He looked so fragile, lying there; like a broken porcelain doll. The thick brown braid tumbling over the edge of the mattress was the strongest thing about him, the only remaining sign of the Duo that Wufei had always known. And even the braid was tattered and fraying, darkened with soot and blood, the end singed slightly.
The Chinese boy sighed as he gathered up bloodied rags and snips of bandages, tossing them in the paper bag acting as a wastebasket. There weren't many amenities in this tiny cabin -- hell, they were lucky there was running water in the bathroom, lucky there *was* a bathroom.
It was worth it, though, if they could remain undisturbed until Duo had had time to heal.
Of course, first he had to regain consciousness.
"Baka," Wufei uttered softly, his mouth twisting as he glanced over at the still figure on the bed tucked into the corner of the small room.
Wufei scowled, leaning against the wall and tugging at his lower lip as he scrutinized the American's lax, pale face. There had been no need...
The mission had been a trap, yes. They had been in trouble, true. But they'd been through worse and come out kicking. There had been absolutely no need for Duo to self destruct.
Well, *attempt* to self destruct. Wufei was beginning to suspect Dr. G had been too fond of his creation, his Shinigami. Once could have been a fluke, but twice...
He was pretty sure Dr. S had been responsible for Quatre's survival of Sandrock's self destruction. For which he couldn't blame the man. No one in their right mind would want to see Quatre die, if it could possibly be helped.
Wufei doubted Duo himself had inspired such compassion in Dr. G -- if the man even knew what that emotion was -- but the Gundam...
The machine was the masterwork; its pilot was inconsequential.
Wufei ground his teeth and shoved off from the wall. That was all wrong!
Duo Maxwell was not a Gundam pilot, unimportant and replaceable. Duo Maxwell was a pair of wide indigo-blue eyes, a long brown braid, a quick and intelligent mind. Duo Maxwell was a boy who enjoyed playing basketball and teasing his friends. Duo Maxwell was a person, with a past, a present, and -- one would hope -- a future beyond being a Gundam pilot!
If he didn't throw that future away...
"Baka. What the hell was that?" Wufei asked the unconscious boy in the bed, as he moved to stand over him, swiping at a sharp strand of blood-matted hair that had fallen in the quiet face.
Quiet.
Duo had been unusually, abnormally quiet for the past several days, even before trying to kill himself. There was something seriously wrong. Even Trowa had been visibly concerned. Quatre had commented on it anxiously to the other boys, especially after all his attempts to draw Duo into a real conversation had come to nothing. Heero had...
Heero had been unchanged. As grim and cold as ever.
Wufei scowled some more, going to the kitchen, to clean out the water bowl he had used while tending Duo's wounds and washing his body. He had to do something for that long chestnut hair. He'd never seen Duo without the braid in pristine condition, and its ragged, dirty state now was almost more disturbing than the deep bruises and many cuts adorning the American's slender limbs and torso.
Duo had failed in what had been nothing more nor less than a straight-out suicide attempt, and both he and Shinigami had been captured. Again. Only this time, it was Wufei who had volunteered to go in after the incarcerated pilot. He didn't trust Heero. The Japanese pilot had spared Duo's life once -- he wasn't likely to do so again. Especially not with that cold, distant look in his face that Wufei was learning to hate.
Heero had objected, of course. Insisted *he* do it. But Trowa had backed Wufei up, demanding Heero go with him, after Shinigami. Whether they meant to retrieve the Gundam or destroy it, Wufei didn't care. Just so long as he was allowed to go after Duo.
He'd carefully avoided declaring openly whether he was going to kill Duo or rescue him. Had merely said he would "deliver Duo to justice". That had made Heero snort. Trowa had examined him closely, then a hint of warmth had touched those green eyes as he quietly wished Wufei luck. Quatre had been frightened and nervous, worried about Duo, worried about Shinigami, worried about Trowa, worried about Wufei... His wide eyes had begged silently for Wufei to get Duo out alive, as he'd been dragged away to his Gundam by Trowa.
Wufei had tried to look impassive, but hadn't been able to keep from giving the young blonde a quick wink when he knew Heero and Trowa weren't looking. It had been worth it, to see that soft face light up in relief. Quatre cared too much, but caring too much was often better than caring too little.
Wufei returned to the tiny bedroom with the bowl of steaming water and placed it on the tiny shelf beside the bed. It almost felt like sacrilege to unravel Duo's braid...
