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"From the Shadows to the Light "Written By: Hemlock Inyx Category: Supernatural/Romance AU Pairings: 2x5x2 Rating: R Spoilers: Mild, if any. Warnings: OOC-ness, yaoi, vampires DISCLAIMER: This chick does not own any of the Gundam Wing characters because they belong to Bandai and Sunrise. I am borrowing them for this fict and will return them in good (if somewhat sticky) condition. I also don’t own Lynn Erickson’s Out of the Darkness, on which this fict is heavily based (well more like a fusion/translation). This fict is written out of love and not for profit, don’t sue. Thanks and enjoy! This is dedicated to: TJ Dragonblade for all her enthusathem for this fic. Thanks for being so crazy TJ. Summary: Chang Wufei had sworn revenge on the creature who had made him less than a man—had sworn to strike him down. Then he met nurse Duo Maxwell, who reawakened all the best parts of his latent humanity. But Wufei knew he was putting Duo at risk—and not only from himself. His old enemy Milliardo took an unholy interest in all Wufei’s affairs. Duo was a fighter, though. He believed in Wufei. He believed that Wufei could be cured of his "condition," that they could find a way to have a life together. But Duo hadn’t reckoned on Milliardo, who was determined to thwart Wufei—and Duo—until the end of time.
" From the Shadows to the Light "
Dressed in a tuxedo, Wufei lay on the satin coverlet of the king-size bed in the elegant stateroom. He appeared, by some trick of the light, to be a statue, with none of the tiny movements that imply life. Outside the drawn draperies the last bleak ray of sun slid below the watery horizon, and the room was bathed in twilight. Wufei's eyes opened suddenly, and there was a fully sentient gleam of deep onyx between dark lashes. He was awake. Then memory struck, and he shut his eyes again as an intense pain pulled at the smooth skin of his face. What had he done? He rose to a sitting position as if pulled by invisible strings. Duo, he thought in his first second of cognizance. Then his head jerked to one side, and he sat there for a moment as the cold hand of knowledge gripped him, but this sense of dread, this internal discovery, had nothing whatsoever to do with Duo. "Milliardo," he whispered into the bleakness of his stateroom. He was here, on the ship. He rose to his feet, propelled by an unseen force, and paced the width of the room. He should have known! He would have sensed Milliardo sooner had he not been so wrapped up in Duo and his own damnable needs! For himself it did not matter, but for Duo... This was new, this fear he felt, because it was for Duo, for a mortal he had put in dire peril—and not only from Milliardo! Where was he? A momentary panic wrapped coldly around his innards, and everything he had felt the night before came crashing back into his brain. Duo at the rail, his slender body pressed to him, the salt air stirring his hair, the searing warmth of his lips on his, the scent of him, the quick laboring of his heart against his hands the moment before he'd taken him. And the release. Oh, God, the blessed, slow release of his need as Duo’s lifeblood had flowed into him, a hot, velvet liquid. And he'd floated in that ecstasy, in that warm, dark place of raw sensation. He went to his door and knocked. "Duo?" A moment, an eternity, and then he replied, "I'm getting dressed, Wufei." Relief flooded him. He would not let him out of his sight again, not for a moment. He'd have to tell Duo, have to explain that Milliardo was here. And how on earth was he to talk to him, be with him, after what he had done last night? Five minutes later he knocked on his door and came in, and he could see that Duo had made some sort of decision. He'd steeled himself to face him. For the moment, though, all he could do was stare. It was as if with each passing hour on this voyage Duo grew more beautiful. Tonight he wore a dark gray pinstripe suit with a double-breasted jacket. And Duo was paler, he thought, or was that merely his imagination? "Merry Christmas, Wufei," he said, and there was a new authority in his voice, in his manner. A new awareness and two tiny new marks on his fair neck. Wufei could not answer him at first, the irony of this day, this time, Duo, Milliardo .... It smote him with a kind of desperation that he knew he had to control. "Wufei, please don't blame yourself for last night," he said. "It was my fault. Last night you... you left me so quickly, I... Wufei, I cried myself to sleep ." "My behavior was inexcusable," he said faintly. "It will not happen again." But even as he spoke, he was besieged once more by the knowledge of that beast's presence