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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 " Chapter 15 Duo awakened with a start and that disorienting sense of not knowing where he was for a moment, then he realized that he was home, in New York, in his own bed. He remembered now--he'd left Wufei's at dawn when he was asleep, and come back to his apartment to catch a few hours' rest, and because his nurse's uniform hung in the closet and he needed it. He rose quickly, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Today was the day. Then Duo frowned. Wufei had been so strange last night, ever since they'd returned, in fact. He would have thought he'd have been happy--nervous, maybe--but happy, looking forward to what he'd told him over and over he coveted...a mortal existence, life. And yet now that it was within his grasp, he was distracted, decidedly unenthusiastic. It was as if he really didn't want to he cured. Duo fixed himself some coffee and paced barefoot in his apartment, thinking, sipping from the mug. Could Wufei have changed his mind? Could he? Now that the cure was imminent, had he decided not to go through with it? No, he couldn't believe that. He suffered so. Duo knew Wufei’s torment as if it were his own; he knew he loved him and wanted a life with him. He knew that. Or did he? Well, Duo had his duty to perform. He and Wufei had gone over the plan a dozen times. He hated the idea of stealing, but there was no other way: it wasn't possible to buy blood. He dressed in his nurse's uniform and tried to call down. He wouldn't get caught--he simply couldn't, because Wufei's entire existence, their existence together, depended on him now. It was a weight on his shoulders, but he could handle it. Hadn't he handled dozens, hundreds, of crises in his time? If something went wrong at the hospital today, something came up that they hadn't anticipated, he'd handle it. Duo quickly braided his hair and checked his appearance in the mirror. He looked like his old self, and today that was good, no one would remember he was supposed to be on vacation. And it was possible he'd run into someone who knew him. He took a taxi to the hospital, the big, oversize backpack he'd bought sitting on the seat next to him. It was a bright, cold January day, and the sunlight on his shoulders dissipated his tension. Soon, he thought, soon Wufei would be able to feel the warmth again. God willing. Soon. Paying the driver a block away from the hospital, Duo stepped out into the brisk air and breathed deeply. He'd gotten out a block early because the last thing he wanted was to draw unnecessary attention to himself. It was daytime, and he hadn't worked a day shift in over a year, but he could only hope there would be no one on duty who would know his face and question his presence. Duo entered the hospital through the employee door in the rear, near the service entrance. There were delivery tracks crowding the alley, men pushing dollies of cases of food and linens and hospital supplies. Two nurses walked past him and merely nodded as he headed to the locker room, where he hung up his coat. He was ready to begin, his pack over his shoulder, when the door swung open. In came Sally Po, who'd once been Duo's supervisor. "Why, hello... Duo, isn't it?" the woman said. "Hi, Ms. Po," Duo managed to say past the sudden dryness in his throat. "Nice day." "Yes, it is. So good to see the sun again. Cold, though, real cold." "Sure is," Duo said, pushing open the door. "Well, good to see you." "You take care," Sally Po said, and that was that. Duo got off the elevator with two orderlies on the fifth floor. He wasn't afraid of getting caught in the blood bank--he had keys to it. What he was afraid of was that someone was going to notice the pack he was carrying. That part was odd. He and Wufei had discussed this, but there was no way around it. None. Once he was out of the blood bank no one would notice his bag. Nurses and doctors were always carrying their purses or backpacks when coming on shift, heading to lunch, going off shift. No problem. But entering the blood bank with one was against the rules. He went to the mens' room three doors down from his destination and waited. As planned. And, as planned, it wasn't long before a Code Blue call came over the speaker system. A Code Blue meant that there was a life-threatening situation somewhere on the floor, and nurses and doctors scurried to respond. It was the perfect time for Duo to make his move. When the inevitable call came, he pushed open the rest room door and walked purposefully and swiftly to the locked door, inserted his key and went in. Thank the Lord it was empty. Of course, they'd planned a cover story if Duo should need one. But as it was, he was safely by himself and worked quickly, taking five units of blood and the necessary IV apparatus, stuffing it all into his pack. Duo's underarms were damp by the time he stood at