March 2000
Hi hi! Here's a serious fic. It's, as stated, a 13x5, yaoi, angsty,
sad (or at least I thought so; guess I could be wrong), AU, with
language of the nasty sort.
Feedback would be terrific, please, and thanks so much for
reading!
~TB
///blah/// is flashback; *blah* is emphasis or thoughts
Disclaimer: GW isn't mine even though I spent my last
tooth wishing for that. :(
///Treize's thumb was moving gently over his bottom lip. "Wu Fei," he rumbled, his voice deep in his chest.Wu Fei stubbornly kept his mouth shut, but the feeling of that soft finger on his sensitive skin was sending icy shivers into his gut. He kept his eyes closed.
"Wu Fei," Treize repeated. He leaned forward; Wu Fei heard the rustle of fabric accompanying the move, then felt the hot breath that the man breathed over his ear. Shocked by his reaction to that simple act, his eyes shot open in protest and so did his mouth. Immediately, Treize swooped in and kissed him deeply, tongue probing, mouth applying just enough pressure to immobilize him, eyes boring into his from centimeters away, refusing to let him go.
"Wufei?" the OZ general said one last time, releasing him. "I won't take you against your will. But I don't think I'd have to, would I?"
The boy shivered slightly.
Smiling, Treize reached out and tried to draw the Chinese pilot to him. But--the boy resisted, just enough to catch Treize's attention at first, then suddenly jerking back and unsteadily knocking Treize's hands away. "No," he said hoarsely.
Treize stared at him, disbelieving. "*No?*"
Wu Fei shuddered, fear and anger and need fighting for dominance in his dark fey eyes. "No," he pleaded.
And so, Treize sighed and stepped back. "Go away," he said. "Before I change my mind."
Wu Fei fled.///
That had been the first time. Now time and distance had come together and brought his dragon to him; absence had made the heart fonder, and memory had sweetened desire until Treize's blood sang with every whisper of the boy's movement.
Treize gazed down at the boy lying almost passively below him on the bed, still and graceful in that stillness. He wanted nothing more than to live in this moment forever. He would even foresake the moments he knew were coming--hopefully, not too far off--moments of desire, of climax, of completeness--but there was something about *this* moment, the moment where he knew for sure that Wu Fei was his, and *wanted* to be his, that made this moment more important than all the rest.
This moment, of all the moments, he knew that Wu Fei loved him.
It brought a tender smile to his lips. Gently, he traced the thin line of dirt that the boy's washing had missed, just around his jawline, then bent and kissed the thin pliant lips. The closed eyelids.
"Sit up," he commanded softly.
Wu Fei did, and together they positioned him in Treize's lap, facing him, small and slender as a willow wand and supine against the older man's chest. Treize felt the friction of the boy's golden bare skin sliding against his hardness, and his breath quickened. He tilted Wu Fei's chin up, intending to taste that warm, foreign mouth again.
Wu Fei's eyes were still closed.
Treize suddenly faltered. "Why don't you ever look at me, little dragon?"
Wu Fei shook his head. "Don't stop . . . "
"Am I ugly to you?" the general persisted. "Wu Fei, look at me!"
Even commanding him did not work. Wu Fei only shook his head again, and waited for him to continue.
*So--he does despise me, after all.* The knowledge was bitter. Treize stared down at the proud, humbled, elf awaiting his fate and was cold. *Is this submission to the enemy? To the victor? Some obscure sense of justice--* the thought twisted his mouth, and he shoved out hard, knocking Wu Fei off his lap and back onto the bed in a stunned sprawl. Treize stood and strode across the room, suddenly wanting a drink very, very badly.
"What the hell?" Wu Fei demanded, struggling up onto his elbows. "Treize!"
"Shut up, Wu Fei."
The pilot's mouth fell open. "*What?* Is this some sick idea of foreplay?" He shook his head, his hair tie finally falling off and releasing black silk in a shimmering sheet across his face. When Treize failed to reply, the boy came to him, self-conscious of his nakedness but conciliatory, leaning up against the man's back and sliding muscular arms around his waist. "Treize?"
The elegant general sighed. "Why . . . do you come here, little dragon?"
He felt the dark head lay against his back. "Because I want to be your dragon."
"Do you really?" he asked sadly.
