Title: Suspension (Part 4)
Author: Scheherazade
Email: desertrose @ gundamwing.org
Archive: www.ontheqt.org (Thanks Hilary!! *massive glomps*)
Warnings: AU / fantasy / eventual yaoi / violence
Pairings: Eventual 3x4/4x3, 2+H, 5+M, and more as they come
Notes: *coughs* Sorry, sorry, sorry, for the extreme delay. I wish I could blame it all on school, but there are a couple new obssessions that certainly didn't help me write any faster… (*glances guiltily at tempting pile of Weiss Kreuz ficcies*). Ahem. And sorry for the lack of TQ content--we'll be getting back to them next time. I really was going to have a nice long scene between them (I spent literally *days* until it was perfect!) but the silly plot got in the way. Hope you enjoy all the same! One more note--about a month has passed since the last part. Hopefully that's made clear later on.
Dedication: To Ore, because she gave me a small idea that ended up swallowing the fic (or my plans for the fic). Otherwise, you'd be waiting another five and a half weeks for this.
*…* -- italics
/…/ -- thoughts
The dark-haired man bent over the shallow bowl of water, smooth as glass. He needed no commands or gestures--instead he merely *focused*--
A sharp, clear image appeared on the water's surfacem of a brown-haired man who was smiling as he spoke, sitting on the floor across from a blond with a skeptical expression on his face.
The sorcerer's eyebrows shot up. "Both of them?" He concentrated again and theimage changed, this time to a curly-haired man arguing with the same blond, who now looked bored and out of patience.
Heero Yuy's eyebrows raised even more, a smile crossing his lips. "Ironic. And absolutely perfect."
The image dissolved into thousands of tiny ripples.
* * * *
Duo Maxwell stared at the brightly-painted caravan wagons in shoock. It was true, then, the story that was already spreading through the city like wildfire.
The Dragon Clan had come to Al'Rassan.
The legendary nomads had never, ever come to the city before--in fact, they practically shunned human contact. There were all sorts of strange stories about them--that every one of them, down to the smallest child, were powerful sorcerers who could move mountains, that they were human by day and dragon by night.
He thought he remembered Quatre mentioning them once, but he had no why. He realized with a start it had been almost a month since he'd last seen Quatre, when his fellow assassin had stopped by to ask about Trowa Barton. Trowa--
Duo tried to stop that train of thought before it even started. Trowa had to be dead by now. Which meant Duo would never know--
A sudden thought occurred to him as he gazed at the colorful wagons and bustle of activity. If anyone could tell him, the Dragon Clan could. Assuming, of course, that they really were sorcerers of some sort--it was entirely possible that the stories were completely made up and they simply loved to be solitary.
There was only one way to find out.
* * * *
Chang Meiran of the Dragon Clan stifled yet another yawn. She had to finish this inventory by tomorrow--to at least make it appear as if they were here for no other reason than trade. But she was finding herself yawning more and more frequently, blinking to keep her eyes open.
How did Wufei end up on guard duty, strolling around in the open, while she was cramped in a tiny, sweltering caravan wagon, going through a case of jade carvings and painstakingly recording every one? This was distinctly unfair. One would think that when you were the leader of a Clan, you wouldn't be stuck with duties like this.
There was obviously no justice in this world.
Finally she gave up, telling the inventory to go anatomically impossible things to itself. It was who knew how many hours after midnight and she needed *sleep*.
Meiran stumbled into her caravan, tripping on the small flight of steps up to the entrance. At another time she might have cursed the offending steps and taken some of her frustrations out on them. Right now, she was hot, she was aching, and she was exhausted.
Which was why when a black-clad figure with a long chestnut braid suddenly appeared in the doorway, she was not feeling terribly hospitable.
"You chose the wrong time to sneak in," she snapped in extremely bad Common as she moved to her feet, glaring daggers at the taken aback man. "If you're planning to rob or otherwise injure me, you chose the wrong person as well, and if you take one more step you *will* regret it. Otherwise, who are you, what are you doing, and why can't it wait until morning?"