Wufei had never seen Duo's hair loose, though obviously it had to happen sometimes. It must be an intensely private thing, though. He wondered if Heero had ever tugged away the band, as Wufei was doing now -- the charred elastic crumbling in his hand -- if he had ever run his fingers through the long locks; encrusted with blood and soot at the moment, but normally smooth and glowing with health and vitality.
He doubted it. He didn't think Heero had a romantic bone in his body. Was the Japanese pilot even able to appreciate true beauty? He'd used Duo, but had he ever really understood what he had held in his arms?
Wufei chewed on his lower lip as he struggled with the knots of dried blood in Duo's hair, trying not to tug too hard, even though the other boy was deeply unconscious, careful not to pull loose any more strands than he absolutely had to.
What Heero and Duo did in their spare time was not his business.
That Duo was starving for the affection Heero so obviously could not give... was none of his concern!
So why did his stomach ache every time he saw the hurt in those deep indigo-blue eyes? Why did the thought of Heero's hands on Duo's body make him feel...
Jealous?
He figured that must be what this stinging bitterness was. He'd never felt jealousy before, always having been the best, the strongest, the most intelligent. He'd felt shame, when Treize had defeated him. Had felt a sharp sort of sorrow, when he first saw the beauty of the relationship between Trowa and Quatre. But he didn't think he'd ever been jealous of Treize's prowess, or the other pilots' love. Treize was someone he could beat, once he'd trained more. Trowa and Quatre... were enjoying the chance he and Nataku had been denied. He was happy for them, even while it made his heart ache to see them together.
But the bile he felt when he saw Duo fawning on Heero, and Heero turning coldly away...
That had to be jealousy.
Wufei was too intelligent to lie to himself. He was jealous, and it angered him to see Duo treated so. He respected Heero as a soldier -- the perfect soldier -- and as a Gundam pilot... but that didn't mean he had to *like* him.
Quatre was innocence and optimism, and Trowa appreciated that, it was clear. He handled Quatre carefully; not like a fragile ornament that might break -- which would be doing the boy a disservice -- but like Wufei might handle a fine sword. A blade that must be taken care of, with a beauty that must be noticed, but which also must be used to the best of its abilities.
Duo had the same open heart and trusting nature that Quatre had, only without the innocence.
Wufei smirked as he grabbed the soap out of the large duffel bag he'd brought, and attacked Duo's damp mass of tangles. Innocent was something Duo most definitely was *not*.
But he was ever-cheerful, always ready to help his friends, whether it was with a physical difficulty, or working through the bouts of gloom that struck everyone at times -- even Quatre. When the killing got too much, when the running and hiding and being hated began to wear on them, there was Duo with a jibe and a crooked grin, the humor in his bright eyes driving the worst of the pain away. He was so often the brunt of anger, but he accepted it, and continued to offer happiness in return for hurt. Never did he reveal any doubts he might feel behind his jester's mask. Duo was Duo, and could be counted on to be the same no matter the situation.
No one else seemed to realize how very much he was doing for them. Even Wufei had not seen it himself until recently. But when the unnatural silence had struck, a week ago, the mask shattered, *then* the others had noticed.
Well, Trowa and Quatre. Heero was oblivious, and was probably, Wufei thought bitterly, the *cause* of Duo's silence. Not that he had any proof of that, but Duo had never made any secret of his feelings for the pilot of Wing Gundam, and what else could have wounded him so deeply, so completely that he would try to take his own life?
"Baka," Wufei grunted, draping Duo's soapy hair over a towel and taking the bowl to the kitchen to refresh the water. The floor beside the bed was by now awash with blood-stained suds, but it had looked pretty bad to begin with. Wufei refilled the bowl and returned to the bedroom, moving to carefully rinse Duo's hair.
Idiot. Heero wasn't worth dying for. Love wasn't worth killing oneself over.
But that was Duo. He *felt* everything. He didn't just live life; he experienced it.
Wufei shook his head.
"Baka."
It took three bowls of water before Duo's hair was clean, and then Wufei spent over an hour combing out the tangles. But he didn't have anything better to do while he waited for Duo to regain consciousness. Nataku was hidden safely a few miles away, and the other pilots had no way of finding them. Wufei didn't want anyone disturbing Duo until he was recovered, and he wouldn't put it past Heero to try to finish the job OZ had begun. Quatre, he trusted. Trowa, he was pretty sure he trusted. But Heero...
