Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and the characters belong to Bandai Sunrise; not to me. Except in my wilder flights of fantasy.

Note: Many thanks to my intrepid band of readers/reviewers. You have no idea how much of a thrill I get from your comments, queries, speculations; and just the fact that people are thinking about my story.

Gold stars, as always, to my editing Dream Team; Kaeru Shisho and Snowdragonct.

This one is back to Duo's POV.

A Very Expensive Fire:

Wufei and I ended up sharing a room which boasted an ornate hand-painted ceiling, a giant plasma TV showing every cable channel known to man, and two enormous beds draped with lavender-scented Sanque linen.

I still couldn't sleep later than six on Sunday morning. We hadn't bothered to draw the curtains, and the sunlight was already pouring in the large window, lighting pools of gold on the pale carpet. Wufei was still asleep, curled around one of his pillows, loose hair spilling over his face.

I had thought that Zechs, who'd been banished to the outer darkness of the Royal Suite, might have slithered in during the night, but there was no sign of him. Yet another thing to worry about. Damn. I hate it when they fight, especially as this particular row had been on my account . Never good to be caught in the middle.

I managed to dress without waking him, took my laptop down to the library, and spent a couple of hours researching any mention of WEI's record over the past year, taking note of acquisitions, mergers, competitors who'd gone out of business.

Somewhere in the middle of that, I sent a quick email to Trowa, inviting him to drop by whenever he had a chance, to talk about Quatre, and he sent an equally brief reply that he had an appointment at the Preventers Office at nine, but he'd see me after that.

When I got back to our room, the guys had very obviously made up.

'You know,' I remarked, 'if I wanted to see that sort of stuff, I could just watch a porn channel.'

'Or even go out and find someone to give you a live show?' Zechs didn't sound particularly happy that I'd interrupted them. 'Have you never heard of knocking?'

'This happens to be my own room! And has it never occurred to you that doors have locks for a reason?' I grinned at Wufei, noting the blossoming hickey on the side of his neck. 'FYI, Wu, you might want to wear something with a high collar today.'

'Jealous, Maxwell?' Zechs threw me an evil little grin, tucking Wufei's burning face into his shoulder.

I stuck my tongue out at him. 'In your dreams, Milliardo. Tell me, did you have fun with the Daughters of Sanque?'

'I had a quite delightful evening.' He bent to give Wufei a kiss that made my toes curl. 'And I gather I have you to thank you for suggesting I attend, my love. Incidentally, some of the ladies are arranging an exhibition of young artists from Sanque. They were fascinated when I told them about the piece of art you selected yesterday. I offered to lend it to them, subject to your agreeing, and apparently it's to be the centrepiece of their show.'

Another kiss. 'You have a wonderful eye, my darling. Did you know that it was the last piece created by Ingeborg Thyssen before her tragic death last month? And she used a piece of Sanque Red Oak, which is an incredibly rare wood. Those trees are almost extinct in Sanque; she was lucky enough to acquire some branches that had been felled in a storm. It's an utterly unique piece.'

Wufei made a strangled sound and vanished into the bathroom, while I tried not to laugh. 'Fei does fancy himself as a bit of an art critic; it was probably killing him to think that he'd burnt a valuable piece of artwork. It wasn't likely he was going to confess either; not while he was enjoying having the moral high ground.

'You're back in favour, then,' I commented. 'I take it you grovelled sufficiently?'

'Naturally,' Zechs looked undecided as to whether or not he should go after his boyfriend. 'Duo, is he all right? I've thought he's been worried about something for the past couple of days; do you have any idea what's the matter?'

I'd picked up a couple of hints last night, but that was Wufei's business, not mine.

'Um, maybe it'sjet lag?' I grinned up at him. 'Or Zechs lag.'

'Funny, Maxwell.' He narrowed his eyes at me. 'You're surprisingly perky for someone who was having a life crisis yesterday. Is there something you need to tell me?'

It was amazing how good I actually felt. Just having the guys around didn't really solve anything, but that didn't matter. They were there. Growing up on L2, one of the first things I'd learned was that being alone was not a good thing; that you needed someone else around for safety. I'm not sure if Heero had ever really got that, if he'd understood why I'd filled my house with relative strangers if he wasn't around.

Wufei had given me one night insulated from the real world. We'd eaten massive quantities of pizza, and a box of chocolate truffles they'd brought from Sanque, and watched a couple of home makeover shows, which he claims to hate, just to celebrate me having access to cable TV again, and then a really dire martial arts movie. In between all that, we'd talked for hours.

