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"Without Virtue"Written By: Clara Barton Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following
is an intellectual exercise with no intention of profit. That said,
these characterizations, words, and situations are mine. Please ask
before reprinting. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Drama, angst, Character Death, violence,
gore, language, drug use, language, yaoi sex, het sex, language, AU Pairings: 2xSolo, 6x3, 1x2x3, 5xM, 5x H, 4x S,
4x R, 13x 6, 13x?, probably a few more as well. Summary: "When virtue has slept it arises invigorated." - Nietzsche. A darktale of violence, lust, and vengeance in a city without justice.
" Without Virtue"
He hadn't been back to the cemetery since the day of her funeral, but that evening when Wufei left work he got off the subway and navigated his way through the fields of cement blocks until he found hers. Meilin Long. The tombstone was small – her family hadn't been able to afford anything larger and they had shaken off Wufei's attempts to purchase a better, larger plot and more fitting marker for the dead woman – that it was easy to overlook. Wufei crouched down beside it. Someone had visited recently – there was a small bunch of fresh white flowers at the base of the stone. "I hate you," he whispered. "I hate what you've done to me." Only the distant rustle of fallen leaves answered him. If only she hadn't been so stupid and so weak – if only she had listened to him and kept clear of the tangled web that OZ and Romefeller and Barton had spun around this city. But she hadn't. She had never been able to mind her own business and she had always cared too damned much about everything. The end result had been a slow, painful death in the L5 subway terminal. Wufei didn't have all of the details from her autopsy, but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that she had been bleeding to death while he was in the station, coming home that night. Her death had done something to him – not inspired him so much as broken something in him. He no longer cared, about much of anything, except for getting rid of the feelings of rage and desperation that had burrowed deep inside of him. He had to exorcise them. But every action he took only seemed to add fuel to the fire that burned in the pit of his soul. He rose to his feet, resisting the petty urge to stomp on the flowers, and turned away. He vowed not to return. Wufei walked back to the subway terminal, but instead of taking the train to L5 he waited for the next one to L4. He still had no idea why he had been summoned to Quatre Winner's home for dinner and he was irritated that he had had only a day's notice – he had had to cancel a meeting and a previous dinner engagement for this. Although he had grown up wealthy and pampered even, by Meilin's standards, Wufei's family was very far down the social ladder from the Winners'. A fact that was hammered into Wufei's skull when the taxi he summoned at the train terminal pulled up the drive in front of the palatial home that was one of Winner's smaller properties. Wufei paid the driver and got out of the taxi so he could glare at the monument to wealth more closely. He supposed the Winners' weren't evil – not like Dermail or Catalonia or even Barton – but there was no denying the fact that they had amassed their vast fortune by the failure of others. Early in his career at The Daily News, Wufei had been assigned to the financial beat, and he had printed story after story about the shady dealings of Winner Inc. and the meteoric rise of their stock after Quatre Winner took financial control of his father's empire. Later, Wufei had interviewed Zayeed Winner on numerous occasions, first when he was elected as City Councilmen and then during his mayoral campaign. He had seemed like a genuinely respectful, honest man. His son, on the other hand, aside from having questionable business practices was a drunk and a hedonist. A month ago the blonde man had been convicted of assault charges against Treize Khushrenada, the DA, and while a small part of Wufei had cheered to see the bruise on that smug bastard's jaw, a larger part of him thought this was just further evidence that Winner completely lacked self-control or personal worth. He had avoided jail time, of course, by paying a hefty fine and engaging in community service. And now he wanted to have dinner with Wufei.
