Fortnight
Ch 05 - Askance
by APs
Betas – gothic-pixel and justanotheranimefreak (Who are both awesome!)
A/N – Read and enjoy! Reviews will be loved, too!
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The difference between friendship and love is how much you can hurt each other.
-Ashleigh Brilliant
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After wishing for nearly a week to hear his voice, all Wufei could think was that the man /had/ to run out of words eventually. It felt as though Duo hadn't shut up since he'd returned and that had been days ago. Even his reserve reserves of patience and calm were wearing thin between the sleep deprivation and constant stress of the last several weeks. The incessant stream of consciousness he'd been privy to was certainly not helping matters, nor were the specific topics that seemed to cycle through every few hours.
"No more damned solo mission, for any of us," the braided man was muttering softly in front of him as they slipped through the shadows around the offending base. "I leave and over half of you go missing. Vanish. Poof! Into thick air."
"Maxwell!" Wufei finally found himself hissing over a pointed, even glare.
"What?" Large violet eyes glared askance, "It's true!"
His brows rose, "Mission."
"Rescue mission," Duo corrected as though the words were curdling in his mouth. Wufei didn't like it either, but it was what it was and there was no point in whining. Duo seemed to grumble to himself when he was angry, though, and it wasn't like there hadn't been enough to grumble about when he'd returned from his cakewalk of a mission. Trowa out of contact for over two weeks with Heero and Quatre the same for a bit over one.
Quatre had best known the mission details and Heero was admittedly better at stealth and extraction. The fact that Heero refused to even acknowledge Wufei's existence had not seemed to hinder preparations, nor merit intervention. Besides, Une had demanded /one/ of them stay to explain to Duo and as Quatre had made it clear he was going…
"Stop talking," Wufei ground out.
Duo made an amused noise, "It's just breaking and entering, Wufei."
He glared more pointedly, but didn't deign to respond. Snorting softly, the braided man turned back to the task at hand. Getting in was no problem considering their level of skill and the fact that large compounds were nearly impossible to secure properly while maintaining the appearance of abandonment. Senses buzzing, Wufei couldn't help the tiny smirk that slipped onto his lips at Duo's small, probably unconscious noise of victory from bypassing the security so easily.
They ghosted through darkened halls. The base had been an OZ installment, so the layout had neither been hard to find, nor difficult to navigate. Dark eyes washed over the area, picking out the languid figure moving within the darkness, Duo Maxwell in his element. Which he knew wasn't true, Duo Maxwell cared as much about darkness as Chang Wufei did rain. Stealth was just natural to Duo, ingrained, no matter the surroundings. Not being noticed was as much a part of Duo as his braid. The American looked back and grinned before he checked around a corner, low.
Duo on point with Wufei watching their backs, they headed for the closest access hub. All intelligence pointed to the continued use of the bases internal network and hacking in would be much quicker than a thorough search. It didn't sit well with Wufei and it sat worse the further inside the base they ventured. They didn't encounter anyone, but they didn't hear anyone either and the lights were off. The place stank of dust and stale air. It didn't feel lived in. Something wasn't right.
Duo fell upon the computer without consulting Wufei, which was fine. Duo was better with computers and Wufei certainly didn't mind guard duty. The way his brain was screaming at him, he doubted he could have given anything other than guard duty his full focus.
"Shit," he heard Duo hiss behind him.
Shifting to keep the majority of his attention on the halls, Wufei darted a glance back, "Maxwell?"
"This thing is rotten and forgotten. Nobody's used this in years," the American growled, giving the terminal a halfhearted kick before swiveling to look at his partner. "I think we've been screwed."
Dark eyes turned from the empty halls, "A setup."
"Maybe," Duo hesitated, leaning back to glare at the ceiling, "But this stinks of file tampering, major cover ups. I mean, this place is abandoned."
It was true. The Chinese man swept a hand over his face, "You're suggesting someone changed the entire location in an ongoing mission file at some point after initialization without detection."
"It's possible," Duo countered.
Dark eyes narrowed, "Only if it was someone in Preventers, either on the case or overseeing it."
