A/N: "Here Comes A Candle" is a real nursery rhyme, and thusly not mine- just so you all know. I don't write disturbing children's literature, just disturbing fanfiction.

By the way- I honestly have no idea whether Chang is Wufei's first name or last, and I've been researching it and seen it written both ways. So for the purpose of this fic, he'll be Wufei Chang until someone can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt whether I'm misinformed or not.

Quatre's POV. Don't give me that "duh" look!









"Here Comes A Candle"









I don't count the rounds, I just move as fast as humanly possible to stay ahead of them. My sixth sense is screaming in the back of my head, and it's all I can do to calm down enough to find . . .

There it is. My zone; the place where I'm alive, where the adrenaline takes me and makes me over as invincible. I'm hardly ever here, but when I am . . .

The door splits under the barrage of bullets, and I race out through the pieces, duck under the gun of the nearest idiot, and break his nose with the heel of my palm. He falls back with a cry of pain, and the unscathed two just stare at me in disbelief.

"Come and get me!" I shout. "I'm looking for the God of Death anyway, and I'd be glad for the bait!"

"The hell?!" the injured leader chokes. "You're not Ma Hao!"

"Oh? Such a shame, such a shame." I give them my usual battle grin- wild-eyed and disjointed, head lolling off a limp neck. I know it scares them, because I've practiced it for years and it takes someone a lot bigger than a few hired thugs with cheap pistols not to be. "Would you like to play anyway?"

"Where the fuck is he?!" the leader snarls with false bravado. Behind me, there's a small whimper from Ailin and the quick click of Yuu reloading. I ignore the question.

"Here comes a candle, to light your way to bed . . . and here comes a chopper to chop off your head," I sing-song softly, feeling my eyes dance with mirth as I reach back into the office and pull the fire ax off the wall. I love to fight. Killing, no, but fighting- it's the greatest and cheapest buzz that you can get. And there's nothing like risking your neck over something that you don't even understand.

Especially if you get to scare the shit out of people while you're at it.

I give the ax an experimental swing with one hand, sniggering as I see the back-up goons pale. "Here comes a candle . . . " I begin again, voice softer than ever and grin twice as wide. "To light your way to bed . . ."

One of them squeaks in dismay and nearly drops his pistol. God, this is such a power trip.

"And here comes a chopper to chop off your HEAD!" I yell, and swing out with the ax. The leader fires, Ailin and the squeaky goon scream, and Yuu yells my name.

I can't stop laughing.

The leader is trembling, clutching what remains of his hand to his chest, and I can taste the blood where it's splattered on my face. It's coppery and bittersweet, like fire and death.

"Next?" I inquire brightly, letting the ax swing idly from my hand. Blood drips off it and leave thin red arcs on the floor. Good thing it's tile and not carpeted- the landlord's gonna be pissed enough about the door as it is.

The leader is bleeding heavily and his partners don't seem inclined to be of help, so, disgusted, he limps away with them trailing after nervously. Cowards, but not stupid. I'm disappointed, though- I wanted a real fight.

"So . . . " I give the bullet-riddled interior of my office a dazzling smile. "Mr. Ma, I presume?"

Hao slowly straightens up from behind the desk, still slightly winded from running. "That'd be me," he says hoarsely.

"Ailin, honey, you have the weirdest friends," I chuckle, and the others fall out of the woodwork. Yuu's shoulder is bleeding like a stuck pig. He has this weird tendency to get shot without bothering to mention it. So much for keeping the carpets clean, though this at least explains why he never came out to back me up. Guy's got a hell of a pain tolerance, but the wound would've still slowed him down.

Binary and Ailin are both uninjured, though Ai looks a bit shaken. I catch Hao glancing towards her worriedly. Looks like those feelings are mutual, then. Ailin's parents are going to be very, very pissed off (especially if all of Hao's 'friends' are as friendly as this).

"What just happened here?!" Binary demands, and I get the feeling he's more upset than he'd care to admit.

"Well," I begin in my most annoying teacher-voice, "first, the guys outside started shooting and broke my nice door, and-"

"Koi, now's not the time for your jokes," Yuu says wearily, finally putting his gun "away" (read: in his waistband, which is hardly a safe place in an apartment building full of children but is at least better than an old shoebox in the closet).

I sigh grudgingly but switch into "investigator-mode." "They were after you," I say bluntly to Hao. "Why?"

Hao looks pained, but I doubt he'll start anything in front of Ailin. Sure enough, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small, tissue-wrapped package, maybe six or seven inches tall. "I stole this from them," he says simply.