No, best to hide out here. This was going to require more than a healing of Duo's battered body -- Wufei was going to have to see what he could do about his friend's broken spirit.
Finally finished with Duo's long hair, Wufei braided it once more. It still felt wrong to be handling it, especially without Duo's permission, but what choice did he have?
Casting about for a band, he cursed. He'd packed some clothing, a large first aid kit, and the soap and towels in the duffel bag, but he hadn't thought to bring anything so cosmetic as hairbands.
Well, simply solved. He tugged the band from his own straight hair and tied off the end of Duo's braid. There! Not as good a job as Duo did himself, but it would hold.
Now Duo was clean and patched up, his braid gleaming healthily once more, but Wufei was soaked with blood-tinged water, his white pants stained pink in several places, and the bruises he'd picked up while rescuing the pilot of Shinigami were beginning to make their presence known.
"Itai!" He stood and stretched, then blew irritably at the strands of fine hair that fell in his face, causing his nose to tickle. Now he remembered why he wore it in a ponytail!
Too late now, though. It was time to grab a change of clothes and the bar of soap, and go see if the wimpy generator powering this cabin would give him enough hot water to fill the rust-stained tub in the bathroom.
"Don't go anywhere," he cautioned Duo, then couldn't help but laugh a little at his lame attempt at a joke.
How long had it been since he'd last slept?
"Gods, I must be nuts."
Wufei jerked awake instantly as his patient stirred. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. He was slumped in the one chair the cabin boasted, since the bed was too small to hold two comfortably. Especially when one was badly injured.
The Chinese boy sat up straight, then groaned as his back protested the movement. He was *sore*! That would teach him to drift off while sitting on hard wooden chairs.
Dragging his loose hair out of his face, he watched Duo's thick lashes twitch, his face contorting with pain, as he slowly struggled into wakefulness. The air was chill, and the only light was the faded red of late sunset that crept in through the window, casting an eerie tint across Duo's pale cheeks, like a thin wash of blood.
Wufei shivered and stood, fumbling with the lamp sitting on the tiny table, then pulling the shutters to over the window. Now it was enclosed and stuffy, but it was more comfortable. The lamp cast golden light through the room and the dark, unfriendly night was shut outside, where it belonged.
Wufei sat once more, wishing he had his jacket. But Duo had bled over the white cloth so badly that he'd had to discard it. He was lucky he'd thought to pack a change of clothes, actually.
A deep frown line creased between Duo's brows, and with an ultimate struggle, he managed to crack his eyes open, the pupils so dilated that they almost appeared as black as Wufei's own eyes. He moaned in pain and tried to throw an arm over his face, then yelped as he discovered that hurt even worse.
"Baka!" Wufei snapped in exasperation, hating to see Duo hurting without being able to do anything about it. "Lie still!"
Duo did so, but more because he was too weak to move than that he had actually heard Wufei's words or had any tendency to obey. He lay, slowly blinking up at the shadowed ceiling, giving his eyes time to adjust to the light, giving his battered body a chance to settle into the pain.
"I'm alive," he finally croaked, still staring blankly upwards.
Wufei scowled. He hadn't thought he'd earn himself Duo's gratitude with his rescue, but was the idiot still so set on killing himself? "Hai."
"I'm alive." The dark eyes slanted over to glare at Wufei accusingly, the pale face pulling tight.
Wufei stared back silently, then cursed and shoved away a thick sweep of black hair that fell to obscure his sight. "You're not dead!" he snapped, beginning to lose his patience. Not that he'd ever had much to start with.
Duo's face twisted bitterly. "I'm already dead."
Before he could think, Wufei was beside the bed, his palm stinging from the sharp slap he'd just administered to Duo's face. "You think like that and I'll kill you myself!" he snarled gutturally.
Duo slowly moved his head from where the force of the blow had turned it on the pillow to gaze up at Wufei, his cheek a glaring red, but his eyes quiet and sad. "You promise?"
"Baka yarou! You're hopeless!" Wufei was furious. But it wasn't Duo he was angry at. Not entirely, at any rate. If he had his sword and Heero here right now, he'd be knee-deep in blood, he was certain of it.
"Hope is for the living."
Wufei raised his hand again, and noted with relief that this time Duo flinched a little. He lowered his fist slowly. This wasn't a time for violence. The easiest course was not always the best.
