he wouldn't, which just made it worse somehow.
Time washed over him unmarked, until two men wheeled a gurney from the room beside him. They didn't look at him and he returned the favor, though that was more because the long, slim black bag was occupying his entire world. It was sleek, plastic, and black as sin, looking to swallow souls. It reminded him of oblivion, of space; not empty, but sure as hell not full. His mind was taking measure of the prone silhouette, gathering data that was useless until he started thinking again. He wanted to pounce on the gurney, claim it, to fight off the two men like the vultures they were, take that bag and rip it open, away, apart. He didn't move a muscle. The detective trailing the gurney eyed him, hard. He tossed the man one of his biggest smiles, haphazard and jagged. The detective, who looked like a Joe, glared at the badge he'd forgotten was still in his hand and continued on his way, only slightly faster. Which was good as he wasn't entirely sure his mouth would have worked for anything else.
He focused on breathing, on the sound of the gurney as even that faded. The wall across the way burned into his eyes, abstracted, blurred. He wished it was raining, or snowing, or burning, or anything. Anything except this placid normalcy. He choked and let himself slide down the rough wall to the floor. Not this. Not again. He clutched his knees close, resting his head on them, eyes wide and unseeing. Not another acceptable tragedy. Not another statistic. Not another loss the world wouldn't even notice. Not him...
He wanted the world to crack apart, the sky to fall. He wanted chaos and fury. Something. Anything to mark this. And he knew it didn't work like that. His chosen God was fickle and ubiquitous. Few knew that better than Duo Maxwell. The clear night, the bright lights, the simple quiet, the soft carpet, the faint smell of tea and blood, the oxygen that kept inexplicably filling his lungs, the cops walking, the gurney wheeling, the world turning. Everything mocked him, mocked the end by sheer blind continuance. He fisted both hands in his bangs and pulled, shaking. His rock, his stability, his world. Gone. Again. And that was what he got. A smirk cut deep across his face and started bleeding laughter. Choked and small and not a little crazy. That was what he got for ignoring the inevitable, forsaking his God. For thinking he could have a rock, a world. For grasping at the illusion. Stupid. He laughed. Idiot.
"Something humorous?" The voice was low and smooth and cool, like silk brushed over skin. It trailed goosebumps.
The laughter clotted in his throat and he blinked at his legs. Either he had really, truly cracked or... He couldn't look up, breathe, move. It would be confirmation and his existence rested solely on that uncertainty. He pulled his bangs harder, bit his lip. The pain countering the silence.
"Maxwell?" There was a slight crispness to the grunt.
His head snapped up, craning to land disbelieving violet eyes on the figure leaning in the doorway to that last room, scowling down at him. Duo blinked, panicked; this must be what insanity felt like. But, no. A demon of his broken mind wouldn't have called him that, wouldn't have that worry dancing around the edge of his frown. Probably. Maybe his insanity was just really fucking good. Maybe that was just insanity for you.
The other man slowly, carefully squatted down to Duo's level, a single altogether too gentle hand brushing bangs from his eyes and resting lightly on his shoulder. Dark eyes devoured his shocked gaze with calm. The word that dropped from those lips was quiet and knowing, "Duo..."
"...'Fei." And he didn't care if he was crazy or not. It sounded like Wufei. Duo spun on his heels, took the other into his arms and held on for all he was worth. It looked like Wufei. Lean muscles flexed to keep them balanced with stupid ease, ignoring the awkward grip and position. It felt like Wufei. Finally inhaling, soap and tea and paper and earth flooded his brain. It even smelled like Wufei. If it wasn't the Chinese man and he was still curled up in the hall, drooling and gibbering at himself, Duo didn't care. He wasn't letting go. Not this time.
It took phantom Wufei less time than he would have thought to relax, tension draining as arms returned the embrace, leaning into it. That silken voice found his ear, "It's fine. I'm fine."
A laugh clawed its way violently out of his chest, but he didn't say anything. It was a lie. None of them were 'fine'. Hell, he was clinging to the hallucination of another grown man like some damn security blanket. But it wasn't nice to point out the lies of others, even if they were possibly hallucinatory. Perhaps especially. It was not nice enough to point it out to himself.
