Caught Between the Banister

by Hawk Clowd

One day on his way to work, Duo catches sight of a little boy in need of some help. Little does he know that this little boy is going to put him through the ride of his life... Yaoi.

4. Wufei

CAUGHT BETWEEN THE BANISTER

Part Four: Wufei

Disclaimer: don't own them.  Don't want them.  Don't need them.  I'll tell you if anything changes, but don't hold your breath.  Wouldn't want you to pass out or anything now, would we?

Warnings/Rating: Not much here to speak of.  Maybe one or two hints of yaoi or shonen ai, if you're lucky.  There are a few psychological references, if you can catch them.  My usual insanity.  Fun stuff like that.  This part is rated PG for a few four-letter words.  That's all.

Author's Notes: I.  Hate.  This.  Part.  HATE it.  With a capital H-A-T-E.

---

I woke up the next morning a little after nine.  My neck was sore and my left foot was on pins and needles--not exactly a fun way to wake up, you can trust me on that one.  I made a note to myself: Heero's floor was damn uncomfortable.

The door to the bedroom was closed, but I could faintly hear the sounds of the television through the wooden panel.  It sounded like Mike was already awake and watching his morning television programs.  I sat up, rubbing my stiff neck, and checked the time.  Nine-thirty; that was unusually late for me.  I wondered how long Mike had been up and if he was bored or anything.  With his varied attention span, you never could tell, really.

I was still wearing the same jeans and shirt I'd arrived in the day before, having been too bored and tired last night to change them.  I gave them a quick once-over to make sure they didn't reek or anything, in the typical fashion of the adolescent male.  I'll let you fill in the blanks on that one.  Anyway, they were decent enough for the time being and wearing them two days in a row meant there was a little less laundry to do when Thursday, my customary washday, came around again.  That was rather cool.

Don't look at me like that, for Christ's sake!  You'd think I'd just committed some sort of major crime or something just by wearing my clothes two days in a row!  Back during the war, I was lucky to have more than one outfit at any given time, and I'd wear that for weeks on end!  Hell, I didn't have much of a choice.  So don't diss my personal hygiene--I'm just as clean as you are, when you get right down to it, and it isn't as if you haven't worn a certain pair of jeans two or three days in a row, or your favorite shirt twice in one week.  Give me a break...

Right.  Anyway.  I emerged from the bedroom in my two-day old outfit (I saw that--I told you not to make that face anymore!) and went straight to the bathroom.  Mike was in front of the TV, like I'd guessed, but he wasn't really watching it.  He was sitting on the floor, his back leaning against a footstool, and he had a collection of toy cars in front of him, which he was examining or something.  He wasn't doing much but looking at the cars.  It was a little creepy.  It wasn't just what he was doing, though, that made it so creepy, really.  It was the way he was looking at those toy cars of his--like they were real cars, and rare ones at that, and he was inspecting them for the most miniscule scratch or problem.  It reminded me of the way Heero used to examine each and every piece of his Gundam after (and, when he had the time, before) each mission or battle he went into.  It was a meticulous, calculating, and even cold look.  And that was not a comforting thought at all.

I escaped to the bathroom without him even noticing me, and after taking care of business, I brushed my teeth (using my own toothpaste this time.  I made a mental note to buy some more of Mike's kind before Heero got back) and combed through my hair, trying to get all of the daily knots and tangles out of it while I still could.  I'm quite accustomed to doing this every morning, quickly and efficiently, so that little exercise took me only ten minutes.  I was out of the bathroom within fifteen minutes, hair braided and all.  Yay, go me.

Although Mike hadn't noticed me during my trek to the bathroom, he looked up and smiled when I made my grand exit.  "G'morning!" he said brightly.  I grinned at him.

"Hey."  I sat down on the couch beside him, glancing at the television.  "What are you watching?"

"It's a show called Bulbo and Mindy," he explained.  "It's kind of funny, but I've seen this one about a billion times.  See, Bulbo says some really mean stuff to Mindy and she gets angry because he hurt her feelings.  And then she says some stuff to Bulbo back, and then they fight and stop talking to each other for about half the episode.  Everything turns out okay in the end, though.  They end up being friends again, I mean."

"Too bad it doesn't always end up that way in real life, too," I mused.  On the screen, Bulbo, a green puppet with short, spiky, and awful-looking orange hair was calling the pink-skinned puppet with long, purple hair (which I assumed was supposed to be Mindy) a poo-head and a butt-face.  While the terminology amused me, the show looked pretty awful.

Mike shrugged.  "It happens like that sometimes," he insisted, protesting my last statement weakly.  I decided to be nice and not push the point any further, so I only smiled brightly at him and pretended I agreed with him.

"So what do you want for breakfast?" I asked, changing the subject.  "I make pretty good waffles, if I do say so myself.  Which I do.  Does that sound good?"

He looked pleasantly shocked.  "You mean I can have sugar for breakfast?"  He made it sound like I'd just told him tomorrow would be Christmas.  That made me wonder exactly what sort of stuff Heero was feeding this kid every morning.

I smiled.  "Sure, why not?  Your dad won't mind too much, especially if he doesn't find out about it in the first place.  What he doesn't know can't hurt him, right?"

Mike giggled.  "Right."

"So waffles are okay?" I asked again, to clarify.

