Author's Note: Many, many thanks to the wonderful folks who have let me know they are reading Night Wind. Needless to say, I love the reviews!

Night Wind

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

Chapter Eight: Awakening

"Dude... That was... some... party," Luke manages around a massive and very drawn-out yawn.

Startled from his peaceful contemplation of the surrounding forest, Mark looks up at the very rumpled percussionist. "You're awake before noon," he observes, too startled to manage an indifferent tone. "Congratulations."

Grinning crookedly, Luke replies almost shyly, "Thanks." After a long moment of quiet during which Mark continues to stare, Luke ventures, "Have I totally weirded you out?"

The corners of Mark's mouth twitch upward. "I think you have."

"Eh, well, it's noon somewhere in world right now. That's how I look at it," Luke replies as he gravitates toward the assortment of breakfast foods and beverages arranged on the kitchen counter.

Mark chuckles and returns to his silent survey of the countryside. If he hears Luke pouring himself a cup of coffee somewhere behind him, he does not show it. Cup in hand, Luke leans back against the table and studies the NW guitarist. He foggily recalls his determination to unearth the source behind his fellow band member's frosty mood. Frowning, Luke notes that Mark doesn't seem very aloof now. Which only further confuses him. With an inaudible sigh, Luke pulls up a chair next to Mark's and straddles the finely carved back. He blows gently against the surface of his coffee, contemplating the view. He immediately decides not to bring up Mark's moodiness and settles on something more neutral.

"Never been to this part of the Earth before," Luke says softly. "You?"

Mark shakes his head. "No."

"Peaceful here."

"Mm."

Luke feels himself grin as he notes how peaceful it is here in this room with Mark. In the past, he's rarely let a moment in Mark's presence go by without some sort of jest. But now...

"You're quiet this morning," Luke tells him softly.

Mark shrugs. "I'm a quiet kind of guy most of the time."

Luke releases a single, soft chuckle. "Unlike me."

His companion tilts his head to one side in a sort of agreeing nod.

"Thanks for that, by the way," Luke continues before taking a sip of his coffee.

"For what?"

"You know, putting up with my shit. I know I can be really... obnoxious sometimes..."

Mark sends him a pointed look.

"...okay, most of the time. But, I get the feeling you can see through it. You see me. So... thanks, man."

Looking a little startled, Mark nods. He continues staring out the window but his throat works as if he's trying to either force his thoughts down or shove words of reply out. Luke notices this, but isn't finished with what he wants to say.

"I know you think I don't take you seriously, but the truth is that I just want you to laugh once in a while." Abandoning the pretext of watching the countryside, Luke leans his chin on the arms he's crossed over the back of the chair and studies the too-serious man's profile.

After a long moment, Mark says with some reluctance, "Why... What brought this on?"

"Eh, I've been meaning to tell you for a while. I guess it's just – lately – you've seemed... down. I know you probably talk to Ian about personal stuff, but I was just worried."

"About me," Mark says flatly, disbelieving.

"Yeah." Luke blinks, surprised by this reaction. "Why wouldn't I be? You've been my friend for years, man."

"Luke..."

"Look, I know I'm not real good at showing it – I know I go too far sometimes – but I always thought we were friends. I mean, I know I wasn't real good at being your friend." After a soft sigh, he breathes, "I used to be okay with that."

"Used to be?"

Luke turns his stare on his coffee cup. "Yeah. I... I guess I'm getting tired of..." He sighs. "It's like this: when I do my usual song and dance I piss everyone off or I make 'em laugh, but lately I've been thinking that's not what I want. I mean, how many people really know who I am? Do I even know anymore?"

"Luke..."

"There's a lot of shit from my past I don't like to deal with. I think that's why I've been trying so hard to be such an annoying ass. But, you're... so different. It's like you take all your pain and face it down every day. It's like... you're not afraid of anything. You're the most tenacious son of a bitch I've ever met. And... I've always respected you for that."

"Luke..." Mark asks with no small amount of apprehension, "Where is this going? What do you want from me?"

"I'm not sure," he admits. "Another chance maybe?"

"To be my friend?"

Luke looks up and meets Mark's bewildered gaze, "To be real?"

For a moment, no one speaks. And then Mark looks away on a slight grimace that only partially masks the pain in his eyes. Wondering what he'd said, Luke draws in a breath to ask when a voice from the doorway interrupts him.

"So, have you told him yet, Mark?"

