Chapter 2
Room for Dellusions

Wufei jerked awake with a start, unceremoniously dumping his Japanese lover off of his chest. The darkness of the room swarmed around him, mixing with the chilly winter's air to prick over the sweat drenching his bare chest. He grasped in a panic for the sheets, clutching onto them and trying to convince himself of where he was, struggling viciously with his own head to pull himself out of the dream and into the ever present nightmare that was reality.

"Nnng…" Heero groaned, shifting uncomfortably as he came to. "Omae o Ko…" his growl was cut off the moment he saw his lover's rigid form, turning all the annoyance and rage into a worry bordering on panic. Panting heavily, pale as snow, the black haired man stared blearily off into the distance, eyes shining with unshed tears. Ragged breaths ripped past dry lips which twitched in tune with the rest of his body, as if trying to still wrench him from the horrors that waited behind his eyes.

Moving slowly to sit beside him, Heero gently placed a hand on his shoulder. When Wufei didn't jerk away as was normal, he hesitantly wrapped an arm around his waist, waiting the vicious reaction the Chinese man normally gave upon falling in to one of his psychotic states. But instead of hitting or shoving, Wufei instead went tentatively into his hold, pressing his head under his chin and burying his face into the warm pillar of his lover's neck. Relief washed through him, and Heero curled around him protectively, cradling his husband in a sweet embrace. He was grateful that Wufei was finally beginning to accept the comfort. Nearly a year of these "memories" of the imaginary fifth pilot had made Wufei more than averse to being touched, but it seemed the therapy was finally getting through.

An unwilling smile tugged at the corners of Heero's lips, relishing in the all but too unfamiliar feel of the perfect body pressed so tightly against him and seeking comfort. Kissing the top of his head, he rubbed the arms of his shaking lover, murmuring soft, soothing noises into the rumpled mass of black locks.

After long moments, the shivering subsided, and Heero could feel the tension sliding out of Wufei's muscles. The Chinese pilot shifted in his arms and twined his own whipcord limbs around him.

"It was that dream again?" Heero murmured against the crown of his head. Wufei nodded against the lips, slightly pulling back to look into the shadow of Heero's eyes.

"It feels so real," he replied, voice rough and strained, as if he had been screaming for hours. Heero moved to plant a kiss lightly across his lips, but Wufei turned his head away, dodging the touch and slowly moving out of his hold. Times like this, in the dark of night when fake memories and cold chills pervaded his senses, his relationship with Heero bothered him beyond belief. It seemed to feel so wrong. Like something important was missing.

Gripping his hand over his heart, he called to mind the beautiful boy who haunted his dreams. Somehow, that was the peace his mind craved for. The solace and comfort something in him felt had been so wrongfully taken. He was what seemed to be missing from their happy family. And somehow, Wufei could still feel him. His fingers still tingled at the warmth of his remembered touch. His lips still burned from his kiss…

He's not real, the logic in him screamed, overwhelming the wishful side of him that wanted to sink back into the dreams and feel that touch again. No matter how much his mind fooled himself, the boy wasn't real. He had to keep reminding himself of that. He was made up. A figment brought on by the stressors of war and of losing all his friends and family on L5. A way of coping with the loss of everything he knew.

All the pilots suffered from the same problem, but the others had recovered from it much better than he. No one had any clear memories of their times together during the war. Neither he nor Heero recalled exactly the first time they had sex, or even how they had become so close. Every mission was a fog—the only way they were ever able to recall anything was through history text books and old mission assignments Heero had saved on his laptop. Many of the doctors they had seen blamed Wufei's inability to move on as the other's had on the guilt he felt over the loss of his clan, and the pressure those same people had put on him to go from scholar, to monster. Something in him rebelled against that, though. Something in him that wanted so desperately to believe in the existence of the boy whose appearance was quickly fading from his mind. A person he could never fully recall when awake.

"What happened this time?" Heero's voice pierced the turmoil of his thoughts. Black orbs turned up, lost and confused as he stared at the man he inexplicably despised at the moment. So desperately did he want Heero to see the picture in his head. Wanted to tell him every detail about the face and make him remember. Something in him prayed that if he did, then Heero, too, would recall the person that was so important to both of them in his dreams.

No! he growled angrily to himself in his mind. He's made up. Stop doing this. You're disgracing yourself by thinking these things. You're a fool.

