|
"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 16 Wufei first saw the pale light in the room as another facet of his terrible confusion. It couldn't be, therefore it was not, and yet it was. His head swam with malaise, his body ached, betraying him in all ways. Light, he thought, and not from a lamp. He closed his eyes and drifted back into a state that was neither wakefulness nor sleep; certainly it was not the familiar darkness he'd known when at rest for the past five centuries. He drifted in that murky sea, his consciousness punctuated by cramps and waves of unfamiliar discomfort as the sun made its winter arc over the city, and then, late in the afternoon, when sunlight still bathed the city, he awoke again. He turned his head on the pillow, feeling something akin to fear when he saw that the room was still too light and that there were needles in his arms. And then he saw Duo through that strange, shimmering haze. He was sitting near the window, his head fallen to one side. He was asleep. Wufei must have sunk back into that abyss again, because when he was conscious again the room was very dark and Duo was standing over him, his face serious, adjusting the IV tube and the bag that was attached to the bedpost above him. Through the mist of his vision and his delirium, Wufei's eyes fixed longingly on the plastic bag, the ruby liquid filling the tube. He wanted to groan, to hide his eyes, but he was too weak, too confused. Blood, he thought, the sticky metallic feel of it a memory on his lips. Shouldn't he be thirsting for it, craving? He tried to say something, but sudden nausea gripped him, and then he was vomiting, his head hanging over the side of the bed, Duo's hand on his brow while he held a pan for him. "It's all right, it's normal. You should be getting sick," He said soothingly. "Remember what Quatre told us." He retched until he was certain his insides would rip apart, and still, each time he tried to collapse back onto the bed, the nausea rose and took him over. "Go on, Wufei," Duo’s sweet voice kept urging, "be as sick as you need to be," and somewhere in his brain he had a flash of memory--his mother holding his head while he was sick. He was a boy. It was five hundred years ago--the last time he'd vomited. When Wufei was done he rolled onto his back, licked strangely dry lips and passed out. The next time he came to it was nearly dawn and a wild panic seized him. "No!" he cried out, trying to sit up. "No! I cannot be awake for sunrise!" And Duo was sitting beside him on the bed, pressing him back down, placing a cooling rag on his brow. "It's all right," he said over and over. "You awakened yesterday, Wufei, you already saw the light of day. You remember? It's all right." He did remember! But no, it had been a dream, an illusion, surely he had not been conscious during the day, he thought as terror ripped through him. He ached all over. Only this pain was not craving or need. It was real physical pain as the ancient Egyptian poison worked on his cells, destroying, allowing others to awaken, cells that had lain dormant all those years. At moments the ache was excruciating, causing his sight to blur with white spots. At other times he passed out, welcoming the familiar oblivion of blackness. But all the while Duo was there, at his side, wiping his brow, fetching a blanket when he shivered uncontrollably, moaning between chattering teeth, "I am so cold! I cannot bear the cold!" Every waking moment he was aware, too, of the metamorphosis of his senses. Duo's voice. It seemed to come from the haze, soft, soothing. His touch. It was as if an angel were laying healing hands upon his burning flesh. And when the cold overcame him, Duo was warm, so warm. He opened his eyes once and saw a bar of light lying on the carpet, and he thought crazily that it was the most amazing sight--a bar of sun. Smells were peculiar. His bedding, his hands, Duo. They came at him with a new, different sharpness from that which he had known, and then they would recede. "Is this reality?" he asked Duo once. The crisis came on the third day of his changing. He imagined that Duo had told him he was running a temperature--a temperature for him, that was. And then Duo was trying to get him up, but it was too hard. "Wufei, we have to get you cooled down," he said. "It's too soon. Can you understand me? You're too warm, it's like a fever, but..." No, he did not understand. He knew only that somehow he was on his feet, the needles gone, and Duo was supporting him, leading him toward the bathroom. "Too weak," he groaned. "Leave me alone." "I won't let you alone!" He said fiercely, pulling at him, dragging him. "Wufei, you listen to me, damn it, you will not die! Now move it! Help me get you in here. You've got to get cooled down." They managed somehow, and Wufei was aware of sitting in the bathroom, Duo tugging at his shirt, the shower running. And then he was naked. There were oily droplets of moisture—perspiration?