It was a week later when Quatre walked quietly into my room. "I'm worried about Wufei," he said gravely.

I glanced over the top of my easel. Quatre was glaring at me. This, in itself, was anomaly enough to make me place my pencil on the bed beside me and attempt to follow the conversation. "Huh?"

"I said that I was worried about Wufei, and it's your fault."

Okay, now I was seriously confused. I hadn't said more than two words to Wufei in days. As far as I was concerned, we were doing about as well as could be expected. "What are you talking about, Quatre? I haven't even *seen* Wu-fang since..." Quatre pointed at something on the wall, "Oh."

"Yes, *oh*. How could you go out with Meiran, of all people? You know they're...involved."

I snorted, turning away from the sketch of Meiran I'd made the other day. Although still incomplete, it captured the way she laughed...fiercely, as if she were throwing the sound at the world. I was rather proud of it. I scowled back at my best friend. "He doesn't *want* to be involved, remember?" Just another in a long line of reasons to call him a fool, in my opinion.

"I know he says that, but I think you two are hurting him. He's just too proud to show it." Quatre sighed at my dubious expression. "Look, I don't know how I know, but I'm right about this. I just am." His soft blue eyes pleaded with me to understand, and as usual, I felt my irritation slip into something more complicated.

"Okay, so let's say you're right," I shrugged, "So what?" Seeing Quatre's eyes widen, I hurried on, "He's been a complete jerk to Meiran. She's completely nuts about the guy, and all he does is say--at the top of his lungs--that he has better things to do. Forgive me if my heart fails to bleed."

"She loves him? But I thought..."

I groaned. "Don't get me wrong, Quatre, If I thought I had half a chance...but I don't. So we're just friends. We're both artists, and we model for each other when we need it, and she tells me how miserable she is, and I cheer her up. That's all it is." I barely held back the sigh. That's all it ever was...one of the major downsides to being the class clown is that nobody ever took you seriously. Including the ladies. Quatre appeared to be thinking. I picked up my pencil and began to sketch again.

"Don't you think you should tell him that there's nothing going on between you two?"

This time, I did sigh and set the lead down again. "Why? One, that's not the kinda thing that guys do, normally. Especially guys like me and Wufei, who hate each other's guts. Two, he wouldn't believe me. I mean, would *you*?"

He looked confused. "Of course."

"Yeah, well, you're the exception, I assure you. All it would do is make him even more suspicious. If he even cares in the first place, which I'm not sure he does. Meiran says she's tried everything short of stripping naked and leaping into his bed." Quatre's cheeks pinked, so I decided not to mention that she *had* tried to get Wufei to strip. Study of human anatomy, my ass. I shrugged. "I think if anything, Wufei could use a dose of jealousy, so he knows what he's missing."

"I still think you should try, Duo. Remember, we've got to work together, and interpersonal conflicts make co-operation under stressful circumstances difficult, according to Mr. Peacecraft." His voice was still quiet and concerned, but steel lurked beneath. God save me from the peacemakers.

I grimaced. "You're not going to let me get back to work until I agree, are you, old buddy, old pal?"

He smiled, and as always, it was like being bathed in sudden ray of sunshine. "Nope. Thanks a lot, Duo."

"Yeah, yeah, no applause, just send money. Besides, I'm only promising to *try*. If he doesn't want to hear it, I'm not going to break my back persuading him. And I'll bet fifty credits that it just makes things worse. But," I looked at his expectant face, "I will *try*."

Four days later, I was still trying. To explain part of the difficulty, allow me to describe the grounds. The five Colleges were arranged in a loose (and *large*) circle, with the southernmost building as Administration and the Cafeterias. The dorms were in the center of that circle, and beyond it, forest and fields stretched for a couple of miles in every direction but south. The Art buildings were to the west, while the Political Science compound was at the southeastern edge. If you ran, you could get from one to the other in about 20 minutes. Luckily for us, we generally only had two four-to-five hour classes a day, and almost always in the same compound. But it did mean that by the time I could hoof it from Art to PolSci, Wufei was long gone.

