Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Catch Me When I Fall ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, unfortunately. And despite all the fun ways I like to play with them, they don't belong to me. Maybe that's a good thing. I shudder to think of what might have happened if I was in charge. Heaven help us all. I don't own these lyrics, Catch Me When I Fall, either, by Ashlee Simpson.

Author's Note: Just another random idea that popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone. I couldn't write anything else without this plot line interrupting it. Gomen! This story will only be about ten chapters, maybe less. Review and let me know what you think! And Wufei, I'm really really sorry.

Is anybody out there
Does anybody see
That when the lights are off something's killing me

I know it seems like people care
Cause they're always around me
But when the day is done and everybody runs

Who will be the one to save me from myself
Who will be the one who's there
And not ashamed to see me crawl
Who's gonna catch me when I fall

When the show is over
And it's empty everywhere
It's hard to face going back alone
So I walk around the city
Anything, anything to clear my head
I've got nowhere to go nowhere but home

Who will be the one to save me from myself
Who will be the one who's there
And not ashamed to see me crawl
Who's gonna catch me when I fall

It may seem I have everything
But everything means nothing
When the ride that you've been on
That you're coming off
Leaves you feeling lost

Is anybody out there
Does anyobdy see
That sometimes loneliness is just a part of me

Who will be the one to save me from myself?
Who will be the one who's there
And not ashamed to see me crawl?
Who's gonna catch me when I fall?
Who's gonna catch me when I fall?
Who's gonna catch me when I fall
And not ashamed to see me crawl?
Who's gonna catch me when I fall?

Catch Me When I Fall

By: Mitsuru Aki

“Oh Wuuuuuufeeeeeiii!”

Oh, please, no, Chang Wufei thought desperately, typing faster in the vain hope the sound would drown out whoever was approaching. It could only be one person. Anyone but him!

A beaming face appeared over the partition wall to his cubicle, a chestnut braid draped over his shoulder and amethyst eyes sparkling. Duo Maxwell crossed his arms on the wall and rested his chin on them. “Whatcha doin' Wu-man?”

Even thought both men were in their twenties now, the braided twit still felt the need to give him a nickname.

“Don't call me that,” Wufei retorted automatically, never taking his eyes off the computer screen. He cursed all the empty cubicles and their absent occupants for leaving when regular working hours had ended. Silently, of course, so he wouldn't distract himself from his work.

Duo rolled his eyes. “Oh, right, I'm bothering you,” he said sarcastically.

“Yes, you are,” Wufei agreed, tearing himself from his computer to pick up the file sitting next to the keyboard. “What do you want, Maxwell?”

The brunette tilted his head and pondered the question with mock thoughtfulness. Then he grinned, smirking at the Chinese man. “You.”

Wufei looked up slowly from the papers in his hands to Duo's expression of forced seriousness. He couldn't have heard correctly, which was why he was having trouble breathing. “What…?”

“Oh, come on, Wu-man!” Duo exclaimed, straightening up and gaining another two inches in height. His white dress shirt and his purple tie were suddenly visible, seeming to glow in the faint brightness of the emergency lights period. “The gang's meeting for dinner after work. Then we're going to do karaoke, and go clubbing, and I'm gonna make Heero dance, goddamnit—“

Wufei's heart started beating again. “The gang?” he interrupted calmly.

Duo frowned. “You know, me, Heero, Trowa, Q-man…” He raised an eyebrow at the man before him. “You…?”

“I can't, I'm busy,” Wufei said again, curtly, opening another file.

The light in Duo's eyes dimmed as amethyst orbs narrowed. “You're always busy, Fei. You're gonna work yourself to death.”

Wufei grunted in acknowledgement. “My name's Wufei, as you well know,” he said pointedly.

“Fei's close enough,” the former Deathscythe pilot said dismissively. “That's not the issue here, and you know it.”

Wufei remained silent.

Duo took a deep breath, knowing he was about to start up an old argument. “Look, `Fei, can't you take a break? I mean, take a look around. There's no one here but you,” he tried coaxingly. “Take a night off—”

“You're here,” Wufei said.

“But I'm not working.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“Wufei!” Duo snapped, quickly losing patience. “Take some time off! Work isn't everything! Spend some time with your friends!”

“I see you and Yuy at work everyday,” Wufei said tightly. All three of them were Preventers.

“Oh, yes,” replied Duo sweetly, “I'm just exhausted from the socializing involved in telling you Lady Une wants to see you in her office. Be realistic, `Fei, you're worse than Heero!”

“I am not!” Wufei retorted heatedly, finally glaring at the brunette.

“Yes, you are,” Duo argued. “At least Ice Man's coming with us tonight. And you haven't laid eyes on Quat and Trowa in months!” He moved around the partition into Wufei's cubicle.

