Author's Note: Well, I'm back. Obviously. Hopefully all healed up from my bout with the latest chirospasm (that's a fancy word for "writer's cramp"). Thanks for sticking with me, folks. I'm feeling a little tentative about this story so constructive criticism is welcome.

Night Wind

Part I – See the Sunlight Fading, Fading...

Chapter Four: Strategy

The sound of the large jack o' lantern being set down on the buffet table in the festively festooned dinning room is followed immediately by an exclamation of relief.

"Whew!" Bisho breathes, grinning at Quatre over the silently laughing, orange beast. "There were a couple of times there when I wasn't sure we'd make it."

Quatre smiles back. "Good thing we used a fireman's carry."

"Yeah..." Bisho gently tightens her grip around Quatre's biceps, reluctant to let go.

Sensing this, he gives her a closer look. "Bisho?"

They stare at each other for a long moment, the carved pumpkin laughing soundlessly between them.

Bisho feels herself getting drawn into the moment and hears herself answer Quatre's question with one of her own. "Are you ever going to kiss me?"

"Yes." Quatre's soft whisper echoes in the ornate room. He can feel the carefully constructed polite façade fall away from him and he knows the exact moment when Bisho is finally gifted with the sight of the longing and passion he has so diligently hidden. "I will," he promises quietly. "When the moment is perfect, Bisho, I will."

And he's sorely tempted to label this very moment as "perfect." Her eyes, always so passionate and forthright, are expressing an open invitation. Her lips had parted at his words and not for the first time, he finds himself envisioning that first intimate touch. He gazes back at her, yearning to lean forward, but held fast by the greater need to honor his first love with a sweet, gentle seduction. There will be no passionate madness in this romance; Quatre is determined to execute his chosen strategy as he'd originally intended. Being her beau is a bittersweet arrangement: he is honored with her trust and affection even as he thirsts for more. But Quatre will not settle for being Bisho's lover. He will be her husband and nothing less. That is, after all, why he is courting her so carefully.

In this, there is no room for error.

Bisho reads the beginning of a silent withdrawal in his gaze. She is frustrated with his stubbornness in this. She has fallen in love with him and wishes to communicate her feelings with more than a look or inadequate words. Yet he insists on playing the role of the gallant knight. Had she done this? In calling him her "Lancelot," had she established this line he refuses to cross? And if so, how does she begin to fix it?

Quatre begins to lean away and, quickly, she searches for another way to end this moment. Any other way.

"You've got a strategy for everything, don't you, Q?" she hears herself tease.

Quatre pauses, finding her words an almost eerie echo of his earlier thoughts. But her light tone and wide grin don't quite hide a fear he thinks he understands. Once again, he reminds himself to be careful. He does not want her to believe she has done something wrong or that his feelings have changed. He simply wants her to enjoy this.

Quatre smiles. His left hand leaves her arm to gently skim over the side of her face. "Not everything," he replies honestly. "There's no strategy for the things I know I can live without."

Bisho blinks, her smile fading, and Quatre realizes that, before this moment, she hadn't really considered her importance to him. Into this instant of dawning realization, Quatre holds out his right hand to her, palm up in silent request, and inquires, "Would you like to see where this one will lead us?"

Her smile returns, softer and yet infinitely more sincere. Bisho nods in silence as she slides her own hand into Quatre's. His answering smile pulls her closer until they've stepped away from the table and are approaching the dance floor. She laughs out loud when he spins her around with fluid skill. Bisho makes a mental note to find out exactly who had been responsible for Quatre's etiquette lessons and thank them. Profusely.

A soft knock on the open door, pulls Bisho and Quatre's attention away from each other and toward Duo. Hovering on the threshold, Duo offers an apologetic smile. "Sorry, guys, but the – er – caterer is on the phone and I think he's going to give himself an aneurysm trying to read Yokaze's map..."

Quatre laughs. "No worries, Duo. I'll take care of it."

Wishing he'd taken the time to memorize the local routes himself, Duo simply nods.

Quatre gives Bisho one last, lingering look before heading out of the room.

Duo studies his sister carefully, noting the remains of a bright smile. "Sorry, Bish..." he begins.

"It's okay, Duo. Really."

He frowns, wondering why she isn't more upset with him for ruining the moment.

She shrugs at his confused silence. "We're taking things slow, you know?"

"Is that what you want?" he asks, grasping the opportunity to hear her thoughts on the relationship developing between her and Quatre.

Bisho nods. "Yeah," she replies. "Yeah, it is."

Duo's lips curve into a lopsided grin. "Good." With a deep breath and a nod, he turns to get back to his card game with Jerret, Sam, George, and Cathy.

"He's not here yet, is he?"

The soft question freezes him in his tracks. Duo doesn't have to ask who she's talking about; only one person hasn't made an appearance yet this afternoon. He draws in another deep breath and says in a steady voice, "Nope."

There's something about the tone of her brother's voice that makes Bisho ask, "You don't think he's really coming, do you?"

Crossing his arms, Duo leans his back on the doorframe. "I... Well, let's just say I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't show."

Bisho crosses the distance between them and pulls Duo into a warm hug. "Even if he doesn't," she says, "you've got to tell him, Duo. You've got to get this off of your chest."

He wraps and arm around her waist and gives her a gentle squeeze back. "Yeah, I know, Bish. I know." He leans back after a moment and looking into her eyes, he smiles as he says, "Q's really something, isn't he?"

A radiant grin communicates Bisho's wholehearted agreement.

"Don't let him go, Bisho," Duo tells her.

And before she can formulate a reply to that, Duo slips away and disappears down the hall.

...ooo...