The man blinked. "I--er--"
"Well?" Meiran demanded, feeling slightly more awake. "What is it?"
"Um--well--I'm not trying to kill you!" he finally blurted out. "Or steal anything," he added, almost as an afterthought.
Meiran almost raised an eyebrow. So he automically associated sneaking in somewhere in the dead of the night with murder rather than burglary? Interesting. All in black, too--at the moment, she would guess he was an assassin.
Then she realized something. He was speaking in the language of the Rassan desert clans.
/Where under the stars did he learn *that*?/
She replied in the same tongue. "That's fortunate for you. Now would you mind explaining exactly what you're doing here?"
A look of relief crossed the man's face. "You do understand! This is the only other language I know--no offense, but your Common's not that great." He shrugged apologetically.
She didn't bother to tell him this particular dialect was almost a second language to most of the Dragons. After all, the Raberbas were practically the only other humans they came into contact with--
The Raberbas. Of course.
This man had to know Quatre. No doubt the other boy--no, Quatre would be around twenty by now, Meiran sharply reminded herself, he was only six years younger than she--no doubt he was an assassin, too. It would fit the blond perfectly--he was one of the most dangerous people Meiran had ever met.
/Stupid,/ she scolded herself. /You can't afford to zone out like this!/
The man was staring at her oddly. She arched one eyebrow. "What, don't I look foreign enough for you?"
He flushed. "No--I mean--that's not what--for crying out loud, that's not why I was looking at you! I was--oh, never mind."
She hid a smile. If she didn't want to be here, she would make sure this intruder felt the same way. "You still haven't explained why you're here."
He managed to regain some of his composure and swept her a low, flourishing bow. "Duo Maxwell, at your service. I--I've a got a few very important questions." Seeing the next comment forming on her lips, he hastily added, "There's no way I could have snuck in here in the daytime, and it's really important no one sees me. Your guards are way too alert."
Meiran's eyes narrowed. What was the need for all this secrecy? And if these questions were just idiotic curiosity about the 'strange foreigners'--
She would not be held responsible for resulting damages.
For some odd reason, though, she felt as if she should give this man more credit than just a gawker. /Nataku alone knows why./
"The reason I've come to you is because it's said the Dragon Clan are--are sorcerers. That they know everything there is to know about magic. So--so I don't know if any of that is true, but if it is you've got to help me." His strange violet eyes were pleading, something that seemed out of character for this man.
Meiran hesitated.
/He's a close friend of Quatre's,/ she reminded herself, /or Quatre wouldn't have taught him the language./ And she trusted Quatre with her life, with any of her family's lives.
With this in mind, she reached *out*--
Almost imperceptibly at first, a blue haze began to shimmer in front of her upraised palm, soidifying into a brightly-glowing sigil. At the sight of it, Duo almost sagged in relief, mumbling something in another language that sounded like thanks to a god.
"You recognize the sign," she stated quietly, releasing the energy and letting it drain away.
He nodded. "Yeah--I've never actually seen it for a mage, but Deathscythe--" He abruptly fell silent.
Meiran's eyes widened. Deathscythe. She was sure that was one of them.
She reached *out* again, but this time to brush across the other's mind in a feather-light touch, looking for confirmation. At the familiar sign, she bowed deeply, hands flat at her sides. "Greetings, Bearer."
This man carried one of the Living Blades, was mentally linked to the dangerous weapon that almost had a consciousness of its own. Just as Wufei was Bearer of Shenlong, Duo Maxwell was Bearer of Deathscythe.
Meiran raised her head to see him look away. "I used to be."
/*Used* to be?/
"My husband is also a Bearer," she said, sinking down to one of the large floor cushions and gesturing for him to sit on the one across from her. "That means you're always welcome here--although I'd prefer it if you feel welcome in the daytime rather than the middle of the night."
Duo readily dropped to the floor, leaning back and supporting himself on his hands. "So the Dragons really are sorcerers. I thought that was mostly tales--but then, for the longest time I thought the Blades were only tales, too. Hell, I thought the Dragon Clan, period, was a tale."
"Not all of us," she said quickly. "Wufei--my husband--for instance. He couldn't do magic to save his life, but he's the best swordsman in three countries, with or without Shenlong." Try as she might, she couldn't keep that note of pride out of her voice.
"That's good to know," Duo replied, grinning. "I would feel slightly threatened if a legendary clan made up completely of sorcerers suddenly decided to drop in, when they've *avoided* human contact throughout history. Actually, that's probably how most of the city feels right now."
She grinned back. "Let them think that. A little fear is good for people."
Duo snorted. "More than a little, lady--er, what was your name?"
"Chang Meiran."
"Right, then. I have a couple questions, Lady Meiran."
"I can't guarantee I'll be able to answer them, but I'll try," she said truthfully.
/Can't guarantee I'll be *allowed* to answer them is more like it./
"All right," he agreed. "Well, first of all, do you know of other types of magic? I mean besides this kind of sorcery, or the Blades--I've heard there are people who can do other things like read minds and stuff--" He lapsed into silence.
Meiran frowned. This sounded familiar--now if she could only remember--
"Actually, yes," a new voice answered smoothly. Meiran looked up to see Wufei lounging in the doorway. Just how long had he been there, anyway?
Hopefully not long enough to hear the comment she'd made about his swordsmanship. Just because it was true didn't mean he needed to hear it. The world might end if either of the pair began *praising* each other.
The tiny, smug smile he gave her as he dropped to the floor beside her shattered that hope. Even so, she leaned against his side comfortably out of habit, using him as a backrest.
Duo's head had snapped up at the first sound, and a hand had immediately gone to his belt. Now he relaxed somewhat, looking intently at the black-haired man. "You've heard of them?"
Wufei nodded. "Before we begin, I am Chang Wufei. You are?"
"Duo Maxwell," Meiran interjected in their language. "Former Bearer of Deathscythe. He knows Quatre." Talk about it later, she sent with her eyes. "Like I said," she continued to Duo in the Rassan tongue, "Wufei's not a sorcerer, but he knows everything there is to know about magic. At least, he thinks he does."
Wufei snorted. "Fine thing to say when you're using me as a piece of furniture."
She ignored that.
"Anyways," Wufei continued, turning his attention back to Duo, "yes, I have heard of these people. Hundreds of years ago there were many of them--some could read thoughts, some could feel other's emotions, some could see into the future. All things normal sorcery can't do. I've only read of all this, though--their numbers began to decrease long ago, and now there's no one left."
"Not quite," Meiran said suddenly, her memory triggered. "There are still some with the potential, but there's no way for it to be activated."
Wufei nodded slowly. "Yes…that sounds right."
The news didn't seem to put Duo any more at ease. "So you know about them. That's good. Can you tell me something else--if by some freak chance someone did have that talent, would it be connected to 'normal' magic? I mean, would they have to be a sorcerer to have one of these talents?" His voice was a little strained, and Meiran sensed that *this* was the real reason he'd come here.
"No, exactly the opposite," Wufei answered. "The two are never connected. I have no idea why, but it's impossible to be a sorcerer *and* have one of the forgotten talents--that's what they're known as."
Duo let out a long sigh. The relief in his eyes was almost embarrassing to see, and Meiran felt an awkward silence descending on the small group. To break it, she remarked dryly, "You, admitting you don't know something? Now that's a first."
"Hush, woman."
"Say that to my face in the practice ring."
"Is that a challenge?"
"Dead in the black, scholar-boy!"
A muffled snicker broke their familiar banter. "Scholar-boy?" Duo asked, hiding a smile behind his hand.
Meiran shrugged.
"I mean, Wu-man doesn't seem like the type of guy who would put with nicknames," he continued, eyes glinting mischievously.
Wufei's face changed from mock annoyance to outraged indignation. "Wu-man?" he repeated incredulously.
The look only heightened when Meiran burst into hysterical laughter, collapsing on the floor. "Wu-man--" she managed to gasp before going off again. "Wufei, the look on your face is *priceless*--"
Wufei narrowed his eyes and leveled his iciest, most dangerous glare at Duo. "Don't--*ever*--say that again."