the elevator doors, waiting. His bag seemed too heavy and his cheeks were flushed. He was swept by sudden guilt, even though he and Wufei had agreed that there was no other way to restore his life. He'd even promised to donate a new, badly needed wing to the facility whether or not the cure worked, but Duo still felt like the worst of thieves. It's for a good cause, he kept reminding himself, it's to save a life. The elevator finally came. It was crowded, and a doctor dressed in his surgical greens was pressed right up against his backpack. He knows, Duo thought desperately, he could feel the blood units against his arms! But of course he didn't, and soon Duo was headed down the corridor toward the nurses' locker room, his knees rubbery. Too easy, he kept thinking. It was going along too easily. He got his coat, hoisted the heavy pack over his shoulder and left, passing a nurse whom he didn't recognize, merely nodding as he headed toward the rear exit. And that was when he ran into Trowa Barton. "Whoa, there," he called, hurrying up behind him. "Hey, Duo, what on earth are you doing here? Thought you took a vacation." He held the door open for him. Duo was faint with anxiety. "I...ah..." What was his cover story? Oh, God! "What, did they call you in or something? Hell, half the staff is out with the flu," he said. "I got called in myself." "That's right," he managed to say as Trowa kept pace with him across the parking lot. He didn't even know where he was going. "You want to grab lunch at Eddy’s or something?" Trowa asked. "Ah, no, thanks," Duo said, the cold air stinging his flaming cheeks. "Well," he said, nodding, "my car's over this way. You want a lift somewhere?" "Um, no, thank you." "Say," Trowa persisted, "you feeling okay? You look a little flushed." "I'm, ah, getting a touch of the, ah, flu myself," Duo muttered and then took off in the opposite direction, the bag so heavy on his shoulder that he prayed the seams wouldn't burst. ~ ~ ~ (***) ~ ~ ~ It was there the moment Wufei opened his eyes that evening. And he knew it had been there all along; he simply had not seen it--the way to defeat Milliardo. He rose, buoyed by this knowledge, amazed that it had taken him five hundred years to see it. But then, until the possibility of a cure had presented itself, there had been no reason to see it. Yet on the heels of the hope that leapt in his chest came sudden sadness, a sense of remorse. He had spent the entire return journey to New York completely absorbed in the dilemma--how to vanquish his nemesis once and for all before attempting the cure. And because he had been preoccupied and afraid to confide in Duo, he had withdrawn from him, offering little help as he outlined his scheme to procure the necessary blood. Duo had not appeared to notice his distance, however. He'd gone on and on excitedly, the hope in him radiating from his very pores. And he had been a cad. Now, here Duo was putting himself in peril, and he'd only been able to mumble something about being careful when he'd left for his apartment to try to get a few hours' rest before going to the hospital. Wufei heard the chimes of the clock. Six in the evening. Duo was late. A pang of fear for him struck him--had the plan worked? If anything were to happen to Duo... He instantly thought of Milliardo again. Now that he knew how to destroy Milliardo, he was easier in his mind, but it was still unspeakably dangerous for Duo to be alone outside of this house at night. And Milliardo must suspect nothing about this attempt at a cure. That was imperative. If he even sensed it, there was no doubt in Wufei's mind that he would try to get into Wufei's house and thwart their plans by any means possible. Yes, it was imperative he suspect nothing, for the one thing Quatre had warned of repeatedly was the weakness that would overcome Wufei. He would not be able to protect Duo, and they were going to have to be very, very careful. Where was Duo? He dressed and went below, all too aware that darkness had fallen over the city some time ago. He'd warned him that if nothing else he must be back here by dusk! Anxiety gripped Wufei, and he went out into the night, standing at his wrought-iron gate, honing his senses. But it was impossible to sort out the many signals that assailed him. The one thing he was certain of: Milliardo was nowhere nearby. But then, neither was Duo. He waited. And waited. It wasn't until nearly six-thirty that a taxi pulled around the corner and Duo stepped out, hoisting a large bag onto his shoulder. "Wufei!" he said, surprised. "Is something..." "Where have you been?" he demanded. "Waiting for a cab. It was rush hour. Wufei, has something..." But he only waved off his question, took the heavy bag from Duo and led him inside. It was the worst of bad luck that Milliardo had picked this time and this city to come back into Wufei's life. Then, Milliardo following him to Europe... It struck Wufei that