Fortnight
Ch03 - Poetical

by APs

Betas – gothic-pixel and justanotheranimefreak (Who are both awesome!)

A/N - So, a touch later than usual, but it is Wed. Of course, as soon as I graduated, I got sick. Oh well, more time to write.

REVIEWS are loved and cherished!

At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.

---Plato

Wufei watched as Duo walked away from the table, chestnut rope swaying. Languid. After two weeks of instruction, two weeks carefully considering the body motion of the other man, Wufei had finally decided that the word for it was languid. The American was lanky, his walk rangy as a tomcat, on edge while appearing for all the world as boneless, flowing.

Their morning exercises had been enlightening. The first time Sally had dropped Duo on his ass, the American had learned a harsh lesson about his speed and inertia. Wufei had learned a good deal about Duo's hand to hand combat skills, or lack there of, rather. Duo knew how to defend pretty well, but not solidly, haphazard at best. His attacks were fast, but lacking in power. He'd learned to fight on the street and against your average individual, Duo would certainly win. Against a trained fighter, in a strictly fair match, he would fair far less well. It hadn't taken long to convince him of that, either.

He'd come very far, very fast. No less than Wufei had expected from a fellow Gundam pilot. After a week, Duo's body had adjusted to the relatively foreign motions and extra use. He was narrow and incredibly wiry, a body forged in adversity, a fact echoed by the sheer amount of scar tissue Wufei had glimpsed in the locker room. Duo had more scars than Wufei had considered possible for someone their age, excluding perhaps Heero or Trowa.

A throat clearing brought the Chinese man back to the present. He turned from the languidly retreating form and toward the table's only other occupant, Quatre. Duo had excused himself suddenly and Wufei realized it probably had as much to do with avoiding his current position as it did with attempting to snag the bill from Quatre. Duo was notorious for dodging these types of things. Wufei didn't dodge.

The blonde was watching him with a curious little frown, "He's been living with you for a month now, hasn't he?"

"Yes," Wufei replied blandly.

Quatre shifted in his seat, falling back into awkward politeness, "I'm glad to see you both being so amiable, though I suppose he does not plan to stay much longer."

Wufei waited. That wasn't what Quatre had wanted to say, he could tell. A statement that obvious required no response, it was simply air.

Quatre sighed, "Heero won't tell me what happened. Has Duo… said anything?"

"Nothing I hadn't guessed," Wufei offered in earnest.

The blonde seemed surprised, "Aren't you concerned?"

Wufei shot him an admonishing frown, insulted, "Of course, but it is neither my relationship, nor my battle, and I have not been asked to intercede."

Quatre stared down into his coffee, more thoughtful than chastised, but Wufei couldn't help the frustration that swelled inside him anyway. He refused to handle the man like a child; Quatre was not made of glass. None of the others seemed to have this problem. Trowa's absence complicated things slightly. It both made the blonde more vulnerable and placed his wellbeing vaguely on Wufei. The Chinese man was considering an apology when Quatre nodded, almost to himself, and looked up, "Forgive me. I should have known better. I'm just…"

"They're my friends, also, Winner," Wufei offered sympathetically. Quatre's expression both softened and grew slightly darker. Wufei leapt at the chance to steer the subject to something he'd meant to discuss with the man anyway, "Why do I make you uncomfortable?"

"Pardon?" Quatre blinked at the abrupt conversational turn.

"Why do I make you uncomfortable?" Wufei repeated, impassive.

Rigidly formal now, Quatre coasted on his initial shock, "I don't know what you mean, Wufei."

Wufei watched the business man, unconvinced, while Quatre stared back, respectfully ignorant, to all appearances. The blonde did not share Duo's personal oath, Wufei's own honor code, or Heero's blatant disregard for dishonesty, though it was rare to find Quatre being insincere. Duo returned to the tense silence and Wufei didn't miss the relief in the smile Quatre flashed as a reply to the braided man's questioning glance.

"Well, we should be getting back," Duo cheered, mockingly overzealous. Quatre reached for his wallet as he and Wufei extricated themselves from the table, but Duo waved him off, "I got it, Q."

Quatre was abashed, "It was my turn, Duo."

