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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 17 Wufei cursed his weakness. Even climbing the stairs left him short of breath. His body had become a prison, a feeble, putrid thing that controlled both him and Duo. Centuries ago he had forgotten illness of the body, pain, wrenching nausea, sweating, voiding, coughing, itching. Breathing. He was over the worst, or so Duo told him. He barely recalled those days in bed, only Duo’s face, calm and reassuring, and his hands that gave him blessed relief--for a time. It was one-thirty in the afternoon. The sunlight spilled in through the tall front windows intermittently because there were clouds, fluffy white clouds that did not hold moisture. Yet it was cold out. And how he felt the cold now! Impatience ate at him; unjustly, he knew. Duo had taken the afternoon to visit his parents. He realized he couldn't expect him to spend every daylight hour with him, but he was unreasonably jealous of the time Duo spent elsewhere. Gods knew he had spent enough time with him already, hardly sleeping, caring for him in every way when he was helpless. Bathing him, feeding him, holding his head when he vomited. And now that he was better Duo had the right to have some time to himself. Wufei looked out the windows again. The light, shadows, the colors. People strolling by on the sidewalk, cars, delivery trucks, the bustle of a normal day. Clouds sailing across the sky. Blue, a blue sky. Bare-branched trees revealed by a space between buildings, the trees of Riverside Park. Five hundred years since he'd seen such splendid things! He sat for a time in one of the leather chairs, marshaling his strength. He was going to surprise Duo this afternoon. He was going to take a shower and shave. Yes, shave. His beard had started growing again, and when he saw himself in the mirror he recalled the young man he had been. A sad-eyed, gaunt priest. Wufei took the stairs slowly, like an old man, his lungs going in and out, in and out, like a wheezing bellows. Frustrating and inconvenient, but he would grow used to it. Duo had assured him he would. When he thought of Duo he felt a warm melting in his belly, not the awful hunger he'd known before. Ah, that was a relief, the most important thing, really. He was safe now. Duo was safe from him, although not from Milliardo. Duo had been careful to be in his house by sundown every day since the time he had made him so nervous when he had been late getting back, but still he worried. Milliardo must suspect something by now, must be planning some hideous confrontation. At night. He reached the landing and drew air into his lungs. He was better each day, certainly. Soon he would be ready to execute his plan. Very soon. The bathroom. He'd had little use for it previously, but Duo had stocked it with toothpaste, soap, deodorant, shampoo. The scents were so strong, overpowering, yet different from before. He was beginning to live in a whole new world. Wufei took his clothes off. His ribs showed, his skin was pinkish, not white as it had been. It felt rough to the touch, warm and rough. Alive. He turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature as Duo had shown him. The water felt good, warm and clean. He washed his hair. Soap got in his eyes and stung. He had so much to learn, things he'd forgotten or never known. He turned the water off and stepped out onto the rug, experiencing water dripping, the air touching his skin with cold, goose bumps rising, prickling, water running into his eyes, burning. The towel? Ah, this human condition required so much diligence. Wufei looked into the mirror over the sink. It was fogged up, so he opened the bathroom door and watched steam swirl out, but cool air came in and made him shiver again. He wrapped the towel around his loins and studied his face in the mirror: his hair was too long, there were new lines, and his cheeks beneath the dark whiskers were sunken. "Wufei," he said to himself, "you do not look well, not at all." Duo had bought a package of disposable razors. He'd shown it to him and told him he'd shave him when he had time. No knife or straight razor anymore. No, now they were plastic "safety" razors. Easy to use, he'd said. He lathered soap on his face and took one of the bright yellow razors, examined it. Simple. He raised it and stroked it against his skin. The hairs pulled, the blades scraping across his cheek. At his chin he felt the razor catch, stop, and there was red blood on his skin. Damn. Downstairs he heard the front door open. "Wufei" Duo called. "I'm back. Where are you?" And he heard his footsteps, the rustle of his coat as he took it off, the thump of something he put down. "Wufei?" "Up here," he said. Duo’s footsteps on the stairs were light and full of energy. He stuck his head in the half-open door. His cheeks were pink from the cold, and he wore a blue sweater. He was radiant, "Oh, my goodness," he