((And so ends this story. What started out as my attempt at a PWP (obviously, I'm not capable of'short')has finally come to it's close. I am still stunned at the reaction this story has gotten, and maybe sometime in the future, it will be the reason I write another with this odd combinations of pairings, but for now I willr etreat back into the easier ones. As always, I hope that if you enjoyed this story, you will go and check out my others. Thank you to all who followed it along it's course. I wouldn't have finished it if not for your prodding. Farewell!))

It had been two months since the day he'd woken up to find himself in Wufei's arms on a rented bed in a little hotel along the highway. Almost sixty days exactly, since he'd looked up at that pale and pinched face with it's frame of ebony locks, and knew that some great bomb was going to be dropped on him.

It was the type of bomb it turned out to be that left him amazed.

Wufei, who had always been the silent watcher and guardian in his mind, had spoken words that if tortured, Quatre still would have denied the man had in him. Wufei'd spoken for nearly twenty minutes straight, and his tongue had been glued to the roof of his mouth, unworking, the entire time. The man had told him about watching him, and about dreaming. He'd made mention of the words that he often used that left Quatre feeling mortally wounded… And he'd explained them in a way that was unbelievable.

Devotion, masked with fury. Attraction that burned like fire and left scars; scars that he'd wanted to kiss away for the longest time, according to him.

It was, plain and simple, something Quatre couldn't accept. Even later when he told Trowa, sitting on the bed in the room they had shared as Duo helped move his things out and into Wufei's room, he still couldn't completely believe it. Neither could Trowa. The brunette had hugged him, tight, and told him he was always there if needed, and they'd laughed quietly together about learning to sleep again in the different situations, and that had felt more real. The rough wet sound of Trowa's soft voice was there against his ear as he was hugged, and that strange sadness in his emerald eyes that said that he'd been missed more than he could know. That was all part of life and was true. But he didn't accept what Wufei said.

He knew as he was hearing it he never would. Knew that he was really in a coma somewhere and standing on death's door, imagining the unimaginable before his body died around his helpless mind.

But Wufei's lips, warm and possessive against his, were living truth.

When the sun rose through the dingy white of the curtain, Quatre rose with it, and he looked over the golden body that had remained beside his through out the night. Wufei looked almost gentle as he slept, the hair tumbling over his lax face softened it. His lips parting to release breaths were kissable and kind for once. The way his tanned chest shimmered in the coming light of day was a miracle to behold, and he'd been blessed with it. For whatever reason, he'd gone through some minor level of hell and had emerged with the most unexpected of guardian angels.

As his angel slept, Quatre had gently disentangled himself and moved to the bathroom. He stood there where it was still dark from night, and stared at the pale face in the mirror hard. Twice in the last day, from three different sources, he'd been told the boy there was beautiful. He examined his too-round cheeks and his pale skin, and though he couldn't see it, he was grateful for those who'd sworn they could. Grateful, for the door that had been shown to him.

By an enemy.

The door out of childhood and into adulthood was a hard one for most, but Quatre thought he'd gotten lucky. He hadn't been pushed and broken, but rather kissed and coaxed. He was informed and stronger for it.

Half an hour later as the room began to warm, the pilot of the gundam Sandrock crept back into the hotel's bedroom. He crawled over the rumbled bed, and when he laid down beside his teammate and friend, arms enfolded him welcomingly. He slept… And he dreamt.

XxXxX

"Well? What did you think?"

Wufei looked sideways and down at Quatre's pinched face, and he resisted the urge to smile. "What did I think of what?"

"Of the opera! Of the opera we just saw? What did you think?"

Funny the way the blonde's hair fluffed right up when he was defensive, like a cat's. As they drifted through the crowds of suited men and ball gowned woman, he reached out and took one of his lover's hands, his thumb soothing over the smooth back of it almost absently.

"It was beautiful."

"Oh!" Quatre beamed, and laughed, the sweet sound of joining making some of the other peoples' heads turn and lips arch into helpless smiles. Wufei was among them. "I knew you would! Didn't I tell you it was something you'd been missing out on?"

