by Mudpie
Rating: R
Warnings: Uh...Let's see here. Graphic drug abuse, prostitution, Girl! Wufei, and of course, angst.
Also, a bit of implied 2x5!
Disclaimer: If I owned Gundam Wing, Heero would sing. Constantly. And I'm talking song and dance NUMBERS. EVERY EPISODE!
I'd like to think it's pretty obvious that I don't own it.
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21 Februrary AC198
Do you remember how ashamed my father was, seeing us together? Two girls-unnatural, and a waste of clan resources. We were a dying breed.
But you were there with me. And I was there with you, at the very end.
Sometimes I swear that I see you-whether it's on the bus or walking down the crowded streets of Beijing-I catch a flash of your dark hair, and my heart stops beating for just a second. Then I remember that you are gone, and you will never come back for me.
----
The short teen looked around the filthy room yet again, the notebook open in her lap, then eyed the costume she had been ordered to wear with distaste.
The top was a mockery of a traditional Chinese woman's blouse in pale pink, cropped nearly in half so that the bottom of the shirt barely brushed her ribs. She knew from experience that this blouse was to be left open, exposing the curve of her small breasts.
Instead of a definite bottom, there were a collection of green and white shawls and sashes that were meant to be tied appealingly, but of course scantily, across her waist.
"These costumes keep on getting worse and worse." She muttered to no one in particular, not enjoying the sound of her voice. It was rough, because the night before she had nearly been strangled by a particularly enthusiastic customer.
Quickly Wufei grabbed a small hand mirror and a bottle of cheap concealer, expertly using the thin, powdery liquid to cover up the hand shaped bruises on her neck and the track marks, both old and new, running up both her arms from wrist to elbow.
Using the hand mirror to examine her face, she snatched a thick kohl eyeliner pencil from the dilapitated, deftly lining her wide eyes so that she appears older, more mysterious.
No lipstick is applied--many of these clients are married, and a lipstick stain would be far too hard to explain away.
Tonight, a warm, balmy night, Wufei is on balcony duty, which means she stands outside her room on a tiny platform, trying to entice men into this den of sin and debauchery.
She was very, very good at it.
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After a quick line of cocaine, she dressed in the disgusting, dishonorable costume and stepped into the comfortable evening, bustling with businessmen taking quick 'shortcuts' on their way home.
When she had first started this business, over a year ago, Wufei found these men completely disgusting. They had homes, wives, children and steady jobs. What more could they need? Why did they have to come to these seedy houses, seeking pleasure from nameless teens half their age?
After 6 months on the job, the L5 pilot began to realize that these men were not perverts, but just lonely. There were parts of them that their families would never understand, parts of them that their plain, homely wives could never satisfy.
And for that, she would be there.
While reviewing this strange change of her personality in her head, she was posing and murmuring tantalizing offers just loud enough to be heard over the hubbub of the crowd, turning the ears of some of the more na•ve businessmen pink with embarassment
With soldier's eyes, she scans the crowd, looking for troublemakers and those who would probably be excellent customers, with a bit of persuasion.
Wufei' eyes continued rolling lazily over the crowd, until her fingers tightened on the balcony's fencing, eyes narrowing. Edging his way through the street is a tall, lithe figure, clad in black.
Deep in the recesses of her cocaine-addled mind, she realizes that she knows that figure, intimately. And not in the same way that she 'knows' half the men wandering down the street, but on a personal level.
He turns slowly, and a long, snake of a chestnut braid whips with the movement. Strange violet eyes scan the brothel's balconies, surveying the collection of well-fleshed bodies out for display.
Those alien, wide eyes-so odd to see in China, met Wufei's own deep brown. Instantly, the connection is made.
Duo Maxwell. Shinigami. Deathscythe.
Dozens of images flash through her hazy brain. A wide, sinister grin, a swathe of white teeth in darkness. A black gundam's eyes flashing green. Racous laughter, and oddly, a bottle of champagne. A wet, drunken kiss under mistletoe.
The images continue to swarm, even as the thin, battered girl slides backwards, darkness overcoming her vision.
----
Duo watched as the eerily familliar girl swayed, then collapsed, leaving the Preventer to gape at an empty balcony on the crowded street.
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tbc
The next chapter! Early!
As always, I thank my naggy liddle muse-thing, and of course, Ei Pi, for giving me bits of Chinese culture and language to stick into this bugger.
Expect an update on the 22nd
Please R&R!