Fortnight

Ch 01 – Deluge

by APs

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

A/N – Alright, so here's a new story I've been hording for a long time now. It started as a character exercise that rebelled and decided it wanted to be a real story. I wanted it finished before posting, but it's been over six months and five chapters now, so I'm getting antsy. As the title suggests, the chapters are set two weeks apart and that's how I'll be uploading (which should also give me time to finish this, so there won't be delays later on).

Read and enjoy! Reviews are loved, too!

If it were not for guests all houses would be graves.

~Kahlil Gibran

Chang Wufei stared into the darkness above his bed and listened to the rain. The storm had rolled in vaguely before midnight and had been pouring forth for at least four hours with no signs of stopping anytime soon. It was one of those storms that leeched into dry places in its persistence to cleanse the world. Between the dissonance of thunder and the frantic staccato of rain, Wufei found an entrancing calm that was almost as pleasing as actual sleep. True, it had been a while since he'd managed a complete night's sleep, but he didn't feel the storm should be spited for his problems.

He had complained incessantly while living in the Preventer's barracks, whether about the lack of privacy or general disorder, but he had always slept well. It came down to the presence of others he trusted. During the war, he had conditioned himself for survival's sake to sleep no more than two hours when alone. Now that he wasn't perpetually exhausted, that internal alarm had taken the form of hideous nightmares. It was frustrating as hell.

With a sigh, he tossed the covers to one side, slipped out of bed and into a pair of silk pants. His small house sprawled about him in midnight blues and myriad greys. He made it down the hall, through his living room and into his kitchen without lights or incident. Going through motions as familiar as his morning exercises, he set water to boil for tea. He was waiting, trying to decide on a type, when a faint knock sounded on his door.

Frowning, he padded back into the living room. No one came to his house without phoning ahead and certainly not at this hour. Staring at the door, he wondered if he'd imagined it or if the storm was just tossing clutter around. After all, he had a perfectly good doorbell. When the soft rapping started again, he leapt forward, rant brewing for whoever was foolish enough to mistake his door for somewhere to knock at such an hour.

The door flew open between beats, leaving the person on the other side to blink large violet eyes at the scowling Chinese man, "Maxwell."

"Wufei," the American seemed genuinely surprised to see him.

"Were you expecting someone else to be answering my door?" There was bite to his words, but nothing excessive.

"I wasn't expecting-" Duo fumbled the thought and let it go, biting his lip. Wufei frowned and actually looked at him. The guy was drenched, utterly soaked, which was no mean feat considering he was dressed in at least three layers. The waterproofed duffle strapped to his back was shedding rivulets down his neck and errant chestnut locks from a haphazard braid clumped about his face. Noticing the silence stretching ever longer, Duo took a step back, "I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry for waking you."

Wufei snorted, clearing the doorway, "Get inside before you freeze to death."

Duo hesitated, but stepped inside, letting the door swing closed behind him. He stood in the foyer of the dark house like a child stands in the doorway of a cathedral. Uncertain violet eyes met Wufei's cool evaluation and waited for instruction.

"Should I even ask?" Wufei was answered with a grin. He sighed, "Fine, how wet are you?"

"To the bone," Duo smirked back.

Wufei rolled his eyes, "Leave the shoes there. The bathroom is the third on the left. I'll make you some tea."

"Do you have coffee?" Duo countered as he struggled out of his boots.

Wufei shot a warning glance his way, "It's four in the morning."

"Tea it is," Duo cheered, forced and hollow, beating a hasty retreat toward the bathroom, but stopped just short, "Uh, Wufei?"

He turned back from the kitchen doorway, "Yes, Maxwell?"

"You're not wearing a shirt. Just so you know," he informed as the door swung closed.

Wufei blinked, relieved that the other ex-pilot couldn't see the flush mounting in his face. He stalked down the hall to his room, throwing on a tank top and an unbuttoned over shirt, just for good measure. He grabbed a hair tie from his dresser and raked his fingers through his hair, gathering it into a sloppy tail. Thankfully, light flooded from under the door and the shower was running when he passed the bathroom on his way back to the kitchen.

The kettle sang out not long afterward and he pour out his pot, letting it steep while he searched for something to offer his guest. He cut up some fruit, having decided against anything heavier, and poured a small cup of tea for himself. Breathing in steam, he sipped slowly savoring it equally as much as the matched sounds of shower and rain. Half a pot later, he was beginning to worry. Setting his cup down, he went to the bathroom door. The light was still on, the shower still running, but he couldn't hear any movement.

"Maxwell?" he called through the door. Nothing. He frowned, "Maxwell!"