"Ahuh!"  The nods that accompanied that statement were extremely enthusiastic; I almost thought his head was going to fall of his shoulders.

Now that I think about it, that would have been pretty gruesome and I would have had a hell of a time explaining it to Heero.  How would you go around telling someone that?  'Yeah, I was making some illegal waffles and...  Well, I'm not sure how it happened, exactly, but his head just kind of...  Y'know, fell.  Fell of his body, that is.  There wasn't a lot of blood and it looked fairly painless...  Well, he was smiling at the time, but how would I know?  Anyway, I did everything I could; it's too bad, really.  See you.'

Yeah, I could see how that wouldn't work.

Anyway, I half-listened to Mike's television program while I started making waffles from scratch, which isn't quite as hard as some people think it is.  Bulbo and Mindy was a rip-off of about ten thousand puppet programs that had come before it and the plot had loopholes at every corner and the ending was obvious.  The characterization was weak, the puppets were ugly, and they had the worst voices I'd ever heard.  Add all that together and there was a ten to one chance that Bulbo and Mindy was a universal phenomena, a hit in at least six Sphere Colonies.  Kids go for the strangest things...

Bulbo had a very deep voice for his apparently young age, which irked me a little, but it was Mindy's high-pitched nasal voice that really got to me.  I cringed whenever I heard it.  I was rather grateful when an annoying old commercial jingle interrupted her and tried to convince the world to buy a laundry detergent that would bleach without losing color.  The thought of bleach reminded me of something and I paused a minute in my waffle making.

"Hey, Mike, do you want to meet a friend of mine later today?"

"What's he like?"

I grinned.  "He's crabby, mean, and philosophical," I told him, knowing full well that Mike wouldn't know a word like philosophical off the top of his head.

"Oh," he said, distracted slightly.  "All right.  That sounds like fun."

Bulbo and Mindy came back on soon after that and I began serving waffles just as the show ended, in one of those sickly-sweet happy endings that kids seem to love but older, sane people can't stand.  Why is that?

"I'm sorry, Mindy.  Can you ever forgive me?" the little green puppet asked the pink one.

"Of course, Bulbo!  I'm sorry too.  Let's be friends forever," the pink puppet replied.

"Can we, Mindy?"

"Of course, Bulbo.  True friends don't let things like that come between them."  The two puppets hugged each other, smiling widely, and then the theme song came on.  It was just as irritating as the show itself, with little kids singing something that closely resembled an off-key "It's A Small World After All," but with different words.  Mike clicked off the television and came running to the table for his plate.  He practically dived into it.

Breakfast was quick, and I started to clean up the place while Mike got ready to leave the apartment.  Before I knew it, we were stepping off the bus and walking the half block journey to a small café done up in a late-twentieth century style.  This was my favorite café in the whole universe, mostly because you could stay in there for hours and no one would try to talk to you or lure you into conversation.  Other places, I've noticed, always have those people hanging around who make it their main goal in life to bother you.  I think the restaurants and café's and all actually hire them to badger you, just in case you stay longer than they'd like or if they just don't think having you around makes them look good.  This place, though, was kind of private.  People came here to meet their friends or to have a quiet meal alone, so no one would bug them, but if they actually wanted to talk, none of the people working there would tell them to shut up so they could get back to work.  It was kind of like a bar for people who don't like drinking, or who just don't like bars in general.

Yup, that made a lot more sense in my head than it did out loud.  Do you at least get the gist of what I mean?  I hope so, because I have no intention on explaining it again.  So there.

Anyway, Wufei was already at a table when Mike and I arrived, nursing a mug of his usual--some sort of sweet tea, spiced with something I couldn't pronounce and he couldn't describe.  I grinned at him as I passed, acknowledging his presence, and went straight to the counter, lifting Mike onto one of the red stools.  They weren't really red, I guess, they were just upholstered that way, but they're still kind of red, right?  The waitress at the counter, done up in tight black pants and a thing that kind of resembled a corset, smiled, more at Mike than at me, and asked what we'd like to order.  Well, that's the loose translation.  What she actually said was "Kin ah tooka redor, bois," but she was speaking with a thick colony accent, so we could excuse her unintelligible manner of speaking.

What, you didn't know about the colony accents?  Jeez, you've really got to get out and spend some more time away from Earth.  Yeah, a lot of colony kids manage to pick up an individual and unique accent, depending on where and how they grew up.  Oftentimes someone, usually a parent, but sometimes a church official or something, manage to break the habit while they're still young, but some kids just never grow out of it.  Like today's waitress.  You get used to hearing traces of those old accents, so no one really thinks anything of it anymore.

"I'll take a double vanilla latté, extra on the latté part," I said with a big grin.  Then I poked Mike in the ribs, making him squirm and giggle.  He almost fell of the stool, but he caught himself in time.  He's very ticklish.  And, believe it or not, he gets that from Heero.  I learned that little fact a long time ago, back when we were partners and got along just fine and dandy.  "You want anything, Mike?  Ice cream?  Milk?  Strong alcohol?"

He pondered this for a moment or two, his brow furrowing and his tongue poking out of his mouth as he thought.  I didn't really think it was that hard of a decision, but what did I know?  "Do they have any strawberry ice cream?" he asked finally.  I looked up at the waitress lady and she nodded.