'Life crisis shelved for today. Too much to do.'

'Crisis,' he snorted. 'Oh, poor Duo, he has such a hard life, with all these seriously hot guys panting after him.'

'Oh, poor Duo, who's probably going to spend the rest of his life in a padded cell.'

Shit. I'd meant that - sort of as a joke, I think but it didn't work. I wasn't sure where that had come from; I'd been trying like hell not to think about the possible outcome of this hearing thingy.

'Duo! You do know that's not going to happen to you. I talked to Heero yesterday and he says there's no real reason for you to worry.'

Yeah, right. Anyway, there was no way I was going to some institution, whatever happened. I'd done my time in a psych ward, and had no intention of going back, thank you very much.

'I know. Listen, can I borrow your 'phone?' I made a fairly lame attempt to change the subject.

'I presume you're going to call Heero?'

'Um, no. He knows where I am. He can call me.'

'Aha!' He reached out and tousled my hair. 'You're playing hard to get, hmm? You have been listening to all that advice I've given you?'

'What, me? I couldn't play hard to get if you drew me a diagram. If Heero wants to talk to me, I'll be here.'

'Duo! God, the two of you deserve each other, if only to keep the rest of the world from having to put up with either of you.' He flicked that mane of silvery fair hair so it caught the sunlight. I do sometimes wonder if he sold his soul to the devil or something for his hair to stay in its habitual state of perfection. I have to keep mine securely contained or it takes on a life of its own. Even after he'd presumably been rolling around with Wufei for a couple of hours, Zechs managed to look like he'd just walked out of a hair salon.

'I spent hours last night trying to give Heero some advice and he was adamant that he'd told you how he felt, and he wasn't going to put you under any pressure in deciding what to do. Idiot! You two need to be locked in a cupboard together and maybe you'll accidentally fall on top of each other.'

Oh, that would be interesting..

No, that would be bad!

Very bad.

'You talked to Heero? That's nothing to do with you! Seriously, my life would be so much easier if I didn't have all these ridiculously overprotective friends meddling in whatever I do.'

'It's only because we love you,' He reached out to tug my braid. 'And of course we do think you're totally incapable of looking after yourself.'

'Hah hah,' I muttered sourly. 'Does Wufei know anything about this? He thinks you were at that reception shmoozing all those charming women?'

'I was,' he said hastily, glancing at the bathroom door. 'Absolutely. But I had dinner with Heero and Barton first. Very enlightening.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'It was .. instructive. You've been keeping busy lately, haven't you? You apparently forgot to tell me you'd broken up with Barton.'

'I haven't exactly had a chance. It was all a bit sudden.'

'I assume Heero had something to do with it? Honestly, Duo; you make life so complicated for yourself.' He grinned at me, blue eyes brimming with mischief. 'I'm sure the three of you could come to a mutually...satisfying arrangement if you thought about it.'

'Oh, God. I should never have told you about Heero's little threesome fantasy. And you might not want to mention it to 'Fei if you want to stay in his good books.'

'Agreed. So you've really finished with Barton? Shame, although Heero seemed to be quite pleased. Why did you hit him, by the way?'

'Never mind that. Was Trowa all right?'

'Oh, he's fine, apart from sporting some rather impressive bruises, and being quite obsessed with that little blond menace of his, for some reason. God knows what he sees in him.'

'Apart from being a really hot billionaire, I've no idea. And you're a blond menace yourself.' He smirked at me. 'That wasn't a compliment. I hope you didn't slag Quat off too much in front of Trowa? Zechs! You didn't!'

'Well, I hardly know Winner, and from what I've heard, Trowa would be better off without him.'

'Oh, that's charming. Why can't you just try to be sensitive for once?'

'I am extremely sensitive. Just ask 'Fei.'

'It's not funny, Zechs! We're all worried about Quat and your little cracks about him aren't exactly helping.'

'Fine. Sorry. I'll apologise to Trowa when I see him. But, seriously, Duo; I've only met Winner a handful of times and since I've met you both, he never seemed to make any effort to stay in touch with you. I've lost count of the times you and 'Fei tried to meet him, and he's made some excuse. He's never even been to our home, for God's sake. How am I supposed to like someone who's treated you both like that?'

'I know. I do know all that. But he's still our friend, whatever he's done or hasn't done, so lay off the jokes, all right? Now, cellphone? Can I borrow it for a sec?'