perhaps Milliardo had already sensed something was afoot, and that was exactly why he'd been following Wufei. "Are you or aren't you going to tell me what's wrong?" "Nothing. There is nothing wrong. I was anxious that you were out after sunset. I told you how dangerous it could be." "Well, nothing happened, and here I am safe and sound. And, Wufei--" he smiled widely "--I got it. You're holding it." "What?" he said. "The bag in your hand. That's it." Wufei looked down at it, felt its weight, and suddenly he was overcome by the odor of blood, rich, coppery blood. "Yes," he breathed hoarsely, making a supreme effort to hide from Duo the instant thrill that swept him. "Everything went well, I take it," he said, forcing down the urge to open the bag, to look upon the plastic containers of ruby liquid. Duo took his coat off, and he saw that he was wearing a nurse's uniform. Over his chest was pinned his name tag: Duo Maxwell, R.N. A nurse... Abruptly the image of white-robed sisters and brothers of mercy came into his head, women fearlessly aiding plague victims, men on battlefields. His Duo was one of those dedicated souls. A rush of emotion shook him, so strong that for a time he forgot what was in the bag he held. And he could lose Duo, he might have to live on without him. No. He must be successful this night, and then he would give himself over to Duo. "It was easy," he said, and he knew he was boasting a little. "No one saw you?" Duo shook his head. "I don't know if I was lucky or clever, but I got away with it. I didn't feel very good about it, though, Wufei. I've never, ever, taken anything from the hospital before. There are nurses who do, though, and..." He took the bag and placed it on a table, stepping away. "You must not feel guilty, Duo. Even if I should not survive this cure" "No..." he began. "Even if I do not," he went on, "I have instructed my agent to see that the new wing on the hospital is erected." "I don't want to hear about you not surviving, Wufei," Duo said firmly. "Half the battle will he your believing, your faith that you will make it." A slow smile gathered at the corners of his mouth. "Duo the Nurse talking." "That's right." "It seems I will have little choice," he said. They went together into the library, where Wufei built a fire. He knew how anxious Duo was to begin, anxious and nervous, too. As Quatre had told them, there were no guarantees, no second chances. Heero had barely survived the ordeal; there were others over the centuries who had not. Wufei was not concerned about that, though. Not yet. And now he had to put Duo off, leave him here alone. How he despised himself for placing himself and Duo in this situation. And how he hated to have to delay again. In five hundred years he had never done anything so reprehensible as involving a mortal in his perverted life! He still knelt by the hearth, feeling the heat of the flames as the kindling caught. An ember spat out onto the carpet, and he picked it up with his bare fingers, not even hiding his ability to do so from Duo. Then he stood, dusted off his hands and looked at him. Yes, Duo’s excitement was on his face, flushing it, and in his eyes. Dear Lord, he would disappoint his so badly. "I think we should begin," he started to say, squaring his shoulders. "Duo," Wufei said carefully, "I do want to do this, believe me. I have no fear, and I trust you completely. There is something, however, that I must do before I attempt this cure. You will have to trust me." The light fled his eyes. "What are you saying?" "Only that I have a task to accomplish that could not be done if I were mortal or weakened by this process." Duo stared hard at him, and then abruptly his chin came up. "Milliardo," he breathed. "You're going to..." Wufei put a silencing finger to his lips and moved toward him. "I will say no more," he told him, and against his better judgment he pulled Duo to him and held him close, his mouth in his hair, his nostrils drinking in his scent, a wild and heady combination of blood and man and cold, fresh air. "Trust me," he whispered, "as I trust you," and then he released him and went to the hall, fetching his coat. "How long will you be gone?" Duo asked from behind him, a catch in his voice. "I cannot say." "Oh, God," he said, "Wufei, you won't..." But Wufei would hear no more. "This must be done. Now, stay here, Duo, in the sanctuary of the house, and I promise I shall return as soon as possible." "Wufei..." It was too late, though, for words. He merely touched the silken softness of Duo’s hair and then left, going out as the dark creature he was this last time, his form swiftly swallowed by the night. ~ ~ ~ (***) ~ ~ ~ Duo dozed fitfully in the big leather chair in the library. He couldn't really sleep, but he was too tired to do anything else. The only light came from one lead crystal lamp on the desk, a circle of light that left the comers of the room in shadow. He dozed and jerked