"Why are you here? I thought you were surveilling tonight."
Finally, something he could answer. Something simple. "I heard the address on the scanner." It was an old habit, tapping the local police bands on his portable and pretending it was some sort of loud, obnoxious music. He'd never been caught, because nobody thought twice about the goofy guy crooning to himself with earphones in. Sometimes, the old habits were the only things that kept him together. Sometimes they led to this. A call for back up, the coroner, and homicide to an all too familiar address. He forced his brain forward, "Next thing I know, here I am."
Fake Wufei snorted rather convincingly, "You thought I was dead."
Technically, he still did. He'd heard the call and just known. It made so much sense, was so obvious. In an odd way, he'd been expecting it for months. Ever since he hadn't run. Ever since he'd attempted to keep something of himself, for himself. He'd been waiting for the inevitable, the inescapable. This insanity could be either gift or punishment from his God, inscrutable and harsh as ever. It didn't matter, the result would be the same. Acknowledging it would do nothing, so he went to the simple, easy things, "What happened?"
"A local gang decided to rob me. They only brought six." There was that dryness, marking Wufei's tiny smirk, no doubt. Of course, the Chinese man would find that funny. What wasn't funny about six morons attempting to rob a single ex-Gundam pilot?
Oh, right: the fucking dead guy. "And?"
He felt Wufei sigh, but didn't hear it. When he finally spoke, the tone was that cool, even one Duo always equated to an iceberg. Cold, sheer, and hiding most of itself under calm waters, "Their leader surprised me with a knife, so I obligingly stabbed him with it... in self-defense."
Duo turned his head to finally look at the mess inside the room only to find none. The sparse furniture and ornamentation were seemingly untouched and even the slight clutter on the dresser seemed mundane, casual. The only sign of violence was the large, dark spot on the carpet, glistening evilly in all the damn light. It was not the scene of a life or death struggle. Duo knew what that looked like and it wasn't this. A gang member with a knife was no real threat to any of them, much less Master Chang Wufei, sword enthusiast. A grin carved its way across his face, "Self-defense, huh?"
Silence circled them slowly. Like buzzards. Wufei's hold slackened, his voice soft even with their closeness, "They had been watching the house for some time. He threatened the others, you, and... I killed him."
"You killed to protect me?" It bit without sinking its teeth in too deep. He pulled back enough to look the other man in the face.
Wufei let him go, but clung to his hands like a lifeline, onyx eyes cast down, exhausted, "He was intent on blood, so I gave it to him."
"How heroic."
That brought dark, abysmal eyes to his and a broken, angry snarl, "Don't be a fucking idiot."
And just like that, Wufei was very real again. Solid and living and true. Psychoses didn't feel. Only flesh and bone bled. Only Wufei could get pissed off about casually killing someone. Or rather, about being guilty for killing someone out of fear. Only Wufei would be so deeply disturbed by a threat to his clan. Only Wufei could look so sick and act so calm. Only Wufei... He let the grin drain from his lips like pus from a wound, leaving his face lax and sore, but better for it. "I don't think I've ever heard you cuss like that before."
"Duo," that silk raised goosebumps again as dark eyes softened with warmth. Embers smouldering deep within coals. "I'm sorry."
It was said without expectation or necessity. It wasn't just to trip a response. It wasn't a plea and it was no where near pity. It wasn't just for now. It was for everything. Everything he was and would and could be sorry for; maybe even some things he couldn't. For all the times it had gone unsaid, ever. It was strong and warm and painfully humble. It was one damaged soul acknowledging another. More than anything, it was true.
Duo wanted to make a joke, to lighten the mood, break the tension, but there was no tension to break. His smile wouldn't come. They were both breathing slow and deep. The lights were too damn bright and the cold was getting worse. He watched the man watching him and for once the silence didn't itch. His hands rested on Wufei's neck, bringing their lips together as he counted heartbeats. Slow and soft and tender like he'd never imagined a kiss. It murmured of the reality of the moment and didn't ask more. Of loss and life and the uncertainty in which it all existed.