The silence persisted and Wufei felt his stomach attempt to fall out, as though gravity had suddenly stopped working. Growling at his sudden fear, he threw the door open and barged in. The room was full of steam, but noticeably lacking one braided ex-pilot. The shower curtain was drawn. Fear clawed at him with new desperation and he nearly tore the curtain from the rod. And there was Duo. Not naked and bleeding or unconscious, as Wufei's fear had theorized, but somehow, just as shocking. He huddled, fully clothed, in the back of the tub, knees drawn to his chest and forehead resting on them as water coursed over him.

Wufei reached to touch him, but hit water first and cringed. The shower had gone ice cold. Grinding his teeth, he lunged for the fixture, cutting off the frigid current.

Finally, Duo glanced upward, bangs dripping in his face, "Wufei?"

The Chinese man fixed him with a careful eye, "Are you drunk?"

Duo barked a laugh, "No."

"Are you trying to make yourself sick?"

"No, I- uh," Duo sniffed, "I was just trying to get warm."

Wufei glared at him. The man was shivering visibly. Wufei's tone left no room for argument, "Strip."

Duo's eye went wide as his head jerked the rest of the way up. His mouth opened, then shut. That's about when he registered the look of horror the Chinese man was giving him. Wufei sat on the side of the tub and reached for Duo. The American flinched back, but a single flash of onyx eyes ended that quickly. With hands Duo considered altogether too gentle, Wufei caught his chin and brushed away his bangs.

"My God, Maxwell," Wufei tried to shout, but there was just not enough force to push it beyond a whisper. Violet eyes were elsewhere as he inspected the swollen cheek and smashed nose, both already starting to turn dark in the painfully bright bathroom light. It was nothing compared to wounds they had suffered during the war, but this wasn't wartime and Duo took impeccable care of himself, mostly because he had someone who cared. Heero cared a great deal.

"It's nothing," he growled, wrenching his chin from Wufei's grasp.

Wufei watched him for a long time, stunned, "He hit you?"

"Hadn't noticed," Duo's face was back behind his knees, muffling his voice.

It took a while to process things. Eventually, he slowed his breathing, reaching for a towel and Duo's duffle. He kept his voice even, "You need to get out of those clothes. Do you have clean things, or should I go get something?"

"I can dress myself," Duo mumbled, eye roll present and accounted for in tone.

"All evidence to the contrary," Wufei astutely pointed out.

"Wufei," Duo growled. He set his jaw, then sighed and lifted his head, "Please."

Wufei gauged him cautiously, but nodded, "If you are not out in ten minutes, I am coming back."

Duo graced him with a half shrug, which Wufei assumed meant fair enough, before he made it out the door. In the hall, the thermostat got set higher in an attempt to banish the damp chill brought by the storm. Wufei grabbed a blanket from the back of his couch as he went to start another pot of tea. Then, he leaned in the kitchen doorway to stake out the bathroom, keeping time in his head. Eight minutes and thirty seven seconds later, the American emerged in a loose white t-shirt and light grey pajama pants. It was the most washed out Wufei had ever seen Duo Maxwell.

"Happy?" Duo did a complete turn, showing he hadn't screwed up. His wrist was sporting another large bruise and his braid was quickly disintegrating. Wufei grunted and tossed the blanket at Duo's head. "Hey!"

Wufei turned toward the kitchen, "Wrap up and come get some tea."

Duo followed, grumbling under his breath and perching on a stool at the butcher's block kitchen island. He took one of the slightly browned slices of pear and nibbled absently as Wufei poured out a second cup of tea. The black haired man set the cup down and slid it toward Duo, then seated himself, watching his friend. Duo readjusted the blanket to free his hands and picked up the steaming cup. Warmth spread up his arms. He took a whiff of steam, which wasn't too bad, kind of floral with a twinge of sweetness, so he sipped. It tasted earthy and herbish, but the aftertaste was rich and fruity. He blinked; that was unexpected.

"This isn't bad."

Wufei took another sip, "I know."

Duo savored the aftertaste, "I always pegged you for a strait green tea guy."

"You pegged wrong," Wufei smirked dryly. He looked into his cup, "Would you like me to fix your nose?"

"No," Duo leaned heavily against the counter, eyes studying the floor, "Leave it for the bastard." He took a gulp of the hot tea, as if the words had tasted as bitter as they had sounded.

Wufei took the opening, "What happened?"

Duo glared and flippantly gestured toward his mangled face, "What do you think?"

"I think," Wufei started slowly, giving his thoughts time to properly order themselves, "that even if you can't subdue Yuy, you at least know enough to block, and you are certainly fast enough to dodge."