Frowning, Luke glances over his shoulder at Jarret. "Told me what?" He turns back to Mark when the guitarist shifts in his chair.

"What I've already told him and Sam and Ian." Not quite able to meet Luke's gaze, Mark says, "I'm leaving the band. I've resigned."

Stunned and wordless, Luke searches Mark's gaze for some sign that he's kidding. But Mark only stands and tells him softly, "I'm sorry, Luke. I'm just not as tenacious as you think I am."

In silence, Luke watches as Mark strides from the room.

...ooo...

"Good morning, Wufei," Yokaze says, not pausing in her stretches.

"Yokaze," he replies with a nod. He selects an area of the manicured courtyard for his own morning workout routine and comments, "I did not expect to see you out of your rooms this early."

She smirks at him. "Nor I you."

Wufei returns her smirk. "Taki's still sleeping."

Yokaze lifts her brows in an expression of amused comprehension.

"So what is your excuse?" he inquires.

"Trowa's in the shower."

Understanding each other with eerie accuracy, they return to their pre-workout motions. But it's not until Yokaze has begun moving through her first kata that Wufei speaks to her again. Watching the fluidity of her movements and the precision of her skill, he says suddenly, "I've never seen you and Barton spar."

She drops back into her stretches in order to keep her body warm while replying. "That's because we normally don't."

For a moment, Wufei wonders about this. "Is it because of Heero? I remember he was rather adamant about you fighting."

Yokaze exhales on a sad laugh. "No. It's because he's too much of gentleman to try to hit me back." She glances at Wufei. "You're not too much of a gentleman, are you, Chang?"

Wufei smiles. "Only outside of the arena."

Returning his grin, Yokaze aborts her stretches and turns to face Wufei. He watches as she slides effortlessly into her stance. Absorbing her wordless invitation, Wufei moves into his own pose and accepts.

...ooo...

He is an impressive man, Taki's husband.

She grins as she stands in the midst of the post-celebration debris littering the dinning room and savors the moments of the night before. There, near the far corner and nearly hidden by the sweeping drapes, is the chair that they'd caught Quatre occupying with a slender ninja seated across his lap. A nerd with a ninja on his lap. She snorts at the recollection.

Tell me that isn't every vid game geek's favorite wet dream...

And there, on the once-pristine table cloth, is where a very rambunctious Agent Jaspien had kicked over Yokaze's glass of punch when he'd decided to dance on the tabletop to NW's rendition of "Holding Out for a Hero."

Still grinning, she turns toward the double doors and the terrace beyond where she'd received one of the biggest shocks of her life. There, under the countless lights, she'd experienced perhaps the most pivotal moment in her life. And it had begun and ended in less than ten minutes.

With a soft, drawn-out sigh, Taki marvels at that momentary lapse; she'd lost control of her life for ten damn minutes and just look what had happened. Married.

There's that "M" word again...

Wufei hadn't even let her have a chance to reconsider. The "caterer" – later identified as the local magistrate – and his assistant had observed the entire ceremony from the shows and stepped forward the moment Taki had come up for air to pronounce the ceremony binding and shove a pen and a marriage license under their noses. Still in her blissful haze, she'd scrawled her name next to Wufei's. And then it had been done.

Married.

Taki shakes her head, bemused and awed at her husband's tenacious resourcefulness. That cagey, cunning curmudgeon... I just knew he had it in him.

A soft sound behind her manages to disrupt her happy lethargy. Turning, she spies the familiar turtleneck and jean clad figure of her best friend's lover.

"Tro," Taki states with a widening grin. In an instant, she remembers Yokaze's parting declaration of "If you'll excuse us, Ra has an appointment to be worshiped" and relives her moment of triumph. But then, taking note of the time, she continues with a puzzled frown, "But it's not even noon!" Had her cleverly constructed costume failed to accomplish its task? But no; the very idea is inconceivable!

With a soft laugh, Trowa crosses the room and confides, "I wore her out."

Thrilled, Taki's laughter has a maniacal edge to it. "Did she pass out right after the first set of fireworks or during round two?"

Trowa's lips curl ever so slightly but his voice is perfectly factual when he replies, "After round three, actually."

Taki whistles and gives Trowa an appraising once over. "You quiet ones..." she muses. And then a promising idea occurs to her. "I don't suppose you could, you know, casually drop that bit of info into a conversation with Wufei, could you?"

"Why not?" he replies with a seemingly innocent and indifferent shrug, but Taki sees the evil gleam in his visible green eye.