--all over him and Duo was half steering him, half leading him, into the shower, getting soaked himself, holding him up. "Help me, Wufei," he said, and he tried, leaning his fists on the cool tiles as the water streamed down his back. Cold, cold water. Not since the temple had he felt cold water. And then he was back sitting on the closed toilet, towels wrapped around his nakedness--Duo had just seen him naked--and he was rubbing him, drying him, his hair, chest, lower, his hands on him, quick and professional. He felt it, too, when Duo touched him there, and he was amazed, stunned--to have any feeling whatsoever down there. He was dressed in fresh pajamas and in bed again, the blanket over him, the needle back in his arm. Wufei blinked, wondering if this weren't all a dream, and then his entire body seemed to be seizing up, as if someone had put him in a vise. He curled up in agony. "Oh, Gods! Duo! What is happening!" Duo was there in an instant, his hands trying to relax the cramps, his voice reaching him. "It'll pass, Wufei. Don't fight it, relax, relax. There, that's better.'' And he did relax, but only when he passed out. Duo later told him that on that night he'd almost died. Although he had no memory of it, he said that he screamed almost the whole night, alternating between fever and chills, cramps that drew him up into a fetal position and seizures in which he stopped breathing for a minute at a time. But all Wufei felt the following morning was incredible weakness: every fiber of his being felt as if it had been beaten. "Duo," he whispered, licking his lips, trying to open his eyes. "I'm here," came his voice, and Wufei was sure there was a sob in it. "I'm right here." It was Duo, too, who made him sit up that afternoon. He twisted his head away from the light that leaked in the window and said he could not, he was too weak. But Duo kept at him, telling him that they had to keep the blood circulating through him, they had to wash the poison out. "You need to try to get on your feet," he told him. "Quatre said..." "To hell with Quatre," he groaned. "I cannot. All my strength is gone! Is this what a mortal endures!" "You aren't there yet," Duo said firmly. "And you won't be unless you do what I tell you. Now up, onto your feet. Do it." He did. But, dear Gods, his limbs were shaky. He was no longer a being of easy strength but instead a weak sapling of a man. He would rather have died! Yes! To be so weak was unbearable. Duo made him walk then. One step. Two. Duo supporting him. And then he let him sit in the chair by the window. "Don't be a difficult patient," he said, forcing him to sit up. "Wufei, the weakness will pass. But you have to help me. You have to help yourself. You wanted to live, you swore you wanted to live out a normal life. So, try, damn it." And then Duo moved toward the pulls on the curtain. Panic rose in him. "No," he said, shaking. "No. I cannot do it. Not yet." "You have to. Quatre said you had to look into the light. It's only for a second." His hand poised on the pull. "Quatre," he moaned. "Old tales. I cannot. Why must I... ?" "He said only a little each day once the crisis passed. You heard him say it." So weak, he was so weak. Why must Duo torment him so? Didn't he know that to look into the light would kill him? God! What a coward he was! But he didn't care. He simply could not… Duo pulled open the drapes. For a long moment Wufei stared at the world out-side--a world bathed in sunlight--stunned, his black eyes wide, blinded with the enormity of that light, and he cried aloud, a moan rising from deep within. He slumped over, coveting his face, feeling as if his flesh were sizzling. Duo drew the curtains shut and was at his side quickly, cradling his head against his belly, whispering, "It's okay, it's all right." He could not tell him, he could not speak. As the pain finally ebbed he searched his mind desperately for words to describe what had just happened, but none could be found to tell of the sight that still filled his vision. The sun. He'd just had a glimpse of that fiery orb. The sun! After five centuries. Dear Gods, the sun. He slept that night, restlessly, as if his body were rejecting him. He