A/N: Wufei does skip around in In Search of Elegance. It's usually rather obvious when he does if you read the narration (in the fic, not the fic-book). The book has no chapters, however, and several times in Elegance (aka the fic) Wufei will find the last page has changed. Don't worry, it's not a crazy inconsistency. The book gets added on to.

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Elegance

Chapter 2

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As Wufei walked down the final sidewalk to his apartment, the indecisive gray clouds finally decided to douse his path. Growling and glaring, he clutched the leather-bound book to his chest, cursing the fact he decided to walk instead of take the subway.

"I hate Thursdays," he hissed venomously, and managed to slide through the glass doors that heralded his apartment building. He was drenched, and the only thing that seemed to have survived unscathed was the book cradled against his body. Stomping, Wufei couldn't help but repeat the movement all the way to the elevator in a cross between a temper tantrum and a functional way to shake the water off him. "I hate Thursdays, I hate them, I hate them…" He slammed the button for floor 7, and the doors merrily dinged shut.

When he finally reached his apartment door (714, two doors to the right of the elevator), he jammed his keys in, wrenched the door open, and couldn't help but feel a bit satisfied when he slammed the door shut behind him. In well-rehearsed motions Wufei managed to discard his sopping clothing in the bathroom (tile wouldn't absorb the water and get him fined), changing into a tank top and comfortable baggy pants.

Emerging from the bathroom, the dry book he'd set on the kitchen counter loomed in his mind. He had no idea what was so special about it, what would make Quatre literally jump at him to get the leather tome out of his hands. If it was age or worth (the thing was hand-written, after all), why the hell would the blonde let him carry it home? And he'd been letting that Treize idiot read it without a care before Wufei had entered the scene…

Giving in to temptation, Wufei grabbed the book and slumped down onto the couch, turning to where he'd left off.

As my father had instructed, I left the taxi at the immense gates, carrying my own meager luggage down the manicured drive. Although the doorman frowned at the sight of me lugging my two suitcases up to the same area at which my compatriots exited limousines, he gave me the same respectful smile and nod, motioning me towards a table set up nearby as one of the attendants took my labeled luggage to my waiting room.

Sitting at the table was a bored-looking blonde man who gave me all my paperwork – schedule, room number, stable assignment, and so on. With another bored wave of his hand, I was left to wander the ornate marble halls of the Academy.

Finding my room took almost no time, since apparently they were assigned by social status. Mine was quite literally in the basement, and although I thought the double bed and cream walls grand at the time, I know it was in fact the cheapest room in the entire complex. The walk-in closet was only so in the sense I could step inside and shut the door behind me, and the bathroom was barely any larger.

However, it was mine, and that alone made it magnificent in my eyes. Even if it was the only room in the basement, the worth to me was

Wufei jerked up as the phone rang, the bells shrieking him out of the book and up off the couch. In a flurry, he picked up the phone, a rushed "Hello?" breathing out of him.

"Wufei? It's Quatre."

He frowned. "Since when do you have my phone number?"

"Since I wanted it. Listen, Treize wants his book back, and I promised I'd get you to give it back to him later today."

"WHAT?!" Wufei glared at the wall, wishing it were a head of blonde hair and evil, sadistic, manipulative eyes cowering in fear.

"I know, Wufei, I'm so sorry," Quatre said, sounding utterly sincere. But, Wufei knew the man was an excellent actor. "I'll take you out for dinner, okay? I'll even pay."

"And Trowa would be okay with that?" There was something strange going on here, and he didn't like it one bit.

Quatre's silvery laugh came over the line. "Of course he is! Why wouldn't he be? Besides, he'll be coming too. How does meeting at the store at 7 sound, and dinner at Opal around…7:30?"

Wufei blinked. "Opal? But that's fancy."

"I've got the money for it," Quatre said, dry but amused.

He shrugged, forgetting he was on the phone for a moment. "Just don't expect me to be polite."

"Oh, I'd never do that," Quatre said innocently. "See you then, Wufei."

With a defeated sigh, Wufei hung up…and his eyes yet again rested on that strange book.

What was so special about the thing? It seemed like a normal book to him so far…maybe deeper in those pages was something more?

He re-read the first page again, and decided this Leia person would be an excellent place to start. With an easy plan of attack, Wufei dove back into the book, glancing over the pages and trying not to read that intriguing script that spun through the bound white papers.

After skimming for almost half an hour, he was a third of the way through the book and found what he was looking for. The simple name sent a shock through him, and he read the section with a voracity that almost scared him.

There's an innocence in all of us that dies. Some can point to the exact moment, while others don't even notice it's gone until far too late. For what, I can't say. But what I do know is that sometimes, when your innocence dies, a piece of your soul withers away.

That was how it was with Leia. She was so deliciously empty, so wonderfully lost that I couldn't stop myself. I was smitten the moment those soulless eyes met mine.

Wufei stared at the book as if it had grown thorns and was raking his hands apart. "What the hell?" he muttered, frowning at the narration. What had happened during that third of the book to twist a young, intelligent boy into…this? He didn't even know what to call it. A thrilling horror was rushing through his veins at the passage, and his eyes read on, the words not truly registering until one single sentence leapt out at him.

Within those empty smiles and eyes there was a grace I had never dreamed of seeing before.

He stared, eyes wide, rereading the sentence over and over again, that sense of a terrifying beauty creeping up on him once more.