Wu Fei's hand began a trip southward. "Of course I do."
He caught the wandering fingers and held them tightly. "I don't believe you."
"What's not to believe?"
"Look me in the eyes, damn you!"
"I'm--" He strangled, and tried again. "I'm--"
"You're what, Wu Fei?" Treize shouted. "Damn it all--"
"I'm scared!" Wu Fei screamed at him. "I'm scared, damn you! You're my enemy, and I'm afraid you'll die! I'm afraid I'll be the one who has to kill you! I'm *frightened*!" Then, as if that admission had been too much, Wu Fei collapsed sobbing into a chair, pressing his face into his hands, weeping like a broken-hearted child.
Treize stared at him, honestly shaken. Then he shook his head, wondering where his senses had fled to. He knelt beside the boy, and drew him out of the chair, onto the floor and into his arms. "Of course you are," he whispered, holding the shuddering body tightly. "Oh, my dragon--I should have seen. I'm so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"
Wu Fei whimpered, pushed at last beyond endurance. He shifted, rising to his knees, and wrapped his arms around Treize's neck, pressing his tear-stained cheek against Treize's, his mouth blindly seeking solace. "There is nothing to forgive," he choked. "Nothing, nothing--" *This* was the young man Treize knew. The one he loved.
The one that he, too, was frightened of losing.
"Come to bed, my little dragon," he whispered. "Forget this place for a while. Let me love you."
"Always." Wu Fei shivered, fresh tears streaking his cheeks. "Always, I swear this... "
Heero stared at the message blinking at him on the screen.
No. It was impossible. Not one of them.
But--the source.
Duo woke himself with a too-loud snore from where he lay dozing against the chair with his head in Heero's lap. With a cat- like sound of sleepy displeasure, he stretched, his fingers bumping Heero's chin and then curving around his neck, trying to tug him down. Heero resisted, and coldly told Duo to wake up.
"What is it?" Duo straightened somewhat, attempting to see the screen without rising. Heero was only half aware of his reactions; one moment he was straining, squinting; then he was rising to his knees, his expression darkening. He muttered something furious in English.
"The others need to see this," he said.
Heero nodded. "Go get them."
"And Wu Fei."
"No--not yet. Just Trowa and Quatre." Surprised, Duo looked at him, but then silently obeyed.
Quatre was unexpectedly grim, in the face of that message, though Trowa showed no surprise or any other emotion. "What do we do about it?" he asked quite calmly.
Duo was bleak. "He's betrayed us. There's no excuse."
Quatre seemed numb. "We can't be sure. It could be a lie. Very easily. We shouldn't--"
"We should," Heero snarled.
"No." Trowa shook his head. "Then we wouldn't be able to find out what he's told the enemy. That information will be vital to the success of Operation Meteor."
"Operation Meteor is ruined already," Duo interjected. "We may as well kiss it good-bye, because at the very least OZ knows where we are now!"
Quatre finally squared his shoulders. "Trowa's right. We need to know what Wu Fei has told them. We can figure out what to do with him from there."
"You think he's just going to meekly spill the beans, please and thank you sir?" Duo was outraged. "Q, even *you* can't believe that!"
"I think we should give him the chance," the Arabian retorted cooly. "Let's have his side of the story before we go shooting up the furniture, Shinigami."
The use of his sometimes-nickname acted like a bucket of water thrown in the American's face. Sullenly, he nodded.
Now firmly in charge, Quatre motioned for Trowa to fetch Wu Fei. Shenlong's pilot would not be able to read him, and therefore would not realise something was wrong until he saw the message for himself. Then they waited in silence, each getting a tight grip on their temper.
Wu Fei returned escorted by the Heavyarms pilot, his clothing ever-so-slightly askew, indicating that he had dressed hurriedly. He seemed annoyed to be interrupted from whatever had sequestered him in his room.
Without speaking, Quatre gestured him to the computer. They all moved back to give the other boy an unobstructed view.
Wu Fei read. His eyes widened slightly, and his golden skin paled. As he read again, then again, his hand, shaking, lifted to the screen, as if to touch the words blinking there in green, disbelieving. Then he sank into the chair.
Quatre was perhaps the only one to feel any pity for the proud boy. But his duty to the Meteor project came first. "Wu Fei," he said quietly. "I think you'd better explain."
