Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Like Magnets before a Tombstone ❯ Like Magnets before a Tombstone ( One-Shot )

Title: Like Magnets Before a Tombstone

Author: OrangeFlips

Pairings: 1x5, others mentioned

Rating: PG

Summary: Wufei is haunted by Treize, and it takes an old man and Heero to help him rid of his demons.

Comments: This is probably one of my more... detailed works. Although at first it may seem as though there is absolutely no 1x5 at all except for a few paragraphs at the end, look closer. (:

Warnings: Unbetaed. I need a beta. Please. Please. DESPERATELY. Email me, please? Or leave a review with your email?

Standard disclaimers apply.

 

A statue was mounted proudly on his grave, hard and hand-carved from milky-white marble. The profile of the man is stern, lips closed and neither turned up or down, short hair curled at the tips grazing the brow, his high forehead and raised chin giving him a perpetually lofty appearance. The shoulders, shielded beneath the OZ military uniform, were strong, the chest firm and straight, forever proud. His hand was outstretched, as though offering peace, beckoning the world to join him. And although this statue and his remains in that gold-crested coffin six feet under the earth, now overgrown with mossy grass, were all that was left of him, he still had so much power over the world it were as though he was still alive.

 

“Done staring at the statue, boy?” a tattered, old man grinned toothily, crooked teeth and all, and Wufei turned to face him. He had known the man was there; he was the man that cleaned the statue every week as though to protect it from freewheeling birds.

 

Wufei nodded, but did not step away.

 

“So who are you, boy?” the man, unashamedly ravenous for conversation, asked cheerfully. Wufei snorted. The man was scum; he didn't deserve an answer, but the man continued relentlessly, “A former OZ-subordinate? Son of friend? He your idol?”

 

“I hate him.”

 

Slow. Deliberate. Heavy words falling fast, crackling against the air. The man stilled, cheerful demeanor falling for a few moments before he smiled again, “Didn't your parents ever tell you not to damn the dead?”

 

“I hate him because he died,” he flared, the old fire within him rekindled and blazed as guilt began to eat away at him like maggots eating away the dead, crawling up his arms, down his back, constantly voracious. He fought to control it.

 

“Then who should have died?” The man's voice is quieter, contemplative.

 

“Me.” There was no hesitation in his voice, his mind made up ever since the first time he fought with Treize. Wufei gazed at the man thoughtfully, half expecting the man to question him, turn him in to the cops, telling them that a seventeen-year-old-boy was suicidal - but he was an ex-Gundam-pilot. He shouldn't bother to expect anything.

 

“Well, then, he saved your life, so go out and use it.” The man stepped down from the ladder and carefully put his supplies back in the pail. “You just have to go on with life.” The man sat down, leaning his back against the creamy-white base of the statue, resting in its shade. He motioned for Wufei to sit with him, and Wufei found himself seated next to him despite - despite what?

 

Perhaps he thought it was a disgrace to sit so calmly next to a man's grave; it was a disgrace to Treize, only a year and so months dead. A raven cawed loudly and Wufei stared at its obsidian feathers, gleaming and proud, as it stood firmly on the statue's head.

 

The man chuckled, “He's the reason I'm here every week. Gets me a bite to eat, those birds.”

 

“I suppose.” The scent of roses flew in, flaring his senses. His hand quivered; he could live without that scent.

 

“You know, Earth's not my home planet. I was born in L2, the slums. I did the worst thing a man could do there, and I lived, but the place suffocated me, yah know? Had to get away. If the world wanted me alive, I just had to keep on living, right?”

 

“Coward,” Wufei hissed, wondering if this man was a murderer and if he should be afraid, but the fear refused to come to him. How ironic, Wufei Chang, ex-Gundam-pilot 05, killed by old man next to Treize's grave. At least the location was fitting.

 

“Guess you can call me that,” the man said solemnly, hands idly stroking his chestnut-grey beard, “I had the prettiest wife on L2, maybe in all the colonies. Pretty brown hair, slim figure, and the most dazzling amethyst-azure eyes I've ever seen. She was pregnant; we lived pretty well for L2 standards.”

 

“What are you telling me this?”

 

“Feel like I have to tell you, before the world finally lets me die. Do you mind?”

 

Yes. “No.”

