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"Defying Gravity"A Romance in Three PartsWritten By: Kaeru Shisho Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU, yaoi, some language Summary: A multi part story of romance starting
with a turning point vacation, developing throughout a dangerous UC
mission, and moving ahead through the unexpected challenges of a summer
vacation. "Part Two: It's Back to Work"
Chapter 21
Wufei's POV I might have worried more about some retribution from Dierk. I am prone to fretting over the future, and there certainly were plenty of reasons for him to come after us. Still, well, there are always mitigating circumstances to consider and life-changing events to endure. Lucky numbers be damned. I return to Dierk. If he discovered that something was amiss, Maxwell would be his prime suspect. I couldn't believe it when Maxwell told us he'd been caught by Dierk in his room. Maxwell, the self-proclaimed master of stealth, entered that man's room, discovered that it was occupied, remained inside anyway, and hadn't even warned Winner, who was standing just outside the door. "Dierk was in the shower. He could only have beaten us to the room by seconds and a shower would take at least ten minutes. It wasn't a rash decision to give it a try, I don't think. There was adequate time to collect the materials," Winner said. He added breezily, "It all worked out fine." "Not an unreasonable risk," Yuy said, agreeing. Yuy was too accepting of the situation, I thought, but then he was biased toward Maxwell. That man could get away with nearly anything, even murder, possibly, and Yuy would excuse it. Well, actually he had gotten away with murder many times so that wasn't a good example. What was worse? He had gotten away with philandering, too, so my point was valid. Anything. Yuy was being led around by his dick; in fact, they all were. Here I thought that was just a stereotype perpetuated by the straight population, because I, it seemed, was entirely unaffected by Maxwell's charms, or Quatre's or whomever's. In an affair overflowing with fit, pampered young men, I would have to be the clear head, as usual. "I agree, and it was a lucky thing that Duo had an excuse like cleaning up for having been in there, when he had to go back," Winner said. Leave it to him to take Maxwell's side. Another one Duo had in his back pocket, and, worse, his bed! The guilty party was in the bathroom changing clothes, so Winner came to his defense. Yuy hardly questioned the entire incident. Trowa was worthless in a confrontation like this. It all rested on my shoulders. Well, so be it. I always knew I had the strongest, most resilient constitution. Maxwell was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and would jeopardize the mission, if I didn't take control. I was strong. Always had been. "Lucky?" Yuy asked, but not with any force or interest. "He was lucky to come out alive, that's what he was!" I snapped. "Are you telling us that Dierk knew Maxwell had been there; at least, that Scythe had been there long enough to, what, clean his room?" I scoffed, incredulous of Winner's account. Winner shrugged off my concerns. Now there's a kid who never cleaned a thing in his life until Barton turned it into a sex game in the living room. He was good with the laundry; I'll give him that much. Who ever taught him that skill deserves a medal, and since it was likely to be Barton again, drape him in the damned things. "When has Maxwell ever taken time out of his day to clean anything, much less a near-stranger's room?" I argued, loudly. "Maxwell is not an orderly person." "He keeps the kitchen clean," Trowa put in, unconstructively, the traitor. And here I was garnishing him with accolades. Why was Barton defending Maxwell? Why was he even speaking to Winner after what he and Maxwell have put him trhough? How could Yuy and Barton be so damned professional and look the other way while their supposed boyfriends frolicked in bed? I wanted to shout out loud, but didn't. What I said instead came out as weak, too weak. "But he leaves his belongings lying about the house, so his behavior can't be explained as just an average cleaning mania." I held my tongue for a split second as Maxwell strode through the room, grabbing a water bottle and heading for the outer door. I was unable to read his mood; mine was too intense, but I blocked his exit. I would not allow him to avoid this confrontation like