on the ship. He was a fool to have let his guard down! He looked at Duo, trying to concentrate on what he was saying. A wave of shame swept him anew; it was like drowning. He bowed his head. "It will not happen again," he repeated. "Are you angry with me?" "Never." "But it's…it's different between us, isn't it?" He met Duo’s gaze and saw moisture in his eyes. "Perhaps so. I may have been misguided in bringing you on this voyage." "No!" he said. "Let's not go into that again. It's too late, anyway. I'm here." Wufei wanted to reassure him, hold him close as he had done before, protect him from all harm, all pain, all unhappiness. It was not to be. "We will try, Duo." "Yes," he said. "We will try to enjoy the rest of the voyage." "Yes, Wufei." Duo was smiling now, relieved. He could do that much for Duo. Until he had to tell him about Milliardo, of course. But he would undertake that task later. And when he did tell him, how would he react? To frighten Duo unnecessarily would be unconscionable. And yet to let him believe he was safe was dangerous. They walked together down the companionway to the dining room. Silently, carefully not touching. They were seated at their table, where small wrapped Christmas gifts awaited them. Cologne for Duo, a gold key-chain engraved with the ship's name for him. "How nice," Duo said, childlike in his delight. Yet he ate very little, an ironic mirror image of his own dining habits. Wufei tried very hard to put from his thoughts the incident at the rail that lay between them. And yet he could not do it. He kept staring instead at the nearly invisible marks on Duo’s throat. He'd tried to cover them with something—make-up perhaps—he could tell, but he saw them—two points of red, a brand, his brand. And his physical being remembered, too, the deep, shimmering relief he'd given him. Never in all these centuries had he gleaned pleasure from the act. It had never been something other than to ease the need in him. But with Duo it had been something entirely new. And despite its wrongness, there had been beauty. No, he thought abruptly. He could not allow himself to think of their joining as anything but forbidden. All they had accomplished last night—all he had accomplished—was to feed the monster within him. The room was crowded, loud, tongues loosened by fine wine and holiday cheer. Duo gave him a tentative smile, then went back to gazing at the diners, the steady flow of waiters carrying trays of the most succulent foods. In the center of this particular dining room was a bubbling fountain surrounded by dozens of scarlet poinsettias. Duo stared at the plants for a very long time, his fork poised in midair. Wufei wondered what he was thinking. Was it about last night? Did he know how close he'd come to the unthinkable? And yet he knew that something had awakened in Duo in the cold, salty air, something so primitive he dared not think about it. He had come alive in his arms. He'd shared those fleeting moments of ecstasy with him, and neither of them could deny it. Was this what mortal men endured, this craving? Was this the true nature of desire, the longing and ache of which the poets wrote? Certainly Wufei did not suffer those same physical sensations, but was this pain in his soul so very different? As if he read his thoughts, Duo said, "You're still the best thing that ever happened to me in my life, Wufei. I'll never regret a moment of it." He smiled tremulously, glimmering with his rare new beauty. "Not one moment." "You speak from vast inexperience, I am afraid, Duo." "Not as inexperienced now, Wufei. Maybe I'm catching up." And he gave him a grave, knowing look, one that he never could have conjured up days before. His Duo, losing his innocence, and yet his inner beauty shone as brightly, and he was still utterly captivated by it. "Wufei," he said, leaning across the table, "can anything between us be so wrong? I know we can't, we shouldn't, ever let that happen again, but I... It's the first time I've ever really touched you, been a part of you .... " "Enough," he said, and he rose to his feet swiftly. He could see the unshed tears in Duo’s beautiful eyes, and the sight tore at him, but he did not understand. He could not know the fire he was playing with. Gods help them, he thought, they had to find the cure! And now there was Milliardo's presence to be dealt with, as well. It was Duo who wanted to stop in the ballroom. Music flowed from it, dance music, and dancers filled the floor, all bejeweled and brightly dressed, hair stylishly coifed. He couldn't blame Duo for wanting to be among these vibrant people, for wanting to see and be seen. He did look so lovely tonight, and Wufei was aware of the