"Think what you will. I'm going to get us something to eat." He turned away. "And don't even think of getting up, or I'll beat you so badly you'll really wish you *were* dead!"
Duo snorted at that, a slight hint of humor in the sound. Wufei glanced back through his unbound hair. Duo was smiling at him, a strange look on his face.
"Nani?" he inquired.
"Nothing." Duo closed his eyes, but he was still smiling, and it was a real, genuine smile. "Nothing at all."
Wufei rolled his eyes, then proceeded to the tiny kitchen.
There wasn't much by way of cooking equipment, but he'd found a small gas range in the cupboard, and it was enough to heat the cans of soup he'd brought along. He'd have to go to the nearest town for supplies tomorrow, but this was enough to get them through the night.
As for something to drink... He didn't think alcohol was good for wounds, but he thought Duo might appreciate the Scotch he'd brought along. And there was plenty of water in the sinks.
Grabbing the bottle and leaving the soup to simmer, he returned to the bedroom.
"Whatthefuckareyoudoing?!?" he demanded, dropping the Scotch and jumping across the small room as Duo staggered beside the bed, nearly falling. He grabbed the other boy, and winced as Duo gave a muffled cry of pain. "You've got a broken leg, you idiot! You are *not* Heero Yuy, the perfect soldier! What the hell are you trying to do to yourself?!"
"Gomen," Duo gritted out from between clenched teeth. "But I had to..." He suddenly blushed. "I gotta use the bathroom."
"Oh." Wufei calmed down. "Why didn't you say so before?"
"Didn't notice," Duo grunted, as Wufei helped him limp slowly, ever so slowly across the room. "'Sides, you didn't give me much chance to say anything."
Wufei snorted. "You were wallowing in self-pity. I'm not going to put up with that shit."
"Oh."
Once bodily functioned had been taken care of, Duo had been safely ensconced back in bed, and the soup saved from scorching, Wufei grabbed a couple of mugs, then went about getting himself and Duo fed.
"Where are the others?" Duo asked, leaning painfully against the pillows and holding his mug in hands that shook wildly.
Wufei shrugged. "I don't know."
Duo raised a brow, then winced as he discovered that hurt. "What are we doing here?"
"Hiding out until you're healed."
Duo blinked, sipping carefully at his soup. "Uh..."
Wufei fidgeted on the hard chair. "Look, I'm sure the others are fine. I just don't think it's a good idea to contact them right now. There's nothing you can do until you're stronger, and you'll need someone to look out for you until then. We'd just get in their way."
"Have you contacted them?" Duo's voice was soft, barely audible.
Wufei grimaced, but couldn't lie. "No..."
"Quatre must be worried," Duo mused.
Wufei glared at him, but the American boy was staring into his soup. It seemed he was truly concerned, not just trying to make Wufei feel guilty.
"As long as they know nothing has happened to Nataku, they'll know we're okay."
"Mm." Duo blinked, then looked up, frowning. "Wufei, what about Shinigami?"
Wufei stared back blankly. "I am *not* contacting them, and that's final."
Uncharacteristically, Duo accepted that silently and lapsed into something too somber to be called a sulking fit.
Wufei grimaced and retrieved Duo's mug. The boy hadn't finished even half of it, but he was obviously too far gone now to eat any more. Besides, they only had one set of sheets; Wufei didn't want to risk Duo spilling the soup on himself.
He dumped the mugs carelessly in the sink and made sure the gas was off, then returned to the bedroom. Duo was curled up, already asleep again, his braid clutched tightly in one hand.
Wufei picked up the Scotch from where he'd dropped it, and tucked it back into the duffel bag. If Duo's pain got too bad it was there, but otherwise it'd probably be best not to break it open. Wufei wasn't sure what effect alcohol would have on his body, as he'd never tried drinking any, and he wasn't in any hurry to find out.
He sighed, glancing at the bed mournfully. There would be room there for two if they were cozy, but he and Duo were *not* cozy. And he wouldn't want to risk aggravating Duo's wounds anyway, even if they had been.
Dragging an extra blanket -- thin, but better than nothing -- out of the bag, he grumbled his way into a little ball on the floor. He'd had worse berths, but not by much.
"Soon's you're well enough, we're taking turns in the bed," he growled at the limp white hand hanging over the edge of the mattress above him.
Duo answered him with a quiet snore.
"Baka."
Wufei woke up with a dreadful crick in his neck. "Itai." He'd have to steal a futon or something -- at *least* a pillow -- when he went to town today!