he slithered out of the other one. My tongue recouped its control. "Just a minute, Maxwell. Is it true that you wasted time, time you could have used searching for the illegal drugs and making a safe exit, cleaning Dierk's room? What were you thinking? It was as if you wanted to get caught. I demand to know why!" Maxwell wasn't able to or willing to explain his actions. I intended to press him, but Yuy inserted his presence between us and let him run off, as in "go running," essentially to avoid the issue and my determination to reveal his psychotic state. Incensed as I was, I had to fight to keep my mind clear. There had to be at least one level and mission-ready head around the place. Perhaps it was better that Maxwell was gone, giving me leave to further discuss this with Yuy, Barton and Winner. I was certain Maxwell was losing his grip on reality and this was just another slip up. "Lucky?" Yuy repeated to Winner, as if nothing I had said mattered. "Yes, Duo had gone back to get his lost name badge—" "Ah, ha! Something else that's been kept from us, Yuy in particular!" I pointed out with no little amount of satisfaction. Now we were getting someplace. That got his attention. I hoped Yuy was keeping track of the infractions to date. Soon, I would have him thinking along the same lines as I, drawing the inevitable conclusions. "He lost his name badge in the room? He's never that sloppy doing his job," Yuy insisted. Well, I'd often thought Maxwell was a bit lax in his work, but Winner passed it off like the commonplace, errant, flyby shooting. "Accidents happen. Anyway, I think Dierk expected others to clean up after him." "Pardon, me? Why would you assume that?" I asked. "That doesn't follow from anything you've said before." Winner sighed. I did not like the patently condescending smile leveled my way. I would knock him senseless if he had another piece of secreted information to submit for Maxwell's defense. "You may not like Mr. Peacecraft very much, but he is knowledgeable in psychology. By "others" I meant very submissive boys. Men like Dierk have others at their beck and call most of the time. His teammates are mostly servile toward him in the room, Habib told me. He delivers them their food. Duo, acting as Scythe, must have been a terrific actor to appear subservient and docile enough to convince his man he was telling the truth and then to let him stay longer." "So, you think Maxwell did the cleaning on purpose ahead of time to lay a plausible excuse for being in the room in case Dierk caught him?" Yuy asked, as if he believed Maxwell was capable of making premeditated, prudent, and rational decisions. "Yes, because he knew Dierk was in there when he went in." "Say, what?! You let him go in alone!" I growled. "I can't believe the two of you didn't check out the room together. You let an irrational person like Maxwell go in there by himself, making critical decisions?" Was I the only sane one left? I might have had my hands around Winner's neck at the time, but only to shake a little sense into the man. Barton interceded at this point, not to help me, God forbid, but more likely fearing I might harm his boyfriend. "Chill, Chang. Sit and listen," Barton murmured in a calming way, reminding me of some fakir of transcendental meditation. Barton had a kind of New Age gestalt going that was pissing me off. Yuy liked it, though, and obviously Winner lapped it up. He didn't actually get up off the bed, which at least meant he knew I wasn't mad enough to damage Winner, and, since I didn't want to appear like an out-of-control lunatic, I released the dainty little neck. I didn't sit, but I backed off. No blood was spilled, but plenty was in danger of boiling over. "I hope you didn't leave marks, Wufei. I'll bet you did. (yip, yip, yip!) This collar's got all kinds of hardware that digs in when you grab at it," Winner whined and bitched, rubbing at his neck and making it red where it wasn't before." "Humph," I sniffed. Winner narrowed his eyes my way. He could look menacing when he cared to. Believe me, those big blue eyes could carry off the innocent look only so far. He and I had been the course enough times on missions together that he couldn't fool me or soften me up. No, I knew Winner well, so he blessed me with an honest-to-God, menacing expression. "I'm sure Duo thought he could get the evidence before Dierk was done in the shower, and he did, but his badge came off when he crawled