"You bet they do, kiddo.  S'that what you want?"

"Yeah!"

"All right."  I smiled at the waitress lady-girl thing.  "You got that?"

"Owm dibble ninalli lateind a strabelly ickrem," she read off her list.  It took me a minute to decipher that, but then I grinned.

"Exactly."  I wasn't entirely sure what she'd said, but it all sounded fairly close.  I pointed at Wufei.  "We'll be sitting with the crabby Asian man by the window.  Thanks a thousand, Miss."

We abandoned her for Wufei, who stood up as we approached.  He was taller than I remembered, which wasn't saying much, comparatively, and his glasses made him look a lot older.  Back in the war, he had worn contact lenses whenever possible, as it was a bit difficult for him to keep the glasses from falling off while he battled in a Gundam.  He had griped about it a lot too--he hated wearing contacts for some reason.

Wufei smiled at me, then down at Mike.  "Hello," he said.  "My name is Chang Wufei."

"I'm Michael Meiji Yuy.  My father calls me Michael, my mother calls me Meiji, and Duo calls me Mike," he answered solemnly.  He was being rather formal to Wufei, which shouldn't have surprised me at all.  Wufei has some sort of regal aura about him--unless you're used to it or honestly don't give a damn one way or another, you can't help but be affected by it.  Honest.  "It is very nice to meet you, Mister Chain."

"My friends call me Wufei," he told Mike, a smile tugging gently on the corner of his mouth.  "You can do the same, provided that you will let me call you Mike."

"Okay!"

"Then it's decided."  He shook Mike's hand.  "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mike."  With the introductions over and done with, he sat back down.  Mike wiggled into a chair next to him, on his left.  I sat to Wufei's right, my back facing the window, so that I was directly across from Mike.  The table was a small rectangle-type shape, and it was nice and close so that we could talk without shouting at each other from opposite ends of the thing.

Mike grinned at me.  "You were wrong, Duo!  He's not mean at all!"

Wufei's eyebrows practically shot off his head.  He adjusted his glasses and he gave me an amused look.  "Is that what Duo told you?" he asked, holding his tea in both hands.  "Hm.  Perhaps I need to practice at it, then?"

"Couldn't hurt," I told him.

Mike didn't seem to follow that part of the conversation, partly because he didn't know the "inside" joke that Wufei and I had been passing along for years.  For that matter, sometimes I don't remember the joke either, or I forget what it's about, so you can't really blame the kid for that one.  The other reason he didn't follow that part of the conversation was because his eyes were trained on the waitress lady-girl thing behind the counter, who had just put the finishing touches on my latté and was putting mound after mound of ice cream into a bowl.   I smiled.

"Mike, a watched pot takes longer to boil," I told him.  "Watching her isn't going to get your ice cream here any faster."

"Maxwell, the expression is 'a watched pot never boils,'" Wufei corrected.  "You do know that, right?"  I nodded, but Wufei gave me a doubtful look.

"It will boil, though, if you watch it long enough, but it seems to take longer," I said.  "Your way may be more traditional, but mine makes more sense."

Mike giggled.  "You're both wrong!  A pot doesn't boil at all," he said logically.  "The stuff in the pot can boil, but the pot itself just can't do it."

Wufei considered that, then snorted.  "You are your father's son, I see."

"Well, who else's son would I be?"

"Good question."

The waitress lady-girl thing came by then and dropped off my latté and Mike's ice cream with a nod before she rushed back to work.  Wufei looked at the bowl in front of Mike, which was piled as high as could be with ice cream.  So high, in fact, that we probably could have swam in it, had it been melted.  He gave it a condescending look and then looked pointedly at his watch.  I knew exactly what he was trying to say--ice cream at eleven in the morning, while tasty, wasn't exactly considered good for you.  I shrugged, making a mental note to tell Wufei just how deprived of sugar Mike really was.  Then we'd see what Wu-bear would have to say about an ice cream mountain at eleven o'clock!

"Do you have any kids, Wufei?" Mike asked just before plunging into his ice cream mountain.  Wufei smiled at him.

"I will soon," he said.  That actually reminded me...

"How's Kyla doing?" I asked.  Kyla Juliana had, at one time, been a co-worker of mine, and I'd had the great idea of introducing her to Wufei about three years ago.  They hit it off really well and they started dating--which was fun for me, because Wu-bear was on colony a lot more than he normally was.  After about a year and a half, they'd gotten married.  Well, eloped.  That's practically the same thing, right?

She was a few years older than Wu-bear, didn't agree with his justice philosophies at all, and her family hadn't quite approved of him, but they did it anyway.  It had surprised almost everyone, really, except me, mostly because people had kind of assumed Wufei was gay.  Sure, he'd had a lot of boyfriends over the years, I'll grant you, but that doesn't mean he can't enjoy both ends of the spectrum.  Swing both ways, you know?  People really shouldn't make assumptions like that; it's not very flattering.

So yes, Wufei and Kyla got married.  Don't look so surprised.  They're expecting their first kid sometime within the next month.

Wufei shrugged.  "As well as can be expected.  She ran into a bit of trouble at the beginning of the month, but she came out of it all right."  He smiled.  "She was a little upset that I was being sent away on business right now, and I can't say I was too happy about it either, but Une insisted."