The interior of the estate was just as sparkling with money as the outside, and as Wufei followed the butler, Rashid, into the library for pre-dinner cocktails he didn't bother to hide his irritation or disgust. This is what these people do, he thought sourly as he stepped into the room. They eat and they drink and they close their eyes. Quatre Winner stood by one of the room's tall windows, framed in the early evening glow of the setting sun, but he turned at the sound of Wufei's footsteps and offered the man a broad smile. "Ah, hello! You must be Wufei Chang." Quatre walked over and extended one pale, perfectly manicured hand. Wufei reluctantly shook it. "My father spoke very highly of you," Quatre said, still smiling, his eyes looking clear and his steady bearing suggesting that he wasn't drunk. Not yet, Wufei added to himself. The downward spiral of the Winner heir was no secret, and while Wufei discouraged The Daily News from printing too much society gossip even he hadn't been able to keep Quatre's more fantastic exploits out of the paper. Not that he had wanted to, either. "I can't say that I'm too big a fan of yours, of course," Quatre continued, clearly feeling it unnecessary for Wufei to contribute to the conversation, "since you seemed to make it your personal mission to discredit me and my business acumen for a solid year." Wufei shrugged, unapologetic. "Will your fiancé be joining us?" He wondered if that was the purpose of this dinner – had he been summoned to help control the press regarding the highly anticipated break-up of the golden couple? Quatre shuddered. "God, I hope not." Despite his resolve to hate everything about the man, his comment made Wufei chuckle. Quatre's disdain for his future bride was more than apparent on any of the news or gossip scrolls, but more than that, Wufei felt a strong personal loathing for the woman who simply did not seem to exist in the reality of Sanc's corrupt city streets. The blonde man looked on the verge of saying something, but the butler returned again followed by another man. Wufei frowned as he looked over the newcomer. He was dressed head to toe in black – black suit, black dress shirt, even a black tie – but the most striking things about him were his long braid of brown hair draped over one shoulder and his sharp, distrustful indigo eyes that seemed to skewer both Wufei and Quatre. "Evening, gents," he said and walked into the room, hands shoved into his pockets, completely ignoring the hand Quatre held out to him. "Duo Maxwell, I'm very glad you accepted my invitation," Quatre said, recovering from the other man's disinterest in being polite. The braided man shrugged. "Sure, I had to eat anyway – right?" His accent and mannerisms labeled him as a native of the L2 quarter, and Wufei had to swallow his revulsion. Street trash – and clearly too stupid to feel ashamed of himself. What on earth was Quatre doing inviting Wufei and a gutter rat to dinner? "Who're you?" Duo asked with a jerk of his head in Wufei's direction. "Wufei Chang," he snapped and stood to his full height. He might not be able to compete with Winner over pedigree, but he was certainly better than this scum. Duo smirked. "You work for The Daily News, huh?" "I'm an assistant editor," Wufei corrected. Duo nodded. "Assistant. Yeah. Sounds about right." Wufei opened his mouth to point out that an assistant editor was an incredibly prestigious job for someone his age, but the laughter in Duo's eyes silenced him. He snapped his jaw shut. "I'm not sure how much it means, now, but I wanted to offer my condolences on the death of Solo Ford," Quatre suddenly spoke up. Duo's eyes went from amused to glacial in a heartbeat. He whirled around to glare at the blonde man. Wufei frowned – the name was familiar, but it took him a moment to place it. Ford had been one of the many Sanc police killed over the last year in mysterious circumstances. He had had numerous interviews with Catalonia over the dead cops – Catalonia insisting that each death could be linked to a single individual despite all evidence to the contrary – but Wufei hadn't wanted to put any of the toxic stories in print. "And to you," Quatre added, turning to Wufei, "for Meilin Long's death." Wufei felt a bit of the other man's rage now. How dare this man – this boy with no problems in his life – say her name? "Yeah, well, I'm sorry about your Dad," Duo muttered after a moment. "Him getting mugged in L2 – bad shit like that doesn't happen in my quarter." Wufei couldn't help but laugh. "Bad shit like that doesn't happen? Just the other shit – girls sold into sexual slavery, crack cocaine dealing and gun manufacturing? Gang wars and murdered cops? That other shit isn't bad?" Duo's eyes narrowed. "Winner had no business in L2, but no one in L2 had any beef with him. We didn't kill him." Wufei snorted. "As if anyone would believe that. He was mugged and –" "I believe you," Quatre said quietly. "I know he wasn't killed by an ordinary street punk." His word choice seemed to irritate Duo, but the braided man just rolled his shoulders. "Anyway, that fancy invitation said something about dinner? Was that just a trick to get me here so we could sing Kumbaya or is there really food somewhere?" Wufei snarled at the man's complete lack of manners and tact. "Yes, of course, but we have two more guests joining us and –here they are." Rashid was back again, this time flanked by two men. Like Wufei, they were dressed in business suits – the taller, auburn haired man in a navy suit and red tie that somehow leant him an air of patriotism that Wufei found repellent; the slightly shorter, darker haired man wore a charcoal gray suit and a blue tie that emphasized the intense, dark blue of his eyes. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but Wufei couldn't place his face with a name. "Gorgeous Number One and Gorgeous Number Two!" Duo exclaimed. "Now it really is a party!" Quatre looked mildly dismayed by the man's enthusiasm for the newcomers. "You… know each other?" Quatre asked. "Intimately," Duo promised with a wink. "Ugh." Wufei didn't bother to hide his irritation or disgust. Duo turned on him with narrowed eyes. "You got a problem with me, errand boy?" Wufei's fists clenched at his sides. "I am not –" "Dinner is served, Master Quatre," Rashid interrupted smoothly. "Excellent," Quatre said with a bright smile. "Let's move this discussion to the dining room." "Good," Duo agreed with a smirk in Wufei's direction. "Nothing like adding knives to a discussion to liven things up." Quatre went pale.