awake more times than he could count, and every time he woke with a start his heart would start pounding. He was frightened, so afraid for Wufei. He hadn't admitted it, but he knew he was out there somewhere tracking down Milliardo. He knew it as surely as if he'd told him. No wonder he'd been so quiet, so distracted, putting him off. Duo saw it now. Sitting in the dim library with only a few red embers glowing dully in the fireplace, the clock ticking in the entryway, he understood. Wufei had to take care of Milliardo before he became mortal. That was it. Oh, Lord, he might be fighting with Milliardo right this minute! He curled up in the chair, his legs under him, hugging himself and staring at the light. He listened for Wufei’s step, the opening of the front door. All he heard was the creak and groan of the old house, the pop of a dying ember, the clock, the damn monotonously ticking clock. What if he never came back? What if Milliardo destroyed him completely? What if they fought to a draw and Wufei refused to take the cure until he could win? Another five hundred years? Duo dozed again, dreaming in confused snatches. Wufei lying somewhere with his enemy standing over him, triumphant. He jerked awake, cold, frightened. Wufei. But he wasn't there. He rested his head on the back of the chair, closed his eyes, tried to relax. His neck and shoulders ached with tension. He rolled his neck to loosen the muscles, took a deep breath. Wufei would come back; he simply had to. His eyes flew open, and he knew he'd been asleep again. But this time something had awakened his, something... "Duo," Wufei said from across the room. He flew up out of the chair. "Wufei! Oh, my God, I was so worried!" He went to him, searching his face for answers, for signs of a struggle. "Where were you?" "I was in the city," he said. "Some last-minute matters to attend to. As you can see, there was nothing for you to be concerned about." Duo put his hands on his arms and looked into his eyes. "I was so worried. Wufei, please don't do that to me again." He felt his gaze on him, his eyes boring into his, and Duo flushed, knowing how he wanted him. Then Wufei moved back from him and averted his eyes. "It is near dawn, Duo." "Oh, yes," he said, waiting for him to say something, explain why he' d been gone all night, what he'd been doing. Waiting for him to tell him he could not take the cure after all. But all Wufei did was step close to him, put a hand, a cool, smooth hand, on either side of his face and look long and deep into his eyes. "I am ready now," he said, his voice haunting, reaching down into him and resonating there. "I am ready for whatever the future may hold." ~ ~ ~ (***) ~ ~ ~
Duo had pulled a chair up to the bed where Wufei lay. He watched him as he entered his state of unnatural sleep. His body was absolutely still, his eyes closed. No hint of life remained in him, no movement, no rise or fall of the chest, no furtive emotions tugged at his features. Duo studied him long after he was asleep, the slim length of his body under the spread, his elegantly handsome face, its lines clear and sharp, his brow, the curve of his nose, the faint smudge of whiskers on cheeks that he never had to shave. He was so pale, so cool. He laid a hand on his chest. Nothing, no beat, no movement of any kind. Wufei was so beautiful, like a marble statue carved by the hand of a master. And he was his responsibility now. He could do nothing to help him--he'd relinquished all control to Duo. He had to justify his trust, protect him, take care of him, bring him through this ordeal. Quatre had told Duo how ill he'd be, how weak and vulnerable. He could die; Heero had almost died. In fact, it had in the end shortened his mortal life. "But it was worth it?" Duo had asked. "Yes, yes, it was worth it," Quatre had replied. Duo rose from the chair and stood over Wufei, precisely like a surgeon at the operating table ready for the first incision. He took one last loving look at him as he lay there, drew in a deep, cleansing breath and went to work. If Wufei could have seen him, he would barely have recognized his sweet Duo in the capable, taut-faced nurse who hovered over him, fixing the IV needles in his arms, draining on one side, ready for transfusion on the other. Deftly he taped the needles to his skin. He was almost ready now. But first... Duo took the tiny bottle he'd carried from Finland and held it up to the light. An amber liquid filled the vial, a herbal infusion Quatre had given him, the secret ingredient Heero had found in ancient Egyptian writings in the British Museum, recorded in hieroglyphics that he was able to translate. For Heero had been alive when they'd been written. Very carefully Duo opened the vial--God forbid he should spill it!