Title: Never Again (Part 1 of 5)
Rating: Strong 'R'
Summary: Wufei learns that there's much more to being human than meets the eye.
Warnings: Shounen ai. Some language. Slight angst. Eventual citrus.
Pairings: 5+/x1 (eventually)
Disclaimer: Not mine! Gundam Wing is the property of entities that are clearly not me.
Never Again
He awoke that morning, as he had for the last 713 mornings, with the knowledge that something was just not right. He couldn't pinpoint it, but nor could he deny it. The disharmony he felt to was too solid to ignore. After so long, it couldn't simply be a figment of his imagination, could it?
Sometimes, Wufei thought, the discomfort he couldn't quite shake was an afterimage of Meiran. The lingering knowledge that things hadn't quite worked out the way anyone had expected. She was almost a symbol, now, of the strange power of chance. That one little twist of fate had changed everything, on a molecular level to a cosmic one. She had died, and with her went the future Wufei had been so proud to call his own. He had the keen intelligence to make anything work, back then. He could have conquered the world, but he never would have done it with anything but words. It never would have occurred to him before his wife's death to use a gun. To pilot a giant mech. He was never a peaceful soul, by any means, but the violence inherent within him could be contained and transformed. Into something better. Something beautiful.
Wufei shook his head against the starched cotton of his pillow case. He could remember every last detail. He had spent so much time disciplining himself, learning how to make himself into more than he knew--deep down inside-- he could ever be. The pure, helpless anger he'd harboured for so long was changed into motivation to learn. So he did. He absorbed everything he could, all the classic texts to the contemporary science journals given to him by his teachers. It had changed him, matured him. After so long trying to prove himself as a viable human being, he was seen aged enough to marry. The Chinese boy had been at first shocked, then pleased. The prospect of being bound so tightly to another human being didn't really appeal to him, but the thought that his elders saw him enough a man to be gifted with a woman... he could remember feeling so proud of himself. Like he'd won.
It was a short victory.
Meiran was foolish and empty. She was a husk filled by the particularly dangerous brand of self-righteous indignation that made men into dictators. She wasn't so much interested in restoring justice as winning the battle so she could spit in her enemy's face at the end. She wanted the whole world to know she was right. It was unfortunate; had she been given the time to grow up, she might have made an amazing woman. She could have left her childish lack of conviction behind her. If she had been given time to grow up, she might have begun to understand what the war was about instead of blindly pointing fingers. She may have understood the dynamics of the conflict, something which would have made her will to fight that much stronger.
Despite it all, he loved her.
Meiran angered, irritated, and confused him. But she was his, damn it! She had given up the same, if not more, to become his wife. While Wufei was born a scholar, Meiran was born something entirely without a title. She was an egotist. She worshipped herself and the cunning she wished she possessed. She was entirely without respect for the past, or the future. She was shortsighted, but she was nothing but a child. A child.
When Wufei had first learned of his wife's death, he didn't want to mourn. He didn't even want to attend the last rights. He just wanted to fight. To let those bastards know that they had taken something he could never get back. Meiran was more than a reward for his good behaviour; she was the symbol of his triumph. She was his control. And those bastards had destroyed her.
The anger Wufei had grown to fear welled back up inside him and seemed to swell bigger and bigger with each day. It consumed him. He was cold and unapproachable and so very separate. But never let it be said that he was alone. With his anger as his guide, Wufei was never without company.
But damn was he starting to feel lonely right about now.
It had been almost two years. The last battle. It had been nearly two years since he'd seen the other pilots, with the exception of Quatre Winner. He'd had no contact with the people he felt closest to.
It was rather ludicrous when he thought about it. During the war, he had avoided as much contact as possible with the other pilots. He hadn't cared about their motives or their missions. His mission was entirely different. They may have shared a common enemy, but at the time it felt as if they'd been fighting two entirely different wars. Wufei had distanced himself so far from the others he was shocked sometimes to find that they knew where he'd been and what he'd done. They kept tabs on him, and not just to make sure he was fulfilling his duty as a soldier. They cared. And he didn't.