Maybe it was the lack of context, a part of his mind justified, and Wufei found himself nodding. Maybe it was so intoxicatingly chilling because he hadn't read almost a third of the book, and had only read a few pages in the first place. Shaking hands moved back to the opening pages, but his mind kept repeating the same word, the title screaming in his head.

In Search of Elegance. But what kind?

He needed out, Wufei decided. It was already one in the afternoon, and that was as good a reason as any to avoid the book for a little while. He could go to the 24-hour café across the street and get something to eat, and the only good thing about Thursday was their soup of the day, the one he could never remember the name of.

Deciding quickly that it was the best idea he'd had all day, Wufei grabbed his keys and walked out the door.

Then he remembered it was still raining, so he walked back in and grabbed his coat, and walked back out.

And then he remembered he'd need money to buy lunch, so he walked back in again and grabbed his wallet, and grabbed the book too because service was always a bit slow at the café anyway, and locked the door behind him.

Crossing the street was a messy business sometimes, but years of experience and hours of frustration paid off with a brisk stride across the pavement during the first tiny gap in traffic he saw, hugging the book to his chest and glaring death at the people staring at him from inside the café, their mugs of coffee (coffee was an always-drink in weather like this) paused in that strange area of unknown space between the table and their lips.

It was only when he stepped into the café and saw his reflection in the glass door – that of a soaked, book-hoarding young man wearing nothing but a ratty, comfortable tank top and pants loose enough that if he stepped on the cuffs they'd slide right off his hips.

Wufei didn't give a shit. He just wanted his damn soup and sandwich.

The hostess gave him a seat close to the kitchen's swinging door and he thanked her politely, pulling open the book and trying to find somewhere close to where he'd left off.

He found it easily enough and began reading, ordering his meal absently as he delved back into the novel.

I distinctly recall the first day of school being painfully bland. Here, too, we were seated by social status, which left me practically wedged behind a column (which had the words 'Abandon All Hope Ye Who Sit Here' carved into the stonework). I couldn't see the board, and considering the lessons were things I could have taught two years previously, I didn't much mind.

For four hours, I sat in my secluded, blind seat. Since I couldn't see the board, I instead looked over my classmates. I studied them as they studied their arithmetic, I analyzed them as they learned extremely basic physics, I weighed their worth and value as they read through The Diary of Anne Frank.

Within four hours, I had already judged my classmates to the ultimate degree, using a set of criteria that simplify down to 1. Monetary Worth, 2. Emotional Stability (which was easily judged during the Anne Frank period of the day), 3. Intelligence, and 4. Social Status.

Now, I feel I must explain the difference between the Academy's definition of "Social Status" and my own. To the Academy, your social status was entirely determined by how much money your family had control of. My own definition was the influence one had over the rest of the student body.

Personally, I find my own definition to be far more important.

My criteria had left me one specific individual to speak with during our lunch break – the only girl to not cry during Anne Frank (in fact, one of only four people to not do so), the only girl who had seemed just as bored yet informed as myself during the math and science portion of class, and one that sat close enough to the front of the room that I could easily ignore how she shied away from the other students.

At lunch (a lavish three-course meal, despite the fact we all sat at wooden tables on wooden benches), I approached her, introducing myself and smiling courteously, getting a better look at her features.

She was nervous, shy around just about everyone in the room, but smiled back. Her hair was a long, frizzled curtain of brown that was trying very hard to hide her eyes from the world. But as we spoke and she opened up, I could see the true Lady inside her, that she would become a strong, intelligent, capable woman if she took care of herself and stopped letting the others in the class taunt her about her hair.

Children, at that time, were a puzzle to me, and most especially the cruelty they showed to their peers. Petty taunts about my basement room and my (blessedly) unknown background did absolutely nothing to me, aside from bemusement concerning their lack of information on my past. On the other hand, my new friend, while unmoved by the plight of Anne Frank, could burst into tears at the right jab of criticism.

I decided that I would mold the young Lady known as Anne Une into the Lady Une that was begging to be revealed. And I decided this right at that very first lunch.

After lunch, the class was told something very important. It was only the first-years that were ranked by how much the Academy had been paid for tuition. After the first year's first quarter, everything would be based on rank – the best grades received the best PE equipment and was served food first, the best in PE received the best desk in class, and lodging would be decided by an unknown criteria they would find out in their next year, when rooms were changed about.

That announcement was the beginning of absolutely everything.

"Soup?"

Wufei blinked, started by the word as he looked up from the book to see a waitress smiling tensely at him, soup and sandwich in hand.

"That's mine, yes," Wufei said, clearing his throat and carefully putting the book aside as the steaming bowl was set in front of him.

"I'd been wondering if it really was," the waitress sighed, refilling his glass of water while she was at it. "I've been trying to get your attention for nearly five minutes. Must be a hell of a book."

Wufei blinked, his mind abandoning him just at the thought of ignoring his soup for five minutes in favor of the book. It was good soup. It was his favorite soup.

The waitress smiled again and left Wufei to glare at his soup and sandwich. When he felt like most of the rage – WHY did this book ALWAYS do this to him?! It was enough to make someone go insane! – he scarfed down the food, for once ignoring good manners.

It was for a good cause though, Wufei told himself as he paid for his lunch and buttoned up his coat, In Search Of Elegance again cradled against his chest in a hug of death. Strangling some answers out of Quatre Winner trumped decorum any day.

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A/N: And that's Chapter 2! Better short-ish than never, eh?

Update Bandit strikes again! Hopefully I'll get to most everything else this November too! Keep those fingers crossed!