 

“I never learned his name,” and Wufei could hear his voice was strained, wavering, “OZ was all over, every other man was killed or recruited. My wife convinced me to go in hiding, and she left with the baby in her stomach. Few years later, I heard she'd died. The baby wasn't with her when her body was found. Then the Maxwell Church Massacre happened, and I-”

 

Wufei's stomach tightened. Maxwell. Duo. Purple eyes. No. It was impossible. He pulled his cap down further.

 

“Here's a picture of my son,” the man leaned over, shoving a worn picture in Wufei's hands, “I saw my son at the Maxwell Church and I begged for a picture of him before I went back in hiding once,” Wufei lowered his dark sunglasses momentarily to stare at it. The little boy, two or three years old, maybe, looked strikingly similar to Duo. Wufei's heart leaped, then shuddered.

 

“I wanted to die,” the man smiled grimly, “Tried to kill myself that night, woke up at the hospital the next day. That's when I made up my mind to keep living.”

 

“Y-you, you're...” but Wufei realized he was speaking Mandarin, that his grasp of English had fled him.

 

“Don't tell him about me, please? I don't want to worry him,” the man spoke wearily, “Just felt that I needed to tell someone who knew him, before I could die peacefully.”

 

“He doesn't blame you.”

 

The man just smiled, closing his eyes, but Wufei whipped around, eyes suddenly alert. He relaxed, seeing that it was only Heero standing a few feet away from the grove of trees, his gaze on Wufei.

 

Heero didn't speak, but his stance told Wufei that Heero wished to speak to him.

 

“Is that 01?” the man whispered, and Wufei hoped Heero hadn't read the words on the man's lips. Heero was still paranoiac, and Wufei didn't want to move again. But what did he want, really?

 

“Yes, I'd better get going.” Wufei stood up in one fluid motion, repositioning his cap and sunglasses and wiping off the grass where it had stuck to his pants.

 

“Get away, 05. Don't look behind. Don't regret.”

 

Wufei nodded, not quite understanding, and gave the man one last look, eyes straying to the statue unconsciously, before following Heero.

 

---------------------

 

Wufei stared at his laptop, then at his partner.

 

“What?” Heero demanded with neither irritation nor affection evident in his voice. Just flat, cold, typical Perfect Soldier.

 

“I'm going out.”

 

“We're not secure, Chang.” Frustration grew.

 

“I'll wear a wig. And makeup.” He reflexively grimaced.

 

“Is my company so undesirable?” Heero snapped, frowning.

 

“No.” The response came too quickly and Wufei knew Heero would misinterpret it, but Wufei realized that Heero would never understand that it was just something he needed to do.

 

---------------------

 

Wufei walked too briskly for a lazy Saturday afternoon in Brussels, where couples interlaced their mitten-covered fingers in the cold air, the warmth from the sun illuminating the glistening snow like stars caught and woven together. Perhaps that's why he collided with Duo.

 

“Woah, hey, Wu-man! Careful where you're going!” But he was smiling widely, cheeks bright and happy.

 

“Sorry,” he bit out, and then he saw what Duo was holding. Roses. Velvet-red roses, long stems, beautiful, fragrant, intoxicating...

 

“Wu? What're you doing out alone on Valentine's Day?”

 

Roses. Valentine's day. Right. Some damned holiday civilians liked to celebrate in February. But he was a civilian now too, right? Shouldn't he like this too? But damning Treize didn't stop him from feeling like he'd been mowed over by Wing.

 

“Oh, these,” Duo pointed at his roses, a goofy grin on his face, “They're for Hilde. She wanted a dozen, but the stupid vendor gave me thirteen, hah! Here, take one! Happy Valentine's Day, Wu-man!”

 

The thorn prickled at his fingers, but they were calloused enough so he did not bleed. He stared at the rose, and resisted the desire to pluck the petals away and throwing the remains down the ditch. He walked on.

 

He stared at the tombstone: Treize Khushrenada. It was marble as well, lying flat against the ground before the statue. Moss grew to the edges, but recoiled at the edges of the stone. Wufei snorted. Even nature didn't dare tread where Treize lay. He sank down on his knees, cold hands touching the silky, wet feeling of marble against his rough hands. He carefully placed the rose on the smooth marble, smelling the pungent scent of roses. His stomach tightened, tasting bile at the back of his throat.