under the bed. He didn't notice it until he was about out the door, but he did see it then. I ran the samples to Rashid, believing Duo had made it out. Amid told me he was still in the room, so I returned and waited by the door." Yes, it had all come down to me. Proof, crackpot-Duo-data trickling down bit by bit rather than a massive slam, but there you have it. "And none of you think this was not the least bit odd?" I asked. "No, not under the circumstances." Winner checked his watch. "I'm going to change clothes in the bathroom, before Duo gets back." Trowa, unconcerned and irresponsible as he could possibly be, lay back on his bed, arms folded behind his neck. "If you want to worry about anything, Chang, go check on Maxwell. He won't have much time to get ready for the weapons trial soon, right? And, more importantly, he's out alone now. Dierk could find him—" Yuy and I slammed the door in our rush to get out, cutting off his final words. How could Yuy have not thought of protecting that idiot himself?! He depended on me to think of everything. Well, it was too much at times. We located Maxwell, on his way back to our building, safe and sound and smiling without a care in the world, the damn fool. Oh, he had a few cares, which he shared, loudly, as usual. He rambled on about the heat, which would be perfectly tolerable if he stayed out of it; wondered if he had time for a swim, which he did not since he'd used up all his free time running like a madman; hoped we had more water, his was used up, which we did; and on and on. Yuy answering him in a relaxed manner, me fuming, alone in the knowledge that Maxwell was a walking, ticking-talking-- God, always talking-- time bomb. He just worried me to death at times. After Yuy and I delivered the other three to the testing grounds, he asked if I might wish to spar a while. He had the audacity to tell me that I "seemed pretty tightly wound." When I nearly bit his head off, he punched me. One thing led to another, we exchanged blows, blew off some steam, he agreed that his boyfriend was "a little tense," and I felt marvelous. Headway. I was making headway. Trowa, Winner, and Maxwell returned from the testing in high spirits, laughing about their achievements. Yuy and I met them at the door, hoping to extract answers from Maxwell. He, however, slipped past us to "shower," and disappeared into Zechs' chambers. Zechs was not in. He was busy negotiating, using our asses like bargaining chips in the kinds of underhanded dealings the man was tops at. Once an OZ man, always an OZ man. "OZ ", which stood for Operation Zodiak, an asinine, ersatz reference to the metaphysical like every idiotic thing else I despised at the moment. Barton "did a Maxwell" and escaped to our bathroom to shower, leaving the unfortunate Winner to wait his turn with Yuy and me. Naturally, that forced me to direct the discussion back to the important topic of the weak link in our chain of command, Maxwell. I pointed out that another reason to be concerned about a vengeful Dierk was because there had been time for him to discover his missing stash of drugs. For a couple hours, between the moment Scythe had left his room and when he had to report to the range for the weaponry display, Dierk could have gone for a dose and discovered that the bottles were missing. "You are right. Even a weak-minded, body-building, drug-snorting, pill-pushing, man-for-hire-whore like Dierk could put two and two together and place the blame on Scythe!" Yuy growled. He wasn't the least bit tongue-tied now. See how my powers were working? Sooner or later, my will would assert itself. Again, Winner, bless his evil, shriveled up soul, caught us both by surprise when he said, "Oh, he didn't seem mad just now, when we passed him leaving the testing grounds." "Dierk saw Maxwell, just now, again?!" I shot out before Yuy could. "Did he say anything to you about that when he came in?" I asked Yuy. He glowered and answered starchly, "No," leaving me to fill in, "Obviously not in the milliseconds of time he had before Maxwell had escaped to the shower." "Did Dierk do anything?" I pushed for some answers as usual. I hoped I wouldn't have to get more inventive. I'd had good luck getting the truth from the mouths of drug lords. An ex-Gundam pilot would be far trickier. "Yes, but it only lasted a moment. I think he might have bumped Duo, but he wasn't in a bad mood." A tiny "thought" crease formed between Winner's