dreamed, too, of terrible things, and he awoke with a wretched sense of loneliness until he saw Duo in his chair, dozing, and he knew he was not alone. Wufei recalled the sun then, the image of it, a big orange ball, fixed in his mind. Duo had made him look upon it. Without him he never could have done it. He felt craven and spineless, wondering what new tortures awaited him. And yet he had looked upon it and survived, the life-giving sun that he hadn't seen since that day so many, many years ago, the day he'd gone in search of the murderer Milliardo. Wufei lay there in his quiet pain and remembered that creature. He remembered, too, that were he not to survive this cure, Duo would be in deadly peril from Milliardo, with no one in the world to protect him. It was up to Wufei to live. He had to live. It was the only way to stop that monster. The only way... It was just before dawn that Wufei became cognizant of Duo leaning over him. He did not open his eyes, he was too feeble. But when Duo leaned down and gently pressed his lips to his--so warm--and something unfathomable in him quickened, Wufei knew that he could endure the pain. For where there was pain there was life. ~ ~ ~ (***) ~ ~ ~ For Duo the ensuing days seemed to run together. At times he thought he was in hell--seeing torment on Wufei's face, feeling his pain as if it were his own, and he felt fear, fear that he was going to wake up from one of his fitful naps and find Wufei gone, dead. Maybe he never should have talked him into this. And then there were the times that Wufei was nearly conscious and gripped his hand, forcing a smile to his cracked lips, licking them, whispering that he was an angel. Those moments were sheer heaven, and he'd think: he's going to live. Oh, God, he's going to live! Duo worked as the professional that he was, but he called often on his "gift," asking a higher power to give him strength, to allow that strength and will to flow into Wufei's body. The blood ran out on the sixth day. Duo sat on the bedside while Wufei slept restlessly, and he worried. Quatre had told them that the transfusions could stop when Wufei’s body temperature reached ninety-five degrees. Well, it hadn't. And now they were out of the life-restoring fluid. It seemed, then, that there was only one thing to do. Duo tried to awaken him. "Wufei, I have to go out for a couple of hours. Wufei, can you understand me?" But he was still delirious, saying, "Go if you must... I will merely await you. Would you like a fire built? Are you cold?" Duo left him. He didn't like it one bit, but he needed to get that blood. Just this one last time. Either Wufei would he cured or he'd slip back into his shadow world. Or... He still could die. Duo did have to admit to himself that breathing the fresh air, getting away from Wufei’s eerily silent house, revived him. He needed a break, though he would have preferred something less stressful. But Duo steeled himself, the image of Wufei lying so helpless in that dark room spurring him on, and de entered the hospital. The trouble came in the blood bank. And, as Duo had feared, it was over the backpack he carried. It was an older, seasoned technician who questioned him. He entered the blood bank, scaring him half to death, and immediately eyed his bag. "Hey," he said, frowning. "You know having that in here's against the rules." He squinted then, staring at his name tag. "Duo Maxwell, huh? Well, who's your supervisor?'' Oh, God, Duo thought, this was it. A flashing image raced through his mind--administrators, police, jail. No, He couldn't let that happen. Think. "Well?" he said. Duo launched in, his pulse racing. "You know," he said, trying not to swallow, "you guys really tick me off. I was on my way to lunch, and someone down on two asked me to run this errand first. So I forgot my backpack. Big deal. Half of the staff's out sick and we're scrambling as it is. You could at least thank me." He glared at him. He glared back. And then his expression softened. "Well," he said, "I guess it's all right. This once, anyway. I know we've been real shorthanded in the lab, too. I didn't mean to..." "Forget it," Duo said, shouldering by him. "I'd better get the supplies or that patient will die. Excuse me." And he went to work, finding the IV kits and units of blood, taking his time, his heart still pounding. By the time he was done, the other man had gone. He quickly stuffed the supplies in his bag, then beat a hasty retreat, whispering a prayer of thanks. And when Duo got back to the brownstone he found Wufei sleeping peacefully. Another prayer of