--and was instantly assailed by a strong odor that was completely unfamiliar. He sniffed it, wondering if that was foxglove he smelled, maybe some eucalyptus, mixed together with half a dozen other scents. Trained only in modem medicine, his first inclination was to he skeptical--but then, hadn't the ancient Egyptians concocted a method of embalming that was so powerful it had preserved bodies for five thousand years? And who knew how long those beautiful, ancient kings would have lain in that amazing state had modem man not disturbed their tombs. No, Duo wasn't going to take this lightly at all. Even with every modem advance in medicine, they still didn't have the wondrous knowledge of those ancient peoples. After a moment he carefully poured the liquid into the unit of blood he had ready, fixed the tube into the IV needle in Wufei's arm, a task he'd done countless times, so many times he could do it without thinking. But this time it was different--oh, God, so different. There was only one thing left to do. Duo shut his eyes tight, whispered a prayer, then released the clip that held back the blood. He watched, holding his breath, as the red liquid flowed down the transparent tubing, down, down, through the needle, into Wufei's arm. He watched him like a hawk, bending over him, laying a hand on his forehead from time to time, checking, adjusting the flow of blood. Quatre had described what could happen, what would happen, but it might not occur until the second transfusion, or possibly the third. Altogether there could be more than ten transfusions, a pint each night until he'd given him at least five quarts of blood. A larger man would require more, depending upon his weight, but Duo had figured on five. Time would tell. After a while he sat in the chair by the bed, and in the dim light of the curtained bedroom he watched the blood drip, drip, into Wufei’s cold white body. ~ ~ ~ (***) ~ ~ ~ The New York University coed was in heaven. She'd been attending classes for more than eighteen months at the excellent Greenwich Village school but had met only two boys with a maturity and sophistication that attracted her, and both of those fleeting romances had flared and fizzled quickly. Relena was a pretty girl, and intelligent, with long blonde hair and European features she'd inherited from her mother. Men were drawn to her looks, though until last night Relena had always found flaws in the men that vied for her attention. Either they were too arrogant, too controlling, or, most often, they were too married. She'd almost given up hope of finding Mr. Right at college, figuring she'd just finish her education and begin a career, and maybe then she'd meet the perfect mate. That was last night. Tonight, Relena was walking on cloud nine. She'd been heading home after her 8:00 p.m. biology class when she'd met him, the most wonderful, charming, handsome man she'd ever seen. Sure, he was maybe ten years older than she was, but who cared? Relena had dropped a couple of books while crossing West Ninth Street, and suddenly he'd appeared, asking if he could help, and instantly she had known she could trust him. There was just something about him, a gentlemanly quality, something. And then, in the light of a street lamp she'd seen him and her heart had swelled. He was, in Relena's estimation, an absolute replica of the young Robert Redford. No doubt about it. He'd bought her coffee at a local cafe, the nicest, most debonair man she'd ever met. If Relena had been forced to describe him, she would have said he was charming and deliciously sexy, though he seemed not even to be aware of it. They sat dining at a swank, intimate sushi bar, and Relena couldn't believe her good fortune. Maybe her karma was right, maybe all the stars in the heavens had lined up in perfect symmetry--it didn't matter. Relena only knew that life was suddenly very wonderful and very romantic. Was it possible to fall in love after only a few hours? They walked after dinner, despite the brittle night. He seemed to enjoy it, although when he took her hand his was terribly cold. "You're freezing," she said, laughing, happy, her insides melting each time he held her gaze with those beautiful blue eyes that seemed to mesmerize her. God, he was gorgeous! And smart and sophisticated. European, he'd said, of Nordic descent. He had a slight accent. A banker or something, who traveled a lot. He must be wealthy, Relena had guessed, because his clothes, though casual, were exquisite. They talked while they strolled the darkened, cold streets of the Village, and Relena began to see and hear only him, as if they were the only two people alive in this huge metropolis. And then he said he'd like to invite her back to his place--a Madison Avenue address--but if Relena didn't feel right about... "I'd like that," she said, so mature, no games. And mentally she congratulated herself for her selection of underwear, black lace, garter belt, the whole nine yards. But she wouldn't think about that, not yet. And wouldn't it be marvelous if they spent an evening at his apartment and he didn't even come on to