What was that old saying? Ah, yes: chop wood, carry water. It meant, loosely, maintain your body if only to serve as a host for the soul's ascension. You must continue to go on with the mundane tasks of every day life to maintain your physical life. In the end, that's how he'd felt. He kept himself alive and in good condition because without his body, there would be no way to strike his revenge. His life wasn't particularly important, just... necessary.
It had quickly become unnecessary. The war was over, and the anger had dissipated. His sense of purpose left with it.
Wufei snorted at himself as he pushed the thin covers to his thighs and wiggled into a sitting position. He should've been up twenty minutes ago. All that notorious discipline, and he couldn't even make it to work on time.
The Chinese youth slipped from the low bed, standing at full height (all 5 foot, 5 inches of it, Wufei mentally snorted) and stretched his arms above his head. He bent left, then right, smiling with satisfaction as his back popped in several places. There was something inherently satisfying in knowing he was so comfortable with his body and how it should feel that he could manipulate it to do just about whatever he wanted. Wufei's smile widened a little as he parted his legs and tipped his head back, loving the feel of his loose hair slithering between his shoulders. His back gave another tiny pop, and the boy straightened, casting a quick glance at the wall clock.
Hmm... 7:20. He definitely wouldn't have enough time to do his yoga, go through his katas, and eat. He would barely have enough time to eat and shower as it was. Wufei was very reluctant to break his routine. For the 713 days since the last campaign had taken him from home, the boy had gone through the same routine. It kept him level headed, grounded. He was steadied by it. He found himself again every morning in the silence of his head. His body moved without conscious thought, flowed and became one with the energy around it. Such action didn't take thought. It was so simple and seamless that, for at least an hour and a half every day, Wufei felt at peace with himself and the world around him. It was his to control, even if nothing else was. Fucked if he was going to abandon that control for something like work.
For the first time in his life, Change Wufei decided to shirk responsibility. And it felt --great--.
*****
"Quatre Winner."
The slight blonde boy continued typing as he waited for the caller to identify himself. It wasn't often his secretary found it suitable for calls to be directed immediately to him--it must have been important.
" 'Lo, Winner."
Quatre's fingers momentarily stilled on the keyboard as he tried to identify the voice. It was rich, deep and rolling and ever so familiar. He frowned into the screen as he adjusted the headset and decided to speak.
"Yes?"
A small laugh resounded on the other side of the connection. The frown deepened. Damn, if that didn't sound just a little like...
"You have no idea who this is, do you?"
The Arabian growled a little in the back of his throat. He knew he should be familiar with this person, and it was irking him beyond belief that he couldn't place him. At least the other was being honest.
"I'm afraid I can't quite..."
Quatre stopped mid-sentence at the quiet chuckles. It was a sound that calmed him, reminded him of space and the tension that could be eased by his comrades' agreeance. It reminded him of swords and valour and...
"Wufei?!"
The small chuckles turned into a short, pleased laugh.
"Very good, Winner! And how are you today?"
Quatre positively beamed, closing down the document on his computer screen and easing himself back into the vast, leather chair. He couldn't believe...! He hadn't heard from or seen Wufei since Mayor Deling's reception at least three, four months ago. This was great!
"Very well, thank you. And how are you?"
The pleased laugh rang over the line again.
"Wonderful!"
Quatre was torn between being delighted at his friend's obvious happiness and suspicious of the very un-Wufei like behaviour. He decided on a happy medium between the two.
"Are you now? And what brings this on?"
There was a momentary silence that made Quatre's face fall. He sensed something a little off kilter, something... of equal parts sadness and elation. Wufei's voice seemed to convey exactly that.
"I was fired today."
The blonde started. Fired? He though Wufei loved his job, and he voiced just that.
"Oh, I did. For a while." Wufei paused, and Quatre could almost see him tilting his head in concentration, searching for the perfect words. "But it wasn't right."
Quatre nodded even though the gesture would be lost on his friend. He knew all too well what the Chinese boy meant.
"Do you think you could do lunch today? I know it's short notice, but..." Too much hesitation, as if he expected rejection. "I think I need to see you."