Duo brandished his wrist with hot flippancy, "I blocked the third, dodged the rest. The first two were…"

Wufei took a guess, "You let him."

"I never really thought he'd do it," Duo admitted lowly. Wufei backed off; fresh wounds need stitches not scalpels. The rain filled in for a while.

When his cup was empty, Wufei stood, "We should ice that, if you're warm enough now."

"Yeah, sure," Duo was elsewhere, thoughts drifting like clouds. Wufei poured himself more tea and stopped at the freezer for an icepack. He wrapped it in a dishtowel before handing it to Duo, who gingerly pressed it against his cheek with an absent little sigh. "The fucked part is I know he loves me."

Wufei wasn't surprised by Duo's continuation. Silence had never been the man's friend. Wufei was absolutely certain Duo would willingly pluck out his eyes to live the rest of his life in utter darkness rather than live in silence. For his part, Wufei nodded and sipped at his tea.

"I just don't get all the goddamned fighting," Duo shifted irritably.

Wufei had to admit that Duo's relationship with Heero had always been tumultuous. They got into deafening fights everywhere they went and weren't exactly quiet, or gentle, about 'making up'. They had always been extremely passionate.

Duo drank, "Trowa and Quatre don't have that problem."

Trowa and Quatre were a diametric complement of Heero and Duo. They were always a unified front of silent strength and calming confidence. They fought, but their fights could pass in a glance and were certainly never a public affair. If Heero and Duo had passion, then Quatre and Trowa had devotion, quietly tender and tenacious. They would rather fight for the other than against him.

"What the hell is wrong with us?" The American disgustedly flipped the icepack.

Wufei set down his teacup gently, "You frustrate him." Violet eyes gaped at him in horror. It sounded like Wufei was laying the entire thing at his feet, but the man held up a hand to show he wasn't finished, it had been a hook. Who said the Chinese bastard didn't have a flare for the dramatic? "He is direct, you slip sideways. He is simple, you are complex. You push each other and he just happens to have a lower threshold, not to mention a conditioned hair trigger."

Duo glared at him, "And you never thought to tell us this, oh wise one?"

"If oil and water knew they were oil and water they still wouldn't mix."

A dangerous smirk worked its way onto Duo's face, "So we're oil and water now, are we? We were just never going to work, that it?"

"Yin and Yang still make a circle," Wufei shrugged.

Duo blinked back in bemusement, finishing the dregs of his tepid tea. Wufei went about getting him more unasked and set it beside him.

Wufei didn't sit back down, but leaned against the countertop, "Are you planning on returning to him?"

"No," Duo spat, then sighed, "…Maybe. I don't know. I used to shoot people that sucker punched me."

"Best wishes," Wufei snorted. Maxwell versus Yuy with weapons was not a bet anyone would win. Neither brought up the war and the times Duo had been coldcocked. The American understood taking a blow from a friend with cause, or a provoked enemy, but never from a lover in anger. That was different.

Duo rolled his eyes, "Why do you think I left? I'm pretty damn sure at least one of us would have ended up dead tonight."

"Better you left, then," Wufei agreed blandly. "So, did you not wish to wake up Winner and Barton?"

"Please," Duo laughed, "Quatre would have fawned and lectured while Trowa slunk off to find Heero. Besides, that's the first place he'd check."

Wufei nodded, conceding the arguments. Quatre didn't believe in 'distance' and certainly didn't understand the concept of indirect confrontation in relationships. Trowa was a Yuy sympathizer. There probably would have been blood. "You couldn't have called?"

Duo smiled sheepishly, "Sorry. I had to ditch my mobile and he's probably got flags on everyone's home feeds."

Wufei blinked. He was unsure whether to be more unsurprised at Heero's paranoia, or Duo's simple acceptance of it.

"Honestly," Duo chuckled, "Yours is the last place he'd expect me to go." For some reason, the others had made the assumption that Duo and Wufei simply did not like each other. Truth was, nearly suffocating with someone told you a lot about them. They recognized and acknowledged each other's facades. Wufei knew the bitter cynic behind the deadly smiles and flippant gallows humor just as Duo knew the quiet scholar behind the enraged posturing and self depreciative insults. They hadn't fostered a friendship, per say, but they understood each other. If Duo laughed at Wufei and Wufei insulted him from time to time, it wasn't out of any animosity. During the war, it hadn't mattered. After the war, neither had ever felt the need to correct the others' misconception.

Wufei eyed Duo with sudden suspicion, "What if I hadn't answered?"

