Disclaimer:Gundam Wing and the G-boys aren't mine! ::wails:: The
injustice of it all! Ahem. Anyhow, you who own this know who you are and
you have my eternal gratitude for filling my mundane life with these colorful
pilots. I am of course making no money from this, so sue me if you like,
but I'm certain I could dig up a lawyer chara around here somewhere for
my defense. (All Jen's characters laugh uproariously at the thought
of ever defending her.) ::sweatdrop:: Then again...
Warnings:Yaoi, lime, lemon, violence, cursing, and AU. A nicely rounded
list, don't you think? ^^ (Which means I give this fic a rating of
'R'. So you'd better be old enough to read this, kiddies!)
Other inane ramblings:Comments and criticisms welcome! Flames will be
eaten for lunch. This is my first attempt at a boy-boy relationship, so
we'll see how I do! Any and all lapses in the plot are to be blamed on
my muse.. He likes to run off to Tahiti without me. It's very hard to
write when I think of him sunning himself on a beach and me here, sitting
at the computer screen, staring blankly... for hours and hours and hours...
Anou... (I always get such a cute picture of chibi Chichiri saying
this to Miaka when I think of this word. ^^) ::sweatdrop::
In any case, this fic would take place somewhere near the middle of the
series. Before Wuffie's colony gets blown up ::sniff:: and sometime
after Heero does his self destruction stunt.
Fallen Angels Fly + Part One
"God will save his fallen
And their broken wings he'll mend
When he draws their hearts together
And they learn to love again
All their sins will be forgiven
In the twinkle of an eye
All the saints rejoice in heaven
When the fallen angels fly"
~Patty Loveless "When The Fallen Angels Fly"
The braided pilot was getting on his nerves. No, perhaps that was not
strong enough. He was driving him stark raving mad. His incessant nannerings
didn't leave him with a moments peace. He had read this same sentence
three times now in an attempt to regain his train of thought. It wasn't
often he was given the time to sit and do virtually nothing, so it was
only natural that he would want to use that time constructively. And listening
to Duo Maxwell run at the mouth was not it.
His strength of will the only thing that kept him from sighing aloud,
Wufei Chang slowly lowered the book he had been reading and eyed Duo impassively.
The Deathscythe pilot was dressed in a loose shirt and pants, presumably
what he had worn to bed and not yet changed. His dark brown braid was
flying about his body like an out of control whip, while his arms seemed
to be competing with it for the appendage which would first cause Duo
the most bodily harm. As was the usual case, he was rambling on about
something, his words rushing together almost to the point where Wufei
had given up deciphering them.
Duo was restless, and Wufei was to be the target for his boredom.
"Hey, Wu, are you listening to me?" Duo questioned, stopping long enough
to plant his hands on his hips and offer Wufei one of his overly bright
Wufei pushed his glasses up further on his nose. "Hearing, yes. Listening,
Never one to let an opportunity pass him up, Duo pounced on that. "Want
me to tell you again?"
"No!" Wufei responded, more forcefully than he had intended.
Duo threw his hands up. "Okay, okay. No need to get so excited about it."
"I am not excited," Wufei returned blandly.
No kidding, Duo thought to himself, resisting the urge to make a face
at the serious pilot.
Of all the Gundam pilots to be cooped up with for the next few days, it
had to be Wufei. Duo had never seen anyone have the capacity for tuning
out another human being like he did. Heero was fairly good at it when
he got going on that laptop of his, but even then, Duo could tell when
he was getting through to him, if just by the occasional 'hn' that was
thrown his way.
Wufei valued his privacy to the point where he spent long hours without
speaking to anyone, or even coming out of his room. To someone who considered
the thought of being in a room with only four walls to stare at and endless
silence for company as close to real hell as he was going to get while
still alive, it was unthinkable that someone could actually get enjoyment
out of it..
With Heero, Trowa, and Quatre all off on their own separate missions,
he was left to do just that. Which meant that suffering Wufei's company
was better off than the alternative. Not to say that it was all bad. Wufei
wasn't half bad to hang around when he was in one of his better moods.
If he could get the other pilot to talk, some of the conversations they
had were fairly interesting. It was getting past that first hurdle. Wufei
could be incredibly stubborn when he wanted to be.
Turning his attention back to the Chinese boy, he picked up the end of
his braid and fiddled with it absently, wondering how anyone could want
to sit on the floor to read when there was a perfectly good chair to sit
in or bed to lay on. Darting a quick glance around the room, he realized
the decor reflected what he knew about Wufei. Virtually nothing. He wasn't
exactly forthcoming with information, and getting anything out of him
that didn't have relevancy to the current situation was next to impossible.