said, "you're bleeding!" Wufei put his hand up, and it came away red. "It's nothing, a nick." Duo grinned at him. "You cut yourself shaving," he said proudly, as if he'd done something commendable. "I need practice." He took the razor from him. "Sit down, there, on the side of the tub. I'll shave you." "I wanted to surprise you." "You did. Marvelously. But I'd prefer you not to lose any of the blood I've so laboriously pumped into you. Now, sit." The feel of Duo’s hands on him was so fine, tickling, sending arrows of almost painful delight through him. He soaped his face. "You should have shaving cream. I forgot. Or an electric razor. I could get you one." Biting his lower lip, Duo put one hand on the top of Wufei’s head and with the other he ran the razor swiftly and efficiently across his skin, rinsing the blade in the sink. It took no more than two minutes, and Wufei was curiously let down when he was nearly done. It was the feel of him against him, his deft hands, one thigh touching his left side, a stay lock of hair brushing his shoulder. He found that he could not ignore that teasing touch of hair against him, and despite his weakness, he felt heat in his loins, a pulse that was attaining a mind of its own. Wufei had no idea whether to be embarrassed or proud or whether or not he should inform Duo of this awakening within him. He sensed, though, that this heat in him, this life, was best kept private for now. One thing of which he was certain, however, was that he was not ready for that particular act. No. He must be fully recovered, because if he were not, he might somehow fail Duo, and of all the changes he had undergone these past weeks, this was the one he was growing to fear. "There," Duo said, laying aside the razor, "all done." Wufei recognized his nurse voice. Duo was patting his face with a warm, damp wash rag. Wufei put his hand up and closed his fingers around Duo’s wrist. "Come here," he said, his voice rumbling, unfamiliar to his ears, and he pulled on his wrist. He was close then, his eyes shining, his pink lips parted. Duo put his hands on his shoulders to brace himself and closed his eyes. Wufei kissed him carefully, breathing in his scent, which was different now, no longer cloying and coppery, but fresh and alive. "Wufei," he said against his mouth, "you are feeling better." Duo sounded surprised and thrilled and expectant, and his voice was a contented purr. They drew apart and looked at each other. A hush filled the bathroom, and Wufei could sense the unfamiliar beating of the organ in his breast grow stronger. He put a hand on his chest, feeling it. "Are you all right?" Duo asked in alarm. "Maybe you should lie down. You're cold. Wufei..." "Is this what I must expect from a mere kiss?" he asked lightly. Duo flushed. "Oh." "You are so beautiful," he said. "And you're freezing. Please get dressed," he said in his efficient nurse voice. "I’m going to start fixing dinner. I got some groceries, and my mother gave me some leftover pot roast." "Shall I grow to love your mother's pot roast?" "You might just have to, Wufei." And he went downstairs. They ate a meal like real people, sitting at the kitchen table, not the huge, sheet-shrouded dining room table, and talked like ordinary folk, the light outside dying as they ate. Wufei chewed slowly, tasting, smelling. Each mouthful was a new discovery. Duo talked idly, and he listened. He felt better, weak but better, and he was content for the moment. "They keep asking about you," he was saying. "I make excuses. They know I'm living with you, because I'm never at my apartment." "Are they angry about that?' He shrugged. "No. My mother is so glad I've got a man she doesn't care what I do." "I will meet your family," he said. "Soon," "You'll need a few more units of blood for that," Duo said dryly. "I am not afraid. Not with you." He chewed a piece of meat and swallowed. "I will tell your mother I like her pot roast." After dinner they sat in the library. Wufei got cold easily, so they lit a fire in the hearth. He was in one of the big chairs, and Duo sat on the floor at his feet, legs curled under him, his back against the chair, and Wufei rested his hand on his shoulder. They were quiet together, not needing to talk. Wufei felt the heat of the flames burnish his face, smelled the smoke. His body was a constant source of sensation, and Duo's presence heightened his perceptions. He sat, thinking of the long, long nightmare from which he was awakening, staring into the flames. "You must be tired," Duo finally said, turning to look up at him. "A little." "Let's go to bed, then. You need your rest." Duo slept next to him now, having gotten into the habit when he was so ill and he needed to care for him. They didn't discuss it, and he didn't press him. It was unspoken, but when he was stronger, when he was totally well... He lay next to him in the darkness, feeling his heat, hearing him breathe, and he thought about what was