“They've been busy,” the Asian said resentfully as he swiveled his chair around to face him.

“No, you've been too busy.” Amethyst eyes found obsidian and held them. “That's your traditional excuse.”

“It's not an excuse!” Wufei spat. “I have work that needs to be done; it's unavoidable. Now do you—”

“Have you taken a good look at yourself lately, Wufei?” Duo breathed with quiet anger, voice hard and clear in the otherwise silent room. “You're exhausted. Your sleeping schedule sucks. You have bags under your eyes.” He brushed a thumb gently against the skin below Wufei's left eye.

Wufei jerked away, his chair slamming into the desk behind him, jaw clenching.

Something flickered briefly in Duo's eyes, but the braided man didn't give him the chance to say anything. “You're not eating breakfast or lunch anymore. Don't ask me how I know; I just do. And you'll need glasses for more then just reading by the time you're twenty-five if you don't put a little space between your nose and that computer screen.”

Wufei looked like he was counting to five-hundred in Chinese. “Maxwell—”

“We're just worried about you, dammit!” Duo exploded, throwing his hands in the air. “You're not taking care of yourself! It's as though you're doing everything you can to make yourself drop dead from exhaustion. If there's something wrong then tell us, dammit! That's what friends are for!”

It's not that easy, Wufei thought as he stared stoically at Duo's frustrated face. I don't fully understand it myself. I just feel…useless. Because now that the war's over, I don't have a purpose anymore. My life lacks directions. So I work.

“Wufei?”

But you and the others, even Heero, don't seem to have that problem, so how could you possibly understand? He let his eyes drop to the carpeted floor.

“Wufei, are you okay?” The brunette's eyes were filled with worry and concern. Wufei turned away. I feel like a failure. Working helps me forget, gives me something to do. I'm so depressed; I should be on Prozac or something.

“I'm not going, Maxwell,” the ex-Shenlong pilot said softly.

There was a rustle of cloth as the other man shifted behind him, probably crossing his arms. “Wufei—”

“You're not going to change my mind, Maxwell. I'm finishing this report and then going home.”

Silence descended on them both but Wufei could feel Duo's eyes burning into his back. He did not need the extra stress.

“Are you going to stand there all nights, or do you have people to meet?” The Asian bit out more sharply than he intended.

He bit his lip as Duo wordlessly spun on his heel and made his way to the door without once looking back. The door slammed with a bang that left the wooden panel trembling. He was gone.

I don't need him, Wufei thought derisively, watching the hallway door with angry eyes.

But then why did he feel like he'd just missed his last chance at something?

Quatre, Trowa, and Heero watched Duo storm across the lobby of the Preventer's Headquarters, then exchanged glances.

“Um, Duo—” Quatre began.

“Fucking bastard…” Duo muttered under his breath as he brushed past them, various other obscenities that this young authoress refuses to type now that her point has been made tumbling from his mouth.

Quatre gave Trowa a look and hurried after his friend. “Duo! Wait!”

It was a short walk to their vehicles and it didn't take long for Trowa and Heero to catch up to where the blond was trying to talk sensibly with Duo. The ring on the blond's left hand caught the light, making Trowa look instinctively at the matching one on his own left ring finger. Almost a year now.

“He's not coming, Quatre. He's obviously not interested,” Duo was saying, his breath creating plumes of frigid air with every word. “Just forget him.”

“You don't really mean that, Duo,” Quatre said reproachfully. “You're just upset. Wufei—”

“No, I really mean it this time,” Duo replied furiously, opening his car door. “His work is so much more important.”

“Well, maybe he has other plans, or he really does need to get that done…”

“Oh, don't be so naïve, Q. You're not really that—”

“Duo.” Trowa interjected warningly.

The American fumed silently, gnawing on his lower lip to keep himself from saying anything he might regret. He turned to Heero instead, pointing a finger commandingly. “Next time, you are going up there and bringing him down at gunpoint. I don't care what the emaciated moron says.”

“Hn,” Heero said, looking as though he was seriously contemplating just that.

“Emaciated?” Quatre questioned, eyes darting from Duo to Heero. “Has he lost that much weight?”

“A bit,” Heero grunted.

“`A bit'?” Duo snorted, staring at the Arabian. “Please, all he probably eats is rice for dinner and his fucking herbal teas all day long. It's a wonder he doesn't look anorexic yet.”

“That's true,” Heero admitted quietly.

Quatre frowned at Trowa, looking confused and uneasy. “I should have gone up to see him. I don't understand what's wrong…”

Duo climbed moodily into his car and yanked the door shut. He crossed his arms and glared out the windshield at nothing in particular.

Trowa placed a hand on the blond's shoulder. “We should go,” he said softly. “There will be other times.”

“Maybe we should invite his over for dinner tomorrow…” Quatre mused as the green-eyed man led him away. “Maybe lunch on Saturday…?”