In short, the taciturn pilot of the Shenlong -- better known and
henceforth referred to as Nataku -- was an enigma.
Wasn't it just his luck that he loved puzzles?
"Maxwell," came Wufei's calm voice over the top of his book, "what time
Duo automatically looked to his wrist for an answer before realizing he
had yet to get dressed, which meant he also hadn't put his watch on. Without
that option open to him, he took to searching Wufei's room for a clock,
half wondering with a small amount of annoyance why the other boy didn't
just look up from his book and find out what time it was for himself.
The clock was small and smooth, its wood painted a dark ebony that made
it seem somehow more ancient than it was. There were no minute marks,
only hours, and the lettering inside the thick glass was something foreign
and unreadable to him. It was probably a possession Wufei had brought
with him from L5 colony. Still, it seemed odd that he would, considering
he never spoke of his family, or lack there of as the case may be, and
Duo had never taken Wufei for the sentimental kind. But then, he really
didn't know all that much about the pilot.
Holding back a sigh, he stared at the clock and then called out, "Just
"And you aren't dressed yet?" Came the even reply.
"Hey, I just got up!" He shot back defensively.
Of the five pilots sharing this one secluded house Quatre had asked the
Maguanacs to scout out for him, (and it was accepted due to the fact
that the environment lent to easy concealment of their Gundams) Duo
was what Wufei would label as the least disciplined of them all. He adhered
to no strict exercise regime, ate anything that was not nailed down, and
seemed to have no control over his own mouth. Yet, the Chinese pilot had
to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Duo more than made up for these personality
flaws when in battle. If pressured, Wufei would even go so far as to say
that he wouldn't want to be facing down the other end of that scythe.
While he had been up since 6am, practicing both his martial arts and sword
fighting forms, Duo had obviously been taking advantage of the fact that
he had no mission and no homework. Summer meant that the boarding schools
they hid themselves away in were closed. It was why Quatre had asked Rashid
to find them some place where they would not be bothered. This, of course,
ruled out the Mauganacs base. Quatre felt as if they had endangered and
inconvenienced the small town nearby it enough. Wufei, on the other hand,
really cared less where they stayed, so long as he had his privacy, Nataku
was safely hidden away, and he could be reached when it came time for
Privacy, he was fast learning however, was not a word in Duo's vocabulary.
Unlocked doors meant an invitation to enter, as Wufei had found out last
week while changing. Foolishly thinking that no one would enter his room
while the door was closed, he hadn't counted on Duo bursting in on him
just as his pants rose over his knees. While he had been something close
to mortified, and definitely something close to furious, the other boy
had taken it all in stride. Wufei's rage had been met with laughter, and
it became perfectly clear that Duo would have remained in the doorway
had Wufei not threatened him with the blade of his sword shoved into Duo's
throat up to the hilt.
The boy had absolutely no modesty.
Lips curving slightly, he savored the memory of the expression on Duo's
face when the other boy had realized he was serious.
Duo was still standing there. Wufei could feel the other's eyes on him,
awaiting a comment of some kind.
Gaze flickering back to the writing before him, he said mildly, "There
are 24 hours in a day, not 12."
Duo snorted. "You're almost as bad as, Heero. Only he drags me
out of bed. Why the hell should I get up early if there's no reason to?
I value my sleep, thank you very much. Lord knows, I don't get much of
it when Dr. G's cramming missions down my throat."
"And you listen to Heero?" Wufei asked, attention still on his book as
he disregarded everything else Duo had said.
White teeth flashed briefly. "Not unless I have to. Otherwise, I tell
him to go screw himself."
Wufei winced slightly at Duo's choice of words, trying to imagine Heero
accepting that kind of insult from anyone. But then, Duo seemed
to be able to get away with a great deal where the Wing pilot was concerned.
It was apparent that Duo was completely oblivious to that fact, however.
Wufei had walked in on more than one occasion where the dark haired boy
was complaining to Quatre about Heero's lack of response. He was tempted
to tell him to spend a little less time talking and a little more time
observing to find answers, if only to get him to shut up. But Duo had
never asked him for advice, and he considered it really none of his affair
what did or did not go on between Heero and Duo.
"Hn." He answered vaguely, trying once again to concentrate on his book.