coming. Milliardo. He tested his strength, flexing muscles, breathing. Damn, but his recovery was slow! It would come, though, the time was approaching. He lay there and felt the oddness of his body, the twitches and tickles and air rushing in and out, a yawn erupting. Yes, the time was near. -------- Duo awakened to Wufei's hand on his chest and his lips on his collarbone. He turned and snuggled against him. "Good morning," he murmured. Wufei put his arms around him and held him close, saying nothing, and Duo felt such complete contentment he could not have put it into words. They were together, and the cure had worked. Wufei was on the mend, and they loved each other. As for the other--Milliardo--he would not think of him now. He'd put him from his mind and enjoy the moment, for it was daylight, and he couldn't bother them. He felt Wufei's body, the whole length of it, against him. He was warm now, and his face had lost its smooth, waxen look. He was too thin, and in his fine silky black hair there was a streak of gray at one temple, but, oh, how he loved him! Wufei shifted, and against his thigh there was a stirring and something pressing into him, Duo held his breath and lay still. Could he...? But suddenly he rolled away from him and sat on the side of the bed. Duo reached out a hand to trace his backbone. "It's all right," he whispered. "It is not all right," he said. "You've been so sick. It's only natural." "Do not patronize me, Duo." "I'm not. Wufei, believe me, it will happen." "When?" he asked hoarsely. "Soon." Duo pulled on his arm. "Come back to bed. It's cold." He did, lying on his back, a hand behind his head. He was very quiet. "Did we just have a quarrel?" Duo asked. "No, because I am not angry with you, only myself." He raised herself on an elbow and regarded Wufei gravely. "You're not sorry you took the cure, Wufei, are you?" "No, never." "Do you wish you'd never met me?" Duo ran his fingers down Wufei’s bare chest. "No, no! How could you think that?" He leaned down and kissed his lips. "Soon," he whispered. They had the conversation over lunch at the Russian Tea Room. It was Wufei's first daylight outing. "I am keeping you from your work," Wufei said over coffee and pastries. "I have been thinking about that. I’m well enough now that you could return to the hospital." "Not yet," he said. "I am a burden to you." "Oh, Wufei, you're not. I've never been so happy in my life. I'll go back when you're entirely recovered, okay?" "You must work during the day, though. The night is for others." "Don't even think about it now. We'll talk about it later." "You will not be able to put it off forever," he said. "You should have your own life." Duo put his hand on Wufei’s where it lay on the table. "I have no life without you." That afternoon Wufei took him to meet his agent, whose office was in a restored building on West Twenty-first Street. "Why, Mr. Chang," the agent said, rising from behind his desk, "what a pleasant surprise. I honestly can't recall when you last visited the office. Sit down, sit down." "Mr. Hagel," Wufei said, "I wish you to meet Duo Maxwell. I would like to set up a power of attorney for him and add his name to my signature cards and the title to my house." "Wufei!" Duo said, shocked. "You don't have to do that. I mean..." "Duo, I have been planning to do this. Do not interfere." "And, ahem, what is Mr. Maxwell’s legal status, Mr. Chang?"' Wufei looked at him, his eyes meeting his, a solemn expression on his face. "He is my betrothed." Duo's heart leapt. He couldn't speak for the lump in his throat. Tears came to his eyes. "Wufei," he managed to say. "Your fiancé," Mr. Hagel said. "My congratulations, Mr. Chang, Mr. Maxwell." They spent the better part of an hour arranging everything, and Duo was so embarrassed he could barely speak a word. He was positive this elegant-looking agent of Wufei's thought he was a fortune hunter, and of course he had to believe Wufei was a complete fool. It wasn't until they were back out on Twenty-first Street that he felt he could breathe again. "He thinks I'm after your money," Duo said, dying inside. "I wish you'd warned me. I wouldn't have let you do that. Oh, Wufei, I'm so..." But he only smiled indulgently. "Duo, Duo," he said, tipping his face gently up to his. "The man knows, as obviously you do not, that my holdings in New York are a mere fraction of the fortune I have amassed, if today you were embarrassed, you had best brace yourself." "Wufei," he said, horrified. "You aren't to put my name on another thing. I mean it." "Of course, whatever you wish," he said. That afternoon, for the first time since he'd been ill, Wufei went up to his studio and attempted to paint. Duo left him alone, knowing he needed time to himself. He took the opportunity to tidy up, to vacuum the floors with the new Hoover Wufei had had delivered. And he thought, as he worked, that everything was so perfect, so wonderful. Too perfect. Life couldn't remain