"Kyla will get over it," I decided.  "She always does."

"True."  His gaze shifted back to Mike.  "Are you enjoying your ice cream?" he asked, not even bothering to hide the disapproval in his voice.  Mike didn't seem to notice, or he didn't care.  He just nodded, grinning.

"It's really good," he said, looking up from his bowl.  I started coughing, mostly so I could keep myself from laughing, and handed him a napkin to get about a pound of ice cream off his face.  He swiped it over his cheeks and mouth and went back to eating, a little slower than before.  I started to wonder how I was going to get the stuff out of his hair without getting all messy myself.  Wufei watched Mike eat for a minute or two, sipping his tea every now and then.  He started to talk after a moment of contemplation.

"Your mother, Mike, what is she like?"

The boy shrugged listlessly, squirming a bit in his seat.  That bothered me--what about his mother made him so uncomfortable?  "She's really pretty," he said finally, staring at the ice cream still left in his bowl.  "And she's nice, most of the time.  She's sick, though, and that always used to get my dad upset.  Sometimes he'd get real angry with her.  But she really is nice."

Wufei hesitated.  "What's wrong with her?  Why is she sick?"

"I don't know what it's called," he said.  "It might start with a z.  She talks to things that aren't really there and to people who don't really exist.  My dad says that she didn't used to do that, but then something happened and now she does it a lot.  She has medicine for it, but it doesn't help all the time."  He toyed with his spoon.  "Sometimes she doesn't know who my dad is or she can't remember.  And she tried to hurt him once.  That's why she doesn't live with us anymore--she lives in a place close to our apartment with all sorts of doctors."

Wufei looked just as concerned as I felt.  "Has she ever hurt you, Mike?"

"No.  She always knows who I am and she's always really worried about me all the time.  She thinks that my dad is going to hurt me and then lock me in a closet or something so she always is really mean to him.  But he wouldn't do anything like that," he said, shrugging.  "And she's really pretty--did I tell you that?  She's got really long hair and it's the same color as mine."  He giggled, looking at me.  "It's not as long as Duo's, though."

Wufei wisely decided to let the subject drop.  Mike obviously didn't want to talk about her and I could suddenly understand why not.  And I understood why Heero had decided to divorce her, and why he felt so compelled to stay on this colony.  I almost felt sorry for him.

"Most people don't have hair as long as mine, kiddo," I said brightly.

"Why not?"

Wufei smirked, but that worried look in his eyes didn't go away.  "Most people have more common sense than that."

I whapped Wufei on the arm.  "Shows what you know," I retorted, tossing my head.  "Lots and lots of people admire my hair, you know."

"Why?  It takes you three hours to get it all clean and another several hours for it to dry, since you don't believe in using hair-dryers," he pointed out.  Mike looked at my braid thoughtfully but didn't say anything about it.  Wufei and I passed a few more good-natured insults back and forth, which seemed to amuse Mike, until Wufei got tired of sitting in the café and insisted on paying for everyone's treat.  That was nothing new--he always insisted on paying--but I argued with him about it for a good while, giving Mike the chance to finish his ice cream.  Once we finally managed to get out the door, just in time to avoid the lunch-hour rush, the three of us decided to walk to a park that was about three blocks away.  Mike started interrogating Wufei as we walked.

"How long have you and Duo been friends?"

"Too long," Wufei said smoothly.  "About six or seven years."  I counted that up quickly to verify and let out a low whistle.

"Whoa, Wu-bear, we've been friends for way too long.  I think it's time to break up."

"All right."

Mike didn't seem to care about that bit of the conversation.  "So you've known him for a long time," he said.  "That means you know my father, right?" he asked.  He was walking in between Wufei and I and had a firm grip on my hand.  Wufei had his hands in his pockets, probably because he didn't want to get all sticky, and he nodded.

"I did.  We worked together for quite awhile."

"Oh," Mike said.  "So were you a soldier too?"

My eyes met Wufei's briefly over Mike's head.  I could tell that the distinction as a soldier irked him more than he was willing to let on, but he nodded anyway.  "Yes," he said carefully, "I suppose so."

Mike nodded vaguely.  "And Duo was there too?"

"Sometimes," Wufei confirmed.  He appeared to think about that, adjusting his glasses.  "Well, perhaps more often than he should have been."

"Yeah, stupid me," I mumbled.  I found it interesting that Mike hadn't asked whether or not I too had been a 'soldier,' but I wasn't about to worry over it.

Mike pressed on.  "So that means you know what happened to make my dad and Duo hate each other so much," he decided.  "You were there, so you would know, right?"

Somehow I had known that this had been coming.  I shot a warning look at Wufei, which was supposed to be a "don't you dare," kind of glare but probably came off as a "fuzzy pink bunnies are dancing on your head," sort of look, because he opened his mouth to speak anyway.  I whacked him on the arm, but he still ignored me.

"I was there, but I don't know exactly what happened between them.  No one wanted to tell me," he stated, meeting my eyes.  I relaxed a bit; he was well aware of what had happened between Heero and I, no matter what he told Mike, and we both knew it.  He was fibbing a little in order to avoid the subject, for my sake, and I was grateful for it.

I told you he was a good friend, even if he did wear glasses.

Yes, that was a joke.  Wow, congratulations!  You're starting to catch on!