thanks. It was a rough week that followed. Often Wufei seemed to be teetering between two worlds, and Duo wondered which one would ultimately claim him. He was awake for hours now during the day, sometimes quietly, sometimes thrashing with painful cramps. Duo held him against him and stroked his brow, willing him to heal, willing strength and hope into his touch. And then he'd ease his head back onto the pillows and just watch him. It was on the twelfth day that Duo noticed the first signs of true change. It seemed a miracle, but Duo swore he could see a hint of color in Wufei’s cheeks. He quickly took his temperature--it had risen to ninety-five degrees. And then Duo saw them: whiskers. There was the beginning of a dark growth on Wufei’s chin. Dear Lord, he thought, his heart singing, had Wufei’s body made the choice of mortal life? The next day, Duo was able to get him into the chair by the window again. When he drew open the curtains Wufei groaned so painfully at the sudden, blinding light that he quickly closed them. Wufei simply was not ready for prolonged exposure to the sun. But Quatre had said he must slowly begin to take in the sunlight or all their efforts would be for nothing. Duo moved him to the library the following day. As with any patient, no matter what the illness, Duo knew it was important to get him up and moving despite the pain. And the change of scenery wasn't going to hurt. He made Wufei comfortable on the sofa, though he barely seemed aware of his environment, and he built a fire, because he complained constantly of being cold. That night he tried to feed Wufei. Water only. But he quickly threw it up and sank back weakly onto his pillow. Okay, Duo thought, they'd try it a sip at a time. Eventually--if Wufei truly was going to survive this--he'd hold it down. By day sixteen Wufei had taken in almost eight ounces of water over a two-hour period and not once vomited. That night Duo gave him a little chicken broth--his mother would be so proud of him, Duo thought, amused--and Wufei held that down, too. At eleven that night Wufei awakened, and for the first time in weeks, it seemed, he was more alert than delirious. "My God," he said, rising to a sitting position, a look of amazement on his drawn features. "I think I... I have to..." "What?" Duo said, going to him. But he said no more. Instead, to Duo’s amazement, he staggered to his feet and, using the backs of chairs and the walls for support, he somehow managed to make it to the hall powder room. Duo followed, hiding a smile. And he waited while Wufei went in, closed the door, and then returned, gripping the door frame weakly, his eyes glistening with moisture as he tried to control his emotions. "Duo," he said in a whisper, "I... Do you know how long... ?" Duo let himself smile then. "I can imagine," he said, and then he helped Wufei back to his bed in the library, aware of his shock, his emotional response, his embarrassment. He was, after all, a man of impeccable propriety. God, how he cherished that in him. The next day, a warm late January day, Duo took him outside. Wufei leaned weakly on his shoulder, his color ashen, but his growing beard evident now. He only spent perhaps thirty seconds in the sun, wearing the sunglasses Duo had brought him, but he did it. The following afternoon he managed a full minute with the strong rays on his face before he ducked his head, put the sunglasses back on and asked to go back in. A bubble was growing in Duo, a bubble of hope and joy and so much love he was afraid to examine it too closely. On the day that Wufei spent nearly ten minutes outdoors on a wicker chair in his weedy garden, Duo finally allowed himself to bask in that joy, and he told himself that they had done it; together they'd restored Wufei’s life. It was that night, however, that his bubble burst. He'd been in the kitchen, fixing soup, when he saw it, a shadow moving through the garden outside, and Duo knew, knew as sure as he was standing there, that Milliardo was out there. His heart stopped. It was him, stalking them, trying to find out what Wufei was up to. Duo had thought that Wufei had taken care of him that night he'd gone out. He'd truly thought...so what had he done, then? He could hardly march into the library and confront Wufei about it. He was all but mortal now, and completely powerless. That puzzled him--why would Wufei have taken the cure when he must have known Milliardo was still a threat? Had Wufei only thought he'd dealt with the problem? All evening he was haunted by questions. Wufei never, ever, would have taken the poison