His fellow ex-pilot didn't turn his face from the ceiling, but violet eyes cast obliquely toward him.
Part of Wufei went cold and he growled to ignore it, "Winner would have brought it to our attention."
Duo shrugged, "Maybe he didn't want to tip off the bad guy, or it was changed after he left."
They just stared at each other for a long moment, letting the other option go by unsaid, yet heard just the same. Heero had the skill, knowledge, clearance, and, recently, mind frame to turn on them. Wufei wanted to dismiss it, but sharp violet eyes made his tongue burn to demand what the other knew to make the braided man stay his own refutation of the theory.
That's when the world spun. There was something cool, the floor, against his cheek by the time he registered Duo shouting, seeming both far away and too loud at the same time. Metal skittered across concrete, a gun sliding out of grasping range. Shoes scuffled, two dancing toward each other. A fight. Duo was fighting someone. Something wet was slithering down his neck as he forced himself up, the world a tumble of blurred, muddy color and noise. Intense muscle control kept him from hurling. No warning, no noise, no standing hairs on the back of his neck. He'd been pistol whipped. He'd been pistol whipped from behind and he was pissed. No enemy should have been able to get that close.
From Duo's feral grunts, the fight was still going once he staggered to his feet. That was good, the American had to be holding his own. He slumped against a wall, trying to zero in on the action. Two smears were beating each other, languid flowing versus stiff precision. His gun would be a bad idea. His partner gave a strangled cry of pain and Wufei launch himself at the now lone standing figure with a snarl.
Fighting while concussed sucked. He'd done it before, but that didn't change the fact. It was like space, there was no up, yet he felt heavy, covered in wet cloth. His stomach lurched with every shift, eyes refused to focus. His enemy dodged everything, not striking, not right. He was being toyed with. Someone was yelling at him to move. Duo. His fist sailed past their assailant's face once again, bringing him close, too close, to the other's face. Deep blue flashed and a soft, half grunt, then a hand like steel was wrenching his head back by the hair, legs giving.
"FEI!" Duo got through that time on the sheer level of panic as his vision tunneled. He tried to move, but something hard by his ear prodded him more insistently, painful grip on him tightening.
"I'll shoot him," it was a low, calm tone lacking inflection that made Wufei's blood run cold. Ah, so 'prodding object' would be a gun.
"I'll shoot you," Duo menaced, quiet and sure. A promise.
"He'll still be dead," that voice reasoned. Wufei couldn't make his brain work. He should be doing something. Every twitch of his assailant's fist sent everything swirling. Then he heard metal skittering away again. He was released, flung to the floor, he guessed. His vision went completely.
Duo growled, "Fuck you, Heero." And then everything drifted away.
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When Wufei came to, nothing was right. His body was rebelling, he couldn't find up, he couldn't focus, it was dark and foreign. He pushed against what he figured was down and retched hard, threw up. A hand promptly tugged him backward, away, sending his head swimming, but keeping him from falling back into the vomit.
"Easy, buddy," a low gruff whisper came from nowhere, though he decided it probably belonged to the hand. Then violet eyes were staring into his, being pried open by persistent, calloused fingers, close, too close, nose to nose. "You've got a concussion."
"I'd guessed," he snarled back. With a hand he couldn't stop from shaking, he reached up, but his head had been roughly bandaged.
"Careful," the American held his shoulder, "He clipped you pretty good. There's a cut, but it's not bad, just bled like hell."
He snorted, mostly to keep from having to speak and leaned back into the wall he was propped against.
"Good news is, we found Trowa," Duo breezed along, jerking a thumb over his shoulder and shifting to the side to clear the view. The taller ex-pilot was sitting across the room, barely discernable in the faint light, though his one visible eye was trained on them. Wufei flicked a hand at him and Trowa nodded, moving with a suspicious stiffness, though it was impossible to tell anything at the moment other than that he was by all appearances whole. Duo sighed, ruffling his bangs, "And Heero, of course."