I take it from him, and I can feel the love he has for this object as clearly as I can feel the drafts coming in our newly broken windows. I rip it open and a small, meticulously carved jade statuette falls out into my hand. It's of an Asian woman in a bridal outfit, and I have to admit that she is truly beautiful. Not in the flawless, idealized way that the Greeks defined beauty, but in her defiant expression, her stubborn posture, and what little I can see of her soul. I can tell- she doesn't want to be wed, but it's her duty so she's doing it. And maybe she doesn't like her husband, but she doesn't really hate him either. The emotions of the sculptor are so deeply burned into the image that I know she must have existed, and that the one who made this piece loved her.

The thing is old, the style the super-realistic one you typically saw in the A.C. era and for a few years after it. Nowadays, every other artist's work is purely abstract, and the rest are all surrealists. It's easy to appreciate the piece just for that, but somehow I know it's more than even Hao could put into words. He doesn't love the piece itself- he loves the woman it's of.

Which is impossible, I know, but clearly the truth. I can sense it, and my senses are never wrong. How else do you think I can dodge bullets?

She is . . . this woman- no, just a girl, I realize a moment later- she is his heart of hearts. His other half, his soulmate.

I turn the piece over to check for a signature, and the name there freezes the marrow in my bones six ways from Sunday.

"Wufei Chang." The artist they called "The Dragon", one of the five famed Gundam pilots- the man who piloted the Shenlong Gundam in the long-ago wars that ended the age of the mobile suit forever. Except he hadn't BEEN a man, he'd been a boy. Probably Hao's age, now that I think of it; and maybe not even that.

Other memories, other feelings, images even in a few cases- they all blind-rush me from this little statue, and I see flowers, and swords, and the deaths of many soldiers. And two words more precious than any other to this artist who wasn't quite an artist resound in my brain like staccato drumbeats against my soul.

"Justice."

And "Nataku."

For this person, there was never anything else to life anyway.

"She's beautiful," I say truthfully, and the smile in his eyes whispers of pride and love and the sort of joy that one can only find when they receive something a very long time in the coming.

"I've seen this thing before," Yuu mutters, leaning over my shoulder. "It's a Chang, isn't it? Title's 'Meilan'- something like that."

"Meiran," Hao corrects, reclaiming it. "It's also called Nataku in certain circles. It's one of his better-known pieces."

"It's his wife, right?" Binary asks. "We're studying him in art history this term. I heard he was so mad in love with her that he went through like twelve of these before he decided he'd got her perfect. There's an exhibit with the final statue in it next week at the National Museum of the Arts," he adds slyly. Then he stops, eyes widening. "Shit, don't tell me THAT thing's- !"

"Meiran number thirteen," Hao confirms, wrapping her back up. "The collection should be arriving at the museum any minute now . . . The curator's going to have a heart attack when they don't find it."

"Christ," I mutter. "And what the fuck gave you the brilliant idea to walk off with THAT?" I already know, though. Love.

"Nataku made me do it," he says cheekily.

I think I ought to try this falling in love sometime; maybe see what it's like. It must be one hell of a trip if people are really willing to do such stupid things because of it.

"Damn, Hao, you are one dead dog," Binary drawls. "They're gonna be scouring the city for that thing."

"Well, I always wanted to see the Bahamas," Hao replies cheerfully.

I laugh and pull my coat off the rack. Thankfully, it's undamaged- if a single bullet had hit my precious trenchcoat, I'd have gone out and tracked down all three of those idiots like the dogs they were and chopped off something a hell of a lot more important than a lousy hand. "Heard they're pretty nice this time of year," I say lightly, shrugging into it. "Oi, Yuu! We've got a case to be working on, you lazy bum- grab your jacket and let's get cracking!"

"'Case?'" Yuu raises an eyebrow in that "you did not tell ME of any case, so I certainly do not recall agreeing to work on one" sort of way.

"We're going to find the God of Death!" I crow, ignoring said look with the sort of superhuman ease that comes from years of practice. "And maybe if we're lucky, he'll be really hot!" Binary brightens upon hearing that.

"You really ARE insane," Yuu mutters, though he gets his coat anyway. He doesn't put it on; instead slinging it over his uninjured shoulder. "Fine then. But first, the hospital so I don't have to run around on this wild goose chase with a slug in my arm, THEN we can find your damned 'god of death', alright?"

"Can a god be damned?" I wonder aloud, genuinely curious.

"Ask the Devil," Yuu retorts shortly, and sweeps out past me.









* tbc . . . *









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