eyebrows. "I would have felt that, but all I felt was his, ah, strong, male aura." Yes, Winner would have felt that, which meant he must now be aware of Yuy's rising ire and, worse, his jealousy. Winner was privy to information about Maxwell that he wasn't. Winner had been Maxwell's best friend for longer than Yuy had been Maxwell's boyfriend. Winner had slept with Maxwell, which was an inexcusable act of weakness, but I placed the blame solely on Maxwell and his madness. Well, mostly. I don't know how Yuy had forgiven the transgression, or if he had. He certainly saw Winner as a rival. Yuy had been a focused, detached soldier; he'd never had a challenger that he couldn't simply shoot to get out of the way, which made me wonder how many times he'd considered pulling the trigger on my partner. However, Winner was not actually in competition for the other man's attention. Even I could tell he was infatuated with Barton, not Maxwell. Yes, Winner understood Yuy far better than visa versa, which was apparent from his next statement. "You weren't around when Duo came out of Dierk's room or he would have told you first, I'm sure," he said, trying to mollify Yuy. "Heero, Wufei—I know you are both worried about Duo's mental stability, and I have to admit, before you joined us, Heero, I was questioning it, too. But, he's been so much more stable since you've been with him. I think he's—" "Hn." Oh, come on, Winner, don't let Yuy get away with that! That's not even a word! "It's true," Qutre replied just as if Yuy had said something intelligent. "Duo doesn't care what I think about him, so he tells me stuff, admits defeats, and opens up. I'm just his friend. You are so much more to him. He wants you to admire him, Yuy, and I think he's just afraid you'll worry too much or that you won't respect him if he makes mistakes or appears weak." "But I wouldn't—" "Wouldn't you?" Winner asked. "It's only normal to do that, make judgments. You and Wufei are both worried he's going to lose it now that we're nearing the end of this mission. Maybe that's a part of why he always took these solo missions, I don't know. Wouldn't a break down on the job like that change how you feel about him?" Yuy said nothing. "What if I fell apart? Wouldn't you think less of my abilities?" Winner continued. "I've made lots of slip ups, but nothing serious. What if I made an error in judgment that really mattered?" You did! Don't let him get away with that, Yuy! No, no, no! "Possibly," he said. "But still—" I began, unable to hold back another moment. "Of course you would! And that would hurt, because you are friends and teammates and the people who mean the most to me. I'd never mean or want to let you down, but... but if Trowa's opinion of me was damaged, that kind of pain would be so much worse. Horrible!" Well... His eyes held mine then moved briefly to Yuy's then dropped before he met Yuy's again. "Duo needs reassurance that you love him, regardless. He needs private time with you—" Winner's face smoothed out and he smiled. "I know! He'll be out of the shower in a minute. If you'd like, I'll keep Milliardo out of his room, should he return soon. You and Duo can have a few minutes alone before we have to get dressed." "Thank you." And Yuy was lost. His focus gone south. I could see lust in his eyes and knew my concerns were of no importance. At least, I was immune and above it all. I hoped to God it was enough. "Heero," Winner went on with the knowledge that he was on a roll. "I never told you how sorry I was for what had happened in New Italy. I was more than a little responsible for what happened between us. I wanted to know... if it was possible we had a spark. I knew I loved Trowa more than anyone in my life, but there was this itch, this question I needed answered. And then we were playing these roles... The alcohol removed our inhibitions, or it wouldn't have gone as far as it did, but there was no spark, Heero. We ended up talking about you and Trowa and how much we missed you. Still, I'm sorry. I hurt Trowa and you and our trust. I know how I'd feel if it had been you and Trowa... together. I'm really sorry." "I believe you," Yuy said. Of course you do, I groaned to myself. "I wish it hadn't happened—that's all. Well, that and I wish this was over," Yuy said. I anticipated him to say more, but, instead, he chose to join his boyfriend in a moment of privacy, despite everything. "He'll need help with that damned hair of