"All I know, Mike, is that sometimes bad things happen and good people often misinterpret it," he went on.  Mike looked a little confused, so Wufei reworded that.  "They both took something the wrong way.  When that happens to people, they sometimes fight and then they both do and say things that they later regret.  Some of those people make peace again--they forgive and forget, and they get to have a happy ending.  Other people will hold a grudge for a long, long time, and oftentimes won't speak to each other.  There are times when that gets to be too much for them to handle and one of them has to leave and escape.  They never get the chance to apologize or to forgive one another."  He looked at me pointedly, frowning.  "That's what happened with Duo and your father."

Mike considered this.  I couldn't help but wonder if he had really understood it all--heck, if I hadn't lived through it, I may not have quite understood it all--but he seemed to get the main gist of it and had a good idea of what Wufei was talking about.  "Do those people--the ones who don't apologize--ever get to live happily ever after?"

Wufei had to think about that.  "Every once in awhile, I suppose."

"Do you think my dad and Duo will get a happy ending?"

Wufei hesitated.  "That depends," he said finally, refusing to look at me.

"On what?" Mike asked.  I scowled; I thought Wufei knew me better than that.  There was no possible way I could ever forgive Heero for what he had done.

"On whether or not they can both let go," he answered shortly and simply, in a tone of voice that would not allow for further discussion on that subject.  That was just fine with me and probably okay with Mike, too, since we reached the park at that point.

The park was pretty pathetic, when you get right down to it, and that's the best thing I can say about it.  Okay, I'll grant you that there weren't many kids on the colony, but still...  There was an extremely tiny play area with rusty swings, a slide the shape of a very deformed and messed up elephant, and a set of monkey bar type-things--you know, those awful parallel bars that kids are supposed to like.  Hell, the playground on L2, poor and miserable though we were, had been better than this, and that's saying something.  The really sad thing, however, if you really want to know, was that Mike was thrilled to be there.

He tugged on my hand.  "Duo, watch me on the bars!" he cried, releasing my hand and racing towards them.  Then he proceeded to conquer the monkey bars I was just telling you about.  Wufei and I sat on a bench nearby, to watch him and to talk about grown-up things.

Wufei, after a minute, frowned.  "That's odd."

"What is?"

"Look at him.  He's been going back and forth across that bar set since we got here and doesn't look at all tired.  I could barely get across them when I was his age, and I probably couldn't even do that when I was eight or nine, either.  Could you?"

"Never had the chance to try, and I'm way too tall for them now."  I rested my elbows on my knees and propped up my chin with my hands.  "What are you saying, anyway?"

Wufei shrugged.  "I'm not sure.  It just occurred to me that maybe Yuy has been training the boy."

"For what?" I asked incredulously.  "Maybe Mike's just a tad bit more physically fit than you, the nerdy bookworm, or I, the starving street-orphan, ever were when we were kids," I pointed out.  "There's nothing unusual about it that can't be explained away by his having Heero as a dad."

"That's another thing that has been bugging me," he went on.  "Are you sure Yuy is his father?"

I stared at him.  "Dude, Wu-bear, exactly what have you been smoking lately?  Just look at the kid's eyes, man!  Of course Heero's his dad--those are Heero's eyes!"

"Lots of children have blue eyes," he pointed out, "and I doubt you've been doing a lot of staring into Yuy's eyes lately."

I grunted.  That statement didn't even deserve an answer.

"Mike doesn't look at all Japanese," Wufei went on.  I rolled my eyes.

"Neither does Heero, for Christ's sake."  I frowned at him.  "Look, let's not discuss Heero's sex life and family, okay?  Even if Mike's not Heero's kid, I'm pretty sure it's none of our business.  I'm not one to pry, you know?"

"I'm not prying," he protested.  "I'm just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat, Wu-bear."

"Lucky for me that I'm not a cat then, hm?"  He smiled, taking his glasses off for a minute to clean them.  I watched him do it--those things fascinated me vaguely.  "I understand, however.  We won't talk about that."

"Thank you."

"Hello?" Mike called out, trying to get our attention.  He was hanging upside-down by his knees, waving his arms.  "Are you guys paying attention to me or not?"

"You bet we are, kiddo!" I yelled back.  "Stop hanging upside-down, though--you're making me nauseous!"  He looked confused, so I clarified.  "That means sick!"

"Okay!"  He righted himself again and resumed his playtime.  I grinned, watching him.

"He's a cute kid, isn't he?"

"Yes," Wufei answered, but he wasn't really looking at Mike.  He was looking past him, maybe trying to see something above and beyond what was visible to the naked eye.  Or maybe the not so naked eye, since he's got those glasses and all.

"What are you looking at, Wu-bear?" I asked.  He frowned again.

"You haven't forgiven Heero yet, have you?"

"Oh, Christ, what is this?" I exclaimed.  "We haven't heard from, spoken of, or discussed the guy in years and now that he's come back from the dead or whatever you want to talk about him all the fucking time?"  I was frustrated, to say the least, and probably more than a little bit pissed.  But Wufei only shrugged, unfazed.

"That seems to be the case."  He crossed his arms over his chest.  "Now that you've been forced to see him again and that the two of you have spoken to one another, perhaps this is the best time to talk things over and let bygones be bygones.  It's been over five years, Duo.  That's over one thousand, eight hundred, and twenty-five days.  Don't you think it's about time to forgive him?"