Once they were seated at the table – Quatre at the head, with Duo to his immediate right, Wufei to his left with the taller man on his other side and the shorter man beside Duo – Quatre picked up the introductions again. "Heero Yuy, Trowa Barton, welcome to my home." "Officer Trowa Barton," Duo corrected, and there was a hint of anger in his voice that had Quatre frowning. But the green eyed, auburn haired man just regarded Duo steadily. "I should be grateful for your timing, I suppose," the man mused, "if you'd struck the Academy a few months sooner you'd have killed me too." Duo's entire body stilled and his eyes froze. "It wasn't him," Heero Yuy spoke up from Duo's side, his deep, quiet voice seeming to resonate in the absolute silence of the room. Trowa arched one eyebrow. "Really?" "He was with me last night. All night." Quatre's face flushed at the obvious implication of that statement, and the look in Trowa's eyes turned speculative. "Curious, though, how you happened to be on the scene so quickly," Duo pointed out, his eyes still disturbingly flat. "I was in the right place at the right time," Trowa suggested. Duo laughed bitterly. "Yeah, you seem to have a talent with that. So why didn't you blow it up sooner – you could have gotten even more publicity as the cadet who bravely tried to save his –" "Innocent people died last night," Trowa bit out. "People who weren't involved in this. Not yet. I knew them. They were children. They hadn't made their choice yet. They were human." There was pure agony in Trowa's green eyes. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees and the tension was thick enough that even Wufei felt his pulse speed up. "I know," Duo agreed quietly. A look passed between the two men, and by some unspoken agreement they relaxed minutely. Quatre met Wufei's gaze and arched one golden eyebrow. He knew. The look in Quatre's eyes clearly said that he knew. "They weren't children," Wufei snapped. "Only one of them was seventeen, and he was due to turn eighteen in three days. Every single man and woman in that facility knew exactly what it meant to be a cop in Sanc. It was a preemptive strike – to keep them from –" "You sick son of a bitch," Duo breathed and a murderous look filled his eyes. Quatre reached out to still Wufei's hand when he reached for his gun. "No," he commanded. "No," he repeated when Duo started to reach for his own weapon. Something in Quatre's tone must have convinced him, because the L2 thug reluctantly sat back down. "We have all committed regrettable acts," Quatre said once they were seated again. "No one at this table can judge anyone else – and no one not at this table can judge us." Wufei frowned at the words. "The city of Sanc is a dark, twisted place without justice or hope. Our leaders and our protectors are completely without virtue. My father had a vision for this city, a dream that one day we could rise above the corruption and give the people of this city a chance to live in freedom and in peace." Duo's upper lip curled at the words. "My father was wrong," Quatre continued, surprising everyone at the table. "We cannot defeat this disease by rising above. We have to fight this war on their playing field, we have to combat their attacks, and we have to defeat their soldiers, their plans, and their dreams. We have to crush them so completely that no one will ever want to be part of Romefeller or OZ or Barton again. We can't win this fight with pretty speeches and political rallies. Blood is the only way to end this." Duo arched an eyebrow. "Tell that to your girlfriend, will you? I'm bored as shit listening to her ramble on and on about brotherhood." Quatre shook his head. "Believe me, I've tried." "Why are we here?" Heero asked suddenly. "The enemies of Sanc are powerful and rich and organized. Each of us has been doing our best, on our own, to fight them, and it's gotten us nowhere. We've lost people we care about and we've lost our way. The only chance we have of defeating them is by working together." Duo sniffed and leaned back in his chair. "I'm not into team sports. Unless we're talking about sex, in which case…" he trailed off and gave both Heero and Trowa lascivious winks. "I work alone," Heero said bluntly. "I can't afford to be connected to any of you," Trowa added. "I don't need partners," Wufei snarled. Quatre steepled his fingers in front of his face and regarded them with narrowed eyes. Eventually, he leaned back in his seat. "Winner Incorporated is valued in the billions. I have more personal wealth than any citizen in this city – more than Deikim Barton, more than Treize Khushrenada, more than Edward Noventa. I have Sanc police on my payroll and I have informants from every quarter of this city providing me with intel on a daily basis. I could build my own personal army and go after Romefeller and OZ and Barton on my own." "Then why don't you?" Wufei suggested. "Because I would win, and I would become them. I would become the villain, and that is too high a price to pay. I need you four because you won't let that happen, and because you need each other to keep the same thing from happening to you." He sighed. "If you won't accept my invitation willingly, then I'm afraid our alliance will have to be a little more iron clad." "What the hell