appreciative glances in his direction as they entered. Twinkling Christmas lights were strung everywhere, and a mirrored ball hung from the ceiling, turning, throwing tiny patches of light on his hair. Indeed, Wufei thought, Duo was the most beautiful creature on earth. How could he have plucked him from his life, expected him to flourish in his company? How could he have touched him as he had last night? Duo deserved so very much more than the dark existence that was his. And what was going to become of them when they discovered that there was no cure? Hadn't he and his kind always known that the rumors were pure myth? This entire journey was a flight from reality, and Duo's disappointment would be more than he could bear. They stood together at the edge of the throng and watched the dancers. Wufei scanned the room, alert for that familiar presence. He hadn't been in the dining room, of course not, but he was close now. Yes, Milliardo. This would be a playground for him, and indeed, who would note that deaths were more frequent than usual on this ship full of elderly people? "It's so beautiful here," Duo said. "The people, the lights, the music. Isn't it lovely, Wufei?" "Yes, lovely," he replied, distracted. Close, he was close. "Perhaps we should go, Duo," Wufei said after a moment, his senses sharpening. "There's something I have to tell you. Something you must be made aware of..." But before Wufei could finish, he was there. It all happened very quickly. Somehow Milliardo was in front of them, and he was smiling, introducing himself as an acquaintance of Wufei's. "Business, you understand." And he'd taken one of Duo’s hands, brought it to his lips, his piercing ice blue eyes boring into Duo’s. "What a lovely creature," Milliardo said. "And keeping him all to yourself on this voyage. For shame, Wufei." But Duo caught none of the nuances in his words. His eyes held by Milliardo's, he said, "Haven't we met before? Weren't you the one who..." A slow, insolent smile stretched across Milliardo's sculpted lips. "If we have not met it is most assuredly my loss." Wufei stood there with rage coiling like a serpent inside him, his eyes fixed on his enemy of five hundred years, his creator. And as much as he loathed the vicious killer, he could see the attraction Milliardo held for people. He had been in New York, of course. Wufei had sensed his presence. What better place to prey on the sick and homeless? But Wufei had not anticipated his enemy's next move, and that was another matter altogether. "I'm so sure we've met somewhere," Duo was saying. "You were never in the emergency room where I work?" "Emergency room? What an interesting idea. I imagine it would be most fascinating," Milliardo replied smoothly. And then he turned to Wufei, oozing charm. "You wouldn't allow me to borrow him for a dance, would you?" And before Wufei could do a thing, Milliardo was already leading Duo into the swaying mass of humanity. A curse rumbled in Wufei's throat. He stood there alone, with his eyes riveted on the couple, and seethed with fury. Oh, he knew Milliardo would not try anything in this crowd, but clearly the gauntlet had been thrown. And Duo... Had Milliardo known of his existence before tonight? If he'd been shadowing Wufei in New York, then he most assuredly had seen Duo. It struck Wufei like a blow to his heart--the marks on his neck! If Milliardo spotted them--and he surely would--he'd believe him the easiest of prey; he would at the very least believe Wufei was using Duo nightly for sport! Duo, Duo, what have I gotten you into? He strained to see them in the swirling throng, his hands fisted at his sides. He could do nothing here, though, without creating a scene. And Milliardo knew he would not do that. Five hundred years had come to this—Duo in the arms of his nemesis, Duo embraced by evil! Milliardo was a secretive and reclusive creature, originally a Viking, or so it was believed, and his berserk tendencies were always in evidence. He fed on crisis and human misery. Men and women, almost always women though, because they could not resist his beauty and his charm. But, yes, it radiated from him; Milliardo loved playing with both sexes. Milliardo could be fiendishly clever about those whom he chose for eternal life. Sometimes he chose randomly, the person's death a function of his gluttony, but at times he picked carefully, hunting far and wide, perversely choosing those with the purest of hearts, those who had much to give to humanity: a physician, an artist, a scientist, a monk. Wufei watched, thinking desperately. He would not let this go on much longer. He could not. But what a striking couple they made. Milliardo, so blond and fit and elegant, and