I stared at him.  "You did all that math in your head?  Just now?"

"No.  I've been thinking about that since last night, when you first told me that you'd met up with Heero again.  But that's not the point, Duo.  You need to talk to him."

"You're kidding, right?" I asked.  "Wufei, if that's a joke, it's very much not funny."

"I'm serious," he insisted, pushing his glasses up on his nose.  "You've had five years to stew over it; aren't you tired of hating him for something that wasn't even entirely his fault?"

"At least Quatre apologized," I said darkly.  Wufei sighed.

"I'm not talking about him," he told me.  "Everything that went on between you and Yuy can be blamed entirely on you, as well, if you look at it from a different point of view.  Nothing had to go wrong; you know that.  You had just as much to do with it as he did."

"It was his fault," I muttered.  This wasn't something I wanted to talk about and he damn well knew it.  Hell, I would have preferred to talk about wet cement, which smells funny and is one of the most boring things in the world.

"Judging solely by what I know and what you've told me, I'd have to say it's your fault too.  I don't blame you for not talking to him after it happened, but I don't blame him for leaving, either.  You both did this."

"His fault," I insisted stubbornly.

"Your fault too," he said, not unkindly.  I think I would have preferred it if he'd been mean about it, but that didn't matter.  I took offense to it anyway.

"What, so now you're taking his side?  You're supposed to be my friend, Wu-bear, and that means you're supposed to support me and believe in me, remember?  You told me that!  So why are you trying to..." I covered my face in my hands.  "God, this is such shit."

He was quiet a moment.  "Do you want me to leave?"

"No!  Fuck no."  I looked up, smiling weakly.  "I've got to let the voice of reason hang around for a little while, even if I don't listen to him, right?"

"Ah."  He looked over at the playground thing and smiled.  "Mike seems to have found a friend."  I looked over and grinned.  Mike was sitting on top of the monkey bars, talking to a little girl in a blue dress. She had very curly brown hair and freckles and wore tiny tennis shoes, which didn't quite complement the dress, but whatever. She was sitting on top of the deformed elephant slide, about two feet away from Mike.

"Looks like it," I agreed.  "I wonder who she is?"

"That's my daughter," a woman said proudly from the next bench over.  She looked a lot like the little girl, except older and with a lot less freckles.  I cringed; had she been listening to us talk the entire time?  "Her name is Amy.  I'm Krista."

"Hi.  My name's Duo and this is Wufei.  The blonde midget over there is Mike," I said, smiling.

 "Is Mike your son?" she asked.

"Nope.  I'm just watching him for a few days.  His dad lives in my apartment complex and practically begged me to baby-sit while he went on a business trip."

Wufei frowned.  "I thought you refused to do it until after he offered you mass amounts of--" I kicked him.  "Never mind."

Krista laughed.  "You two are so cute!  Are you 'together' or just friends?"

"Friends," we both said quickly.  Wufei flushed.

"Wu-bear is married to a chick down on Earth.  She's going to have a kid fairly soon, too."

Krista laughed again.  She did that a lot.  "First child?  Oh, I pity her!"  She focused her gaze on Wufei.  "You had better not stop for coffee on your way to the delivery room, understand?  I was about ready to kill my husband--Seth--when he did that!"  She pressed on, not waiting for an answer.  "Is your apartment complex around here?" she asked.  "I looked everywhere on this colony for a complex that would let kids in and couldn't find one!  Amy, Seth, and I finally settled for one of those trashy town houses in the main sector.  How did your friend manage it?"

"Smuggling, I think.  And he's not my friend--just some guy that I happen to know."

"He's trusting you to watch his son, though, so I would say that's friendship.  He must be your friend!" Krista insisted.  I snorted.

"Or maybe he's just stupid.  I know a lot of stupid people."

Wufei, to his credit, didn't comment on that, though I could tell he wanted to.  I'd half expected a witty yet scathing remark from him, but he only smirked.  Sometimes he's a better friend than I give him credit for, honestly.  He makes a really fantastic best friend.

No, you can't have him.  He's my best friend.  Go away.

"Well, there are a lot of stupid people out there," Krista said without missing a beat.  She laughed.  Again.  Which wasn't a bad thing, really, since she had a really pretty-sounding laugh, but did she have to do it every two minutes?  Honestly!  It's like when some guy gets a nifty new watch, you know?  He doesn't go around saying "ask me what time it is!" at every possible opportunity, whether he wants people to notice the watch or not.  All I'm saying is that nice things shouldn't be showed off in such excess, do you know what I mean?

"How old is Amy?" Wufei asked, wisely avoiding the subject of stupid people.

"Almost six, so that means we'll have to leave the colony soon, before the August school session starts," Krista said with a shrug.  Wufei frowned, confused.

"Why not just send her to school here?"

I rolled my eyes and Krista gave him a tolerant look.  "This colony chain doesn't have a school system at all--no one thought it was important, I suppose.  That actually explains why you don't see very many kids up here.  It's quite possible that Amy and Mike are the only two children under eighteen actually living on this colony, you know.  I imagine his father will take him off colony soon too, so Mike can get a decent education."