 

He ran all the way back to the apartment, jostling past happy couples and stately vendors, all the way to the bathroom, clutching the edge of the porcelain bowl.

 

The toilet felt cool, smooth like marble under his fingers, but he did not notice as he threw up, his control swirling downdowndown until he couldn't see it anymore, trying to drive away the scent of roses. It still clung to him, and he tore off his clothes and scrubbed his skin with Heero's bar of soap until his skin was stinging red like the rose petals, but he looked straight ahead and convinced himself that at least he couldn't smell it anymore.

 

---------------------

 

Wufei entered the kitchen after a jog, track pants a little too short, leaving an inch of ankle for the prickly bushes outside of the apartment to tear at him, the morning draft sweeping up his legs.

 

“Oh, hello Wufei,” Relena smiled serenely, sitting at the square table. Wufei remembered he had found it at a garage sale, and bought it because it smelt like old coffee and redwoods and Heero.

 

“Where are your bodyguards?” Relena Peacecraft shouldn't be parading around in unsafe locations without someone guarding her. Besides, when did Heero give her a key?

 

“Oh, never mind that. Is Heero here? I'd like to speak to him,” her voice is soft, diplomatic, and for an instance Wufei pitied her.

 

Only for an instance.

 

“He—“ Wufei frowned. Where was Heero? “He'll be back, I hope.”

 

“You hope?”

 

“Yes,” he snarled, angry at himself for not knowing where his partner was before he remembered he was speaking to a woman, and he caught himself. Relena didn't seem bothered, but then Wufei hadn't really threatened to kill her like that one time Heero did when Relena asked him to attend her birthday party. Maybe the girl was used to it.

 

“Relena?” Heero's voice broke the desperate silence that held the two, keys jingling harshly as he set them on the counter and Wufei breathed a small sigh of relief. The heavy perfume of flowers on Relena had been smothering him.

 

“Heero! There you are, I wanted to speak to you,” Relena sang so sweetly, so gently. Heero motioned for her to continue. “Well, I'm here to ask you to be my personal bodyguard.” Wufei's heart quickened at those words. He was going to be without a partner; he was going to be alone, truly, utterly, alone... he glanced down fiercely. He might as well start looking for one-bedroom apartments; this was too big for him alone.

 

“No.” Wufei's heart flew at Heero's response, but not too high. He didn't want to be burned.

 

“Oh, Heero, please! I don't trust my safety with anyone else than you, and the rebels, they're all rousing up, and I'm just so worried!” Relena cried out. She had obviously been expecting this reaction. Just like Treize: intoxicating.

 

“No, Relena,” Heero sighed, using that tone he only used with her. Wufei was suddenly jealous.

 

“But, Heero! I need you!”

 

“Someone... else needs me more than you.”

 

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to call,” Relena smiled, as though she knew what the outcome was going to be but decided to try anyways. “Good bye, you two!”

 

Wufei stared at Heero, his face a question mark, trying to understand the other man.

 

“What?” Heero snapped, before walking out of the kitchen, and Wufei let him, part of him glad Heero didn't leave him, part of him furious with his weakness.

 

---------------------

 

There was a large white mark covering half of Treize's colorless eye. A raven stood proudly on his head, cocking its head to look at Wufei.

 

“Ah, Treize looks so much better today, won't you agree?” the gnarly man spoke haughtily, blue eyes glittering with youth.

 

Wufei smiled slowly at the raven and it cawed back in agreement. “Much improved,” Wufei commended, and he grinned, turning towards the old man. They basked in the silence for a tender moment, before the old man sighed and moved towards the statue with his pail of detergent and paper towels.

 

Wufei fled when the raven flew away, when Treize started to cling to Wufei again, no matter how many times he tried to shove him off.

 

---------------------

 

Wufei scoffed as he chewed on a piece of orange chicken. It tasted plastic. Fake. But not necessarily unhealthy, he supposed.

 

“Who did you say needed your help again, Yuy?” Wufei questioned, remembering the conversation with Relena.

 

“Someone.” Heero's face was even more guarded than usual, and Wufei puzzled over it.