like this, a constant happy ending. No, he had to be realistic, and no matter how much he and Wufei loved each other, problems would crop up. Oh, sure, he knew that. But for now... It was a few days later when his prediction came true. "I have to go out," Wufei said that morning. "Oh, where?" "An errand, that is all." "I’ll go with you," he said. "No, Duo. I have to do this alone." "Wufei..." He smiled to reassure him, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You are not to worry, my dear." Duo’s heart caught. "You're lying to me, Wufei," he said. "I can tell. You're going to do something ...." He laughed, a false laugh. "Do not be silly. You are overprotective, a tyrant." "Wufei, please, I'll go with you. You're not entirely well yet." "I am perfectly fine." He came close and kissed him on the lips. "You have seen to it that I became a man, Duo, so let me be one." "Oh, Wufei..." But he was right, and there was nothing he could do. He put on his coat, wrapped a scarf around his neck, a red cashmere scarf he'd bought for him, and leather gloves. Duo busied himself in the kitchen, his heart thudding, unable to bear the thought of what Wufei was going to do. And then it occurred to him why he'd made all those legal arrangements, putting him name on everything. He'd thought it all out, so that if he... Oh, God, he was not coming back! "Wufei!" he cried, running to the front door, where he stood, one hand on the knob. "Don't go! Stay here!" He smiled. "You are foolish to get upset over a simple errand, Duo." A simple errand. He left then, walking down the white marble steps, along the flagstone path, through the wrought-iron gate to a waiting taxi. There was no thought, no coherent decision, on Duo's part as he grabbed his coat and wallet and flew out the door, running to the corner, chasing after Wufei's taxi, which turned south. He stood there desperately waving his arm for a cab, watching the bright yellow vehicle that carried Wufei grow smaller and smaller. A cab stopped, thank God, and he burst in, breathless, telling the driver to hurry. "See that cab up ahead?" he said, leaning forward, pointing. "Yeah, Mister. I know, follow it and there'll be a big tip in it, right?" "Yes, yes! Hurry!" Duo leaned forward the whole time, his hands on the back of the front seat, his eyes glued to Wufei's taxi. "You lost him!" he cried once. "Take it easy, Mister. He just turned onto the avenue. No problem." And his driver careered around the corner just as the light turned red behind them. Downtown they went, across to the East Side, the neighborhood changing from commercial through shabby residential to abandoned warehouses, boarded-up tenements. It was bright out, sunny and clear, and Duo had to squint. His cabbie put on his brakes suddenly, and he jerked forward. "Sorry. He stopped up there," the cabby said. "I figured you don't want him to see you." Duo peered out through the windshield. Yes, there was Wufei getting out of his taxi; he could just see the bright red of his scarf. His cab pulled away, and he was left standing there on the deserted street, in front of a condemned brick tenement. "Thanks," he breathed, digging in his wallet, thrusting some bills at the driver. "Is that enough?" But he was halfway out the door before he could answer. Duo walked briskly down the street to where Wufei had stood a moment before, his heart pounding so hard he felt weak. Shielding his eyes, he looked up at the building, an ugly structure with filthy windows, mostly broken, some boarded over. Someone had put a sign on the door: Danger, Do Not Enter. Trash had blown into the comers of the recessed doorway. Duo swallowed, stepped over some boards and pulled on the tilted door. It opened. Inside, the building was dark, and he had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. He didn't question why Wufei had come here; his mind wasn't really working. He only knew he had to be there. He had to help Wufei. Quietly he closed the door behind him. The darkness frightened him, and the awful smells of mold and urine and decay assailed his senses. He listened. Yes, Wufei's footsteps on the stairs, climbing. Duo started up the stairs. He knew what was up there. And he knew how Wufei had known of this place--he'd found it that night he'd gone out before starting the cure. He'd been planning this all along, just waiting until he was well enough. He'd kept it from him, too, although he should have guessed. There would be no peace for Wufei until he met his nemesis one last time--in the light of day. Of course. Up he climbed, cobwebs brushing his face with shadowy fingers, rats scurrying, scratching. Doors were broken, hanging on hinges, missing altogether. Wufei's footsteps stopped. Duo froze. A door creaked open. He moved quickly, quietly, toward the open door through which a pale rectangle of light spilled onto the stained floor of the hallway. He knew who, what, was in that apartment. He recalled the