He wasn't eating with us anymore, and I wasn't about to lose sleep waiting for him to come in at night. I don't believe that "nanny" was anywhere in the job description. Trying to track him through friends revealed that he didn't really have any. Everyday after classes he just went...somewhere. It wasn't off campus, because I'd staked out the shuttle for a day, but that still left a lot of territory. For once, I wished that Timberlake was a normal boarding school, so that I could report him or something. As it was, my tentative suggestion to Treize that perhaps it wasn't exactly healthy for someone to spend that much time alone had been met with a freezing rebuke; "Solve your own problems, Mr. Maxwell. You are here to learn independence, among other things,"

"I don't get it," I groused to an oblivious Heero one evening after yet another fruitless search, "He's gotta be going off into the grounds somewhere, but what could possibly be that interesting about a bunch of trees and flowers? Hell, I'm an *art* major, and I still don't see the appeal."

"Peace and quiet, perhaps?" Heero muttered, without even looking up from his keyboard. I ignored him and stretched out on his bed. I had braved Heero's bedroom after nearly going out of my mind with boredom. Trowa had gone with Cathy down to town, and Quatre had tagged along. I was persona non grata until I'd delivered my message. The fact that I was attempting to confide in the Iron Man should be considered a sign of my increasing desperation.

"What's so special about peace and quiet, anyway? He's really getting on my nerves. I *know* he's avoiding me."

"Just leave him alone."

"I can't! I've got to at least talk to him, or I'm in the doghouse with Quatre for good."

The typing stopped. "What's Quatre have to do with this?"

"Nevermind. I just have to talk to Wufei, okay?"

He turned and stared at me for a long moment, his fingers poised above the keys. I flashed a smile at him, and like most of the others, it bounced off of his inpenetrable expression. He exhaled slowly, then said, "I've seen him walking sometimes around the North Gardens about this time."

I bolted upright. "You have? Heero, man, why didn't you tell me? Wait, forget I asked. You're my hero, Heero. I owe you *big* for this. Anything you want."

"Close the door behind you."

I leapt from the bed and salaamed. "Your wish is my command," I said as I raced from the room, closing the door with an estatic bang behind me. I jammed my feet into my shoes, and took off for the gardens at warp speed.

'Finally,' I thought as I peered ahead through the trees that flanked the North Garden. I was going to do this, and be back in bed before midnight. Up ahead I heard Wufei's voice. Now how to do this, I wondered, as I almost skipped around the corner.

"Hey, Wufei, about this whole Meiran thing..." My mouth finally caught up with my eyes, and the world held its breath. Wufei was not alone. He leapt to his feet, face blazing with anger, but my gaze was riveted to the woman behind him, calmly buttoning her shirt. And it was definately a woman, as in not even remotely underage.

"Dr. Po? Wufei? What the hell...?"

"Maxwell! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Gee, Wufei, I was about to ask you the same thing. Except that it's pretty damn obvious what *you're* doing." My fists clenched as I fired off my reply. How could that bastard do that to Meiran? Wufei's face, already flushed, went a deeper red.

"This is none of your business."

"Oh, really?" My eyes narrowed. I could feel my nails digging deeply into my palms, and taste the hot copper of rage in my mouth. "I always knew you were a bastard, Wufei, but I had no idea just how big an asshole you really were. How do you think Meiran is gonna feel about this?" My eyes flickered to the composed figure of Sally Po, "Didn't he tell you about Meiran? About his *wife*?" Her eyes widened, but I didn't see much more, because Wufei hit me.

I went down, my nose screaming and streaming blood, but my flailing hand caught his arm. As I fell, I tugged, and he tumbled atop me. On the cold brick path, we rolled over each other, pummeling for all we were worth. I freely admit that I made enthusiastic use of my teeth; a lifetime of scrapping teaches you that there's no such thing as 'honorable' fighting, if nothing else. But though I was ahead in fouls, Wufei fought with the single-minded determination of one to whom nothing matters except victory. And he had a left like a sledgehammer.

