"This Beautiful Life"

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or its characters

Rating: R

Warnings: Romance & Friendship

Pairings: 2x5, others will be present but subtle.

Summary: 3 years after cutting ties with everyone from the war, WuFei Chang gets into a car accident in his way home from a company Christmas party and wakes up to another life.

"This Beautiful Life"

Chapter 12

For the rest of the meal, they discussed other things: Trowa's travels with the circus, a proposed shipment embargo to the L2 colony cluster – Duo paid especial attention to that conversation but remained stoically silent on it, and even the latest development plans for a resort on the moon. Duo didn't eat much, and partway through the meal excused himself to the restroom for a prolonged period of time. Trowa paid it little attention, and WuFei hated himself for noticing those things. He found himself becoming too aware of Duo.

They said farewells outside of the restaurant. Trowa invited the two to his show later that night, and took a motorbike back to where the circus had set up in town. Duo stretched away whatever emotions that lunch had left in him, and grinned at WuFei.

"What did I tell you? When the quietest Gundam pilots get together, the conversation never stops. Throw Heero in the mix, and you boys can close down a bar. I swear, it's like you've got nothing to say to the world. But to each other? You got a language all your own."

"I...actually enjoyed that," WuFei said, startling himself. He looked at Duo a moment, the other boy returning his stare with an owlish one of his own, "Thank you."

"We can go to his show too, if you want. Give you more time with your bestie while he's on planet and in town," Duo teased.

As reply, WuFei spun on heel and headed for the truck. Duo followed after, chuckling under his breath. They started back towards home. Duo set the radio to an orchestral music station, played it at low volume. It started raining on the drive.

"It bothered you," WuFei said.

"What's that?"

"The things Trowa said. You were bothered by it," WuFei turned to look at Duo, to watch the other's reaction, "What did he mean at the café? What haven't you told me yet?"

Duo kept his focus firm on the road ahead. He gripped the steering wheel like he wanted to rip it in two.

"Why wouldn't I be bothered by him saying we weren't real and you're possibly still dying in some other reality?"

"That doesn't answer my questions," WuFei pointed out.

The corner of Duo's lip curled upward but it wasn't a smile. A thought occurred to WuFei.

"At the hospital, you mentioned that we'd had a fight. A fight that angered me enough to leave the house in a snowstorm. What did we fight about?"

"Same thing we always fight about. You think I need to take better care of myself, I think you need to tone it down about ten notches, relax and enjoy life," Duo's voice was tense. He wasn't being entirely honest and didn't seem interested in continuing the conversation. WuFei decided to let it be for now. They continued home in silence.

WuFei picked up a book and went to reading it in the living room, trying to squelch the thoughts mulling in his mind. He realized after about twenty minutes of attempting to read the same page that Duo had made himself scarce. There was nothing of the hustle and bustle around the house that WuFei was starting to expect as the boy's natural state. He put his book down and went searching.

There had been a few doors that WuFei hadn't paid much heed to on the first walk through of the house. They had been closed and he suspected bedrooms of some kind lay beyond. One of those doors was open now, and WuFei could see that it wasn't a bedroom but in fact set up as an artist's studio. The walls were lined with shelves fully stocked with different types of paint, pens, markers, pencils, pastels, crayons, charcoal, and just about everything else an artist could ever want or need. There was a desk with long, thin drawers underneath in the back corner and a bookshelf full of sketchbooks beside it.

In the center of the room stood Duo at an easel, a large canvas in place before him, a palette of paints in one hand, a brush hard at work in the other, and headphones, no doubt blasting music, covered his ears. He had changed into older looking paint covered jeans and a ragged t-shirt. His feet were bare.

WuFei gaped at the door, fully captivated by the scene before him. Duo was entirely focused on his work in a manner that could only be described as beauty in motion, transforming the blank canvas into a striking image. Each brushstroke was deliberate, carefully thought out, and when he moved it was with a decisive strike. The way Duo created his art was how WuFei felt when he trained or fought. The canvas was a battlefield, and Duo was a soldier at war once again.

It was the look on Duo's face that held WuFei most entranced. Duo described art as his outlet for his restless energies and the memories of war, so WuFei would have expected to find serenity in the other boy's features. Instead, it was a full display of emotion: anger in some strokes, sorrow in others, heartache and reproach, rejection and disappointment, and an overarching fear.

In that moment, WuFei could see the Duo that stalked into the Winner Christmas Party, eyes burning with fire and brimstone, practically frothing at the maw.

WuFei Chang, he had looked at WuFei that night like a ravenous monster, Do you ever get tired of being the only one right in the room? Hell, even when you're wrong, you're right. Fucking traitor.

WuFei placed a hand against the doorframe to steady himself against the rush of emotion swelling in him. At the time, all he could do was stand and listen, holding his drink in one trembling hand as Quatre tried to plead with Duo.

Shut up, Quatre, sniveling crybaby. Everyone is your friend, huh? Some friend. We're all thinking it, but no one's got the balls to say it. You killed the man, WuFei, but you're still Treize's plaything, aren't you? Toy for his ghost until the day you die.

Duo caught sight of WuFei at the door. He removed his headphones, putting his brush down in a container nearby. His expression softened into one of pleasant surprise, and the remembered boy from three years before faded from sight.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't see you there. Do you need something?" Duo said.

"No, I..." WuFei felt his cheeks warm, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I'll leave you to your painting."

"Well, wait, what do you think? I haven't gotten the chance to show you this one yet," Duo waved his hand at the canvas.

WuFei paused, looking at the artwork. He couldn't claim to be an expert on art. He'd studied art history as a child, but he'd never cared much for it. Yet, WuFei felt touched by Duo's genuine interest in his opinion. He'd seen the earnest work and care that Duo poured into his art those mere moments before, and felt he should return that earnestness. In the painting, he could see the beginning of a landscape at dawn, people prickling out at the edges as though forming a circle in a soon to be realized town, the moon was still visible in the sky. The colors were subdued and dreamlike.

"It looks like a wish I once had for the world," WuFei said, he glanced away, blushing, "I'm sorry, that's a strange thing to say."

"Strange, no. Sad, maybe," Duo replied, turning to look at his own painting, "What was the wish?"

WuFei shook his head, "It's silly."

Duo cocked his head to one side, watching and waiting, inviting WuFei to continue.

"It was, well...I wished for the promise of tomorrow. It sounds ridiculous to say aloud."

"No. It sounds exactly like the kind of thing you would say," Duo wore a soft smile as he looked at WuFei, and there was the serenity in his face that WuFei would've expected while he was painting, "Sounds like the reason I fell in love with you."

~ * ~

Chapter 13

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