"That really was him?" The Chinese man found himself croaking out. He took deep breathes, forcing his diaphragm not to seize. Well, that would explain why he hadn't bristled at his approach. He and Heero were close enough that he had apparently tuned out his motions as non-threatening. That was slightly disturbing. Heero Yuy was anything but 'non-threatening'.
"Yeah…" Duo was staring at the floor, a storm brewing on his face. "What the hell got into him, you suppose?"
"The difference between friendship and love is how much you can hurt each other."
"Still a prick," Duo scowled.
Wufei frowned, which sent sharp pain through the cotton stuffed consciousness he'd settled into. His breathing hitched and violet eyes were instantly upon him. Duo opened his mouth to caution again, but Wufei's glare brought him up short. Swallowing hard, the darker ex-pilot let his eyes drift shut, steadying himself.
"Wufei?" The concern was like a cutting edge on Duo's low tone. As a response, the Chinese ex-pilot folded his legs and straitened his back, resting a wrist on each knee, shoulders back, breathe rhythmic.
"He's meditating," a soft voice drifted evenly from across the room.
Duo snorted, "Obviously. So, what are we supposed to do? Wait till he slumps over dead to worry?"
"Yes," that soft voice mocked, then sighed. "He's fine."
He felt violet eyes sweep over him, before fabric rustled, Duo shifting position. His tone was jagged and bitter, muffled slightly, turned away, "No, he's not."
There was silence for a long moment and Wufei could almost visualize Trowa staring passively at Duo, who would be avoiding his eyes. Finally, the taller man vocalized the question, "What happened?"
"We got ambushed by Yuy," Duo spat, "What happened to you?"
"A low level tech from the Lunar Base blew my cover," if Trowa ever shrugged, there might have been one in accompaniment. "What happened to Heero?"
"How should I know?" the Braided ex-pilot dodged, "Where's Q?"
"Not here," he could almost hear the eyebrow arch, velvety tone biting a little, "What happened between you and Heero?"
"Why don't you ask him?" If conversations between Duo and Quatre could be ballets, then this was verbal fencing, complete with feints and ripostes. It was awkward, as though they weren't comfortable with each other. Wufei had never questioned that they were good friends, having never heard even the faintest rumor to the contrary. Of course, now that he was thinking about it, they never seemed to go out of their way for each other, either. Duo gave Trowa space and Trowa reciprocated, not one to force things. Odd.
"He said to ask you," Trowa let it fall with no special significance. Duo cursed, but didn't seem inclined to do anything else. The pause stretched for a long time. Trowa was nothing if not patient.
Duo let out an explosive sigh and he shifted, agitated, "It was nothing. We had a fight because he asked… he asked something stupid and didn't like the answer."
"Oh…"
"Oh?" Duo's eyes had undoubtedly narrowed, sharpened.
Trowa was unfazed, though he did seem a touch saddened, "…he proposed."
Wufei felt his rhythm break, eyes blinking open. Duo's back was to him and he was too busy glaring daggers at the taller man across the room to notice Wufei's reaction, considering he hadn't made any noise. Trowa, however, was still Trowa. Emerald glanced askance at his Chinese friend, unreadable, evaluating. It had been purely for Wufei's benefit.
Duo was dangerously still, fixated, "You knew?"
"He asked my opinion last Christmas."
"And you said what exactly?"
Trowa's eyes drifted calmly to the side, "I advised against it."
"Huh…" most of the tension drained from Duo, though that bitter note persisted, "Jackass never could take advice."
Trowa looked back to Duo, "He had his reasons."
Duo barked out a harsh laugh, "Yeah. Don't we all."
"He had to know where he stood with you."
"Well, now he knows," there was finality in the American's sarcasm.
Silence fell and Wufei drifted, nothing anchoring him to solid reality as things remained fuzzed. He closed his eyes, working his mind to keep his body from mutiny. Things churned less when he could focus inward, though he detached more. It was unsettlingly familiar, drifting in the cold and silence, everything numb and unreal.
It was Trowa's voice that brought him back, strangely hesitant, "How long?"
"What?"