are you talking about?" Duo demanded, but Quatre looked past him to Heero. "I know you were the one who killed my father and Relena's father. I have bank statements to your accounts that can be linked to the dates and I have two eyewitnesses who, with the right amount of leverage, could accurately describe you in a courtroom. Not only do you owe me this, but if you don't work with me I will see to it that you are executed." Wufei didn't know what he had been expecting the blonde man to say, but it certainly wasn't that. It was clear that no one else at the table had been prepared for this Machiavellian scheme, either. Quatre turned to Wufei. "Not only do I have surveillance footage of you planting the explosives at the Academy, but I have reports of a man matching your description tied to the murders of twelve drug dealers from the Core. I have absolutely no problem turning that evidence over to the Sanc police, who, I am sure, will be more than happy to sentence you to a very, very painful death." Next he turned to Trowa. "I know everything about your family history. I know who your sister is and where she is. If you help me, then I will guarantee her safety and I will see to it that she starts a new life, far from Sanc, far from Deikim." Lastly, he looked back at Duo. "You need me, just as much as I need you," Quatre pointed out. "You need my resources and I need your…" "Ruthless creativity," Duo supplied with a smirk in Trowa's direction. Quatre's lips twitched into a smile. "Yes. I have nothing to blackmail you with and I have nothing to offer you – you don't want my money, there's no one I can protect for you, and I can't offer you revenge for the deaths of those you have lost." Quatre gestured to the now cold food in front of them. "I'm sorry to have kept you from your meals and I'm afraid I've lost my appetite." "Blackmail will do that," Trowa murmured. Quatre frowned. "I wasn't threatening your sister's life," he clarified, "simply offering the chance to protect her." "If we become your puppets," Trowa pointed out. "You're asking me to trade one master for another. You haven't threatened to hurt her, but you haven't stepped in to save her, either. How much effort would it even take? A few hundred thousand dollars – at the most? – to buy her from Deikim and set her up in a new city. Maybe a few days, two men you trusted… that's all it would take. Yet only my cooperation will buy that from you." Quatre looked completely unapologetic. "Unfortunately, that's the world we live in." "You are one cold mother fucker," Duo said with a whistle. Quatre arched an eyebrow at him. "You pretend to be any different?" "Nah," Duo agreed. "I'd do the same – he would too," Duo said with a nod in Trowa's direction, "if our positions were reversed. Doesn't change the fact that all of us want to kill you right now, though." Quatre nodded. "Which is why I don't expect any of you to give me an answer now. Please, think over my offer. You have twenty-four hours to let me know." With that, Quatre rose from the table and left the room. "This is your fault," Duo said and pointed a finger in Wufei's direction. "Not only did you interrupt my first chance to get laid in months, but that little stunt you pulled sets back everything I've been working on. Sanc police are going to be all over my ass now. They're going to bring the hammer down on L2 and the whole city is about to experience a whole new world of pain." "Good. Maybe it will inspire all of the weaklings into action." "They can't act," Trowa snapped angrily. "And this won't inspire anyone. It will only terrify the population into bowing down to Romefeller even more." "Maybe, maybe not," Heero mused. "It proved that they are weak – OZ and Romefeller couldn't even protect their own Academy. Were you on duty today?" Trowa nodded. "And? How shaken up were the Sanc cops? It's one thing to have a madman claiming he will kill any crooked cop –" "A madman? You say the sweetest things," Duo muttered. "-but these weren't crooked cops. They were innocent men and women whose potential association with OZ sentenced them to death." Trowa frowned slightly. "There was a lot of hysteria, but I don't know if that is just temporary or if it will last." "Wait a second, how do you two know each other?" Duo asked, waving a finger between Trowa and Heero. "We've had a few late night rendezvous," Heero said. "He a fan of milk and cookies, too?" "Something like that." "We've also worked together in a more… official capacity," Trowa pointed out. Duo raised his eyebrows. "I work in the Sanc IT department," Heero informed him. "I set up security firewalls for municipal officials and I investigate digital fraud." "That sounds really fucking boring," Duo said, a stricken look on his face. Wufei frowned as he realized where he had seen Heero before. The day after Meilin's death an IT guy from the City had come by to collect the hard drive from Meilin's computer. Unfortunately for the IT guy, Wufei had come in to work four hours early, after learning about her death, and erased everything on her computer after making copies for himself. Heero had been the IT guy. With a frustrated sigh, Wufei stood. The other three men looked at him with identical, wary expressions. "I don't need any of you," he decided and left.