 

“Was it me?” he asked softly, as his mind made conclusions and filled in gaps. And when Heero did not reply, Wufei stood up and left.

 

Perhaps Quatre could lend Wufei a mansion.

 

---------------------

 

Wufei stared at the rubble in staggering silence from behind the news cameras, behind the threatening yellow tape. The reporter standing a few feet away was speaking to the camera,

 

“The Treize Khushrenada monument in Brussels, Belgium was destroyed a few hours ago by several homemade bombs. The culprit has not yet been found. Due to increased violence in Brussels, the monument is now being moved to a safer location. In the mean time, Minister Peacecraft is now considering a ban on dry ice due to its explosive qualities.”

 

The facts were sterile, as though the mere breath of emotion would shatter its crystalline frame.

 

A hand lingered on Wufei's shoulder, and he spun around, eyes meeting Heero's. He hadn't seen the man for a week, but it felt as though they had been lives away. He didn't know what to say then. He didn't know what to say now. But it was okay, because Heero spoke for him.

 

“The old man told me it was a present for you,” he said when they were back in their apartment away from loose ears. “Said you wouldn't go away yourself, so he'd do it for you. He died with the explosion.”

 

“You know, he was Duo's father?” Wufei mumbled, trying to keep the tears from slipping from his eyes.

 

“I found him after you disappeared,” Heero whispered in lieu of a reply, breathy wind close to Wufei's ear as he grasped Wufei in a loose embrace. He left Wufei enough room to push him away, but his unspoken words of worry fled to Wufei, embracing him in their warmth, urging Wufei to pull closer.

 

Wufei complied. “I don't know what I'm even getting all woman over,” Wufei chuckled, but it was choked back by a dry sob. Treize was gone, truly gone. The old man was dead too. All for him.

 

“Stay,” Heero said, the word heavy with longing, part question, part command.

 

“Only if you will,” and Wufei smiled up, Heero's lips pressed gently on his, slowly parting his lips and caressing his own, gently. Wufei startled, almost biting Heero's tongue, but relaxed, shuddering with pleasure when the arms around him tightened, gently maneuvering him towards the door. Heero... Wufei was in Nataku again. Wufei was flying.

 

When Wufei woke to find Heero's naked arm around him, firm legs entwined with his the next day, smelling like musk and soap and Heero, he smiled.

 

---------------------

 

It was just the five of them again, just the five ex-Gundam-pilots. They made a grim arch facing the small tomb, Wufei in the center, Heero's left arm around his waist, comforting. Their eyes glazed solemnly over the Chinese characters etched crudely in the stone: Lao ren. Old man. Wufei smiled bleakly.

 

“Why are we here anyways?” Duo asked loudly, “I mean, you didn't even know his name, Wu!” The words were hard, mocking, but all five knew the words were only for show. Wufei desperately wished he could tell Duo that if he knew this man's last name, it would have been Duo's last name as well, but perhaps it was better this way.

 

“Still, a large rock with etching on it is a poor substitute for a tombstone, even if there is no coffin or ashes to bury,” Quatre hesitated, not sure if it was right for him to say so, “I have the money, if you'd like a proper headstone, maybe a little embellishment.” He knew this man was important to Wufei, maybe Heero as well.

 

“I think he'd like it this way better,” Wufei spoke softly. His voice was light, thoughts skipping through his mind. Perhaps the tomb would disappear tomorrow; perhaps someone would steal the rock and pick the flowers Wufei had planted next to it. Perhaps nature would consume the small grave.

 

Better be with nature than fight it, Wufei decided.

 

He stepped forward, and placed two, long stemmed roses before the tomb. A raven cawed in the distance as though approving, and Wufei gave one last look at the tomb before all five stepped away, back to the bustling streets of Brussels before bidding their farewells. He then walked back to their home, mitten-covered fingers clasped with Heero's.

 

---------------------

 

Endnotes: I would like to state that there was no previous 13x5 in this ficlet. Treize was simply an important figure to Wufei, nothing more. Yes, just wanted to get that clear. Also, on the homemade bombs, yes, you can create potentially dangerous bombs with dry ice in a soda can. Do not try this at home. A couple of stupid honor kids in my city did, and now they're in jail. So. Read, review, offer to be beta, you know the drill. Thanks for reading! (: