Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Justitia ❯ Chapter 14

Just a quick note on Russian torture, since I've had a few emails about it. Yes, it is very likely that someone such as Wufei would survive initially. Russian torture methods are designed to do two things; cause excrutiating physical and psychological damage and keep you alive but in enough agony to spill your guts. Ironically, many of the methods still used today date back to the Viking era in which deaths could take anywhere from a few minutes to a few months! The ironic thing about Russian tortures is that because they are designed so the victim survives long enough to talk, it also means the victim often survives to tell others about what they've suffered. There are countless moden accounts by victims of the horrors they have suffered, particularly, for rather obvious reasons, in the Chechnyan area. The torture method used on Wufei is based on a conglomerate mixture of tortures I have read about from the Finno-Russian border during the Hundred Years War and the Chechnyan accounts of Genocide. It is likely, in my opinion, that if an everyday person who has never been accustomed to pain can survive such atrocities, then a person trained against interrogation and its likes would certainly be likely to survive. Oddly enough, the rate of deaths from torture in the modern world is spectaculary low, but the rate of suicide deaths after torture is another sotry entirely. I can recommend reading if you really feel the need to know more. Ahem. On with the story.

Justitia 14: break- to cause to separate into pieces suddenly or violently; smash.

He screamed, he raged, he begged and Trowa held on the whole way, wrapping them both tightly in the blankets and wrapping himself tight around Wufei, not sure what he was meant to feel but knowing pain when it stabbed through him. There were no words, merely cries, pleas, muted sounds of terror and disgust. There were no prayers, no hopes and there was no forgiveness.

It terrified Trowa, to see anyone break, but to see it in Wufei and know its cause was a terror he had not completely readied himself for. He had seen it before, in broken animals tortured into circus servitude, in broken people tortured in interrogation rooms, but in a friend; in a being he loved it became something different. It was that fine line between them that made it something not to be pitied and something to be feared. And fear he did.

His arms felt near to breaking as they tried to contain the fury grasped within them. Wufei was strong and his railing against long-dead foes made him stronger, but Trowa knew he could hold it, if he tried hard enough and nothing could keep him from trying.

He could not say, either then or later, how much time elapsed. To Trowa time stopped; a pocket formed in which he was not Trowa and Wufei was not Wufei. They were, both of them, broken things, just letting go and waiting for something to pull them together again.

When he finally blinked the body in his arms was still and he almost feared the worst. He could barely move through the ache running through him and he knew it was equally as phycial as it was mental. Wufei knew how to hit back; hard. The gentle rise and fall of breath sneaking in and escaping released his fear, tucked the terror back in its little box inside him as he relaxed, laying Wufei down on the pillows and slowly untangling their limbs. It felt odd, cold somehow, to be so easily released, as if he were cheating.

He pulled his knees under and just knelt on the bed, looking down at the pale face, at the red lines around the eyes and the slight frown and something occurred to him. He reached out and brushed a finger under the eyes and pulled it back, staring at it in wonder.

Because Wufei had not cried. Was, apparently, incapable of crying for himself. Yet Trowa had seen him; had sent he tears on the plane and it took a great deal of effort to think back to that moment, to what had been happening and what had been said and shared.

He had kissed him. He had kissed Wufei. He had followed him halfway across the world to help kill the bastard that had damn near taken his life and watched when Wufei decided he wouldn't do it; that he would just execute him and live with the pain of knowing he let him get away with it. He had followed, and Wufei had cried.

And Trowa thought he might understand. Because he wasn't following Wufei; he was following the past, chasing it down in order to set it free, so it could escape and dissipate, and Wufei knew it, somewhere deep within and had let him. And he had cried. For him. For Trowa Barton, because it was going to hurt. Like hell.

He ran a finger down the bridge of Wufei's nose, over the lips, down the chin to the throat, pressing them into the skin, just to prove he was not seeing things; that Wufei was indeed alive, breathing, sleeping…

He leaned over, pressed his lips to Wufei's and watched something splatter on Wufei's cheek. It took time, to reach up and feel the tears on his own face and he smiled, choking back the laughter and the pain.

"It hurts, Wufei." And Wufei had known all along that it would.

In time he pulled the quilt up further and left the bed, walking out into the living room to find the sun had risen, spreding warmth across the carpet. He went to the TV and picked up the photo, lying down on the floor and just looking at it as he soaked in the heat. He remembered that day. He remembered all days. But this day…He had seen the look in Wufei's eyes just as the camera clicked, and then Wufei had started walking away and he had let him. Because he had known the war wasn't over; had known something had to be proven.

Had known you had to pay for peace. Prove you wanted it. So he let Wufei leave and he waited. He had not expected it to take a year. Or the years that followed that.

Sighing, he eventually put the photo away and pulled the phoe down off the wall, tossing it on the table as he kicked open the windows. He had calls to make, in no particular order.

He rang Une first. She was rather surprised to see him.

"I'm going to disconnect my phone," Trowa told her bluntly. "And you are not going to see us until you can call us again."

Une did not look pleased with that at all, but she gave him a tight nod of her head, some twisted breed of understanding flickering across her gaze. She had her damned glasses on again. Trowa wondered if maybe he should buy her a pair that weren't so damned intimidating.

"I need you to put Wufei's name back on the system; list it in the Agents again. Hell, stick it everywhere you can."

Une raised a brow, intrigued, and probably a little confused Trowa was willing to bet. But it had to be done. Regardless of what other consequences there might be, he had to save Wufei's name because it meant something.

"Why?" Une finally asked, reaching up to snatch the glasses off her face and massage the bridge of her nose. Trowa idly wondered how bad the headache was.

"Just trust me. Put his name back on the list and half those crime families will break. They'll destroy each other out of fear."

Because the Kersh's had not killed the Gundam Pilot as they had said; it wasn't possible after all. And it wasn't possible to end the peace either. And when Wufei's name appeared on the list again and they saw it, they would know who executed Kersh and there would be some kind of end to it, Trowa knew.

"Alright," Une agreed. "Marie wants to see him."

Trowa considered that, thought about all the implications it could have on either life and frowned, unsure what the right decision would be. But he made himself choose.

"Give me a day with him, then I'll call and we'll talk."

Une nodded and hung up. Trowa just stared at the blank screen and sighed. He didn't really like phones. Had a feeling he was going to learn to hate phones.

He rang Sally next and it was a good hour of discussing shock and what he should do, and how Wufei's meds might affect him and he could recall what else. Sally was determined to get him to let her come over and he was equally determined to keep her away. It was more a battle of wills than an effective conversation. In the end they both hung up out of exasperation. He just hoped Une could keep Sal off his back.

The next call was to Marie's school. He had her pulled out of class so he could talk to her, for which she was rather grateful. Apparently maths was too easy and bored her to death. He made a mental note to start giving her something more challenging to work on.

"Where's Fei?" She kept looking around the background of the camera shot, as if Wufei might miraculously appear.

"He's asleep. He's going to be asleep for a while Marie." He could see she understood; that she had some idea of what had taken place and she just nodded, a little sagely, looking far beyond her age. It made Trowa ache, and think of himself at her age, trapped in a massive tin can.

"Marie…what gaming console should I buy?"

She was startled by the questions, eyes wide as saucers, then they crinkled shut and she laughed at him, actually disappearing from the screen for a moment. When she finally reappeared she was a little too composed but he didn't say anything.

"You've got a laptop…just buy Endless Waltz. You'll keep him busy for hours, and you'll become addicted and we'll be able to play Heavyarms as well…" She was already calculating how that would affect the dynamic of their team play and Trowa had to wonder who Wufei usually played if Marie was always Altron. He had a feeling he already knew the answer to that, but decided it could wait.

They spoke for a while longer until Marie's Principal told her to hurry up and they both hung up immediately, neither wanting Marie to get in trouble.

The next call was harder to make, because he was still a little undecided about…a lot of things, and he wasn't sure some of the decisions he would have to make were his to be made, but the call still had to be made so he gritted his teeth and dialled Duo's number. His work one.

Duo in uniform still shocked the hell out of Trowa. Heero looked natural in it; the born authority figure, but Duo…Trowa kept expecting to see the Priest's collar, not because of what it signified to the world, but because of what it meant to Duo. It gave him a small bit of heart though, to know the past oculd indeed be put aside.

"Tro! You're back! Mission successful?"

Too. He just nodded.

"Duo, I'm disconnecting my phone. I'm just letting you know so you don't worry. Do not come to my house until it's back on. Tell Heero and Quatre too."

Duo looked totally stumped at that, then his gaze narrowed, as Trowa had known it would and the smile came out. Not the happy go lucky I'm your best friend Duo Maxwell smile, but the I will know exactly what you are up to because I'll kill you if you don't tell me Shinigami one that Trowa absolutely loathed. He sighed heavily.

"Spill, Barton."

Trowa wondered if he shouldn't have just rung Yuy, then remembered they had the same damn work number, a fact he was reminded of when Heero leant back in his chair to put himself in the frame, frowning at Trowa.

"What's going on?"

And he had that feeling again, that this was not his to share, and yet…He could not shake the feeling he had originally had that he should have been told and in the end it was just circumstance and pure fluke that he had not found out. That, and Wufei's rather ingenius cunning and perception of the world. It wasn't his to share, but it wasn't really anyone's because it should have been shared already. Should have been shared all along.

"My report on the mission will be on the server tonight," he ended up saying and then stared at himself, because that had not been what he meant to say. Duo and Heero were staring at him as if he had just grown two heads and he knew they knew he had intended to say something else too. But he didn't. He just smiled, ran a hand through his hair and ended the call with a reminder not to come over.

He sat back in his chair then, just staring out the window and watching the sun as it sprawled across his floor. He had meant to tell them; to get them to read the file, find the report, see the truth, but he couldn't do it.

Because it wouldn't be right. And because it was not what Wufei wanted. It was the first time that Trowa was able to give him what he wanted, instead of what he needed, and Wufei wasn't even conscious to know about it. Somehow, that was right too.

So he disconnected his phone, fetched his laptop and ordered a copy of the Endless Waltz to be delivered to his house before letting the sun lull him into a doze.

It was around mid-afternoon when he lifted himself up off the floor and grimaced at the dark bruises on his arms. He considered putting on a jumper but thought hiding it might be more detrimental than letting Wufei see them, so he left them, choosing a fresh t-shirt from his cupboard before turning to settle on the bed.

He had not meant to wake Wufei, had merely mean to explore, because for some reason he could not stop himself from doing so. The moment his fingers touched the scar on Wufei's arms slender fingers snapper about his wrist, grinding the bones together as onyx eyes snapped open and glared at him.

Trowa settled for staring back, unmoving, and waited. The muscles slowly relaxed, the fingers loosening and then Wufei blinked, eyes focussing and fixed on the jumble of limbs caught about his scars. Wufei let his hand drop away but Trowa didn't remove his own hand from the arm, gently stroking the old mark, reminding Wufei that it was just a scar, just a mark; that it was over and done with.

"Morning."

Wufei frowned, eyes turning inward and Trowa found himself holding his breath as he watched the pain well, waited for the inevitable. Only it didn't come. Wufei didn't push it back down again, rather it was almost as if it were a tangible thing and he were picking through it, analysiging it piece by piece before piling it all back together to form the whole. And still Wufei did not push it all back down, he just left it there, let it stay, making room for it.

"You were right," Wufei said softly, his voice hoarse and for a moment all Trowa could remember were the cries before his mind registered the words.

"So were you." It hurt, both ways.

Wufei just smiled sadly and they both knew he would take it back if he could; that Wufei would tear Voyten Kersh limb from limb and make him feel it, but they also knew the moment had passed and that the right decision had been made and they could live with that.

"Did I do that?"

Trowa followed the gaze to his arms and just shrugged. They both knew the answer. Wufei looked a little guilty, but came to some conclusion Trowa would probably never know and the guilt faded, replaced with indifference. Probably figured Trowa deserved it.

"We don't have to do anything, right?"

Trowa shook his head and watched the faint little smile that blossomed as hands reached out, snagged his t-shirt and pulled him down.

Nose to nose, breathing the same breath, all he could see was pitch and the pain within, but that was okay, because if he could see it he could pick it up and get rid of it. He could keep trying without fear that it was pointless.

"It's quiet."

Trowa started at that, confused at the way Wufei seemed to struggle to hear something. He considered getting up and putting music on, but Wufei didn't seem to dislike the quiet. Rather, he was just surprised by it. The longer it lingered the calmer Wufei seemed to get, so Trowa left it that way, figuring it was a good thing.

"Is it really weak?"

"Yes."

They were quiet for a long time. Wufei drew his legs up again and it made Trowa smile as he shifted his knees to rest against the soles of Wufei's feet. Life was never…boring with Wufei. Painful, gods yes, but not boring.

"Do you really think…" Wufei frowned, unable to finish but Trowa didn't mind. He understood.

He reached out and snared a finger around a lock of raven hair, making it glint in the afternoon sun. So dark, but it could shine so brightly if he put it in the right light.

"Yes."

Not weak. Not dishonourable. Not unjust. Never those things. Not Chang Wufei. The pain flickered across Wufei's face again before it settled, still not leaving but somehow controlled.

"I…told them Altron's specs…when they kept asking for the mission specs. It was all I could think of. They kept writing it down, for hours, until they realised what it was."

Trowa stared, not sure what to say. Laughter bubbled through him, roared from his mouth as he flopped over onto his back, trying to imagine it. Trying to see the side of it that had managed to keep Wufei together for the year since. It was all too easy to see Wufei sitting there, bleeding to death and raving about Nataku. Trowa had seen it before.

Wufei was smiling, the tight little smile that told Trowa he liked something, as if he had a secret. He'd seen it before when he laughed and wondered if that was it but he didn't want to ask. Time would tell. Time would tell a lot of things.

There was a sudden pounding at the door. Cursing loudly, Trowa rolled off the bed, his glare clearly telling Wufei to stay where he was as he rushed out the the main room and wrenched open the door.

He was not sure what he expected but it was certainly not a fuming Heero Yuy. Heero didn't wait for an invitation, stalking inside and then walking in tight little circles around the kitchen bench. Trowa watched him in quiet bemusement, not really sure what was going on, but finding the entire scene rather funny. He had never seen Heero unable to be still, calm; so completely devoid of confidence.

"Can I help you Heero?" It had not slipped Trowa's mind that he had told Heero he was not welcome until the phone was hooked up again. It interested him that Duo was not with him. That whatever Heero was here for, he was alone in it.

"Is it true?"

There were many things that may or may not have been true, but Trowa was not really sure which Heero was talking about. Movement caught his eye and he glanced through the door to the bedroom to see that the bed was empty and frowned.

"Is what true?" He asked, disctracted. His sudden and complete disinterest was enough to focus Heero's attention and he stopped his pacing, looking over at Trowa as he stood in the middle of the room, still staring at the bedroom.

"This." Heero tossed an all too familiar file on the bench between them and Trowa's blood ran cold, eyes going again to the other room, but he could see nothing. No sign of life. He brought an image of the room to mind but there were too many places Wufei could hide from this angle.

So he turned back to Heero and the report, trailing his fingers over the cool cardboard cover, wondering how pieces of paper could contain so much terror, so much pain, and at the same time still just be paper.

"Yes," Trowa said simply, watching the reactions, trying to gauge what Heero was thinking, what he was going to do about it. How he felt.

The shoulders slumped, and Trowa had the feeling Heero had been trying to convince himself it wasn't. He wondered how Heero had got his hands on the report to begin with.

"Does Duo know?"

"No."

"Quatre?"

Heero just shook his head, his legs shaking a little, as if he couldn't quite decide if he wanted to sit down or start walking again, but he just stood there, staring at the report on the bench.

"Where is he?" Heero finally asked, lifting his head to look straight at Trowa, and there was pain there. Pain Trowa had not expected, but should have known would be there. Because on some level he knew everything Heero ever did was to stop others from feeling pain. It was his way of dealing with the world; his one way of dealing with himself and what had been done to him. That he might have failed so close to home…

"It hurts, doesn't it Heero," Trowa said knowingly and Heero finally sat down on one of the stools, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. There was movement in the apartment; Trowa could hear it, but he didn't turn to look for it, keeping his attention fixed on Heero.