Duo looked away and shrugged, but Wufei wasn't fooled. Duo would have bolted. It was the only sure way to vex the 'Perfect Soldier'. Wufei was suddenly chilled, like a bullet had breezed past his cheek. An ex-Gundam Pilot off the grid and running dark constituted an unacceptable risk to Preventers.

Duo lifted an eyebrow, "Man, someone just walk across your grave, or what?"

"Not mine," Wufei muttered into his tea.

"What?"

"I called you an idiot."

"Right," Duo rolled his eyes. "So, can I crash on your couch?"

Wufei smirked, "The bed in the guest room is more comfortable, not to mention actually made for the purpose."

"I merit 'guest'?" Duo grinned, but not one of his maniac, dangerous ones. It was a worn and battered thing, almost ugly.

"If it were not for guests all houses would be graves."

Duo chuckled, reached for his cooled cup of tea and took a swig, "Don't think you'll get the same effect by inviting in death?"

Wufei snorted. Outside, the world should have been waking up to a rising sun, but the deluge kept everything shrouded in brooding greyscale. He couldn't help but deem it appropriate. He finished his tea, rinsed his cup in the sink, and started toward his room, "I have to go to work."

"At six?" Duo seemed unconvinced.

Wufei paused. He had hoped the other wouldn't call him on it. When he couldn't sleep, which had been often enough lately, Wufei had gotten into the habit of heading into the office early to use the gym for his morning exercises. He uncomfortably shifted his shoulders, "Some idiot decided to knock on my door at four in the morning."

"Wufei," Duo's gruff voice was quiet. Wufei glanced back at the American, swathed in his blanket and clutching a cup of tea. "Thanks, man."

"Good night, Maxwell," the Chinese man scoffed and continued on his way.

Duo smirked, taking another drink, "Good morning, Wufei."

Chang Wufei, the mighty and feared Preventer, was doing paperwork. In order to keep Preventers a small organization and to allot funding toward important things like fuel, munitions, etc., agents not on missions were required to cover multiple duties, including research and office work. There was always something worth doing. Honestly, Wufei didn't mind. Duty was duty and service, service. The fact that he was generally irritable at the office was completely unrelated. Of course, he was not going to correct anyone who thought otherwise, as long as it kept most people away.

Sally Po was not most people, "Hey, Wufei."

He turned toward her and inclined his head, "Po."

"We missed training this morning," she smirked. They had gotten into the routine of sparring before work. It had taken Sally the better part of her persistence to bring the young master around to the idea, but in the end it benefited them both. Sally gained valuable knowledge and Wufei profited by having someone to teach, even if it was a woman.

Wufei nodded. It wasn't uncommon and he didn't feel like telling her it was because he'd been and gone by the time she'd gotten there. The woman was driven and might have seen it as a challenge.

Sally smiled, teasing her bottom lip with her teeth, "Strong, silent today, then?"

Sally's flirting was lost when Quatre, shadowed casually by Trowa, caught Wufei's attention. Realizing the acknowledgment of his presence, the blonde smiled, "Don't let me interrupt."

"Don't worry, Quatre," Sally chuckled, "It wasn't important, really."

"Ah," the blonde articulated delicately. He turned to Wufei, trying to convey that what he had to discuss was in fact important. Wufei narrowed his stare, considering it shameful to turn his partner away. The two had different views on the uses of formality. Where Quatre fell into it to hide discomfort, provide camouflage, and assuage offense, Wufei considered it a sign of respect, an honorable personal code of conduct. It was a distinction Wufei had noted on several occasions. "It's good to see you, Wufei."

"Winner. Barton," Wufei greeted, cool and strait backed. Trowa nodded back, arms crossed. His stance said clearly this was not his idea. He did not wish to be here. Apparently, when Quatre said jump…

The blonde stalled, "It's been too long. We should really make plans to catch up."

"What do you want?" Wufei cut through, putting down his pen. Trowa moved a half step closer. Of course, he'd come to protect his lover. Dissuading Quatre was sometimes like attempting to defang a dragon, useless and generally leaving you worse for wear. The taller man accepted that and opted to minimize fall out instead. Wufei folded his hands in plain view on the table, no harm intended.

Quatre's polite smile slipped and he sighed, "We were wondering if you had happened to have seen Duo, lately."

"I believe he and Yuy both took personal days today," Wufei replied coolly.

"They did," Trowa confirmed as though that should be the end of it. The two worked together in the intelligence branch, which, one supposed, fit well. Quatre was brilliant, but not wise. Trowa was wise, but formally uneducated. Even in that, they complimented each other.

Quatre shot his partner a small frown, "Heero called in this morning for both of them, but he seemed… agitated. He didn't say anything had happened."