'You've already lost your new one? You only just got it! I think I left mine on the bedside table in my room. There's a little present there for you as well.'

I stood up to leave and he wolf-whistled at me. I was wearing some of the clothes Lucca had chosen for me; suede jeans the rich, dark colour of butterscotch, and a fitted top in dark red, which was some mix of silk and cashmere and had been more expensive than either individual fabric. It felt good though.

'Look, at you, cruising on the sartorial edge. What are you all dressed up for?'

'Nothing special. It's not too dressy, is it?'

'It's great. Nice to see your butt for a change.'

'Screw you, Merquise.'

'That's Wufei's job.'

'Didn't need to know that,' I shot back.

'Oh, there's one other thing. I asked Heero about a possible date for your hearing and he thinks it could be several weeks. We probably should look into renting a house while we're here. Maybe something outside the city with a garden?'

Damn. I'd never even thought about that. I'd just wanted to see Wufei; I'd never once considered the ramifications of them having to move to Florence for an indefinite period of time.

'I'm sorry, Zechs. I didn't mean to mess up your lives.'

'What? Having to spend Spring in Italy? That's not exactly a hardship, you idiot. I can paint anywhere. Wufei can fly home if he needs to see his tutor at the university; otherwise, there are plenty of libraries in the city. Really, he just needs somewhere to write at the moment. Don't worry about either of us. Now, do you want to come and look at houses?'

'I can't. Trowa's coming over in a bit. I'm sure 'Fei will want to go with you.'

Zechs - or rather Prince Milliardo Peacecraft - had the very lavish Royal Suite all to himself, although presumably Wu would be migrating fairly soon. He's just as untidy as me, at least he is without Wufei's restraining influence, so I had to trawl through a lot of stuff first; a Russian dictionary, chocolate body paint (not my present surely? This is why I don't like going through his stuff; you never know what sort of things he's got stashed away) cellphone, a charming little pen-and-ink drawing of Wufei in profile; revolver, passport, lube, catalogue from that art show they'd been too…

Oh.

Passport.

A very fancy Sanque passport, all dark blue leather with the Peacecraft crest embossed in gold, declaring one Duo Maxwell to be a citizen of the Sanque Kingdom.

A world away from my battered, imitation-plastic L2 document. I wasn't just a citizen of Sanque; I was a friend of the prince and princess. Not bad for someone who'd grown up on the streets.

That was kind of weird; another thing to be shelved for later consideration and I picked up the 'phone instead, scrolling down through his contacts to find Theo Fichtner.

I hadn't so much lost my own 'phone as made an executive decision to leave it behind. The damn thing was nothing but trouble. I had a characteristically brief conversation with Fichtner, who was on his way to L4, and hung up wondering if he was more forthcoming with his friends and family, or if all social interactions were so restricted.

Then I realised that he wouldn't be able to contact me, given that my cellphone was cunningly hidden on top of the wardrobe in Heero's spare bedroom. I don't think he was terribly impressed when I rang back to tell him he'd have to call Zechs' 'phone in future and just leave a message. I guess White Fang had been somewhat better organised in the good old days.

It rang again the minute I hang up; maybe he'd decided to call back to chat about the weather?

'Commander?'

'Um, no. Can I take a message?'

'Tell him Jack returned his call.'

Jack? Couldn't think of anyone we knew called that. Ho hum. More mysteries. Of course, it wasn't all that hard to guess how Zechs knew him, the whole 'commander' thing being a bit of a giveaway.

After breakfast, Zechs went off to meet some unfortunate real estate agent,and I went outside, finding a nice place to sit under a flowering cherry tree. I took a pile of stuff with me; my laptop, a couple of books and a sketch pad, all handy little bulwarks against having to think too much. My original plan had been to do a little recreational hacking into the WEI database, but in the end, I decided to wait for Trowa to show up, and surfed through my clogged up inbox instead. Damn, I was really going to have to sit down and reply to all my messages at some point.

Hilde's email detailed some of the gorier details of her pregnancy, mixed in with lots of anti-Heero propaganda. I would have thought Wufei might have put her up to it, except she periodically sent me Heero hate-mail, if she thought there was any risk of me backsliding, and threatening to kick his skinny ass.

Like she could.

And his ass isn't skinny, anyway. It's perfect.

No.

Don't go there, Maxwell.

That thought, inevitably, sent my mind off on a happy little fantasy about going there, and I had to wrench my brain back on target.