It was without thought the blonde responded, almost unreasonably desperate to put the optimism and confidence back into this friend's voice. There was something definitely strange he needed to help sort out. He carefully kept the worry out of his voice as he responded.
"Of course, short notice or no! When and where?"
They set the time, briefly argued over a restaurant, and made a few more minutes of small talk before they hung up. Quatre was feeling inordinately pleased that he would be able to reconnect with the boy he had so quietly respected for years.
Today, Quatre felt, something great was going to change.
*****
The tiny eatery was close to empty, the few last lunch patrons slowly filtering out as Quatre and Wufei chatted. It was strange, in every sense of the word, for those particular two people to be where they were currently finding themselves. For Wufei to be out on a non-work related task was in itself a peculiarity.
Quatre probed his straw into his iced tea and distractedly watched the ice cubes bob at the top of the liquid. The discussion had managed to turn very uncomfortable very quickly. The blonde heard his companion sigh as he stuttered an answer.
"Ne-never."
Wufei's brows shot to his hairline in surprise. He was amazed that his friend had even managed to answer his question.
"Not once?"
The Arabian shook his head softly, eyes still trained on his drink. This was dredging up far more unpleasant memories than he would have preferred for an such innocuous-seeming lunch date.
"No."
The black-haired boy let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. The enormity of what he'd just been told bothered him in a way he couldn't quite grasp. Truth had always been so important to him, and on some subconscious level, he had always associated politicians with deceit. Quatre was a politician. To hear the boy give in so earnestly to the truth... it took a good deal of courage and steel. Quatre had never struck any of the other pilots as being especially strong-willed or forceful, yet in more times than he could cite, the seemingly fragile boy had proved himself everything but the easily swayed creature Wufei thought he knew. It occurred to him how rude he must have sounded, and the Chinese boy blushed a light red.
"Please excuse me, Quatre... it appears my already lacking social skills have deserted me!"
The blonde raised his head with a small smile, clearly forgiving the other. He pushed his glass just far enough away that he couldn't toy with it if he leaned back in his chair. The smile disappeared, and Wufei knew to expect a conversation he wouldn't soon forget. Quatre didn't disappoint.
"I know during the war that things were... different, between us all. We didn't know each other well, and you and Heero didn't trust anyone. Trowa simply didn't have the capacity to care, and Duo was so focused on his mission that it didn't bother him that we were all so independent. But it got to me, 'Fei, it really did. I don't know what you thought was happening within the war and within us pilots that necessitated your..."
Quatre paused, frowning. Wufei could see his mind racing through the vast dictionary he kept in his head. When the blue-green eyes focused back on his face, Wufei knew to expect an unsettling tirade.
"I wanted so much to see the colonies liberated. I wanted to see the people confronted with the truth and not the mindless rhetoric and propaganda that was being shoved down their throats. Did you think I fought because it was fun? Did you think I fought to anger my father? You treated me like a child, you and Heero. Because I refused to lose my humanity because I was angry... you thought you had the right to belittle me? I fought just as hard as anyone else. I had the same amount if not more passion than you in winning that war. I wanted to make a difference, to make sure that my sisters and their children never had to deal with the same shit we did. It was hard, you know?"
Quatre turned watery eyes to Wufei beseechingly. He was obvious trying not to break down. With his face flushed and his expression so pained, Wufei couldn't help but feel ashamed.
"None of us were allowed to be our ages. We had to act so different from what we were. I gave up a lot to fight. It wasn't a spontaneous decision. It was something I considered for years. I saw the world around me... Allah, was it messed up. Why couldn't I change that? I could, and I did, and I hate you for being so condescending and degrading because I chose to go about it differently. You called vengeance 'justice' and then had the gall to cut me down me for having compassion. Do you know how hard it was? No. You never even thought to consider it, did you?
"I never let anyone get away. You looked so surprised when I told you that, you had to ask me twice. Never once. It was war. I wasn't stupid. I knew who my enemy was. It would have been inhumane of me to not destroy the enemy. Not so much because it was us or them, but because I knew the legacy those men would leave behind if I let them get away. You thought compassion and humanity made me weak. It did, because it made me hurt so violently. I hated myself the whole time we fought. But it would have been worse if I hadn't acknowledged that what we were doing was the most important thing in the world. It would have been a terrible mistake to let my humanity win out." The blonde narrowed his eyes at Wufei, old anger resurfacing.