He sat up, shivering fiercely at the cold air and the colder floor. He was *freezing*! He rummaged desperately through the bag he'd brought, but he'd exhausted it of its few useful contents the night before. When he'd packed for this mission he'd had to pack light, to avoid suspicion from his fellow pilots, and had concentrated mostly on the first aid kit and... well, that was it. The two sets of extra clothing, the towel and soap, a comb, the soup, the Scotch, the two blankets... Those had been afterthoughts, had barely fit.
Well, he had a little money, and whatever he couldn't buy, he could steal. Stealing wasn't very honorable, but neither was starving to death in a remote cabin.
He wrapped the blanket tightly about him. Not that it did much good -- Duo had the thick one. Of course, he needed it more. Wufei was a real man, he could take the cold! That didn't mean he liked it, but he could take it. Duo was badly wounded, and needed...
Ah, hell.
Wufei sighed and struggled to his feet, then draped the extra blanket over Duo, who was sleeping fitfully, his brow creased in pain. Duo needed the blanket a lot more than he did.
Wufei took a moment to watch Duo sleep, knowing it was weakness, but unable to help himself. He so seldom got a chance to look at Duo -- really *look* -- without fearing being caught by the others. And Duo was so seldom unguarded. Even in his lightest moments he kept his mask firmly in place; always cheerful, always happy, always... Duo.
But Wufei wasn't fooled. He wore his own mask, after all. So did Trowa. Even Heero did. Quatre was the only truly open one of the five boys, although Duo was closer than the other three.
Duo frowned more deeply, shifting slightly, then flinching as the move jarred his broken leg.
Before he thought, Wufei reached down and lightly brushed Duo's bangs back from his pale, sweat-dampened forehead. Duo's face relaxed a little, and a soft sigh escaped his parted lips.
Wufei couldn't help himself. He lightly traced the delicate curve of Duo's upper lip, then trailed across the full lower lip, watching his own sturdy, bronze finger moving over the pale, pink-tinged flesh with a strange fascination. Duo was so beautiful, and he wasn't even aware of this fact, which made his perfection even more alluring.
"Heero..." Duo murmured, his tongue flickering out to touch Wufei's fingertip.
The Chinese boy drew his hand back as though burned, his stomach lurching. Well, what else ought he to have expected? Duo was in love with Heero, and even if Heero could not love him in return, they had been lovers. He knew there was no way in hell Duo would ever think of *Wufei* in those terms, and he'd thought he was resigned to that fact.
So why the sudden, undeniable urge to gut the pilot of Wing Gundam?
Wufei scowled, roundly chastising himself for his weakness, for caring too much. To see the true Duo, to appreciate his contributions to the group, to worry over his health... There was nothing wrong with any of that.
But to even consider--
"Wufei?"
"Eh?" He blinked, focusing on Duo's confused, sleepy face. He flushed a little, realizing he'd been staring, even if his thoughts had been elsewhere. Then he cursed and shoved handfuls of fine black hair back from his face. "That's it, I'm stealing some rubber bands!"
Duo laughed; actually laughed. Then grabbed at his ribs in pain. But his dark eyes were still sparkling with humor. "What happened to yours?"
"Baka. I used it for your braid!" Wufei snapped, still embarrassed to have been caught mooning over Duo.
"Mn?" Duo hefted his braid and stared at the unfamiliar band. "Ne, Wufei. You washed my hair?"
Wufei flushed more deeply. "Well, I--"
"Arigatou." Duo smiled sweetly up at him, then yawned widely. "I'da thought y'da c't it off," he murmured sleepily, his eyes sliding closed once more.
"NANI?!" Wufei was aghast. "To consciously destroy a thing of beauty?! Is it not enough that we must kill time and again in this gods-forsaken war, but to--"
"Oi! Wu-chan! Shut up!"
Wufei blinked at Duo. Oops. It was so easy to fall into rant-mode when he was embarrassed. Duo was grinning widely now, almost looking his old self.
"Uh..."
"You really think my hair's beautiful?" Duo asked curiously, swinging the thick strands one way then the other, watching them tumble over his knuckles.
"Wh-what did you call me?" Wufei sputtered.
Duo smirked up at him. "Ne, what's wrong with 'Wu-chan'? I think it's cute."
"You would!" Wufei turned on his heel and strode from the room, trying to quell the small part of himself that wished more than anything that Duo's teasing was serious.