"Hey, I like being able to brag about taking two rich, well bred guys to lunch," Duo shrugged, "Would you really let your pride rob me of that?"

Quatre was shocked for all of a second before nearly collapsing with laughter. It even got a tiny amused smile out of Wufei, after the all too necessary snort at the inappropriateness. Duo grinned at the Chinese man to show he hadn't missed that smile, small as it may have been, as Quatre composed himself. They left a sizable tip and walked the few blocks back to the office, Duo doing most of the talking.

The Preventer's offices hadn't changed much. There had been some rumors, few tenacious enough to last more than a couple days, and the junior agents had given them a little wider berth than usual, but things had settled quickly. Duo, of course, had helped, smoothing things over with persistent good humor. Wufei hadn't seen him try so hard since the war.

The day struggled its way to a close and Duo went to drop in on Quatre to say goodnight, as usual. Wufei closed his office and headed for the parking lot, where he'd wait. It had made sense for them to take one vehicle. Wufei opted for the elevator, which was odd for him, but between his two pupils and being smack in the middle of social turmoil, he was dead on his feet.

With an indulgent sigh, he leaned back into the wall for support and closed his eyes. He took a moment to breathe deep, to feel his heart beat and relax the ache of his body while the cables groaned, lowering him. It reminded him vaguely of the colony of his youth, being surrounded by technology, comforting in a dismal way. He waited until he heard the doors part before opening his eyes. Heero Yuy was staring at him.

Heero hadn't spoken to either of them since the night Trowa had left. Sally and Quatre were keeping close tabs on him, but he only spoke to them when absolutely necessary. Heero seemed to have lost his will to fight whatever had happened. His complacence in defeat was almost frightening, his silence even more so. Now he stood, staring hollowly at Wufei and it was the eeriest damned thing the Chinese man had ever experienced. There was simply nothing there.

The doors swished closed again without either of them having actually moved. Wufei was still staring, frowning now. Whatever had happened between his two friends, he had the distinct impression that Duo had gotten away with the lighter wounds. Heero's last words to him burned brightly in his brain once more. Be careful, indeed.

Pain. White hot pain blossomed in brilliant blinding plumes across his awareness. He ground his teeth, but only managed to choke, struggling for breath, too much liquid in his mouth, thick salty metallic, iron. Focus through the pain, move. Something was pinning him down, no, back against a chair, a harness, biting into his chest, shoulders. Focus. The pain was razor sharp, everything else hazy dull, a Gaussian blur. So easy to let go, let everything slip away.

That's when the fear hit. Eyes flew open, obscured by red liquid and black hair. A cockpit, his cockpit, Nataku's, with empty space flickering through the spider webbed and blood sprayed vid-screens. Not empty, the bones of his colony hanging like condemnation over his head. His mangled hands gripped controls, useless, unresponsive. Nataku was gone, drifting, no air cycling, cold starting to seep into her corpse.

His nerves were fire, insides ice, and there was so much blood. His blood. He was alone. He choked again. Couldn't move, breathe. He was drowning in his own blood, if he didn't freeze first. Alone. His eyes stung, tears fell. He couldn't stop them. He tried to scream, choked. Everything went dark. The pain didn't stop. The pain and fear and disgust and rage and every terrible emotion he'd ever tried to contain overtook him, ravaged him, left nothing.

He was going to die. Here. Broken. Alone…

"God damn it, Wufei! Wake up!"

Onyx eyes flew wide, his entire body jumped, arching upward, tingling electrically, and panting for all his lungs were worth. Long seconds passed as he registered his room, then the strong pair of arms pinning him to his thoroughly thrashed bed and finally the shocked violet eyes staring down at him. His skin was sticky with half dried sweat and he could feel tear tracks on his face, he was trembling. Despite them both wearing boxers, he had never felt more naked, skin against skin and weight on his chest. It was all he could do to look away from those violet eyes.

Duo removed himself and sat on the edge of the bed. Wufei fought valiantly to bring his body back under his control. He refused to curl into a fetal position, though that was all he wanted to do, to ball up and collapse into himself. After long, still moments, he managed to sit up, compromising with himself by leaning an elbow on a bent knee to run his hand over his face and through his disheveled hair.

"You alright?" Duo asked casually, eyes elsewhere.