"When I settled myself into Sandrock... I knew what we were doing was right. I made too many widows out of decent women, Wufei. I took away too many children's' fathers. But I didn't regret it because I was making sure those children had a future. Where were you during all of this? Where was your sense of justice then? You were so absorbed in stoking your anger you never stopped to consider what each one of us was giving up.
"I gave everything to fight that war."
Silence fell over their small table. Quatre's face remained a mask of anger, but the tiniest hint of sorrow had crept in. Wufei couldn't even raise his eyes. The words he'd been so diligently avoiding could no longer be ignored. He flinched when his friend began again even though his voice was softer and filled with less accusation.
"I'm not sorry, Wufei. We fought hard and eventually made amends. In each of our individual ways, we have repented. But I see now that you were more screwed up than I realized back then. You never learned to communicate, did you? You never learned how to be human and interact with humans. You thought your ideals and standards and sense of logic would be enough to get you through." The blonde sighed, and his voice got softer still. "I pity you, Wufei. You don't know how to help yourself anymore. You've left yourself without any options. I used to think you were the strongest person I'd ever meet. I was wrong."
Quatre stood without pretense, gathering his coat from the back of the patio chair. He reached into the right-hand pocket and fished out enough money to cover his half of the bill. Wufei was speechless. His mind was whirring with thought. He only half-registered his companion placing bills on the table and topping them with the pepper canister to make sure they didn't blow away. The blonde was halfway across the concrete platform before Wufei was able to spur himself into action.
"Quatre, wait!"
The Chinese boy leapt from his seat, practically running to reach his friend's side. Quatre seemed to get further and further away despite the fact that he had stilled, his back towards Wufei.
"Is that it?"
Quatre turned around, hair alighting in a million shades of blonde when the late afternoon sun caught it. He raised an eyebrow curiously.
"Is what it?"
Some of the panic leaked from Wufei's expression when Quatre made no move to leave.
"Is that all you have to say?"
The boy clearly did not understand.
"I've said my piece, if that's what you're asking."
Wufei shook his head, frustration clear. Quatre watched him struggle for the right words.
"You agreed to lunch with me just to tell me I'm a failure?" The dark-eyed boy have a brittle laugh. "I know I am.
"And I know you didn't expect an apology, but you'll give you one anyway. I'm sorry, Winner. It wasn't right of me to put you down. It wasn't right of me to be so arrogant. But I was, and that won't change. So what is it you really wanted to talk about?"
Quatre frowned a little, realising that he hadn't really said anything he'd wanted to. Wufei was right. The Arabian pulled out a chair from a nearby table and motioned Wufei to do the same before dropping listlessly to the vinyl cover. Now he was the one struggling for words. He finally pinpointed exactly what he wanted to express and let his fear and grief seep into his voice.
"I miss you, Wufei. I miss being able to learn you as you grow up. But more than that, I'm afraid that you've become something terrible. You've burnt all your bridges, and instead of fighting to find another way like you would have before, you've resigned yourself to being stuck. It bothers me that you have given up so easily. It first struck me when you called."
Blonde brows grew together in concentration, and Wufei frowned. That ache in the pit of his stomach was beginning to fill with dread, because he knew what Quatre was driving at. He decided to save his friend the trouble.
"I'm not angry anymore."
Quatre smiled sadly before looking his friend straight in the eye.
"No. Now you're lonely, and you'll never be anything else."
*****
A/N: So, what do we think? I apologise for any OOC behaviour. This is my first time writing these particular characters, so I'm still getting a feel for them. Also, this chapter progressed slowly, and the next probably will as well. I am also without a beta, so any volunteers would be appreciated beyond belief. As a side note, Malice Mizer's spectacular "Bel Air~Kuuhaku no Toki no Naka de" was the soundtrack to this. If you can get a hold of the song, the story may "feel" more understandable (if that makes sense).
Any feedback? Please let me know what you think- I'm not quite sure what to think of this yet!
Thanks and Cheers!