"But you worried anyway," Wufei assumed. A tired smile spread across Quatre's face. Wufei had noticed that the man didn't blush anymore, though when exactly it had happened, he was uncertain. Wufei allowed himself a small smile, "I am certain Maxwell is fine, wherever he may be."

Quatre took in the smile and the comment with equal consideration. Wheels were turning in that head of his, generating the light of knowledge from the thinnest of raw data and intuition. Quatre didn't know, but he knew Wufei probably knew and that was enough. The blonde smiled, relaxing considerably, "I'm sure you're right."

"Thank you," Trowa said softly, touching Quatre's shoulder as he turned like the other needed a reminder to leave. Quatre smiled brighter, nodded to Wufei, and left beside Trowa.

Wufei wondered at how little Heero must have actually told them. He probably wanted to find Duo first, perhaps attempt to fix things himself. Heero felt deeply, even if it was simply. Sometimes Wufei thought it was the very depth of his emotions that forced him to shut down. One would generally clutch at anything to keep from plummeting down a deep, dark well, even if one was dying of thirst.

"That was odd." Wufei started at Sally's voice. She was looking at him with an inquiring eyebrow quirked. Wufei raised both his in response. Sally knew, better than most, not to try to gossip with Wufei. Chang Wufei did not gossip. She rolled her eyes and sighed, but the fond smile on her face kept it playful, "Fine, fine. Anyway, since we missed this morning I was thinking we could make up for it later and go out for dinner after."

"I must decline." It had not taken long for the two of them to decide they would never work together. Wufei was traditional and Sally was progressive, to put it courteously. That hadn't stopped the woman from trying, or Wufei from taking her up on it from time to time. The fact that she would never marry him, never let herself become his responsibility, made her friendship that much more valuable to him. Not that anyone else knew that. "I have things that must be attended to at home."

"Ah," Sally weakly mimicked Quatre's delicacy over disappointment. She smiled, "Another time then."

Wufei nodded. Sally seemed like she wanted to say more, but thought better of it and left without another word. Wufei went back to his paperwork, finding the routine of it calming. Hours slipped by. It was still raining when he left to return home for the day. He was less than shocked to find one, Heero Yuy, standing in the rain beside his car, waiting for him.

They eyed each other through the rain for a long moment. Heero soaked was very much a different thing from Duo soaked. He was hunched defensively, hands shoved into pockets, as though he could intimidate the elements. Deep, piercing blue eyes burned in recognition of the dark Chinese man, who simply seemed to accept what water decided to fall on him.

"Yuy."

"Chang." Heero followed the lead given, which meant he was treading new social ground. He didn't correct his posture or soften his voice; formality was not ingrained or natural for him and he never wore it well. His eyes tried to convey something, flashing need and remorse, but Wufei waited to hear the words, only slightly cruel.

"How is he?" The question confirmed Wufei's suspicions. Someone had tipped him off and Wufei's money was on Trowa. Quatre would not have revealed his source.

"Battered." Again, slightly cruel, and Heero's eyes registered pained guilt. Good. He knew he was in the wrong.

"Where?" Heero grunted as though each word cost him dearly.

"Safe." Equal parts insult and reassurance, Wufei saw Heero mentally wince.

"I…" Heero trailed off in confusion and Wufei decided that was enough use of the high ground. Though effective, it was a disgraceful tactic with which to decimate a friend. The Mariemaia incident hadn't happened so long ago he'd forgotten his own mistakes, or who had helped him struggle through them.

Wufei sighed and sifted his weight, "Give him time. No one is going anywhere."

Heero nodded, but instantly seemed bolstered by the words. Duo wasn't running, wasn't alone. The man he loved was somewhere someone he trusted considered safe. Wufei was nothing if not a man of his word. The relief and hope in deep blue eyes was the sincerest gratitude Wufei had ever received from Heero.

The Chinese man broke eye contact, walking past him to his car door, both dismissive and trusting, "Go back to work, Yuy."

"Wufei…" The man turned back, beginning to hate his name being used in this fashion. Heero seemed to be struggling with something, either a defense or a message. Wufei narrowed a glance that clearly said he was neither judge nor messenger. Heero blinked, the first physical response he'd garnered thus far.

"Take care of yourself," Wufei tried again, gruff still, but softened with concern. Heero blinked a second time, face blank as though the idea had never occurred to him. Wufei thought about offering him a ride home, or maybe to Quatre's. Finally, the other man nodded in acknowledgement, or acceptance, or farewell, or all of them, and silently slipped away into the billowing sheets of water. Wufei watched after his receding shadow, listening to the patter of rain all around him.