"Have I been here…"
"Ah," Duo had to think about it for a moment and Wufei imagined his face scrunching, "Well, it's been a month and a half since you left on your mission, though you only went silent about two weeks ago."
"Six weeks," Trowa murmured to himself. "How is he?"
Duo paused again, "Last I saw, he was fine."
"Last you saw," Trowa frowned, though Trowa's frowns matched his smiles for subtlety. They were mostly in the eyes, but you could hear it if you knew the man. Quatre, Wufei realized; they were talking about Quatre. The blonde the man across the room had entrusted to them, to him specifically. Wufei felt himself sag, failure, fear weighing heavy on him, but the world went for a whirl again and he found himself being braced by large hands once more.
"-ei. Wufei. Hey, come on," Duo was biting at his lower lip and Wufei couldn't help thinking of Sally. Once the braided pilot saw him focusing, he beamed, dangerous, haphazard, "You gotta stay awake for me, buddy."
He snorted, planting a hand on the treacherous floor, which kept wanting to tilt this way or that without the slightest warning.
"Here," Trowa's gentle tone pushed in from the left, followed abruptly by cool liquid on Wufei's lips. He sipped as best he could.
Duo was squirming in beside him, draping an arm across his shoulders for better support, "Want to lean back for a bit?"
"I do not need to be mothered," the Chinese Preventer managed, keeping his head as still as possible. Forcing his eyes to open, even barely, onyx met emerald. Trowa was haggard, pale, and bruised, but his eyes were the same, keen and vibrant and, at the moment, softened with concern. Concern for a friend, worry for a lover with not even the slightest hint of anger, no blame.
"Course not," Duo was scoffing, sardonic, unconvinced, "But we're not going anywhere 'til you quit seeing stars and knowing Yuy, that'll be a while, so you're stuck taking it easy."
Wufei grunted, squeezing his eyes shut again. Duo's skin on his skin was hot, lulling in its warmth, and he did everything in his power to ignore it, to sit straight and not melt into the other for support. With each breath he had to force himself to remember that the air was cycling, they were not back on the moon, the war was over. The war was over, but they were captured and Heero was carrying a gun, which he'd refused to do since the Mariemaia incident. Where he had betrayed Heero, betrayed all of them, but fought Heero, hurt Heero… like Duo. Duo, who could be so damned warm and stay so distant. Nothing was making sense anymore. His brain was working, but the connections it was making were hazy and slipshod, waxing and waning. When logic fails, there is only noise and panic. He couldn't stop his damned hands from shaking.
Slender fingers alighted gently over his without warning. Trowa was there, silent, understanding and nonjudgmental. Trowa, who would still a trembling hand, despite the rigidity of a back or the stubbornness of a fool. Wufei smiled softly. He was not alone; he was not even dying. He had had worse during the war, though he usually hadn't been conscious for it. For all its strangeness, this was not a nightmare. His head would clear, eventually, and then everything would make sense. The young Chinese man felt himself relax, relent.
"Wufei?" Duo sounded puzzled. The idea of Duo being confused by him accepting help only made him want to laugh, which he decided would be a poor decision. Instead, he leaned back, though only a little, into the American's strong arm. "You need something? Some water? Are you cold? Something wrong, buddy? You okay?"
"Duo," he murmured, attempting to keep still.
"Yeah?" There was something incredulous about his tone, almost suspicious, unbelieving.
Wufei waved it away, taking the time to remember they weren't back on the moon, to breathe. Trowa was there, Duo was supporting him, and they would figure out all that other nonsense later. He sighed, "Stop talking."
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In2lalaland – Yes, Quatre's timing is pretty terrible, but try not to be too hard on him. They're all frustrating in their own special ways. Anyway, you're mostly right with some key exceptions and your 'horrible thought' did drift through my mind at one point, but I've never been one for the creation of fairy tales. Also, Sally's role in this fic is actually a highlight for me, so I'm glad you liked it. Thanks a lot!
Darkpanthress – Here it is, let me know what you think, and as far as Quatre, baby brothers will be baby brothers, but that's far from his entirety, I promise. Thanks!