Without another word, Duo stood, still entangled in Wufei, and steered them toward the guest room. His room. Where it was dark and warm and quiet and safe. Tomorrow they might fix the door, the house. Tomorrow they might talk. Tomorrow Wufei might promise to use the fucking security system. But tonight they were alive and together and uncertain. Uncertain of the inevitable and a little insane. Wufei leaned into his back as he undid the traps on his door. Sharing space, warmth, experience. Duo smiled and it didn't hurt. What a novel change.
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II: 1 Year, 2 Months, 5 Days
Heero sipped his tea. It was hot and strong without being scalding or bitter. It spoke highly of Wufei. Even though he'd watched Duo brew the pot, Wufei's small glances and tilts of the head had not escaped Heero. Nor had Duo's easy compliance with unspoken expectations. Now they were all at Wufei's kitchen island, him on an end and them together on a longer side, waiting for Quatre and Trowa. Wufei was center, maintaining control. Duo was, had been, talking. Incessantly.
The two were seated together, but proximity belied intimacy. They did not touch. They did not look at each other. Wufei sat highly erect and Duo... Duo had that slightly manic gleam to his eyes. He never hesitated, but there was a longing to the braided man's motion. He lingered, yearning for contacted, but restraining himself. For his part, Heero sipped his tea and stared, carefully gauging.
The phone ringing brought abrupt silence and two sharp, blue stares to Wufei. To his credit, the Chinese man rose and answered calmly, "Chang."
"Hello, Wufei," the tinny voice held a forced pleasantry only Quatre ever bothered trying.
"Hey, Q!" Duo shouted from where he sat.
"Winner," Wufei acknowledged coolly, "I take it you're not coming."
"How did you- I mean, yes. Or rather no, it looks like Trowa and myself won't be able to make it tonight," the blond stumbled out rapidly. Why he should even act surprised by the conclusion when the couple was already half an hour late was beyond Heero. Duo groaned in the background as Quatre continued to explain, "We've both been working triple shifts running scenarios for the conference next week and there's still so much to do."
Wufei smirked as he waited for his turn to speak, "It's fine, Quatre."
"You're sure?" The easy warmth of a smile was evident even through the thick worry.
"It's fine." To his credit, Wufei did growl, snap, or bark. "We'll reschedule."
"Of course," Quatre pounced on the suggestion before hurrying forward, "Be sure to give Heero our best and our apologies."
"Yeah, yeah," Duo waved a hand in lazy dismissal, "Lay one on Tro for us!"
For a heartbeat, all was silence followed abruptly by light chuckles from the speakers. "Good evening, then."
Oddly, Wufei merely nodded after a curt grunt and terminated the connection. He started back, his voice dry, "Winner and Barton send their best, but regretfully must reschedule.
Heero nodded, taking a last sip of tea and standing.
"Thanks, Fei," Duo drawled even as violet eyes cut into the Japanese man. Just as he was about to walk away, the familiar low, carefully lazy growl stopped him, "Hey. When was the last time you ate? You know, a real meal?"
That had been the first time the braided man had directly addressed him all night. And it had been as 'hey'. Blue eyes burned defiantly against violet.
"Well, Yuy?" Wufei flanked, scowling slightly as dark eyes evaluated more keenly.
He glared against being cornered. The fact that he had been on travel rations was no secret. That he had been busy for the four and a half days since was common knowledge as well. Whether or not he had... been hungry today or the day before was not important.
Duo barked a twisted laugh, "Sit down and we'll make something."
Heero didn't move, blue eyes darting to onyx.
"Sit," Wufei grunted and watched him do so before moving to help with the cooking. They maneuvered about each other easily, yet not in harmony. Wufei's strong, sure motion didn't mesh with Duo's manic, boneless speed. They didn't share the small brushes and unconscious precision Heero remembered once having himself. Before long they each had a bowl of soup accompanied by various other quick food options including fruit, sandwiches, and cold pizza. He stared at his bowl and the others stared at him, refusing to continue, speak, or breath until he put the first spoonful into his mouth. Complying mechanically, Heero kept his intake slow, but it seemed to satisfy the unspecified requirements.
He could feel dark eyes heavy on him, "How was the tour?"
"Yeah," Duo smirked harshly, "how was Mars?"
"Red." He didn't look up from his soup. He'd been filing reports about the tour for days. If they really wanted to know, they could read them.