his." So, Yuy left, closing the door behind him. I hoped that Winner's assessment of Maxwell's mental stability was correct, but I was prepared to shoulder the load alone, if that's what it finally came down to, in order to see the mission through to a successful end. To see justice serviced to its righteous end, we of the ancient Chang clan have always been prepared to stand alone. Winner met Zechs at the door a few minutes later. When Barton entered the room, towel drying his hair, Winner took his turn in the shower, but only after we all promised to stay out of Zech's room, Zechs included. The man looked worn. He fell into an armchair with a weary-sounding sigh. "I have our rankings. I'll wait until everyone's here before sharing it. Is there some iced tea?" "Tea, yes, but Heero and Duo are busy resting. The rest of us will see to it that they are filled in," Quatre said brightly. Later, refreshed and with the three of us in attendance, the other two indisposed, Zechs reported the results. "The good news is that our 'Team Wind' has moved up in the standings significantly after the weaponry skill show. The bad is that we are neck-and-neck with that 'Team Sieger,' which is—yes—our alpha male, Dierk's, group. They will be tough to beat." Winner directed his knowing smile at the man. "Mr. Peacecraft," he began. "We believe that Dierk was taking drugs, adding to his charisma, his power, and making him able to control others, somehow. We, ah, collected his medication, sent it out for analysis, and had it replaced with a placebo. If it made him what he was, then by tomorrow he should be something less." Zechs straightened in his chair. "When...ah...how did you do that?" "It was Heero's idea. Duo found and removed the drugs from his room. I gave them to my corps for further study. Trowa, Wufei and—" "Leave me out of this," I muttered, but no one paid attention. "Heero kept the others away from the room. Was it pool or—" "Billiards," Trowa supplied. "Billiards. My father used to love that game," Winner said wistfully. "Mine, too," Zechs said. "He had a parlor with two tables. Parties every week. Very competitive. I believe money was exchanged, but that was very hush-hush." I could not stand it! No mention of a Maxwell on edge, insanely cleaning the rooms of our rivals, dropping badges, or getting caught. Had anybody wondered what happened to him after he was caught? Maybe he was drugged? Maybe he would become, oh...dear...God... The thought of a drugged-up Maxwell-turned-alpha male hit me smack in my headache zone. Yuy groveling at his feet. Barton and Winner slavering like bitches in heat. I despaired of any end to this mission where we came out of this place intact. I felt the rise of panic threaten to down my consciousness; of course, if it damped out the headache it wouldn't be so bad to succumb— No! I must regain my center. I must remain the firm foundation. I would do my job. I would run verification tests on our collars. Regular maintenance of sensitive equipment was essential, but easily put off in the face of other distractions. I opened Yuy's laptop to first initiate the security scan on the collar feeds. It was a fabulous idea. Security check--okay. "What is that blinking light about?" Barton asked laconically. He wasn't about to get up and see for himself. "How would I know? This is Yuy's computer." I continued to tick off the tests. Zechs' voice, but not the man himself—no, he remained loosely draped over our only comfortable chair—his voice rose over the drone of the cooling fan. "It's alerting you to an incoming, scrambled message from Commander Une; at least, that's what it did back at the house." "Oh." I clicked on the icon and set off a blizzard of programs all chewing on the message and spitting it out in ever increasingly understandable text. The blinking stopped. "She's sent us the breakdown on the drugs Gunter used on Duo. No surprises, except for a weak solvent containing male pheromones." I read the scientific drivel and saved it to the desktop for the others to look over. More power to them if they could make any sense of it. Not my forte. Winner suggested that he forward the data to his Maguanacs in case there were parallels with the drugs Dierk was taking. I let him copy, encode, and send away. When he returned the computer to my hands, the computer whined. "What's wrong with the damned thing now?" I growled. "What did you do to it, Barton?" "Odd..." Yuy tore into the