A single tear traced a path down the ashen cheek. Damp eyes lifted to Quatre's face, then he looked at the others. Almost without voice, he said, "You're going to kill me, aren't you?"
No one answered him.
Wu Fei closed his eyes briefly, then re-read the message a final time before clearing the screen.
/To the Pilots of the Gundam Machines: There is a traitor in
your company. He has come to me for sexual favours of delightfully
graphic nature for the past several months since our first meeting. I
assure you I have found his adolescent infatuation quite amusing, and
I have held him in some affectionate regard. Time constrains us all,
however, and I'm afraid I really don't have the time for the young
Dragon anymore . . . I trust you'll see that he is adequately
rewarded for his splendid services to me.
~Treize Khushrenada/
It had all been a sick game. Wu Fei had offered his soul, and Treize had taken his honour.
He looked back at his sometimes-companions, and saw the fury and hurt and betrayal in their faces. He would find no compassion from them. And, in a curious, remote way, he was glad.
He did not deserve it. He had been a fool.
He drew a slight breath, and told them everything.
Trowa had taken the first watch over Wu Fei. The others had spoken, argued really, for a long time back in Heero's quarters. Quatre wanted leniency; Heero wanted answers; and, surprisingly, Duo was the harshest of them all. His plans for Wu Fei's punishments began with amputations at the hip, and proceded unpleasantly from there.
Quatre struggled to maintain control of the increasingly volatile tempers of the other two. Finally losing patience, he slammed a fist down on the table and shouted, "*Shut* *up*!"
Surprised, staring, Heero and Duo fell absolutely silent.
"Thank you," Quatre said. He folded his hands in his lap (and massaged his aching fist under the cover of the table), and continued in a more subdued tone. "We're going too fast. We still don't know exactly what Wu Fei has told Khushrenada about us, if he's said anything at all."
"You doubt that he has?" Heero asked. He was careful not to raise his voice, impressed with Quatre's display.
"Yes, I do. Wu Fei holds his honour above everything else. Do you think he'd compromise it?"
"He slept with the enemy, didn't he?" Duo demanded bluntly.
"You want to find out what's been going on, then do it."
Heero stood. "I'm giving you til tonight. If you don't have a good case for his miserable life by then, I'm going to kill him, and none of your excuses will do him any good."
Quatre was not happy. If he had displayed his power just a moment ago, Heero was taking it all back and clapping invisible irons on the Arabian's ability to purchase Wu Fei's salvation.
Well, then--he'd just have to work a little faster than he would have liked. Trowa would help him.
"Fine," he said. Heero nodded, and left. Probably going to walk off his fury. Duo followed him without a backward glance.
Wu Fei lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He was aware of Trowa, but even if the other pilot had not been standing viligant guard, he would not have moved. He would accept whatever fate was decided for him. He had been a whore and a traitor. He deserved no less. He would have killed himself if they had given him the weapon.
Quatre came in at some point, and sat down on the edge of his cot. He said nothing. What defence could he possibly make? Even if he'd wanted to.
Finally, into the deafening silence, Quatre whispered, "Help me save you."
Wu Fei didn't blink.
"Please. I can't do it alone, Wu Fei."
He did not reply.
"Anything. Just anything that will hold them off." When only silence answered him, Quatre suddenly swore and grabbed his shoulder. "Damnit, Wu Fei! Where's the honour in waiting to die?"
"I have no honour," the pilot told him softly. Wu Fei finally looked at him; Quatre was stunned into speechlessness by the look in the black eyes. "I gave it up when I went to his bed the first time."
Those were the last words he spoke.
Treize Khushrenada lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling. His thoughts were with his dragon. In his mind's eye he loved his precious dragon one final time, saying good-bye in kisses and gentle caresses and giving up what he had no right to with soft sighs and little touches. In his mind's eye, Wu Fei understood and forgave him the gross injustice he was forced to commit, and promised him that...
That...
There was no happy ending. No "forever after and together." They had nothing that could survive the brutality of war. And that was why he had done what he had done. It was all he could do for his dragon, hurt him now so that the pain to come would not seem so bad.
It was like severing one's own right hand, and lighting the torch oneself to cauterize the wound...
Treize Khushrenada spent the night trying to convince himself that he had done the right thing.
The End
(:./erin/best)