The effect was somewhat ruined by Meiran's uncontrollable laughter in the background. "Oh, I'll never forget that one--"
"Thanks a lot, Maxwell."
He shrugged, eyes dancing. "Sorry. Sort of."
"If you weren't a Bearer, you'd be regretting this by now."
If anything, the smile grew. "As much as I'd love to stay and chat, I really should be going. Hilde'll be waiting for me, even though I told her not to." The tone of Duo's voice was affectionate. "Maybe I'll see you around, huh?"
Meiran was sitting up again, wiping at her eyes. "Hopefully," she said, grinning at him. "Oh, and can you deliver a message for us?"
Duo's face became guarded. "Depends."
"Just tell Quatre we're here, if you can. He'll find out before long, but I'd prefer sooner rather than later."
The look on Duo's face nearly made Meiran burst into laughter again. "You--Quatre--he knows you? You know him?" he gasped.
"You could say that," Wufei answered, now looking decidedly amused at Duo's astonishment.
"The language you're speaking now is the Raberba dialect," Meiran added. "That's Quatre's clan, if you didn't know. They wander nearest to the hills, and we meet with them once or twice a year."
Duo's mouth opened and closed a couple times before snapping shut. "Figures," he said under his breath. "Sure, I'll pass the word on, if you'll do one thing for me. He doesn't know I'm a Bearer, and I'd like to keep it that way. Please?"
The pair exchanged glances. "All right," Meiran agreed. She didn't think it would do any harm.
Duo smiled in relief. "I'll find him tomorrow. Until later, then!" He flashed them a cheery wave before slipping out the door and into the night.
The two Dragons sat in silence for a moment. "What do you think of him?" Meiran finally asked.
"Dangerous," Wufei immediately replied, confirming Meiran's opinions. "Not like Quatre, but still not someone to treat lightly, for all he acts like an idiot."
Meiran nodded. "I think there's more to all this than he's letting on," she said slowly. "And I, for one, would like to know what happened to his Blade."
/What was it Master Long said? Severe mental and emotional disturbance if the two are separated?/
"Exactly." Wufei slipped an arm around Meiran's waist and she leaned back against him, eyes slipping shut. "Perhaps Quatre can tell us something about his past--it'll be hard if we can't tell him why we want to know, though."
"Mmm," she replied in affirmation, her earlier exhaustion suddenly making itself felt again. She heard Wufei laugh softly, before she felt herself being gently lifted and carried to the small room at the end of the caravan wagon, where a soft pallet awaited her. The last thing she was aware of was a hand smoothing her hair and a soft "Goodnight, airen," before she slipped into oblivion.
* * * *
For the first time in what seemed like forever, Duo Maxwell felt free. He finally knew exactly what Trowa had done that night years ago--and what he *hadn't*.
He hadn't been the one who actually destroyed 'Scythe. Duo let out a long breath at the thought. How long had he agonized over whether or not the one he thought was his closest friend, his fellow Bearer, had actually done--that? But from what the two Dragons had said, and he trusted them already, there was no way Trowa could have had that power.
He thrust his hands into his pockets, feeling his braid whip behind him as he continued through the dark streets. As for what else Trowa had done--he was certainly dead now, by Quatre's hand. That was punishment enough. And now maybe Duo could begin to let things go.
/I have Hilde now./
The thought brought a smile to his face. If none of this had happened, he never would have found Hilde. Something to thanks Trowa for? Strange thought.
He let out another deep breath, turning down a twisting side street. He had a new life. Trowa had paid. He could let go.
/Let go./
It was at that moment that a movement in a second-story window caught his attention.
The moon was a delicate crescent, casting barely enough light to see by. But what light it did provide shone directly on the window--and one glimpse was more than enough for Duo.
He felt his mouth go dry and his knees weaken, nails biting deep into his palms as his fists clenched.
No. It couldn't be.
NO!
Quatre--he couldn't have, he was too good--but how--
No, no, no, he couldn't still be alive. It wasn't possible.
Duo turned and ran.
* * * *