"It's a bit of a sore spot with the locals," I explained.  "A lot of places here don't even let kids inside anymore, and they definitely don't let kids live there.  There aren't even many hotels here that'll let kids stay overnight."  I shrugged.  "It's been like this for a long time now.  Even since before the wars, I think."

"Our lack of a school system is huge concern nowadays," Krista said.  "Several of us came here because it's a good colony, and it's a good place to live.  The crime and homicide rates are as low as can be and, if you have the money to live here, it's a wonderful place to grow up in.  But once your children get to be school-aged, you either have to move elsewhere or ship them off to a boarding school off colony.  Most people can't quite afford the costs of boarding school; they're astronomical."

"Then why not bring it to the colony official's attention?  Who runs the board of this colony cluster?" Wufei asked, either confused or irritated.  I really couldn't tell which.

"Willard Braun," Krista and I said together.  That made her laugh.  Argh!  Damn my timing!

"He's been in charge of this chain since long before we were even born, Wu-bear.  He's about seventy years old, he's been reigning for almost fifty years, and he's a tight-fisted bastard to boot."

"Duo!  You don't say things like that with women around!" Wufei told me with a scowl.  I rolled my eyes and Krista started to laugh again.

"I could think of several worse things to say about Braun," she said.  "Trust me on that."  She sighed.  "And we have tried sending notices and alerts to him and the rest of the board, but nothing seems to work.  He just keeps on rejecting them."  She frowned.  "So most of us have just given up."

"Ah."  Wufei puzzled over something, adjusting his glasses, and looked at me.  "Do you know why Yuy keeps Mike on this colony?" he asked.  I shrugged.

"How should I know?  I asked him once and he bit my head off--said it was necessary or vital or something."  I looked over at the playground, where Mike and Amy were digging a hole in the dirt, talking and laughing.  I wondered if Amy had a laugh like her mother's and decided that I really didn't want to know.  "I think it might have something to do with his ex-wife, though."

"Hm."

Krista smiled.  "Well, that's enough political jibber-jabber for one day," she said cheerfully.  "So what do you--" She stopped suddenly, catching a glimpse of her watch.  "Oops!  I'm sorry to run away like this, but Amy and I have to go.  It was nice meeting you both."

"Yeah, you too."  I grinned.  "Don't be a stranger."

She left then, taking Amy with her.  Wufei and I watched them go, then looked at each other.  Wufei smiled vaguely.  "She was... nice."

"She was perky.  Perky people get on my nerves."

Wufei laughed.  "As if you're one to talk."

"Shut up."  We smiled at each other.  Wufei used that to his advantage.

"When are you going to talk to Yuy about what happened?"

I glared at him.  "Never.  Why should I?  It was all his fault, anyway.  We both know that; if we tried blaming it on Quatre we'd end up falling all over ourselves.  I won't talk to him about it and you can't make me do it."

"Mm."  Wufei sighed, maybe because he knew I was right.  "You really should try to talk to him.  You know that just as well as I do."

"But I don't want to," I whined.  "And I'm not going to, no matter what.  I might be willing to discuss things with him if he brings it up himself, but that's not going to happen."

"I wonder if you would," he said thoughtfully.  "You seem to like living in the past, Duo.  You like to dwell on bad things from the past and ignore all the good things happening to you in the present.  And you don't like to hear things like this, either, but I hope you'll listen anyway."  He smiled.  "I don't want to offend you--I'm your best friend, and we both know that--but there are times when you can be really stupid."

I didn't say anything.

"How many jobs have you held in the past few years, Duo?  I'm not just talking about the ones you were fired from--I'm talking about the ones you quit, too.  How many has it been?  Nineteen?  Twenty?  More than that?  I know you've been keeping track."

"Twenty-three," I told him.  "I was fired from that awful cubicle job two days ago because the boss hated me.  He thought I was some sort of prostitute."

"Hm."  Then he went on.  "It isn't just the jobs, Duo.  You don't like to make new friends, you don't like to leave your apartment if you can help it, and you've left this colony only twice since you moved here.  One of those times was to get a physical check, and the other was the time Kyla and I got married.  You don't like to face reality, and that worries me."

"That doesn't mean anything.  I just haven't found my rut yet, you know?  It's no big deal.  I'm still young--there's plenty of time."

"You're twenty-two years-old, Duo, and you need to grow up.  You aren't fifteen anymore and you have to stop acting like you are.  I think that setting things right with Heero once and for all is the first step."  He settled back in his seat.  "Just think about it."

"Right, whatever."  I grabbed his wrist and checked the time on his watch.  "It's almost twelve-thirty, Wu-bear.  Do you want to grab Mike and get us some lunch?"

"My treat?"

"Nah, we can go back to the apartment complex and I'll whip something up."  I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled over to Mike.  "Hey, kiddo!  Get over here!"

He appeared there in less than a minute, a little flushed in the face but grinning from ear to ear.  "Where are we going?" he asked.

"Back home.  It's lunchtime--provided you can stuff anything else into that ice cream-filled belly of yours.  You up for that?"

"Ahuh, but no broccoli, okay?  My dad always makes me eat that stuff, and I hate it."

I laughed.  "Fine.  No broccoli."

Wufei frowned.  "Where's your shoe?"