Cathy glances up from the cards she'd been shuffling for the last five solid minutes. She thought she'd seen Duo's shadow cross the threshold... but obviously not. No one is standing there now. She sighs and meets her husband's concerned gaze with one of her own.

Without Duo's presence, the table is eerily quiet. The easy banter and harmless fun that had filled the kitchen had been irrevocably shattered by that first single ringing of the vidphone. The innocuous sound had erased Duo's humor and the hesitance Cathy had witnessed in him as he'd reached to answer it had told her one thing: he'd believed the caller had to be Heero.

But he had picked it up with a forced expression of cheer – just as he'd initially taken the seat nearest to the phone with an air of manufactured nonchalance. And just as Duo's humor had infused them all with amusement, his tension had as quickly stolen it away. All that tension... and the caller hadn't even been Heero. But then again, Cathy muses, perhaps that's a good thing. No news is good news... isn't it?

Jarret clears his throat and turns to Sam, seated on his left. "That is the ugliest damn shirt I have ever seen you wear, man," he challenges in an attempt to resurrect the dying corpse of camaraderie lying prostrate on the table.

Sam summons up an over-bright smile. "Always reaching for bigger and better, you know me."

Jarret snorts. "Yeah. I do know you. Which means you didn't bother to wash it after you wrestled it off of a drunk circus clown named Boris."

"H-hey," George interjects. "Not all B-borises are cl-clowns."

"But they're all drunks?" Cathy replies quickly, jumping at the opening. The conversation makes a few more circuits around the table until the Camaraderie Beast cautiously gets to its feet and shakes itself off.

"But seriously, guys," Jarret says steering the conversation away from the morals of the average Boris. "All circus clowns are drunks."

"What?" Sam says.

"Excuse me?" Cathy comments with burgeoning affront. "Trowa has never—"

George chuckles, "Well, if I had to w-work w-with your b-brother, I'd drink."

Jarret gestures at this. "My point exactly, and while we're on the topic, does anyone know how Yo can stand him?"

Sam grunts. "Well, you know what they say about guys with big feet..."

"Ah," George replies, building the joke, "b-but does h-he have rhythm?"

The other three raise their brows at this and hum in collective speculation. At this moment, the shadow Cathy had detected earlier in the doorway gains substance until Duo Maxwell is hovering on the threshold with a wide grin on his face.

"Tall guys have no rhythm," he states to the room at large.

The tallest present – George – looks offended. "M-maybe not, b-but they c-c-can k-kick your ass, M-maxwell."

"That, lady and gentlemen," Duo addresses his friends as he slides into his chair, "is the voice of a poor, rhythmless schmo who is fully aware of his lack of groove."

"We'll see how you boys groove through this next hand," Cathy says, dealing the cards.

"Bring it on, baby," Sam croons.

"W-watch it, l-lover boy," George growls.

Jarret laughs behind his cards.

"Oh, I see how you've got my back on this one," Sam grouches to the pianist. "Lazy ass."

"What are you worried about, man?" Duo asks casually as he arranges his cards. "You've got groove."

...ooo...

"G me."

Heero's gaze moves from the impressive bonfire to the owner of that voice. Silhouetted against the glow, Taki and Jaspien each occupy a lawn chair, holding long sticks tipped with puffy, white marshmallows. Heero watches as Jaspien blindly reaches down to the pile of cloth between them and tosses a few red scraps into the flames.

"Uncle Wufei's red underwear sure burns good," Jaspien notes, settling back into his chair to continue toasting his marshmallows.

Heero can hear the smile in Taki's voice, "He's always said that the red ones breathed better."

Feeling a little creeped out by this, Heero considers simply heading for the house and waiting for Jaspien inside. But no, he can't do that. According to Yokaze, Jaspien has really missed him. And he owes it to the boy to attempt to make up for his lengthy absence.

"Jaspien."

He watches as the little boy tenses, then twists around swiftly in his chair. Jaspien's face is, for the most part, concealed by the shadows so Heero merely stands and waits for his reaction.

"Hero!"

Heero drops his bag as the kid tosses himself out of his chair and rushes him.

"You came!"

The force of Jaspien's momentum nearly makes him take a step back, but he doesn't loosen his embrace. Heero's eyes close for a moment as the boy burrows against his shirt. Only now does he realize just how incomplete he's been these last few months away from this kid. "I missed you," he whispers, barely aware of even saying the words.

"I missed you, too, Hero," Jaspien replies. Leaning back, he asks, "Will you come home now? Are you all done with your mission?"

So that's what Duo told him... "I hope so, Jas. I really want to go home, but we'll see."

Jaspien bites his lips at that uncertain reply and Heero seeks immediately to distract him. "What are you cooking?"

"Marshmallows!" Jaspien replies brightly, worries temporarily banished. "Want one?"

Heero jerks his head to the side, narrowly avoiding getting a lightly toasted puff of sugar stuffed up his right nostril.

Heero tests one of the marshmallows, decides it's not quite done, and maneuvers Jaspien over to the fire again. He takes Jaspien's seat and the boy climbs up on his lap to resume toasting.

"'Bout time you showed up," Taki says, munching on her own snack.

Heero grunts in reply.

Taki grins and elaborates, "Yokaze's been threatening to go as a nudist for the get-together tonight." She pauses. "You did bring her a costume, didn't you?"

"Oh, yeah," Heero replies dryly.

Liking the sound of that and the slightly evil twinkle in his eyes, Taki nods approvingly.

Feeling like they've reached some sort of tentative understanding, silence descends once again.

Until:

"Hero? What's a nudist?"

End of Chapter Four

Another Author's Note: The "Camaraderie Beast" is inspired by (and likely somehow related to) Sunhawk's "Guilt Beast" from the Ion Arc. Lovely stuff, Sunhawk's.