She relishes this moment with a certain gloating triumph and for a moment, doesn't bother to listen to the sounds of life stirring in the mansion. So it comes as a surprise when Trowa suddenly turns his attention to the terrace doors, every trace of good humor suddenly gone. After a heartbeat, she realizes the muffled sounds are not coming from the breakfast room or the kitchen across the hall but the courtyard outside. She finds herself following Trowa before she's finished identifying those too-familiar noises. Taki trots out onto the terrace to stand beside Trowa in time to see Wufei and Yokaze locked in hand-to-hand combat.

For a moment, she's too startled to say anything. But then, as Trowa tenses dangerously at her side, she reaches for his arm blindly and growls, "Don't you dare. I've been living for the day when I get to see Chang get his ass kicked."

Trowa mutely glares at the combatants and attempts to move around her to the steps leading down into the courtyard. Taki does not loosen her grip.

"Wait," she hisses, desperate to keep the sound of her voice from interrupting the fight below. "You've seen Wufei and me sparring. You've seen him teaching at the academy. He won't hurt her."

Her words make him pause. With a sidelong glance, he asks her, "You aren't concerned with her hurting him?"

Taki grins, eyes still glued to the combat. "She knows better than to damage anything... vital."

Trowa snorts and subsides. She can still feel the tension in him from where she maintains her grip on his bicep, but at least he's decided to let her have her show. She has a fleeting thought of thanking him for this wonderful wedding present, but she's too busy biting her tongue to keep herself from cheering Yokaze on.

...ooo...

He awakes.

Heero pants slightly against the rumpled pillow and lingers in an eternal moment of confusion. Mere seconds ago he had been asleep but now, inexplicably, he is wide awake. And restless. He notes his elevated heart rate and feels his body tightening with anxiety.

Something has happened. Is happening...

Heero blindly tosses back the covers and pulls on a pair of jeans. He snags the nearest shirt at hand and pulls it up his arms until it hangs open from his shoulders. Barefoot and nearly humming with tension, Heero hurries into the hall. For a moment, he doesn't bother to wonder where he thinks he's going. He simply follows the instinctive pull leading him toward the end of the hall until he finds himself standing on a sunlit balcony.

With Duo.

The young man blinks his wide, dark eyes in an expression of startlement at the abrupt interruption.

"Heero," he manages after a moment. "'Morning."

"'Morning," Heero returns absently as he steps closer to the railing, his gaze sweeping the grounds in search of that something of which he is in pursuit. And after a moment, he detects it. Or rather, he detects them.

He glowers down into the courtyard at the forms of his sister and Wufei locked in fierce combat. Heero is unaware of the expression tightening his features until Duo says, "Relax, Heero. It's just a training exercise."

Those softly spoken, sincere words reach through the odd haze that had begun to leach the color from Heero's sight. Looking up, Heero hears his voice, soft and leaden, demand, "What?"

Duo blinks yet again and Heero notices the reluctance with which he removes his gaze from Heero's shirt. It is only at this moment that Heero realizes he is wearing the blouse that had been included with his costume from the night before. The soft morning breeze toys with the light, pale cotton. It tugs at the gathered cuffs and dangling laces.

With a wariness now entering his eyes, Duo replies, "Wufei and Yokaze are only sparring."

Heero opens his mouth to inform Duo that Wufei is capable of throwing some damn hard punches. Heero knows this from personal experience. But in the next instant, logic calmly informs Heero that Yokaze is equally capable. He settles on a noncommittal grunt.

He returns his attention to the battleground below. His focused stare follows every attack, every shift of weight, every indrawn breath. He loses track of the time as the brutal dance lulls him. It is with a start that Heero realizes Duo's gaze is once again on him. A small frown darkening his expression, Heero returns Duo's attention. And then the breeze tugs at his shirt tails.

A small smile curls the corners of Heero's mouth as he realizes the sight he must be making, standing here barefoot in a pair of old jeans and a highland blouse...

Just as Heero begins to allow himself to feel truly amused at his hasty choice of clothing, Duo's gaze shifts up over Heero's bared chest and he finds himself drowning in those dusk-blue eyes. Heero recalls every single evening he'd spent waiting for this color, this precise color, to unveil itself across the night sky. He recalls every single regret he'd rehearsed in his mind. He recalls every hope he'd unearthed in the dark shadows of his soul.

Feeling himself falling into the intensity of Duo's gaze, Heero knows...

It's time for the truth.

End of Chapter Eight