"It was a dream, Maxwell," Wufei managed to sound gruff and derisive, though it was also pitifully weak, cracking in the middle.

"Seemed like a nightmare to me," Duo corrected softly, "Nasty one, too."

Wufei snorted feebly. He repressed the urge to curl up and die again with unnecessary force. That particular nightmare was common, though usually not quite that vivid. He couldn't even think about how bad he must have been thrashing or, worse, sobbing to bring Duo running. Disgust rose in his stomach.

"This happen a lot?" Duo plowed ahead, still on the edge of the bed, not completely turned toward him, giving the man distance.

"Less," Wufei admitted grudgingly. Short answers were good. Short answers meant not explaining that he'd died every night for three years, alone in this house.

Violet eyes finally landed on him, sincere if hesitant, "Want to talk about it?"

"No." It was equally sincere, even if slightly too quick to be true.

Duo looked away, hiding the action in a large, languorous stretch, arching his back, "We all get them, you know."

Wufei had figured as much, it was only logical after what they had all lived through, yet it did nothing to comfort him. He doubted the other's nightmares were as shameful and selfish as his own. Their rest must have been disturbed by the ghosts of those they had killed, or those they had lost. Their sleep troubled by the dissolution of the Peace and other things of honorable importance.

"I almost thought you'd gotten lucky and didn't have them," Duo continued spurred onward by the silence.

Wufei felt rather than heard a sigh escape his own lips, "Why wouldn't I? We all have our scars."

"I don't know. You never said anything and you are from a warrior clan," Duo shrugged halfheartedly. "If any of us knew how to deal, I just thought it'd be you."

Wufei frowned, gazing down at his hands lying in his lap, "My clan is gone, Maxwell. I am a mere echo of what once was."

"So all that about justice, strength, and honor was just pretty noise?" Duo was smirking, eyes closed and head tilted to one side. Wufei could practically hear the familiar expression, knew it well enough to not need the visual.

Onyx eyes scrutinized the other man's back, "Integrity is found in one's actions, but a man alone is a retched thing."

Violet eyes stole a dark glance over a pale, scarred shoulder, "We're all pretty retched."

"Then pity and anger get us nowhere," Wufei gently held the man's bitter gaze until Duo turned away once again. Vaguely, Wufei found himself wondering if the braided man had ever shown Heero the true depths of his cynicism. Perhaps that was part of what had happened between them. All the pain and distrust Duo hid under that jester's smile that fooled so many must have been exhausting to carry alone.

Almost as though he'd read the Chinese man's thoughts, Duo heaved a heavy sigh, resting his forearms on his thighs so his shoulders hunched forward, head bowed slightly. When he spoke minutes later his voice held that mixture of fatigue and irony that was purely Duo, "Hell, I'm bad at this. I should let you get back to sleep."

"Stay," Wufei hoped the abrupt word didn't sound as pathetically desperate as he felt at that moment. The wide-eyed disbelief on Duo's face, from where he was frozen half standing and half turned, was enough to tell him his hopes were likely in vain. Wufei turned his proud head to the side, unwilling to lose anymore face by looking down to avoid the other man's gaze, "You're doing fine."

"Alright," came the slow response. He felt Duo slowly settle back onto the edge of the mattress. Silence stretched. Too long. Wufei opened an eye to verify that the other man had actually stayed. Duo was lounging backwards on straight arms in his peripheral, stretching his abdominal muscles, languid. At once, guilt reared its ugly head with anger at his own selfishness hot on its heels. The American had presented an honorable evasion of this awkwardness, but he'd been too pathetic to sit alone in the dark and quiet. His jaw clenched, onyx eyes focusing on the hands in his lap once more, hale and healthy, proof of the absurdity of the dream and its cold terror. It shouldn't have been a surprise when Duo broke the silence, yet it was, "You read poetry?"

Wufei's head reared upward abruptly. Duo was flipping through the thick volume of collected poems that had recently been on his nightstand. It was one of the broad overviews he used to focus his study. He just stared, "Yes, of course."

"Of course?" Duo laughed, genuinely amused. "I don't see what's so obvious about it."

"Poetry reflects humanity," Wufei explained evenly, the way it had been taught to him during his own early tutelage.

