Author: Maldoror
Genre: Romance, Humour, some angst just before the sap at the end.
Pairings: 1x2x5 ! Or 1x5x2 more precisely.
Rated: PG13 (for now?)
Feedback: Please! Particularly what you like/don't like about the fic.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to its owners (Bandai, Sunset, and a whole host of others, none of which are me) and I'm not making any money off of them. Not a single peanut.

AN: Whoot! I wrote an actual 1x2x5! Well I belong to the 5x2x1 ML now, right? I kinda had to.

I realized something, reading the few great 1x2x5s out there. There's many where Duo is the guy in the middle, and a few shining examples of Heero being the one who has to chose between 2 and 5 (or chose both). But if there are any fics out there where Wufei's in the spotlight, I musta missed them. Hey, what's wrong with my dragon being in the middle?? Sorry, I'm on a major Wufei bender these days...So I decided to put this obvious injustice to rights (snicker) and put the dragon in the hot seat. I tried to make the emotions ring true but actually this is mainly an excuse for humour and romance, so don't psychoanalyse too deeply *grin*.

Enjoy!

Wufei POV.


Beautiful Symmetries + Prologue
Starting from 0.

And then the war ended.

And I was still alive.

What a disaster.

In my ideal world, though I don't admit this out loud, even to myself, Treize and I were supposed to die at each other's hands. Beautiful symmetry. Peace at last. End of story.

Can't even count on your enemies these days...

Okay, don't even ask me about the months that followed. It was like my brain had been set on fire. The whole Mariameia incident is all a blur. Yes, I was aware of what I was doing. I can't claim to have been, I don't know, shell-shocked or something. Well maybe a little but I refuse to hide from what I did, the path I chose. I made my decision with eyes wide open and for many a good reason and I'm damned if I can tell you what they were now and make it sound like sense. But everything was burning; it was like I was seeing my colony explode every time I closed my eyes, felt Meilan's last sigh searing my neck each time I lay down to sleep.

I guess...the victory was supposed to make it better, you know? And I was fighting for justice for the dead, so the only way things were going to get better for me was to die in the accomplishment of victory, and fuck Treize for being such a selfish bastard anyway.

So I burned and I burned and I did things that made sense only in the heat of the crucible that was recasting me into something that I hoped made some sense, something that could live in the Hereafter, something that could get past the dead.

The fire burned out when I saw Heero plummet to earth, felled by my blow which he didn't even try to dodge. His words echoing in my ears. Whatever I did, whatever I became, the dead would stay dead, and it was never going to get better.

Heero survived and I was the one to die that moment, and then become slowly reborn, in a fragile shell of hope.

I joined the preventers for several reasons, a hefty dose of guilt being certainly one of them, and also the love of action, of challenge, and because it was something that was at least partly familiar. I could do this. I'd been a terrorist so I could probably take them down too. And so my new life lay before me, breathtaking in its possibilities.

And that's when my troubles really began.

[chap. 1] [back to Maldoror's fic]