room, nearly ripping the machine from me. well, actually ripping it out of my hands. "What are you doing?" "I was running maintenance programs on the collars, testing them, which was already overdue, when a message came from Commander Une. You can read it. Right. There." I pointed to the saved file. He scanned it, making no more or it than I, I'm certain. He was no chemist. He busied himself accessing his computer security. A moment later, the whine shut off. "Thanks," said Barton. "Remora," Yuy said. "Who?" I asked. Barton turned around and addressed us all. "It's a fish with a sucker-like mouth that attaches itself to the skin of sharks and whales. The remora benefits by using the host as transport and protection and also feeds on materials dropped by the host. The host loses nothing in the partnership." Barton smiled. "Oughta watch 'Blue Planet' on the Science network." "Also a form of commensalist virus transfer, but in this case, not a virus..." "What are you talking about?" I snapped. I took back the laptop with a jerk. "Never mind. I haven't time for this nonsense if I'm going to complete the collar verification tests." "A message attached itself to the one from Une." Yuy tapped me on the head. "It's from Doctor Sally Po, to you. Look. Read." He left me alone, moving to sit on the bed near Trowa and Quatre as Duo shimmered into the room. Zechs watched me from the chair. I read the short note. Read it again, and again. Next thing I knew, Winner was supporting the falling laptop with one hand and propping up my shoulder with another. "Wufei!" I sat mute and blind as if I'd been mind-wiped by OZ. I could feel Winner move the laptop. I couldn't object to his reading the few decoded words. Maybe he would read it differently. "Oh, my. She's pregnant? Strange, I thought you were seeing her." "Sally Po?" Zechs asked. "The doctor?" Reality set in. Winner said, "Oh, Wufei, congratulations!" Suddenly, in a matter of bits transferring from screen to brain my world changed. My worries over Dierk vanished. Sally was pregnant with my child. His drugs were replaced; that would settle him, wouldn't it? No problem then. What was I thinking? She was carrying my baby. Besides, we could look out for ourselves. Mine. Let the Maguanacs watch the doors. What a worry wort I had been! Mine, if she lets me remain a part of her life. She must! It's the start of a new Chang dynasty! Oh, she must! I vaguely recalled Maxwell's slap on the back, Winner's excited voice, Zechs muttering, and not much else. "What are you going to do?" Barton asked. I had no idea. "He's going to send her a message back and tell her he is thrilled, that is what he is going to do." That was Winner. "Do you need help composing it?" I looked at him. "Of course he does. He might turn out something insensitive like: 'are you sure?' or 'tough shit' or 'so?'." That was Maxwell. Yuy simply stared at me and the second head I'd apparently grown, blinked, then returned to his laptop. He tapped on the keys at a furious rate. "Tests are complete. Ranges are within acceptable parameters. I can construct a return messenger for your note, but it must be under 50 characters long and you have five minutes." Yuy dumped the laptop on my legs and walked away to put on his shoes. I stared at the keyboard. "Dynamic life changes are hell on a guy's perspective, aren't they?" Barton patted me on the back. He was commiserating, not joking. "Yes." "No shit!" Maxwell agreed. "You know, none of the rest of us will probably ever reproduce, so this is going to be, like, ours, too. He's gonna be the most spoiled kid in all the galaxy. And Sally's gonna be a great mom. She's terrific. You'll be a great dad, I know it. Man, this is so cool, I mean, your kid's gonna be gorgeous and smart and sooooo fuckin' lucky." "You think so?" I looked up and he smiled kindly. I saw tears. He loved kids. "Yep, I don't lie, ya know." "That is true." He grinned. "I know my numbers. There's the five of us and look at the date!" A very lucky number, a very lucky day. "Thanks, Duo." "She must miss you right now," Barton said, surprising me with his sensitivity. "She took a risk sending this to you," Yuy said, his tone harsh, but then he added in what could only have been a tender tone, "She must love you very much to do that." "Yes." She must. I knew then what I had to do. "Okay, I'm ready to send that note." What did I write to her, the future mother of my child? My mind was on a carousal