Duo looked up from the book he was paging through, almost reverently conscientious of the paper in his hands, and frowned, "How's that?"

"It gives form to that which is indescribable."

Duo raised an eyebrow, "What?"

Wufei smiled, "Poetry transcends perfect understanding in order to convey truth."

"Now you're just being a jackass," Duo growled, flopping onto his back, laying his head beside Wufei's knee, book closed on his chest. Violet eyes dared him to contradict the statement.

Wufei sighed, which did nothing to hide the smirk or deny the insult, "Poetry can help you understand things, and people, that are… beyond description. It has its own language. For instance, the forms can have personalities."

Duo smirked, "Like us, huh?"

"Yes, actually," Wufei shifted so it was easier to look down at the other man, "not dissimilar to us."

"Sure," Duo crowed skeptically. "What am I?"

Wufei absently ran his hand through his hair, "Beat."

Duo gave him a slightly withered look and waited.

"Beat poetry," Wufei started, "Spontaneous, vibrant, rhythmic, and visceral. It broke a great many rules and angered a great many people."

Duo rolled his eyes, but his smile was distinctly pleased, "Okay, what about Quatre?"

Wufei smirked, "Sonnet. Time-honored, exquisite, and often utilized for, though hardly limited to, matters of the heart."

"Trowa?" Duo was grinning now.

Wufei had to pause for a moment, "Haiku."

"Haiku?"

Black hair fluttered as Wufei nodded decisively, "It has its own deep seeded conventions, seems like gibberish at first, yet manages to make its own obscure, laconic sense in the end."

"Yuy?"

Wufei frowned at the surname, "Prose."

"Isn't that just normal writing?" Duo pounced, narrowing violet eyes in challenge at the figure above him.

"More or less," Wufei admitted, slightly surprised. He'd been treating this as an academic exercise rather than a discussion, which he knew was rude, but he hadn't expected anything from the American, considering his initial reaction to the subject matter. Not for the first time, Wufei forced himself not to be drawn into Duo's façade. The man was nowhere near as ignorant as he could seem at times. "Prose can be considered poetry if you take an inclusive view of the concept, which I do. Besides, Yuy's too pragmatic for the other forms, really, even free verse. He's too concerned with meaning and content to think about composition."

Violet eyes echoed with sharp, mocking suspicion, "Cheater."

"In academia it's called interpretation," Wufei corrected with only a slight scowl.

Duo grinned, "Still cheating. But, that leaves you."

"Ode," Wufei grunted flatly, "Traditional, dialectic, scholarly."

"Sounds boring," Duo pointed out.

"Classical," Wufei amended, though his tone agreed wholeheartedly.

Duo evaluated his Chinese companion, "Nah, I don't like it. You're more… I don't know, but you're definitely more than that."

Wufei looked steadily down at the American, pondering. Those comparisons were the kind of thoughts he mused while studying, mental acrobatics designed to make the content personal and test his own understanding. They were not intended to be shared; they were pure opinion, personal, revealing. His frown returned, "Idiot."

Violet eyes rolled theatrically, "Right."

Wufei surveyed the far side of his room coolly, resting his head in a hand.

"At least this explains why you've been so damned poetical lately," Duo chided, engrossed in the book again.

"Everyone becomes a poet…" The oddly inversed quote died on his lips as his brain clamored for a full and immediate stop. At the touch of love. …Huh.

Duo must have felt him go still, or caught the abruptness of the cut, because his head shifted and his voice suddenly sounded confused when he spoke, "Wufei?"

"Hm?" It was the best response Wufei could manage. He was busy mentally cursing Plato and wondering what that particular quote had been doing wandering around his mind. It was just a quote after all, a Platonic quote, at that. It's not as though the world was ever lacking in quotes concerning poets and love. Suddenly, proximity was an issue, chestnut hair brushing his thigh, the heat of another body in his bed. Flushing only reminded him of the amount of skin he had exposed to the cool night air.