I think...no, I know I would have ended up on the worst end of the fight if Dr. Po hadn't reached down and thrown Wufei off of me. As it was, I lay against the cool stone of the walkway and watched the pretty stars orbiting behind my eyes for a moment. Above me, I could hear voices, arguing, but it was impossible to tune into them through the ringing in my head. This, a still sensible part of me reflected, was why you stopped brawling, Maxwell. It's kind of fun while it lasts, but the hangover is hell. A fuzzy human form stooped over me, and a blessedly cool, wet cloth caressed my cheek. I blinked, and the silhouette resolved itself into the concerned face of the school's doctor. "Can you get up?" she asked.

With her help, I found that I could. My nose was bleeding profusely; I think he aimed for it on purpose. I would have, I thought with a sort of guilty pride. Speaking of Wufei, I looked around. He was nowhere to be found. "He needs a little time," the doctor's alto voice came from my left. Before I could work my way up to being angry about this base desertion, Dr. Po touched me lightly on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get you to the infirmary and patched up. I've got some aspirin there." It's hard to be pissed at someone who's offering painkillers, but I was going to give it a good try.

Walking discovered new injuries, including a twisted ankle, but I shrugged off her attempt at support. As I stumbled a step or two behind her tall, regal form, I said nastily (and more than a shade nasally), "Is that how you got Wufei, or did he come to you with a boo-boo and ask you to kiss it better?" She gave me a sharp look, which I ignored. I was on the moral high ground here, damnit.

"Wufei was right about one thing," she replied.

"What's that?"

"You are a very rude young man."

Tell me something I don't know. But I wasn't going to let that, or the way she was letting me bleed all over her hanky without protest, stop me. "'Young' being the operative word in that sentence, Doc," I croaked. Her shoulders tensed. I was really going to have to shut up soon, I thought just a shade guiltily, before my nose fell off or Dr. Po violated her Hippocratic Oath and killed me. But...my mind kept circling around that one image of them together, Wufei's hand sliding into her shirtfront. Meiran would have a fit. Why would he do that? Hell, why would *she* do that, with Wufei of all people! I just couldn't make sense of it.

"We're here," she said, and I blinked. While I had been worrying at the problem, we'd walked all the way to the infirmary from the North Gardens. She opened the door with her key, and ushered me in. I sat gingerly on one of the paper-sheeted beds. Her face was closed as she got the medical supplies. There was a really big bottle of alcohol. I gulped; I've always been a bit of a baby when it came to getting scrapes disinfected. It usually hurt more than the original wound. Luckily, she bound my ankle first, which allowed me to keep my manly resolve. But as she returned with a sharply alcohol-scented pad in her hand, I cast my mind for something to distract me. Which brought me back to the problem at hand.

"Why, Dr. Po-ow!" I asked as she brought the disinfectant down on one of the scrapes on my forehead. She brushed the dirt from my head, and was silent for so long that I thought she wasn't going to answer.

"Because," she said finally, "I love him." I stared at her, and she sighed. She raised a hand to push back one of the two ash-blond braids that framed her face; it rolled back around her shoulder almost immediately. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but what the hell...in for a penny, in for a pound, as my professor used to say." She smiled, but it was a weak, frail thing that disappeared as soon as she took the cloth from my skin and tossed it into the disposal. She picked up a new one, and cleaned as she talked.

"Wufei started visiting the infirmary shortly after the semester started. First, he came to make sure that his nose was healing properly," I squirmed uncomfortably as she gave me a significant look. "I think I mentioned sometime during the visit that I was rushed because my assistant had come down with the flu, and would be quarantined on L1 for a while. The next day, he showed up, and pretty much demanded that I give him something to do," She smiled.Even distracted as I was, I noticed that she seemed to smile a lot. Warm, slight smiles that reminded me of the Sisters back home.

"I think I fell in love with him then, just watching him vibrate with indignation in the doorway. Anyway, I did need the help, so I gave him something to do,"

"I'll bet," I muttered. I couldn't help it, I swear. It just slipped out; my instinctive response to emotional scenes is to be a smartass. Shoot me.

Dr. Po swiped the cloth over my flesh with more force than was strictly necessary and glared. "Obviously my first impression of you was correct, Mr. Maxwell. Here, take these." She shoved a couple of pills at me. I took them, and swallowed quickly, before she could hand me a cup of water. Dry-swallowing was the normal procedure on the colonies, where every drop of water was conserved and doled out only when necessary. "I'll straighten up your nose, and give you something for it. Then, I imagine you'll be wanting to leave." She stood up and turned around.