Duo, his hair gleaming with red highlights, as slim as his partner, his pale face caressed by prisms of light as Milliardo swept him around and around the floor. At one point Duo was laughing as they twirled past Wufei, his eyes locked to Milliardo's, his arm supporting the slim arch of Duo’s back. And then Milliardo was leaning dose as the tempo of the music slowed, and he seemed to be whispering something into his ear, that shining curtain of Duo’s hair lying against his cold cheek. It seemed to Wufei that everything in the room was moving in slow motion, and the edges of his perception dimmed until all he saw was that single couple. Milliardo finished whispering in his ear and slowly, slowly raised his head. Duo, equally as slowly, tipped his own head back and started to laugh again. Milliardo's eyes took him in, a hideously drawn out and thorough scrutiny, and then, as Wufei looked on in agony, the devil's stare fixed on those two marks on Duo’s neck. Light began to glow in Milliardo's eyes. And as Duo dipped his head forward again, his gaze meeting his partner's, Wufei had had enough. He moved toward the dance floor, shouldering his way through the crowds. "Excuse me," he said to Duo, pulling his hand from Milliardo's. "We must go." "But the dance isn't..." he began. "Now," Wufei commanded. "Wufei, Wufei," Milliardo said, grinning, his other hand still at Duo’s back. "Duo is quite correct. We haven't finished our..." "It's over," Wufei said, his eyes on a level with Milliardo's. For a very long minute they stood like that, face-to-face, eyes locked. It took every ounce of strength in Wufei to keep from putting his hands around Milliardo's neck and squeezing, choking…for all the good it would have done. "Take your hands off him," he said and finally Milliardo did. "Wufei," Duo said, embarrassed. "Come." Wufei turned away, loathing Milliardo, loathing himself. Then Milliardo's voice knifed through the air. "Oh, Wufei," he said, "I don't suppose you would care to join me for a drink in my cabin? Of course, Duo is invited, too." Wufei froze. Slowly he turned back. "Please excuse us," he hissed. "Ah," Milliardo replied, undaunted, "but I see that you've already partaken of refreshment." His gaze traveled leisurely to Duo. "Perhaps next time, then." ~ ~ ~ (***) ~ ~ ~ Somehow Wufei steered Duo down the companionway, and somehow he got them to his suite and safely inside, locking the door, his hands shaking with the rage that refused to abate. "Duo," he began, turning to him. "Why were you so rude to that man? He said he knew you," he interrupted, obviously perplexed. "Yes, we knew each other," Wufei said coldly. "Then..." Duo frowned, and abruptly his eyes widened. He drew in his breath sharply. "Oh, my God, it was that man, the one in the painting, the one who…" "Yes," Wufei said, "it was him." Duo spun away, raising a hand to his forehead. "Oh dear Lord, and I saw him earlier. At the post office. I thought he looked familiar." He hugged himself, his shoulders hunched. "I danced with him, I was…and he was so..." "Yes," Wufei said. "But why, what is he doing here?" He told Duo that Milliardo was playing a kind of game with them, a game that could become dangerous, he added carefully. "But Wufei, can't he be stopped? Hasn't anyone tried to stop him?" "Yes, they have tried. He toys with them, then destroys them. He is very ancient and very powerful. I have tried myself, as I told you. We have fought in every way men can fight and then some. He cannot best me nor I him. At least that is what has happened up to now." Duo raised his eyes to him. "But I'm here now, right? And that makes you more vulnerable, doesn't it? You have to worry about me." "Yes," he admitted. "Oh, God, he touched me," Duo said. He shuddered, still hugging himself, fear shining in his violet eyes, and the sight of his torture was a knife in Wufei’s heart. He knew he should not touch him, had sworn, cursed, made a thousand blood oaths that he would never touch Duo again! But he was there, so frightened, and it was all his doing. "Wufei," he said, "what are we going to do?" He was beside Duo without knowing how he got there. He took Duo’s slim, pliant body into his arms, and he felt the warm quiver of him against his body. He was trembling, too; Duo’s closeness made him into a demented thing, and he had to clench his jaw and give him comfort, only comfort. "I will never let him near you, Duo," he said into his soft chestnut hair. "I swear that." He stroked Duo’s neck with one hand, his shoulder with the other. Ah, the sweetness, the taste of him. Wufei fought it down, but the hot scent of Duo’s blood filled him.
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