Duo moved on the bed, changing position. Languidly, Wufei presumed. Wufei felt eyes on him and didn't move. His body had slipped into something akin to his meditative trance, mind practically whirring, but body frighteningly tranquil. Of course he loved Duo; the man was his friend, his clansman. Though, if that were it, the true and final extent of possible feeling toward him, a simple word should never have been so jarring. Then again, pride and a keen sense of inappropriateness could easily explain that response. Maybe. It was difficult to decide whether the idea itself was giving him trouble, or the fact that he'd honestly never considered it before. Violet eyes would not be ignored though and left him wondering how someone could stare vociferously. He turned, placid in his detachment.

Duo had propped himself up on one elbow, leaning on his side with his braid hanging over one shoulder and across his chest. The traitorous book was on the bed, ignored. The American was eyeing him with blatant concern, yet perhaps a touch more thoroughly than Wufei had noticed before. The small frown playing across Duo's lips deepened ever so slightly.

"You okay, buddy?" Duo reached his free hand to grab Wufei's shoulder, a motion not just languid, which didn't do the play of lean muscle under its tapestry of scarred skin justice, but exquisite. It was poetry, damn it. The contact, meant to steady, tingled electrically and his body, still raw and rebellious from his nightmare, was moved to the smallest of tremors.

Duo gaped at him, too surprised by the reaction to remove the hand that had triggered it. His jaw tensed while violet eyes flanking a ruined nose searched a little more blatantly, those passing eyes making Wufei all too aware of his own body and its impulses. The hand ghosted up his neck, never breaking contact, knuckles along his jaw, trailing lightning. His breath hitched. Calloused fingertips brushed his chin, lips, nose before sweeping the curtain of smooth black hair from his face, skimming the length of his cheekbone to curl behind his ear.

All want and wonder, violet crashed into placid onyx. Wufei realized it had to have been a month or more since Duo's last encounter, longer for himself. Everything Wufei knew about the man told him that the American must be half mad by now, starved for touch. Without thinking, Wufei's hand was at Duo's chin, a thumb passing over lips that quirked into one of those rare genuine, unlovely smiles. The hand hesitated, withdrew, but stopped again, hovering between them, tranquil onyx gaze noting reactions, waiting for the next move. Receptive. Open. Vulnerable. Duo blinked.

The small smile burst into a wide grin, one of those dazzling boisterous things, as Duo recalled his hand to scratch at the base of his braid, "Would you mind if I borrowed your book for a while?"

The abrupt change jerked something loose in Wufei's chest, his body settled back under his control. The still hovering hand dropped with his gaze to the thick compilation, "You want to read poetry?"

"Of course," Duo mocked, sitting up, putting distance between them.

Wufei held out the book, "Fine."

Duo let the smile fade slightly. Wufei gazed back steadily, no anger, no flinching, no disgust, just waiting. Duo sighed and grabbed the book by the corner, careful that hands didn't touch, "I'll take care of it. Promise to get it back quick."

"Take your time," Wufei advised, allowing the tiniest smirk, "It's not as though I don't know where to find you."

It took Duo a second to let out a low laugh at the joke that had blindsided him. He appraised the Chinese man again, checking which way the wind might decide to blow. Wufei had no direction, but center, just then, though he could feel something brewing. He had just nearly instigated something intimate with Duo. The implications of that were strange enough without the current situation with Heero leaping to mind. Yet, he couldn't make himself disturbed over the idea, not even slightly offended. Seeing the wind had no intention of going one way or the other, Duo ruffled his own bangs, "I'm going to get some sleep, or I'll be completely useless tomorrow."

Wufei nodded, keeping his tumbling thoughts to himself. Duo stood and stretched. Wufei's eyes followed him, "Good night, Maxwell."

"Sleep well, Wufei," Duo murmured with an uncharitable smile. Wufei resigned himself to spending the rest of the night alone, meditating. He certainly had plenty to consider now, though. He watched as Duo languidly left his room, braid swaying.

Lady butterfly3 - This story is continuing and the schedule is set for every two weeks, though that may change considering I now have the time to finish the later chapters. Thank you for your kind words and I hope you enjoyed this one, too.

Allora Gale - Thank you, again. I'm rather fond of the dynamic between those two, too.

TenshiNanashi - Or as soon as they realize gossiping about dangerous people is ill advised. I'm glad you're liking it so far. Thanks.

darkpanthress - Thank you very much. I hope you enjoy the rest, too.