"Hey, wait. Look, I'm sorry. It was a stupid thing to say. I want to know what's going on here. I mean, I can understand your part of this," Well, no, not really, I thought but didn't say. I mean this is *Wufei* we're talking about. "But, I just can't get why he...I mean, Meiran loves him, and she's great. Not that you aren't, of course!" I cursed myself. Where did the patented Duo Maxwell charm go when you needed it?

Clumsy or not, it seemed to work, a little bit. At least, she was smiling slightly as she set my nose quickly, cleaned it, and attached the bandages. Although that could just be because she'd discovered my dirty secret: I scream like a little girl. As I sat gasping for air, she murmured, "Now that I have your attention...I know he has Meiran. And I know he doesn't care for me the way that I care for him." One corner of her mouth twitched, but whatever expression that was there died stillborn. "He may not know it, but I do. But, just for a while, it was nice...to pretend." Her pastel blue eyes stared past me, looking at something that I hadn't ever realized existed until that moment. I think that's the second that I realized what love was. Real love, I mean, not the ecstatic, terrifying extremes of attraction and rejection I was familiar with. This was to that as a raging river was to the ocean depths.

She shook herself, and I shuddered in sympathy as her eyes cleared. Her voice was cool and professional as she helped me to my feet for the second time that evening. "At any rate, it won't happen again. You have my word on that, Mr. Maxwell."

I was still reeling from my revelation, reflected in the gaze of a woman I barely knew. "Oh...yeah. Okay," I said, still searching her expression for the echo of that feeling. Just the reflection had almost drowned me; I couldn't even imagine how she felt.

"Of course, I'll inform Treize in the morning of my breach of conduct. It's the only right thing to do."

"No!" She stared at me. I continued more quietly, "Don't do that. I didn't see anything, really. It'd be a shame to lose our doc just because she made one mistake."

"Love is never a mistake, Mr. Maxwell," she said, "but I do see your point. I don't really want to leave, myself. But I will give it a few more days, at least. See how things go."

I nodded. That'd give me time to talk to Wufei. We had some serious things to discuss. And this time, I was going to beard the dragon in his den.

I trudged back to the dorms through the still, dark air. Headmaster Treize didn't believe in "light pollution", so the grounds were pitch black, with only the small yellow lights that illuminated doors to guide me on my way. It didn't help my mood any, let me tell you; yes, the stars were numerous and beautiful overhead, but it's hard to concentrate on that when you're stubbing your toe every five seconds. Besides, I've seen stars. Hell, I *lived* in stars. After a while on the Colonies, you realize what the glory of heaven is all about--a big black pit with little white dots at random intervals. Not His best work, in my humble opinion.

Finally, I fumbled my way back to the dorm, which was also unlighted but for the faint shine above the door. I squinted at my watch. Damn, but these people were the early bird type. Maybe, when this was all over, I'd have to get Quatre to help me throw a party or something to lighten the atmosphere. There'd been way too much angst around here lately, and it was pretty much his fault, as far as I was concerned. If he had just let me keep my nose where it belonged, it wouldn't have been broken. I realized that I was standing outside Wufei's room. The door was closed, and the light was off, but I knew he was in there by the way my hackles rose. I lifted my hand, then hesitated. Hell, knocking was for wimps. I turned the knob and strolled in.

"Get out, Maxwell," the darkness growled. I closed the door gently behind me.

"Ain't going to happen, Wufei," I replied, "We've got to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

I thought about making an incredulous face, but it would hurt my nose, and he wouldn't see it anyway. So I settled for a muffled curse as I scraped my shin trying to feel my way to a chair. Trust Wu-fang to rearrange his room. "Ow. Don't give me that shit, Chang, okay? Drop the stuck-up little man routine for *one fucking minute* and talk to me!" I got a grip before I blew out my nose again. "Okay?" There, much better.

Silence from the general direction of the bed. Maybe I'd overdid it? "I...I think I screwed up. No, I know I screwed up. Is that what you wanted to hear, Maxwell?"