ride up and down, flashes of brilliance, frights, joys, but always coming around to the same thing: baby, mine. How did I summarize my carnival-crazy mix of feelings and communicate something meaningful in 50 characters or less? I concentrated on the encouraging words of my friends. "Thrilled. We'll be great parents. Miss you. Love you—05" Yuy crushed the file into a mess of decomposed ones and zeros and launched it into outer space. Zechs rounded us up and directed us to dinner, a large affair where all the sellers and their wares were expected to eat in communal enjoyment. I didn't taste a thing. Before we were excused, we were reminded of the final show the next late afternoon. The Sale. The End. I don't know how I slept that night, but I did. (o) "What are you looking at?" I asked Barton. He picked up a handful of rocks, chose two to keep and tossed the rest. He was dressed and ready to go. Nerves, probably, drove him outside. He stared off into the distance. Through a gap between two buildings we could see a fence topped with security fencing, sand, dunes, and the Atlas Mountains rising above a beige haze. Beyond the mountains lay the sky. "Lots and lots of sand." "Yes," I agreed. "There is a plethora of sand. Nature, abhorring a vacuum, must have said, 'There's a space. Drop a shitload of sand in it. And another, and another—'" He chuckled, snorted, and broke into loud, raucous laughter. Warmth spread throughout my chest and I wondered if this was how Maxwell felt when one of his jokes cheered us. The others joined us one at a time. With a new-found clarity, I saw what was important in my life: Sally Po and my friendships with the other four ex-Gundam pilots. My work became a distant third. This was a complete reversal from a couple years ago, and a reshuffling of my priorities of only the day before. Heero stood stiffly, solemn and tense. "Everything's packed and secured. Amid is scheduled to arrive for pick up after all teams have moved into the hall." The hot sun reflected and refracted on Barton and Winner's copper-colored hair and when they turned, sparked their intensely colored eyes, blue and green. God did the lighting for those two. Winner gestured with one of his hands and Barton shrugged, offering an alternative with a head tilt. Winner shook his head and Barton sighed. "Are you two going to communicate by semaphore from now on or let us all in on the secret?" Maxwell asked. Winner giggled, I think, and Maxwell stepped around them, his braid swinging around. When it hit me on the leg, I opened my hand and caught it on the next arc. I had never touched it before. It was heavy, finer than a rope, and fit perfectly in my fist. I wondered if Yuy liked playing with it and flushed with shame for imagining such a personal moment, only to find I was brushing the soft tip against my palm. "'Fei?" Maxwell's voice, naturally. He tugged gently on the braid, freeing it. "You okay?" "Undo it," I said. "What? My braid? Are you serious?" "Yes. No one has hair like yours. The Buyers won't be able to keep their eyes off of you. You will assure our team the highest price." "'Kay, 'Fei," he said, quietly. "You start at the bottom and unwind." Yuy left and returned with a hair brush. "You'll need this," he said, handing it to me. That seemed too intimate a gesture for me, so I demurred, shaking my head and backing away. I watched as Heero and Maxwell finished the job; we all did. We also adjusted one another's clothes, which were combinations of shirts, vests, and slacks, but not suits and ties. Zechs suggested the casual, young professional look. With his hair down, Maxwell was stunning and, hopefully, our ticket to the top. Before we left our rooms, Maxwell reached out and pulled off the elastic holding back my hair. "You, too," he said. "Now, let's hope Heero isn't recognized. He's the hardest to disguise." Yuy raised the hairbrush and drew it through his own hair, brushing the bangs away from his forehead, changing his appearance instantly. "Okay?" "Who is that sexy looking guy?" Maxwell asked me, joking. Yuy smiled and looked away self-consciously. Maxwell chuckled and touched his arm, his affection apparent but not overt. I would never have paired them together, in a romantic sense, but there was no denying their mutual fondness. I thought of Miss Po. Sally. Warmth filled my heart and sorrow compressed it. I knew I missed her. When had these people become so much more important to