It was odd to Trowa that the decision had been taken out of his hands. He hadn't told Heero, but Heero had ensured he was told. Trowa had the strange feeling the others would inevitably do the same, just as he himself had. Something pulled them toward that file and his only regret was that it had taken him so long. But he had made it, and just in time.

"I don't understand," Heero finally admitted and Trowa sat down on the stool at his side, laying a reasurring hand on his shoulder.

"Do you know why he did it?" Why he sent you to the bottom of the ocean and enver apologised. Why he let them steal away your peace and held you at bay, stopping you from getting it back.

"I…I think I do."

Trowa just squeezed the shoulder reassuringly. Yes, Heero knew. He didn't quite understand, but he knew.

"Do you think it was right?"

Heero frowned at that, and a flicker of pain shot through blue eyes but Trowa did not feel guilty. He'd seen it all before.

"Wufei is always right," Heero noted and his voice was cold, but sure. Trowa just nodded in agreement, an itch on the back of his neck telling him someone was watching. It made him smile, because someone was probably listening too.

"Would you take it back, if you could? Would you stop him? Would you fight back?"

Heero stiffened at that, staring a the report with wide eyes and Trowa would have given a lot of money to know what he was thinking right then, to know what his answer would be.

"No."

Trowa blinked, withdrawing his hand. He was sure Heero would say yes, and yet it made sense that he didn't. Because Heero couldn't make that choice.

"He gave us peace." And Trowa heard the unspoken truth in the words. Wufei gave Heero peace. Sent him to the bottom of the ocean and forced him to choose. But Heero had not returned the favour.

"Wufei," Trowa noted, tugging the report away from Heero's fingers, "would take it back."

Heero's head snapped up, and it was a horrific image that popped into Trowa's mind, remembering that same expression when he had found Heero, near-dead and spiralling down. He had barely saved him. Had been unable to take the fear away. But Duo had managed what he could not.

"But he was right!"

Trowa smiled as a shadow finally fell over Heero, and he looked away from Heero, meeting Wufei's gaze and sharing the pain that was there.

"Right isn't free, Heero. It costs."

Heero turned sharply in his chair then, one arm reaching out in reflex, snatching hold of Wufei's wrist. It was a defence mechanism and they all knew it. Wufei just stood there, perfectly still, letting it sink in, letting Heero see, gaze still locked with Trowa's.

Heero didn't release the wrist as Trowa had expected. Rather, with delibereate slowness he pushed the sleeve of Wufei's shirt up to the elbow. Wufei winced but didn't look down. Trowa shuddered, begging Heero not to do anything stupid. Because you couldn't take it back.

Thick, calloused, scarred fingers traced the lines there, shaking as they trailed over the new skin. But they weren't there out of pity.

Heero's fingers loosened and Wufei carefully pulled his arm free of Heero's grip, rolling the sleeve back down, breaking away from Trowa's gaze to stare at the floor.

"I never blamed you," Heero said softly. "I was grateful. In the end."

Trowa didn't say anything, hardly daring to breathe.

"I know."

Wufei moved around Heero to Trowa's side, folding his arms over his stomach and leaning slightly into the warmth. Trowa sighed and wrapped an arm around his back, pulling him in hard to his side. Heero just looked at them, the pain still there in his eyes, but wrapped up in the knowing and, Trowa hoped, a little understanding.

"I'll make sure Duo doesn't make an unexpected visit," Heero said softly as he stood and headed for the door. He stalled in the doorway, turning to glance at the report still on the table one last time.

"I would have come," he said softly and his words were for Wufei alone. "If I had known, I would have. And I wouldn't want to take it back."

Wufei tensed in his arms at that, but the door was closing and Trowa was able to pull him in tighter and the arms slowly came up to wrap around him in return, Wufei's head falling to his shoulder.

"This is hell," Wufei murmured.

Trowa just held on.