"Not really," I said. What I *wanted* to hear was Quatre coming in and saying "I'll handle all the touchy-feely stuff from here on out, Duo. Good job, though,". But I suppose this would do for now. "Why'd you do it, anyway?"

"I don't know. Don't look at me like that, Maxwell," I made a face in the darkness, "I really don't. It's just...Sally is a very strong woman. I'm drawn to strength."

"Meiran is strong, you idiot," I snarled. I didn't want another fight, really I didn't, but he was starting to piss me off. I heard him suck in a breath, and tensed.

"I know that. I've known her a hell of a lot longer than *you* have," he bit the words out.

"Then, *why* do you keep treating her like dirt?"

"I don't treat her like dirt!"

"The hell you don't! Do you know how many times she's come crying to me because you don't want to talk to her, or look at her, or even be around her?"

There was a nasty laugh. "And I bet you comfort her, too." Oddly enough, instead of blowing up, I felt all the anger drain out of me. Maybe it was just that I was far too worn out to work up a good mad. Or, it could have been the barely perceptible hitch in his voice as he spoke. In the dark, you notice things like that. I smiled, and it wasn't an expression without sadness. I was glad he couldn't see me.

"No, Wufei. I don't 'comfort' her...not like you're suggesting. She'd never go for it, and I'd never hurt her. You do care for her, don't you?"

"No...yes," his voice trailed off. When he started again, the hitch was back. "We've been 'engaged' for years. Since we were born, really. And I was fine...happy with it until I realized the woman that Meiran was becoming. A strong woman, intelligent, talented, and independent...who would *never* have the chance to really explore the world because no matter where she went, she'd always be expected to come back to me and 'settle down'. I tried explaining that to her before we came here, but she just thought that I 'didn't want to be seen with her'. That I was ashamed of her.

"I could never be ashamed of Meiran. But I let her think that, because it was the only way I could get her to branch out. I mean, it just wasn't *fair* that we'd be trapped into this marriage by a contract drawn up before we were born. Unless she...experiments, how will she ever know that she'll be happy with me?" His voice dropped, and I knew that he was pretty much just talking to himself, now. "Or how will I know that I'll ever be happy with her? It's just not *fair*!" There was the dull crack of something heavy hitting the wall.

"Hey," I interrupted hurriedly, "Don't tell me, tell Meiran. She needs to hear this, because you're not doing her any favors. I mean, if you think she's so strong and intelligent, then don't you think she deserves the chance to hear you out and make her *own* decision?"

"Her emotions would get in the way," he muttered.

I couldn't help it; I chuckled. "Like yours haven't been? Just because you prefer to brood and kick my ass doesn't make you any better than her. Especially since she kicks my ass, too."

"She's been known to kick mine, as well." I could hear the faint smile. "It galls me to admit it, Maxwell, but you might have something. Other than a talent for pissing me off, I mean."

"That's not a talent, Wu-fang. That's a carefully honed and cherished skill."

"I believe it. So," he said with deceptive calm, "What are you going to do?"

I'm not a saint. I let him stew for a good while before I sighed and said, "I told you that I'd never hurt Meiran. And I'm not keen on ruining Dr. Po's career, either. Something you should have thought of," I imagined I felt his wince, "So I'm not going to do anything. Right now. But I suggest you talk to Meiran, and come clean...without naming unnecessary names, of course."

"And if I don't?" A hint of the old arrogance was back.

"Then that'll prove that you're every bit the self-righteous, hypocritical prig I always thought you were. And I'll make your life a living hell *without* bringing in either of the women. I'm good at that."

"Screw you, Maxwell," he said, but for the first time, I think he might not have meant it. "I'll talk to her. Now get out." That, I was pretty sure he meant.

"You're welcome, Wu-fang," I said and backed out of the room. I closed the door just in time to block another thump. A shoe, I thought.

If I hadn't hurt so much, I'd have done a victory dance right there in the hallway. Instead, I stumbled into my room and tumbled into bed, fully clothed. I barely managed the effort to set the alarm before sleep rose out of the dark depths of the blankets and mugged me.