Heero was as surprised as Wufei when the Chinese man suddenly flung himself into his lover's arms, burying his face into his neck and making him fall back on the bed. His precious dragon curled up on top of him, hands curled up by his neck and face lightly nuzzling his shoulder.

"Same thing as always," Wufei relented, studying his finger tips and the way his nails looked raking small circles over Heero's collarbone. "Except this time, I saw him write something. He…" he paused, brows furrowing as his movements stilled, thinking hard and trying recall the hazy details of the nightmare. "He wrote it…on the inside of a cabinet in the kitchen." He sounded surprised by his own revelation. A detail recalled from a dream that was usually so vague.

"Do you remember which one?" Heero asked, gently grasping the underside of Wufei's chin to make him look up to him.

"Kind of," Wufei replied, giving a little shrug. "I'd need to think about." Heero nodded, brushing a sweet kiss across his lips and nuzzling their noses together in a way that caused Wufei's memories to jerk, returning to the dream. Once more, the cold terror trickled down his spine, causing to suddenly grasp onto Heero as if afraid he, too, would just fade away. Feeling the change in his demeanor, Heero held onto him with one arm, still holding his chin with the other, staring down at him and trying to assure him with his hold that he would never leave.

"Well, tomorrow, let's see if you can remember and we'll look. Then we can put this whole notion of a 5th pilot to rest," he assured lovingly, pressing their lips together once again. Wufei nodded, responding weakly with a soft, affirmative noise, before he wrenched his face from the hold and rested his head on his chest once more. Disproving the existence of the dream boy was most likely the best thing for his fragile mind, but the idea of it made him feel sick and depressed.

"You'd be amazed what you can forget…"

Those words echoed through his skull. That voice struck a chord so deep within him, it felt as if he would break. Eyes closing, he tried to banish his mind and return it to the blank comfort he once could achieve through meditation. But instead of blessed darkness, he saw violet eyes staring back him, bright with mirth and love.

"Wuffers, I'll never stop loving you."

Laughter and warmth flooded his mind, comforting him as he heard the voice speaking from the back of his head. "You need to stop taking everything so seriously. Lighten up, Wu-man! Jeeze…you think you'd have an aneurism by now!" Almost tempted to chuckle at the odd words coming from his own psyche, he opened onyx orbs in a languid motion, gazing over to the picture on the bedside stand. Even if the enigmatic boy was never real, he was a nice thought to soothe his aching wounds.

Studying the photograph next to the bed, he felt sleep begin to tug at him once more, lids fluttering wearily. It was a picture which always made Wufei's body feel light, as if trying to play "What's wrong with this scene?" All four of the pilots stood at an after war ball, held in their honor. They all looked so relieved, so tired, but they were all smiling even brighter than he ever felt they should. It left him with the impression that something was missing…something wasn't right.

They stood in a semi circle—first was Heero, who looked slightly agitated yet smirking, then Wufei, who had a ruffled expression but a half grin on his lips that was completely uncharacteristic of his once stoic and proud demeanor. Perhaps that expression was the first sign of me falling into madness? A bit of space stood between he and Trowa, who was looking down to the gap almost as if there were a nude picture on the floor. And then Quatre, who was beaming as if he were suppressing uproarious laughter, holding tightly onto his lover's coat. And in the spot where their attention seemed to be focused was enough room for one person to fit comfortably. A certain, braided person…

And just enough room to fuel his delusions.

Giving out a frustrated growl, he turned his head and buried his face into the safety of Heero's body. How impossible! No one could just disappear! No one who played such an integral part as big as a Gundam Pilot in the largest war in history could magically fade from all records and memories of the people who knew him. History couldn't be changed, pictures couldn't be magically altered, and memories couldn't be erased.

There had never been a Pilot of the 02 Gundam. The prototype had been blown up by Oz even before the production had been half complete. And there was no American Pilot to remember, because the braided bastard didn't exist!

A/N: I might as well post my disclaimer since I haven't been doing it so far.
I do not own the GW boys, no matter how much I wish I did. This was written solely for entertainment purposes.

On another note, thank you so much to everyone who has been reading up until now! All your positive feedback has definitly played a hand in getting me to turn this "story for my own pleasure" into something to share with others. I really hope this lives up your expectations. R&R, and any suggestions on how to make the chapter or the story better are welcomed!