"And Relena?" The grin was cold and sharp on the question.
His spoon hit the counter as Heero glared full force, "Blonde."
Wufei was pinching the bridge of his nose, "Both of you, eat."
Harsh blue glare continued to clash against the relentless grin for a weightless, hanging moment before violet eyes slid casually back to food. That glare flickered thoughtfully over Wufei, catching dark eyes and the arch of a brow. Every line of the Chinese man's body snarled frustration. Old, compounded frustration. Heero tilted his head, near imperceptibly. Concerned. It made Wufei blink, then scowl. He was about to bull through that particular stubborn streak when a sharp crack of laughter, for lack of an angrier, sharper word, interrupted.
"Guns kill better than glares, guys." Duo straightened under the sudden blue-black scrutiny and laughed again, "Granted, not by much, but hell if I ain't living proof."
"Maxwell." Wufei let it trail, softening the check with exasperation.
The flash of hurt in violet eyes was unbelievable, real, and instantly gone, covered by a shrug, "Not for lack of trying."
Heero swallowed, but refused to look away.
Duo coughed up another harsh, mocking sound, "You should have just shot me."
With a dismissive snort, blue eyes dropped back to his bowl. The braided man's shock was obvious in the silence. There was some scuffling and a snort, then the only sounds were those of soup consumption. Routine, easy.
A spoon clattered to the floor, "You've said two words all fucking night and I damn well know that's not it, so just spit it out already, Heero Yuy!"
Both of the were waiting, so he stared back, "The two of you are not... together."
"We're not birds, either," Duo dodged.
Wufei, though, took a deep settling breath as he went to clear things away, "No. We're not."
Again that hurt, equally unmistakable and brief, before being lost in a growl, "Not that it's any of your business."
Onyx eye were dull and elsewhere, leaving Heero a direct line to Duo. He knew the facts; Sally had filled him in, kept him abreast. The American had vanished after the combined going away party without so much as a word. "You ran."
"That's me," Duo cheered darkly, a grin slowly splitting his face, "May run. It's in my introduction."
Heero nodded. He'd accepted that. The running. "You came back."
"Nobody came looking." Duo smirked stiffly, the words hanging in the stillness about them.
It was Wufei's low, even tone that broke through, the Chinese man turning back from the refrigerator, "Listening to the two of you talk is like watching Russian Roulette played with a full cylinder."
Dark eyes told him this wasn't going anywhere good and he could only agree. Of course, that had never swayed his course of action before, "You're a coward, Chang."
That managed to get a fire lit in onyx eyes, a hot warning spark, "Don't, Yuy."
"Hey," Duo attempted to break in, "your preferred punching bag is over here, remember."
Blue eyes flinched, but kept true, "You still haven't told him."
"Told me what?" Duo scrambled a little.
A dark scowl insisted that the American already knew, but deep blue eyes pushed him hard.
"Don't expect me to propose," Wufei finally sneered.
Duo had bolted to his feet like his stool had been electrified, "What!"
"No," Heero bit back a little harder and slower, maintaining control, "I expected more."
"What?" It was softer, Duo effectively lost now.
Wufei raised his head, and crossed his arms, "You expect me to actually shoot him?"
In a flash, he was on his feet, towering over Wufei, yet pinned by onyx. This was familiar, the tension strung between them. He took another long slow breath, "I expect you to tell him how you bought his time on L2. What you sold."
Dark eyes gaped as nostrils flared in rage to cover the flush mounting in his face. Duo had gone suddenly silent beside them, waiting. They were all waiting. Finally, Wufei found his voice, "You want me to admit that I accepted a job from Une that included occasional solo missions. Fine..."
Heero wagged his head, blue eyes expectant. When onyx stared coldly back, he opened his mouth to finish the truth.
"You want me to tell him that I lied and beg and finally hocked myself to Une simply to buy his freedom. You want me to say that I've had twenty dark solo missions, five off the books, and one assassination to date while also partnering him. That I quit because the blood and rage and rush was killing me, but I went back..." The Chinese man struggled against his own body, sheer will keeping him head up and voice clear. Onyx eyes latched onto blue, blocking everything else out.