I looked at Mike's feet and started to laugh.  I couldn't help it; he just looked so lop-sided all of a sudden.  One foot had a shoe but no sock and the other foot had a sock but no shoe.  So I laughed.  What else was I supposed to do?

Well, it took us about half an hour to find Mike's shoe and sock (the sock was buried in the sand and his shoe was sitting underneath the deformed elephant slide), and then we went back to the apartment complex.  Then I found out that I had locked us all out, so we went up the fire escape and got in via Heero's bedroom window.  That was a fun trick.  Trust me on this one--you haven't lived until you break into someone's house using a fire escape and a rusty spoon.

Okay, so it took us a little while to get into the house, and when we did Mike and Wufei collapsed on the couch, as both had laughed themselves silly watching me try to open the window with a spoon.  While I started making the day's luncheon special, which was from a recipe I'd cut out of the newspaper once--I'd always thought it looked a little like Italian lasagna but it always ended up tasting more like some sort of French dish--they clicked the television on.  Guess what was playing?  Bulbo and Mindy.  And it was the same episode as before, too.

It was just as awful the second time around.  You can trust me on that one.

Wufei seemed almost disgusted by the show, and I couldn't blame him, but Mike spent the time humming along with the background music--which I hadn't noticed before--and pushing his cars back and forth across the rug.  It wasn't much of a melody--it just kept repeating itself over and over again, but it was catchier than the show was.  I was humming it along with Mike when the show ended.  Wufei, who had been cringing the entire time, either because I was off-key or because the show was that bad, breathed a sigh of relief.

"Lunch is almost ready.  You guys want to go wash up or something?" I asked.  "Mike, there's no way your hands are clean after playing in the park for that long, and, Wu-bear, I don't know where your hands have been.  Use soap!  Both of you!"  Jeez, I was starting to sound like a tired old housewife.  I guess that's what hanging around little kids and mean, philosophical, and crabby  Chinese people can do to you, huh?

By the time they had finally finished washing their hands--I sent Wufei back twice because his hands didn't smell like soap--lunch was ready and waiting on the table.  They practically inhaled it, not bothering to savor the magnificence that is my cooking at all.  Not that I'm one to talk--it didn't take me long to polish off a plateful either.

 Anyway, once we finished eating our delicious meals, Wufei offered to take us out to see a movie, which probably wasn't the smartest thing he had ever done, since Mike and I took him up on that offer.  I'm fairly sure he regretted it later.  We let Mike pick the movie, which delighted him, but we did have to refuse a few of his initial suggestions, since he didn't seem to understand why he wasn't allowed to watch movies with the letters "PG" and "R" printed next to them.  He didn't argue with us too much, though, and we eventually found a theater that was playing some weird cartoon movie.  We were the only ones in the theater.  I didn't pay a whole lot of attention to the thing, though Mike and Wufei were both engrossed in the colorful images and animated voices, but I think it was about a kid who ran away from home because his father was yelling at the dog or something.  I could be way off, though, since Mike later insisted that the whole movie had taken place on an alien planet.  Dogs, aliens…  It's all pretty much the same thing, right?

We were leaving the theater when Wufei's pager went off.  He and Mike had been having some sort of philosophical conversation about something silly like cardboard boxes when he just sort of jumped a little.  His pager was vibrating, so he took it out, excused himself, and meandered over to lean against the wall and call the number.  It didn't take long.  After about a minute, his face went sort of funny and his eyes got really big and he said a few choice words which Mike really shouldn't have heard.  Then he cut the person off, put away the cell phone, and came back to us.

"I've got to be going," he said quickly, frowning.  Upon closer inspection, he looked worried.

"Something wrong, Wu-bear?"

"That was Sally--she called to let me know that Kyla's in the hospital back home."  Wufei patted Mike's head absent-mindedly.  "I've really got to get back up there."

I frowned, knitting my brow.  "Is she having the baby?"

"Maybe.  Probably.  I think so.  Sally didn't go into much detail."  He looked around.  "Sorry.  I'll stay longer next time I'm up here and I'll call you once I get the chance.  It was nice meeting you, Mike," Wufei said, adjusting his glasses.  "I'll look forward to seeing you again."

"It was nice to meet you too, Wufei.  Thank you for taking us to see the movie and for buying us breakfast at the place where I got ice cream," Mike said solemnly.

Smiling vaguely at my best friend, I shooed him away.  "Get on, go.  If you've got to leave that bad, don't hang around here talking!"  Wufei was starting to get flustered and wasn't all that coherent anymore, but he nodded gratefully and ran full-speed to the nearest bus station that would take him to the shuttle stop.  Mike and I watched him leave.  Once he was out of sight, I turned to Mike and grinned.

"So did you have enough excitement for one day?  Are you ready to go back to your place and hang out for awhile?"

Mike considered my question for a long time, his face wrinkling, as though he was making a decision between life and death.  After a very long while, though, he nodded.  "Okay."  Then he put his hand in mine and smiled.  "We can go."

I squeezed his hand, trying to act like I was grown up and knew exactly what was going on in the world.  I think the two of us were both a little bit shaken up; it's not every day that one of your friends is forced to grow up in less than two seconds flat.  Seeing Wufei go from cool, calm, and collected to nervous, flustered, and anxious just like that…  It was a little disconcerting.

I think we were both thinking the exact same thing: I hope I never have to grow up.

--to be continued--