Duo rolled his eyes. "Great. You sound like Heero. What're you reading
there?" He added, venturing closer, Wufei's clock passing from hand to
hand in some odd sort of rhythm.
Praying to Nataku for patience, Wufei lowered his book and regarded Duo
stonily. Duo had obviously desensitized himself to threatening glares
under the tutelage of one Heero Yuy, for he remained unperturbed as he
bent over and tried to get a better look at the cover.
With remarkable aplomb, Wufei lifted the book so that Duo could see easily
and with the hope that the other boy would leave him alone after having
"Geez Wu-man, this is in friggin' Chinese! How do you expect me to read
that?" He blurted out, rocking back on his heels as he now began tossing
One hand snaked out and past his guard, snatching the clock in mid-air.
Without the clock to occupy his hands, Duo began swinging them back and
Did the boy ever remain still?
With a half-sigh, Duo gave his braid a reassuring tug. Whether he wanted
to admit it or not, he was worried about the others. They were alone,
without back up of any kind, and he hated to think that one of them might
not make it back all in one piece. But had he voiced that to Mr. Wufei
'never-shuts-up' Chang, he would be informed in that succinct way the
Chinese boy had of stating his absolute opinion, that it was an insult
to their abilities to consider them unable to complete their missions
without help. So instead, he settled for expending his nervous, pent up
energy on distracting Wufei from his book and never standing still for
more than a second.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. He wasn't supposed to care. Dr. G had
sent him down to Earth alone, and alone was how he had expected to stay.
But life rarely worked out as it was supposed to, and Duo was generally
willing to go where it took him with little complaint. The problem that
presented itself from allowing that, was that these four pilots were now
his friends. They meant something to him in a way only three other people
in his entire life had.
And those three people had died. Two because of his actions, and the third
because he was not quick enough to prevent it.
That day, as he knelt in the ruins of the Maxwell Church, Sister Helen's
lifeless body clutched in his arms, was the day he had ceased to believe
in God.. The God of life, at least. For he had wanted desperately to protect
the church from those rebels using it as refuge from the Federation, and
had braved losing his own life to get them the Mobile Suit they so desperately
wanted.. But that action had invariably caused the deaths of two of the
few people who had ever given a damn about him, and taught him at the
same time that no matter what he did death would follow him.
So he would believe in the God of Death. He would become the God of Death.
He would accept that it was a part of him, while still living at the same
time. He would smile more, live harder, and laugh longer. Life had taken
the people he had loved, caused him to bleed, and left him alone, but
he refused to fold under. Death had already taken everything from him,
it could not have him too. Anger was a much more effective weapon, and
with anger, he felt alive. So he got back at death by living, because
that was the most effective revenge. And he continued to care, because
he had come to realize that emotional death was far worse than physical
But a part of him realized as well, that he allowed himself to care for
these pilots because they were strong. They had skirted death more than
once and came out the victor each time. Especially Heero, who seemed to
consider self destruction a sort of hobby.
By becoming death, he also had control. He was death, so what did
he have to fear?
Wufei had grown accustomed to Duo's movements, so when they ceased, his
attention was again pulled from his book. The American pilot was a nuisance.
He was one of the few people that Wufei could not completely ignore and
overlook. It seemed that no matter what he did, he was a distraction.
Wufei disliked admitting to it, however, because it spoke little for his
It only made him feel marginally better that even someone as focused as
Heero was not completely immune to the braided pilot.
There was just something about Duo that was difficult to ignore. For a
boy that claimed to be Shinigami, he was filled with a great deal of life.
He tended to throw his energy everywhere he went, as well, and to remain
untouched was to be completely without feeling. That such conflicting
masks of both light and dark could live within one person told Wufei that
Duo was far more complicated than some gave him credit for. One such person
being Heero, who had confided to Wufei once (which he suspected was
only because he had been around to hear it) that Duo's lack of focus
and control were not the traits of a decent Gundam pilot.
While Wufei tended to agree with this, he had long ago suspected that
behind Duo's battle chatter and laughter, there lurked a focus and control
that would have made even the Perfect Soldier envious. It was simply his
way of dealing with it. They had to have ways of dealing with the deaths
caused by their hands. Heero met it with resolve, Trowa with silence,
and Quatre with gentle strength and regret. Duo embraced it by calling
himself Shinigami and laughing in death's face. And he, Wufei... took
refuge in his solitude and the very things which caused the one he fought
for to call him weak.
But he would not think of that now.