her? He was that sort of man, she knew, and she'd wait. "Oh, darn," he said when they climbed into a taxi. "There's a chore I simply must do tonight. I don't know how I could have forgotten. It will only take a few minutes, but if you want, I can go alone and perhaps we could get together tomorrow." "Oh," Relena said. "I can tag along. I mean, if you don't mind." "Of course not." And he directed the cabby to an address on the Lower East Side, explaining to Relena, "It's a shabby neighborhood, I'm afraid. But a client of mine who's presently in Madrid is very interested in this old building, and I promised I'd give it a look before tomorrow. It won't take long." "I don't mind," she said, and he bent and brushed her neck with his lips, whispering that she was an angel. He let the taxi go, which was odd, she thought, but the notion was only fleeting. The truth was, Relena was excited. She'd never been in this section of New York, and it had an air of danger to it--run-down, collapsing buildings, huge vacant lots littered with dirty snow and trash, a sleazy bar on the corner. Somehow it all combined with the new experiences she was having and a new, worldly man. She was positive he could take care of himself anywhere. And that titillated her imagination. "Awful place," he was saying as they entered the abandoned building, pushing aside a broken-in door. "Perhaps I should have taken you home." "It is kind of...gross in here," Relena said, shivering, trying to adjust her eyes to the sudden blackness. And, oh God, was something scurrying over there? "Is your friend, the businessman, going to tear this down or something?" "But of course," he said, taking his arm, leading his up a rickety flight of stairs. "Don't trip," he said kindly. Relena followed, not liking this place at all now. And why did he have to check it out if the man was going to raze it? Oh, well, she thought, clinging to him, following him up, up. The room took her by surprise. There were candles, which he lit, seeming to know just where they were located. Relena was eyeing the place, disgusted, wanting only to get out of there. Even the candlelight that flickered on the walls seemed tarnished, she was thinking, and she never saw it coming, the shadow that slid across the floor behind her, slowly, growing, and the long-fingered hand that reached out to extinguish the candle beside her. ~ ~ ~ (***) ~ ~ ~
"Oh, Relena, Relena," he groaned against her, "there was too little of you. And now you are drifting away from me." He shrugged eloquently, then lowered his head, sinking into her, sucking, his body going rigid with delight as he felt the small, slow pulse of her still beneath his lips; then that beat, beat, slowed even more, became faint against him, and finally it was gone. He sat up, his mouth rimmed in scarlet, his eyes blazing, fire coursing through him. A deep moan welled up from his soul and hung in the cold air. So good, so good. Was it good for you, too, Relena? After a time Milliardo cleaned himself in the bathroom, changing his shirt and sweater. And then he went back into the shabby room and stared at the lifeless thing, sweet Relena. Last night when he'd chosen her, he'd thought she would have lasted much longer, but then, even with all his powers, it was impossible to know. And now she'd disappointed him, and he was going to have to lug her over to the East River and dump her. Such a waste of time. To make matters worse, he was not yet filled. Almost. But he could feed again. Ah, well. And if he did, if he decided to drink once more this night--after all, the night was young--then he most certainly was going to select someone with more staying power. Someone like... Duo. Yes. Duo. He had been floating in and out of his dreams for weeks now. Wufei's young man. The fairest of all men. Goodness and innocence radiated from him, the notion unbearably sensual to him. When he'd danced with him aboard the ship, held him so close, his thirst had been liquid fire in his veins. Ah, Duo, so ready to be plucked. And he'd let Wufei have a drink or two, hadn't he? That one had staying power. Milliardo shoved Relena's body aside and sat on the mattress and thought about that. Wufei and his man. He'd followed them across the sea, to London, Finland--why had they been to Finland?--and back again. He'd trailed them out of pure curiosity, to see if Wufei, after so many, many years, was going to create a mate for himself. But he hadn't. He'd only taken little sips from Duo. Why? What was that accursed monk up to? Well, Milliardo thought, grinning, the candlelight playing on his beautiful waxen face, he could always ask Duo. Lovely, sweet Duo. He put his head back and allowed the memory of Duo’s scent to fill him, to kindle his cravings. Yes, he decided, Duo might be just the one to tell him what Wufei was up to. So, it was all very simple--he'd have to pay him a visit.
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