He ought to be glad Duo was in a good enough mood to tease. He *was* glad.
And yet... And yet...
He got the gas burning again, setting the rest of the soup to heat. And he'd remembered to pack a small coffee machine, for a wonder, with some grounds. Thank the gods!
"Oi, Wu-chan!"
He growled and stormed to the bedroom, but his intended scolding died unspoken as he saw Duo sitting on the edge of the bed, in obvious pain.
"What are you--?"
Duo grimaced, trying to smile, though his brow was beaded with sweat. "Well, 'less you're planning to bring the toilet out here..."
"K'so..." Wufei strode over.
"Well, I can't help it!" Duo protested. "It's morning, after all!"
"I know," Wufei replied, more gently than he'd meant to, as he helped Duo to stand. Any touch hurt; Duo had cuts and bruises all over his torso and running over both arms. But this was the only way he was going to be able to make the trip to the bathroom, and he hadn't complained yet, beyond many muffled yelps and gasps of agony. Wufei hated having to hurt Duo, but they had no choice, either of them.
"Ne, Wu-chan," Duo said, once they'd gotten him resettled on the bed, eyeing the loose top and really loose breeches he was clad in. "What the hell am I wearing?"
Wufei scowled. "You didn't expect me to go rummaging through your stuff, did you? I wasn't even supposed to--" He caught himself, maybe in time. He hoped...
Duo looked up, his eyes dark. "Why didn't you leave me to die, Wufei? You'da been doing me a favor, and no one else wants--"
"Urusai!" Wufei scowled. "Don't think that way! Quatre was near frantic over you and Trowa was worried too..."
Duo's face darkened, and Wufei belatedly realized who that left.
"No one wanted you dead but you, Duo," Wufei said vehemently. Even if he wasn't completely sure of Heero's feelings on the matter... the "perfect soldier" couldn't be completely unfeeling! He couldn't possible *wish* Duo dead! Perhaps he wouldn't care as much as he should if Duo died, but not even he would desire this bright light to be extinguished!
Wufei suddenly realized his thoughts had a tendency to become disgustingly poetic where Duo was concerned. Gods, he had it bad! It wasn't supposed to be anything but comradeship... at the most, friendship! So when had he gone and done the stupidest thing in the world and fallen in love with the boy?
He had absolutely no idea.
"Wufei?" Duo queried wearily.
"Nani?" Wufei blinked, startled from his moment of introspection.
"Do I smell coffee?"
Wufei knew Duo was trying to change the subject, but he was right.
"Just a second."
It took more than a second, though, to wash the crusted soup out of the mugs. Wufei sighed. He ought to have cleaned the things out the night before.
Finally he got two mugs of strong black coffee poured. The soup would have to wait -- there had been only the two mugs in the cabin.
Duo was lying on the bed when Wufei returned, eyes closed, braid clutched tightly in his hand, obviously in a lot of pain. Wufei grimaced. He'd have to remember to pick up some painkillers while he was in town. There ought to have been some aspirin in the first aid kit, but he'd checked. Someone must have taken the bottle out earlier and not replaced it.
"Duo?"
Duo opened dark, pain-fogged eyes. "Eh?"
"Are you up to drinking your coffee?"
"Ah." Duo sat up, scrubbing at one eye with a hand, then wincing as his knuckles grazed a fresh bruise. He accepted his mug, clutching it to him as though it was something precious.
Wufei finished his own coffee in record time, burning his tongue, but not caring. "Duo, if I go to town, can I trust you not to hurt yourself while I'm gone?" he asked soberly.
Duo blinked at him innocently, then his face twisted. "Hai. It's one thing to hit the self destruct button in the heat of battle. But I don't think I'd have the guts to kill myself with a knife or gun or anything."
Wufei nodded, understanding. "I'm glad to hear it. We need more food, clothes, blankets, pain killers, fuel for the Jeep..."
Duo was nodding absently, obviously not listening. Wufei sighed, and took his mug back to the kitchen, filling it with soup.
"Here." He set it on the shelf next to the bed, where Duo could reach it without too much pain. "Be sure to eat it before it gets cold. I'll try to be back within four hours. But I may be longer."
Duo nodded, resting his head weakly against the pillow. "I'll be a good boy, papa."
Wufei cast him a disgruntled look, then unexpectedly grinned. "Glad to hear it."
End Part 1
(:./knm/time1)