me than seeing 'justice served' and accomplishing some ephemeral goal? Since I learned I was to become a father, certainly, but even before that, the change had been forming, I had been evolving. Now, I was surely a man, no longer a boy. "Hey, beautiful." I jumped, but Maxwell was addressing Yuy. "Remember, it's far better to be looked over than overlooked. Am I right?" "Yes," Yuy laughed, raking the fingers of one hand through a length of Maxwell's scandalously, long, golden-brown hair. "Lots. Now, come on. Let's go get this over with." Each team of boys with their master-sellers was grouped according to ranking and seated in rows ribboned off on one side of the cavernous conference hall. The prospective buyers were seated on the other side of the room. Starting with the lowest rankings, each team would be called to parade up the aisle, up the steps to the stage, and past the announcer's dais, to stand with the other teams. Our team name would follow Wind on stage as one of the last five called. Our final position in the standings would be determined and the auctioning off of our bodies would begin. "There he is," Winner said, poking me in the side. "He's lost some of that confidence, don't you think?" Dierk barely smiled as he made his languid (and hopefully drug-free) way down the row to sit with his team, Sieger. Claus' sigh was huge and resigned as he rose to let him pass. He reeked of martyrdom, but not infatuation, not anymore. Dierk's thank's simply breathed of feigned deference, as did his paralytic smirk as he slid into his hard folding chair. "I hesitate to jump to conclusions, but I'd say yes," I said. "His glow is gone," Maxwell said in a low voice, but his eyes were shining. The wait was interminable. We were at battle ground zero only we had no weapons and our strategy was basically to do nothing but wait for the outcome. The most disgustingly evil men were parked in the room. I could see their faces, crimped smiles, leers, their dirty hands jotting notes. I wanted to hurt that guy. Pound that one next to him in the face. Drill a hole through that other. Slam him. But I didn't. I smiled slyly, knowingly, cunningly. Wait. The ranks of trade-boys stood in ordered lines, awaiting commands. There was an army in the making, waiting for its youthful leaders, its lieutenants, to be declared. Of all these young men, the five of us, the ex-Gundam pilots, had the war service and experience to make us ideal soldiers to fill those leadership roles. We could lead troops, train troops. We were exactly what they were looking for, and more—in another universe. Zechs stood. Our turn to walk the plank. I was absolutely right about Maxwell. Every eye was locked on his shimmering hair, swinging with his cocksure walk. From the moment he stood, he was the center of attention. The rest of us could have been totally nude and no one would have noticed, well, cared. Team Sieger was lost in the sea of blondes. What was I thinking, while I followed Maxwell to stand beneath the designated spotlight? I was thinking of names, boys names, girl names, what I might name my first born. Barton stepped on my foot to get my attention. "Wake up. They're asking questions." "Let's see," one of the buyers was saying, addressing us. "Which one of your boys is this outstanding firearms specialist?" Zechs replied. "That would be Wing." "These results are nothing short of miraculous from just a boy." Yuy nodded a single, curt move, wasting no energy. "Martial arts. Which one won every round—the Chinaman? I'm not crazy about chynamin, but this one is remarkable, very pretty." I wanted to kick the man's head off with my pretty foot, but I merely dipped my chin, barely acknowledging his existence. There were several people in the world that I found obnoxious and he embodied all of them. "Technical abilities, weapon skills, fighters, and beauty-- Wind, you have assembled an extraordinary team. Any of them could be of immediate use to me, although, that beauty with the mane...it would be a shame for him to get damaged in battle." "That's what I always thought," Maxwell whispered to us. "Thank you," Wind replied. "I only deal in the best." As the buyer's sickening, lascivious smile spread across his face, all I could think about was that his ancestors must number in the millions, and it was hard to believe that many people were to blame for producing a creature like him.
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