"...Fei." Duo's voice was a low whisper.
"There. It is said. Get out of my house."
Faster than thought, Heero lunged, crushing his lips to Wufei's. In the distant silence, he heard the twisted hunk of metal that had been the spoon in his hand tink as it hit the floor. The world simply stopped in a silent, honest touch.
Heero broke away and turned without looking back straight into Duo, wide eyed and struck speechless for once. Carefully, he leaned in and brushed his lips over the crooked bridge of Duo's nose, making shocked violet eyes cross. He murmured as he passed, "I'm sorry I was never perfect."
"I never wanted perfect." Duo fired at his back, stalling him long enough for the braided man to grab hold of his wrist. Grabbing for a pistol that wasn't there, he glanced back into one of Duo's tired, ragged smiles and knew it was true. Knew from the early war when he had been broken and scrambling and laughing over the din of battle. "Could never trust it. Why aren't you with Lena?"
"He's in love with you," Wufei answered, still in the same spot and vaguely stunned. Blue burned against onyx for a long, plain minute before he caught on, "...Us."
Duo snickered, tapping the side of his broken nose, "Maybe he just doesn't trust perfect, either."
"I'm taking some of Wufei's mission load tomorrow." It did nothing to deny either of the previous statements. He peeled off Duo's hand gently from his wrist and lingered only a heartbeat holding it before turning to leave.
The calm levelness had returned to Wufei's voice in that heartbeat, "Where are you staying?"
"Barracks," he grunted at the door, refusing to turn. Most of his belongings were in storage until he found a new apartment. "For now."
"Tsk. No way, stay here," Duo drawled.
Heero turned on pure surprise. "I can't."
"You can," Wufei assured. "You can take my bed. I'll use the couch."
Heero began to speak, but the smile on Duo's face and the calm in onyx eyes stopped him. He nodded and headed toward the back rooms.
Before he left he heard Duo ask with laughing fear only he could manage, "Why didn't you just kick me out of the guest room, Fei?"
He paused in the doorway for Wufei's answer. It came slow and soft as rain in the night. "Because you live here and he looks tired... Because..."
"Because I came back?" I was tiny and dower, no smile, but hope.
"Because you came back, Duo." And there was no smile there either, but contentment.
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III: Lustre (Five years hence)
The day was bright and bold and beautiful, almost as much as the tiny angel running through the field that spread out before us, seemingly endless. Beside me sat what would normally be the dark and stormy cloud of curmudgeon which was the calm, sturdy presence of my best friend, Chang Wufei. The scowl wasn't present, though the lines were still obvious and his dark eyes cast serenely out over the expanse. Whether those eyes were seeing the patchy weed-flowered field of the present or some long lost memory didn't matter as much as the placidity it was inspiring.
I was on Mars for a tour. He had transferred years ago as a Trainer. Now he was Head of Preventer Field Training. He never could stand the ineffective. I had dragged him from the office, and the torture of various rookies, for the afternoon. The little girl had been a surprise. Sally had preceded us all, having jumped at the chance to head the first hospital on the Mars surface, even against all suggestions. Stopping a pregnant Sally Po had proved as useless as declining one of the little girl's quiet requests.
The wind rustled my bangs, making shadows flash across my eyes. Quatre would have loved this. This new growth, this hope. He was probably in a meeting, but I prayed he could feel this, even a little. The smile that would trace his lips would be just as miraculous. Heero was too busy dodging bullets and keeping tabs on Relena, but the Princess would appreciated the scene. Duo... I would like to think Duo would have seen past the weeds. It was hard enough for me, though, sometimes. I still liked to think he'd found some peace in that cassock.
The girl ran up to us, offering each a tiny blue flower, a gravity in her eyes that only youth could afford. If I had to put a shade to them, I'd say deep cobalt. Luckily, I didn't have to. She was her mother's daughter and that gave me hope of this and any other world we may find.
Beside me, Chang Wufei didn't smile, but accepted the bloom with an easy thanks. The girl beamed. On second thought, I wanted Quatre to feel this. Less than perfect, but living.
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Again, THANK YOU ALL SO VERY MUCH! I will be replying to everyone from last chapter onward in PM. You've all been amazing!