Howard had sent me a long, nuts-by-bolts detail of his latest salvage job, interspersed with a few lame jokes and instructions to call if there was anything he could do to help.

Sally's message was fairly short; she'd dropped by our house on Saturday and checked my orchids. The temperature controls and sprinkling systems I'd installed seemed to be working perfectly, from what she could tell. She'd attached a couple of photos of her little girl, Mel, apparently trying to disembowel her teddy bear. Another surgeon in the making.

There was a perky email from Cathy, saying how delighted she was that Trowa and I had got together. She obviously hadn't been speaking to her little brother in a while. No mention of Quatre at all; they'd been good friends once but I'd gathered from a few things Tro had let slip that there'd been a certain amount of friction between the two of them lately.

The second last message I bothered to open was from my boss, and I wished I hadn't. I'd already missed one important meeting I'd been supposed to attend, and couldn't give any definite date of when I'd be next available to fly to the States.

Damn. Mitch wasn't going to be any too happy with that.

I love my job - I specialise in designing one-off 'space toys' for the mega rich, money usually no object; I can do most of my work from home and I usually work on contract for individual projects; excellent in that I can pick and choose what I do to some extent, but not so good as far as job security goes.

I wasn't sure Mitch would want to keep employing someone whose sanity was going to be on trial in the near future. That sort of thing doesn't really inspire confidence, does it? Not that I wouldn't be able to get another job, but I'd probably end up designing commercial craft for some major corporation, spending ten hours a day in a windowless cubicle and trying to figure out how to cram extra passengers or freight into a fixed area.

The last mail I bothered to open was from Relena, and was one long gush about 'darling Milliardo's' proposal; I hadn't realised Zechs had told her but there was probably some royal protocol or other to be followed. She sounded genuinely happy for them, though. I don't think she'd been overly impressed when the two of them first got together, but she'd mellowed a lot since then. She and her long lost brother had always had a somewhat...edgy relationship, but she had to realise just how good 'Fei had been for Zechs. Wufei takes family commitments very, very seriously and he'd encouraged the two of them to spend time together.

She had all kinds of dizzy plans for engagement parties and for the ceremony itself. If the guys weren't careful, they'd end up getting married in the palace ballroom, wearing matching pink tuxedos. Honestly, for a politician, that girl's always had a rather tenuous grasp of reality, or maybe that's an advantage. Still, if the guys wanted a small, simple ceremony rather than a glitzy affair attended by all the royal families of Europe, they could tell her themselves.

There were a few lines at the end about Quatre's disappearance, and how shocked she'd been to hear that Trowa was considered a suspect.

Nothing about Heero. We never really talk about him. They'd been together for a few months; just long enough, presumably, for each of them to tumble off the elaborate pedestal the other had painstakingly constructed. They'd somehow managed to stay friends, though and at some point over the last couple of years, since Zechs had come into our lives, she and I had become...friendish, for lack of any better word.

Not that we'd exactly formed a mutually supportive club for Heero's ex partners or anything like that, but we could have a conversation that didn't end in tears or violence, and she'd sometimes confided in me. I always got the impression that she didn't have a lot of close friends

Oh, well. I closed the lap top, and lay back on the grass, admiring the lacy white blossoms gleaming against the forgot-me-not blue sky.

I was really going to have to think about Heero at some point.

OK, it wasn't like I hadn't occasional fantasies over the years about him wanting to get back with me. I didn't always take him back; sometimes I'd acquired an incredibly hot boyfriend who worshipped me (but who was never Trowa, curiously enough) and just laughed in his face.

In the scenarios when we did end up back together, I'd usually worked out that he'd somehow had all his memories of me destroyed (either by Relena or by evil aliens), or had to go off on some top-secret mission to save the universe, or acquired a rare flesh eating disease...

It had been one of Quat's favourite fantasies, in the early days of the war, that Trowa would contact a flesh eating disease that could be passed on through any form of bodily contact (he'd later made kissing an exception) so they could never actually have sex, but Quat would happily devote his life to caring for Trowa. He'd tended to gloss over a couple of pertinent facts like us all being in the middle of a war, and that Trowa would presumably end up being eaten away to nothing...

In the real world, getting back with Heero was fraught with complications. Wufei had a serious problem with him; oh, he'd been fairly tolerant last night, out of concern for my fragile state, but I had a feeling that he wouldn't always be that understanding.

Hilde definitely wouldn't, or Quat.

We had separate lives, on separate continents; apart from anything else. It would probably never work.

Except he'd said he still loved me.