"That you did."

Quatre didn't take his victory and gloat over it as some might have. "So? We can go again sometimes?"

"Whenever we have the time and you like."

They stepped out into the night air and Wufei lead the way to the car hop who'd bring their vehicle to them so that he might take the blonde back to the house. As they waited, Quatre chatted on and on about the songs and the people who sang them, and Wufei listened on with the sounds of music still echoing in his ears. It enveloped him as he watched Quatre's mouth form his freely given praise, and as he stared at the soft rain shower drops that caught like diamonds in his blonde's hair.

They left hand in hand, and though Wufei let go to walk around the car and slid in himself, he never truly released the Arabian. Not where it mattered most.

XxXxX

"Are you almost done?"

Quatre lifted his head, losing sight of his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he peeked out the crack in the door. Wufei lay stretched out comfortably on his side of the bed, a golden tiger… With his glasses hanging down on the end of his nose, and said body part buried deep within the pages of a book.

Awww! The Arabian snickered to himself. "Almost."

He used one foot to open the hamper by way of a foot peddle and tossed his pants in amongst the rest of the clothing, including Wufei's own opera wear. He could deal with it tomorrow. Then off came his jacket, and unlike his pants, that he had the time to at least fold and lay over the edge of the counter. It was as he was settling it down that his eyes landed on the folded up bit of paper that came falling from his pocket.

He bent and retrieved it, idly opening it as anyone would to remind themselves before likely tossing it on the counter with his change and the rest of his pocket rubbage.

The hand writing wasn't his. Quatre stared down at the letter he held in confusion, his eyes scanning over the hasty but elegant script.

Angel,

I don't think you need me to tell you what a surprise it was for me to look up from my seat when a flash of gold shone in my eyes, then to see you in the box far above. You truly did seem to come from heaven in that moment.

I watched a man sneaking in the dark come and take you away, I stood restrained and dying a little within, and yet there you were, as beautiful as when I first rolled you over. It was a surprise, and one that provoked me to write this as soon as I could during intermission.

I see that your dark haired savior is still with you, standing protectively and looking at you the way I did, so Trieze must have been right in allowing him to take you. I heard him call you Quatre, when you two cuddled in your box. Is that the name you stood so strongly silent with? It's beautiful. Fitting how exotic it is for one such as yourself, and I promise, I will not use it to bring harm to you. I simply want it to cradle it in my mind when I think of you, and the way you looked above me. Licked by flames and still trying so hard to deny, your face will be the vision that haunts me.

I repeat again that I shall not track you down, nor does your lover have anything to fear from me now. Even if Trieze had not demanded as much when I pointed you out during the cresting songs, watching you swoon with the melody, I wouldn't have planned anything to bring you sadness. You were a gift that I received somehow, and I would not dirty that. I could not go without writing this though.

Trieze told me that if you love something, you must set it free… And that it you care enough, and it does, eventually it may come back to you. You are happy now, Angel, I could see it in your eyes even when I hid within the crowds… But should a time come when you are not, be aware that we've left the door open, and we wait. If you wish, you can always find us.

Yours completely,

Z.

It seemed to Quatre that he'd reread the note twenty times and for hours before he managed finally to lower it, and by then, his heart was pounding in his chest and his breath was coming in softer more rapid intakes.

They had been there. Right beside him. His enemies.

His lovers.

The note was lifted again, but this time it was simply clasped to his chest as his eyes again moved to the person reflected back at him. The boy in the mirror was blushing, and smiling, like he'd just stepped out into the sunlight after a storm, and for once Quatre thought that maybe it was a boy he could like.

He was still smiling as he stood on tiptoe and tucked his note onto the small ledge of the medicine cabinet. It, like the clothing, could be dealt with tomorrow.

As he stepped out of the bathroom and made his way to the boy who lay in the bed, his smile was again noticed, and this time returned. Quatre crawled into the warm circle of Wufei's arms once more, a grip he was getting accustomed to, and returned the press of lips on his own. He surrendered,to the hands that held him close and to the whispered words of devotion. He surrendered to life.