Heero shook his head and opened his own car door; he'd parked right next to the infuriated American. I'll talk to Wufei tomorrow. This is going way too far.

He hated seeing Duo hurt and angry, simply because the Chinese man couldn't see what was right in front of him. Or, well, just beyond his paperwork. It didn't take a genius to see that Duo's attitude toward the other man had shifted since their younger days; all three of them except Duo and Wufei had noticed how Duo now spent all of his free time talking to/teasing/harassing Wufei. Trying to get him to go places, or in the others' opinion, asking him on dates. Duo didn't appear to comprehend the extent to which he was trying to get Wufei's attention, or why every dismissal or rejection emotionally burned him.

But at least he acknowledged that something was changing.

Unlike a certain workaholic Chinese man.

Heero pulled into the street after Duo, keeping an eye on the single light on in the Preventer's Headquarters until it disappeared from his rearview mirror, second thoughts creeping into his mind.

Wufei's office was as quiet as a grave as he stood up from his desk. The report was finished, his computer shutting down, and his eyes could hardly keep themselves open. Of course, one report had led to another, and another, and more related paperwork…

Wearily, he scooped the last of his papers off his desk and into a folder. He hesitated. Do I really need this?

He frowned, struggling with himself. He despised the idea of going home to an empty apartment with nothing to do. The emptiness there drove him crazy, made him search for something to do to occupy his mind. Sometimes he just walked around the city, trying not to get nostalgic of how things used to be; thinking of past missions and Shenlong…the safehouses…doing something to directly help people…short moments of “normalcy” with the other gundam pilots… At the time he'd wished those moments could've lasted forever, but now that he had to have a normal life he had no idea how to go about it. How do you shift into a life you've had no experience living?

Wufei brushed a hand over his face, dragging himself away from those thoughts. He really wasn't in any shape to look anything else over, but…

Take some time off! Work isn't everything!

The Asian glanced at the clock over the door Duo had slammed nearly three hours ago. Quarter of twelve. He'd be back in six and a half hours.

He threw the folder into a drawer and pulled his black leather jacket. Next, he snatched his computer bag from the desk and headed for the door. A quick flick of the wrist and the lights went off while he opened it.

The hallway to the stairs was eerily dark, the Asian's footsteps echoing against the tile flooring. The shadowy entrance to the stairs loomed ahead, urging Wufei to leave the building as quickly as possible.

I practically live here…Wufei thought dispiritedly, skimming his free hand along the banister on his left as he descended the stairs. He blinked rapidly and nearly tripped over his own feet. Maybe that baka's right…I should take tomorrow off.

He brushed his fingers his eyes, feeling the skin there. Do I really look that bad?

Wufei snorted. As though that idiot would know the difference between hard work and overworking.

But…Duo had been coming by more often. Wufei didn't miss the concern behind the brunette's bright eyes and biting comments. He was obviously worried, but didn't quite know how to express it.

And Heero too…unlike the American, he didn't say much, but Wufei could feel the Japanese man's eyes watching him during the day. He always looked so serious with a permanent frown as he watched Duo harass him. No doubt Heero noticed the way he tensed up every time the violet-eyed man approached him. But Wufei couldn't help it; the brunette always wanted something from him, wanting to do something, to have lunch, see a movie—

A sudden, sharp pain blossomed in the center of his chest, catching him completely by surprise and forcing his to halt just above the last flight of stairs to the lobby. Wufei grabbed the front of his jacket by instinct, staring down at the dark fabric in the bewilderment. He was abruptly aware of the cold; the heat had shut off hours ago…

He closed his eyes and evened out his breathing in a vain attempt to ease the pain, but it didn't help, instead slowly radiating into his left shoulder and down his arm. The computer bag fell from his hand as he reached for the offending arm; his brain was screaming at him, the lack of sound smothered—

Then everything closed in on him; he was suffocating from some invisible force, and an answer forced its way to the forefront of his consciousness.

Heart attack.

You've got to be kidding me, Wufei thought incredulously while he fought for breath, growing nauseous. He fumbled for the cell phone in his pocket, flipped it open, and the pain didn't go away; it just intensified. His thumb hit a speed dial number as Wufei let himself sink to his knees.

Two.

Answer the phone, the Asian found himself thinking as he listened to the phone ring from a million miles away. Just answer it…

Wufei struggled to focus on the pain in his arm and chest, his need for air, as his mind drifted away and the phone continued to ring.

Author's Note: I realize that I am a terrible, horrible person to leave off here; you should have seen my beta reader: I HATE YOU MITSURU! Needless to say, I ran away and hid for a while. But Chapter Two has been written; just not posted. Review! Motivate me! In a non-violent way, of course. (sweatdrops) And you all will be pleased to know that I've reached episode 15 of GW! Go me!