and the transfusions if he'd known Milliardo was still here. Or... Did Wufei have another plan? Duo desperately wanted to ask, but Wufei was still too weak, barely able to walk without his help. Not yet. Miserable and afraid, Duo was unable to sleep a wink until dawn crept over the city. His worry did not abate, either, until that afternoon when he'd helped Wufei out to his chair in the sun, sunglasses on, a blanket around his shoulders, and he took his hand. "Duo," he said, looking up at him, "how can I ever repay you?" Duo gazed down at him. "Just... let me be with you," he said, no longer the nurse but again the shy young man. "Forever," Wufei said, a whisper. "And someday, Gods willing, I will be able to... to be the man you deserve." "You will, Wufei," he said. "I know you will." And he held Wufei’s head to his stomach, embarrassed at the tears in his eyes. It was Duo's idea to take the taxi to his apartment that afternoon. Actually, as he explained to Wufei, the trip was a necessity. "My rent's two days overdue, I need my clothes, my mail... But you'll be fine for an hour alone, I know you will." Wufei didn't like it, and insisted that Duo be back before dusk. "Promise me," he said, struggling against the weakness. "Of course," he said, and he didn't ask him why he had to be back. "Before dusk," Wufei said with more strength than he'd shown in weeks. "I got you," Duo said, and he gave him a thumbs-up. The first thing that went wrong was the fender-bender that the taxi got into. But Duo checked the time as the drivers exchanged insurance information and driver's license numbers. It was okay. Not great, but he had plenty of daylight left. "Stupid..." the cabby said, swearing up a storm when they were off again. "Just hurry, please," Duo broke in, ignoring his tirade. And then his landlord waylaid him in the hall. "Yo there, Mr. Maxwell," he called, opening his apartment door, coming down the hall, reeking of beer. "You can't just march yerself in here, bum, without paying your rent, and expect to get away with it. Who the hell do you think you are? Who the hell do you think pays the bills around here? Not you, that's for damn sure." Duo sighed. There was no point mentioning the fact that when the heat or hot water ran out it took days to restore them, or that the rent was already higher than any other comparable building in the area. Why argue? "I'11 get your check. That's where I'm headed, in fact." "Oh, yeah? And I suppose you'll run it right down ." "Yes, I will." Duo checked his watch impatiently, aware of the dusk gathering in the hall. "Maybe I just ought to go on up there with you." "That's not necessary," He said. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" Between the accident and his encounter with the landlord, Duo had lost a half hour of light. He raced up the staffs, dropping his mail, catalogs slithering from his hands, and swore, a sense of urgency making him break out in a cold sweat. Clothes, he thought when he was inside his apartment. But first he had to write that idiot the rent check. Duo flipped through his check register, wrote in the figures, and then his eyes lifted desperately to the windows. It was twilight. Oh, God! He rushed, scribbling the check, telling himself he was being silly. He couldn't possibly get here so quickly after the sun had set. And how would he know where Duo was, anyway? Get a grip, Maxwell, he told himself, snatching up an envelope and sealing it. That was when he felt a sudden draft of ice-cold air. Duo froze, the envelope in his hand. It was as if the atmosphere of the room had suddenly changed, and he could feel evil in the very air that he breathed. No, Duo thought frantically, please, no, and with every ounce of courage he possessed he turned slowly around. His heart stopped. "Sweet, sweet Duo" came his voice, drifting on that wave of evil, and he seemed to glide toward him. Duo backed away, his knees buckling, until the wall stopped him. A scream of terror lodged in his throat. "Oh, Duo," Milliardo whispered, standing so close Duo could see the shades of blue dancing in his eyes, the incredible marble smoothness of his skin. "Duo, what have I ever done to make you fear me so?" And he reached up and stroked his cheek with the back of his hand. It was hideously cold. "So warm," he breathed, a man, a being so extraordinarily handsome that the terror quickened in Duo. "And Wufei, where is my old friend tonight? Did he let you go out alone? Tsk-tsk." He tried to speak, instinctively knowing that Milliardo was feeding on his fear. But no words could get past