coldness of the monster's tongue on his neck, and shuddered. He crept up to the door, peeked in. Wufei stood there, looking down at a filthy mattress and the figure that lay so still upon it. He could see Milliardo clearly, and even in his trance an aura of evil came from him. His face was so smooth, so young, unreal in its perfection, his blond hair lying close to his skull, his long white hands clasped over his chest. A strangled sob escaped from Duo's throat, and Wufei whirled. "Gods in heaven!" he breathed. "Duo!" "I had to follow you, I had to. I was so scared," he whispered. Wufei stepped quickly to the doorway, took his arm in an iron grasp and pulled him out into the hall. "Go," he said fiercely. "Leave this place! You cannot imagine the danger!" "It's daylight, though," he breathed. "Isn't he..." "He is powerful, Duo. I cannot be sure. You will leave!" Duo straightened and gently pulled his arm from Wufei’s grasp. "I won't go. I'm staying. You can't do this alone." Wufei leaned against the wall, wiped cold sweat from his brow. "Duo," he groaned, "you do not know what you say." "Yes I do. Look at you, you're still sick." "Damn you, Duo." He put an arm out, barring his way. "Stay here. Do not enter this room. Obey me." And he went back inside. Duo bit his lip, twisted his hands nervously, then stepped to the open doorway. Wufei was pulling at the creature's arm, struggling. Duo knew that Wufei would have been able to do the job effortlessly when he was a revenant, but now he was weak. He could hear his labored breath, the body dragging across the floor. He drew in a deep lungful of musty air and stepped into the room. Wufei stopped for a second, turning a black look on him. "Go away, Duo," he said, panting. "No," he replied, and he grabbed Milliardo's other arm and bent his back, pulling at him. They got him out the door, down the corridor. He was a dead weight, surprisingly heavy. Duo couldn't bear to look at his face. The stairs, four flights, lay ahead of them. Wufei took his arms, Duo his legs, and they started down. It was so horrible, a sick thing they were doing, but he couldn't consider that, not now. He struggled with the weight on every step, and he knew Wufei bore most of the load. Then he dropped a leg, and it thumped hollowly on a step. He was bending to pick it up again when his eyes flew to its face, and Duo’s insides turned to ice. Milliardo’s eyes were slits, partially open, full of hate, gleaming with evil. "Wufei!" he cried, and he turned and saw, but he kept on, one step at a time. They reached the first-floor landing. Only one more flight. He was so heavy. Duo's arms and chest ached, but he was afraid to stop, to look at him again. What if he really woke up? They stopped on the landing for a moment to rest. Horror clawed at him. Milliardo's eyes opened; his mouth stretched into a feral grin. "Oh, God," he sobbed, "hurry!" But Wufei was having trouble getting hold of an arm. It moved by itself, out of his grasp! Then he recovered it, and Duo stumbled, faster and faster, slipping, missing a step, almost falling, gasping for breath. The creature was so heavy, as if it was deliberately making itself more dense to thwart them. They burst outside, and Duo could feel the monster buck as he dragged at one leg, desperately pulling him along the ground. "He moved!" he gasped. But Wufei said nothing, only pulled their captive doggedly, foot by foot, along the broken pavement in front of the tenement, to a vacant lot next door. It was hard to hold on to him now. He struggled, writhing, convulsing. Duo dropped his leg once; it kicked at him. He ran around and took an arm, and they went on, only a few more yards. Through a break in a chain link fence, now on snow that made him slide more easily. His torso twisted. They dropped him in the dirty snow in the empty lot where used hypodermics and broken glass littered the ground and papers flapped against the wire fence. The winter sun glared down. And then they stepped back and stood side by side and watched the monster. A thousand curses poured from his throat, though his lips didn't move. Duo put his hands over his ears. Milliardo’s body arched up until it rested on its heels and head, until they could hear its spine crack. The fire shot from his eyes, and they widened, glaring, while the babble of a hundred tongues erupted from him. Then the fire dimmed, his eyes closed, his arms flailed and thrashed. A scream tore from his throat, weaker now. Smoke rose from him, and he seemed to wither, to lose mass, even as his body squirmed and kicked. It was unspeakably horrible. He shrank, still smoking, until there was nothing but leathery skin and bones, and then even those turned to dust, a man-shaped blot of dust on the snow. "It is done," he heard Wufei say in a deathly quiet voice. Wufei put his arm around his shoulders and looked up into the noonday sun. "It is done," he said again.
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