Ever since Meilin's death, Wufei's nightly routine had significantly altered. It wasn't until now, eight months after her death, that Wufei realized just what an integral part of his life she had become. Even though he had insisted that she didn't move in, they had spent nearly every night together – fighting and screwing – and without her Wufei was completely alone. When he had recovered her hard drive after her death Wufei had discovered that Meilin was not only an idiot but an instigator as well – she had created The Nightly News. The only paper in all of Sanc that dared to print the truth about the vice and corruption that had crippled the city. The very paper that was responsible for Meilin's death. His first instinct had been to delete every piece of information about the paper and her informants, but something… the same driving force that put him on this crusade in the first place, made him decide to continue her work. He didn't have her connections or her passion for the underdog, but his long standing reputation for refusing to embroil The Daily News in stories about the greed and corruption of Sanc officials meant that he had working relationships with those very same officials that gave him access to confidential information. Information he now wasted no time in leaking to the general public. Those same stories he had always sneered over when Meilin presented them were now what occupied his mind and his fingers in the late hours of every night and the early hours of the morning. But even that – typing until his fingers were numb and his eyes burned – wasn't enough to put out the fire. Nothing was.
"Wufei, you do understand that these sessions are court mandated? And that your refusal to cooperate is the reason why they have been scheduled to be weekly instead of monthly?" "Wufei." It was an effort, but he made himself focus on the woman and her insistent voice. Dr. Sally Po came highly recommended, and after Wufei had attacked a co-worker four months ago for calling Meilin a stupid cunt he had been sentenced to community service and, as Po never ceased to remind him, therapy sessions so he could learn to manage his anger and move past his psychological issues with Meilin's death. It didn't matter to Wufei how highly recommended Po was, nothing the woman could possibly say to him did anything to alleviate the fire and she certainly hadn't earned his respect. "I heard you," he informed her through gritted teeth. She arched one eyebrow at his tone. "Do you feel guilt over her death? Is that what motivates your –" "I feel nothing over her death," Wufei interrupted, tired of these questions. The same questions she asked every week. "Her death had nothing to do with me." A hard look came into Po's blue eyes. "Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind," she quoted. Wufei scowled. The words were familiar. "John Donne," Po supplied. "And while I'm sure you strongly disagree with the concept that no man is an island, surely you realize that you are connected to every person in this city – and that you were connected to Meilin very strongly. Her death had everything to do with you. Until you can acknowledge that, until you can move past it, there is absolutely nothing I can do to help you." "In that case, can I go?" Po held his gaze for a long moment and then sighed. "Yes. Our time is almost up in any case." Wufei stood up and sneered. "Do us both a favor and tell the judge that I'm healthy enough to stop coming to these sessions," he suggested. "Wufei, I am not the enemy. It is my job to help you, and I want to do that. You just have to let me." "I don't want your help, and I certainly don't need it." He opened her office door and stepped out into the waiting room, tripping over someone in the process. It was on the tip of his tongue to snarl at the person, but as he regained his footing he noticed it was a petite woman with short, dark hair and red rimmed eyes. She glared at him, as though she were about to snarl at him, but they were both distracted by Po following Wufei into the hall. "We all need someone, Wufei," she said, completely unconcerned with dispensing advice in front of other people. "Even you." Po turned to look at the woman beside Wufei. "Officer Schebeker?" The woman nodded. "I'm Dr. Po, please, step into my office." The woman followed Po, but paused and looked back at Wufei just before closing the door, a concerned look in her eyes. It infuriated Wufei that a completely stranger – a cop no less – felt concern for him. But when Wufei arrived home that night he had nothing to write for The Nightly News. The fire was still there, burning hotter than ever, but instead of guiding him it was starting to consume him. Reluctantly he decided that Po wasn't wrong. He found his phone and dialed Winner's home number. "Winner Residence, this is Rashid." "This is Wufei Chang. Tell your boss that I'm in."
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