the dryness in his mouth. "Come now, Duo," he went on relentlessly, his body against hiss, his face so close, so close now. "Has the cat got your tongue?" And then, with that icy hand still against his cheek, Milliardo nudged his head to one side. Duo closed his eyes, the blood beating madly in his veins, and prayed for courage. "Ah," he breathed, "they are still on you, Wufei's marks of love. Does he love you, Duo?" Duo licked his lips. "Yes," he murmured. "And you think he is truly capable of love? But of course you do. So sweet, so innocent." And then, with the back of his hand still holding his head to one side, Milliardo drew his mouth along Duo’s jawline, then lower, his tongue now on his neck, licking him. "Um," he whispered, "I can taste you, Duo. Honey. Did Wufei tell you that you taste of honey? Did he tell you he was once a monk? What has Wufei told you?" "Everything," Duo whispered. Milliardo licked him again, a sigh coming from deep within him. "And what is our mutual friend up to these nights? I have not seen him in the city." "But you stare in his windows," Duo said, his stomach coiling in revulsion, every cell in him cringing from him. "Aren't you the clever one. Is this why Wufei is saving you, for your cleverness? Indeed, I admit I am most puzzled by his behavior. By now he should have sucked you dry, Duo, my lovely. Why hasn't he?" Duo wouldn't answer, and he could feel the change in Milliardo. Frustration? "What is Wufei doing in that monstrosity of a house?" This time Milliardo put his teeth against him. Duo's heart beat furiously, and it took a strength he never knew he possessed to stand there stock-still and not fight him. Oh, Milliardo wanted him to fight, to scream and cry and call out Wufei's name. Duo knew that. Oh, God, give me the courage to defy this demon! "Tell me," Milliardo said, drawing back his head, catching Duo’s eyes. "Tell me what it is you and Wufei are up to. Surely you are not playing house with that monk." He grinned wickedly. Duo drew in a ragged breath and looked into those ice blue eyes. "Why don't you ask him?" Milliardo was deathly silent for a moment. "Are you playing a game with me, Duo?" "Not at all." He considered that. "Ah, but I think you are. I think you hope that I will spare you." "Why should you do that?" Duo ventured. "I may have my reasons," he said, and Duo could feel his hesitation. He wanted him, yes; his eyes were blazing with the need, but he also wanted information and an audience--Wufei. "So take me," Duo said. "Oh, I most assuredly will. But I truly wish you'd show some resistance, Duo. This is too easy." "I can't fight you." He bared his teeth. "And Wufei. I want to know why he is closeting himself in that house. Is he coming here, Duo? Is he?" "How should I know?" Milliard’s hands were on his shoulders now, and he pushed him against the wall, hard. "Do you think Wufei would enjoy the spectacle of my possession of you? Should we wait till he comes? Is he coming, Duo?" Duo clamped his lips shut, and that was when he struck him. "Fight me, damn you!" Duo said nothing. And then he pushed him away from him, disgusted. "Where is he?" Milliardo demanded. He still said nothing. "You are a weakling," Milliardo ground out. "And Wufei is a fool! You think that puny monk loves you, but where is he? Where is he now? Why has he let you come here alone?" "Figure it out for yourself," Duo said, and it seemed for a long, terrible moment that he was going to spring on him and sink his teeth into him, but he didn't. Milliardo only glared at him furiously, cold fire spitting from those eyes, and then he hissed, "You will be mine whenever I say, whenever I want, and that revolting monk will witness it! I swear it to you! Tell him that! Tell him he cannot trick me!" And suddenly, as if by magic, he was gone. For a very long time Duo stood there against the wall in the ice-cold room and stared at the space he'd occupied. Then he let out a ragged breath and thought that he must have gone out quickly through the door he hadn't bothered to lock in his hurry. As his breathing quieted and rational thought returned, he realized that he'd been lucky this time. Milliardo would never let him go again. And if he somehow figured out what was going on with Wufei, he wouldn't hesitate to enter the house and have his way. He had to tell Wufei. Warn him. Then, as Duo stood there thinking, he realized that he couldn't possibly tell Wufei. Not in the state he was in right now. It was up to him, then, up to him to keep that fiend from finding out, up to him to keep them both alive.
~ * ~ |
