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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 "
From the Shadows to the Light – Chapter 02 The first thing Duo Maxwell saw when he regained his
senses was a high, elaborate pressed-tin ceiling that didn't look
in the least familiar. His eyes traveled down to dark wood paneling
and bookshelves filled with volumes and volumes of leather and gilt.
My God, where am I? Duo’s eyes traveled to lead crystal lamps and vague
shapes of furniture that were draped with white sheets like somnolent
ghosts. To dark green walls, a faded Persian carpet, a veined marble
mantel, hunting prints on the walls. He tried to clear his head. What happened? And how on
earth did I get here? Wherever here is. Duo realized he was reclining on a sofa; he tried to
sit up, but he seemed to hurt all over. Panic began to curl inside
him in tiny hot licks of flame. A heavy black overcoat lay on top
of him, and he pushed it aside, suddenly claustrophobic. Then he looked
around again, finally realizing that he was in a strange Victorian
library, dimly lit, old-fashioned and dusty, but elegant in the overdone
style of the turn of the century. Duo put a hand on his side—it was sore, bruised—then
looked down and saw that his nurse's uniform was ripped, with long,
jagged tear running down one leg. Panic grew hot in his belly, but
he was alone in the ornate room. And then, as if a switch had been thrown, it all flooded
back into his brain like a rush of scalding water: the park, the shortcut
Duo knew he shouldn't have taken at four in the morning, those men
with their dirty hands and sour breath. And then another part of his memory fell into place.
Yes, a man had saved him, a man who'd appeared suddenly out of
the darkness and frightened away his attackers. Who was he, this rescuer?
He had only an impression--medium height, dark hair, strong hands
that had held him up when he'd felt so terribly faint, very white
hands. But that was all; he had no memory whatsoever of his face or
if he'd said anything. Was this where he lived? Duo sat up and swung his feet to the floor, wincing.
He put his head in his hands; he felt so awfully disoriented, his
head pounding, his stomach nauseous. A concussion, that’s
what he must have. The symptoms were all too familiar, but Duo's experience
had always been with other people's injuries, not his own. He fought the nausea and dizziness down and pushed himself
off the sofa to his feet. He felt weak, but he was sure he could get
home. Maybe he should call a cab and leave, or maybe just leave without
even calling... But where was he? And how long had he been here? His coat was torn and muddy, nearly soaked through.
Ruined, completely ruined. And the stranger--Duo’s eyes fell
on his heavy black coat lying on the sofa—had bundled him up
in that. He put a hand out to touch the fabric. It was soft and luxuriously
heavy, a rich cashmere, slightly damp. Duo’s own cheap, threadbare
one shamed him. He'd been meaning to replace it, but such things had
little importance for Duo; after all, who was there to notice him?
But now, someone had noticed, and he'd had to give Duo his own coat,
probably getting soaked himself in the process. Oh, God. His wallet. Gone. His few dollars, his license, his
credit card, his hospital ID. Gone. Duo set his jaw. He'd asked for
it, walking through the park like that. Stupid. It came to Duo then that perhaps the stranger had spoken
to him. He thought he recalled a voice calling to him: ‘Wake
up, wake up.’ But he hadn't been able to answer. And he vaguely
remembered someone holding him up, but it was very unreal, a dream
memory. Then again, he might be imagining all of it, but in that case
how did he get here? No doubt he should thank this stranger, but he wasn't
here. Duo was alone, entirely alone in this elaborate, dusty room
that looked as if it hadn't been lived in for decades. Duo put his hand on the carved wooden back of the sofa
to steady himself. Yes, he could make it home. Then he could rest.
By tomorrow he'd be fine. Duo told himself this despite the training
that was issuing warnings he wasn't in any mood to acknowledge;
namely, that a concussion, even a slight one, could be dangerous.
The patient should be observed while sleeping and awakened every hour
for twenty-four hours. He should go to the hospital, but Duo knew
he wasn't going to. He just wanted to go home. A strange noise intruded on Duo’s consciousness,
and he tensed. It was a hollow, scratching sort of sound, as if someone
were drawing fingernails across a blackboard, and it made his skin
crawl. The window. Yes, it came from the tall, heavily draped window.
Duo moved shakily across the room and pulled back a velvet drape.
Naked black fingers reached at him through the glass, and he drew
back with a gasp. Then he saw that the fingers were only tree branches
that were rubbing against the window, and Duo chided himself
for his irrational fear. When Duo turned back toward the door the stranger was
there, a glass of water in his hand. Duo gasped. The man's face was
startlingly pale save for the darkness of his shadowed eyes.
A palpable stillness surrounded him. "I am very sorry if I alarmed you," he said
then, and Duo discerned a faint accent in his words, a vaguely Asian
cadence. "My name is Chang Wufei, and you are in my house. You
had an...um, accident, you might say." "Those men," Duo whispered. "Were you
the one who... ?" He nodded somberly, a graceful inclination of his dark
head. "Thank you very much," Duo said breathlessly,
feeling terribly self-conscious in his ripped clothing, with his hair
escaping from his braid and hanging in damp tendrils on his neck.
"I appreciate it. They didn't... I mean, you aren't hurt, are
you?" Wufei waved a hand, as if the notion were of no consequence. "Oh, I'm glad. I wouldn't..." Why couldn't
he finish even one sentence? "And you," he said. "The more important
question is if you are uninjured." "I, uh, well, I think I must have hit my head,
but I'll be fine." Duo’s hand fluttered at the side where
his uniform was ripped. "Just bruised. I'll be... Oh, I'll be fine." "The men did not.., harm you in any other way?"
he asked. Duo felt himself flush. He was often mistaken for a
woman because of his slight build and long hair. Those men who attacked
him must have thought so. Duo looked down before answering. "Uh,
no, they didn't do anything." Wufei took a gliding step into the room. "Here
is some water--I have nothing else to offer you. I am so sorry." "Oh, I don't.., really need..." "Please sit down. You appear very pale. Perhaps
you are hurt more than you think." He hesitated then. "How
should I call you? I forget my manners." "Oh, I'm sorry. I should have introduced myself.
I'm Duo Maxwell." "Well then, Mr. Maxwell, please seat yourself."
He moved closer and indicated the sofa. "Thank you," he said automatically while he
moved around to sit primly on the edge of the crackling, horsehair-stuffed
seat. He handed him the glass of water, and Duo took it in
both hands, as if it were some sort of talisman. "So, Mr. Maxwell," he said, sinking soundlessly
into a white-shrouded chair, "please tell me, only to satisfy
my curiosity, why you were in the park at such an hour?” Duo looked down at the glass of water. "It was
stupid,'' he replied. “I’m a nurse at Upper Manhattan
Memorial Hospital, and I'd just finished my shift. I know better,
but I'd missed the last bus home, and it was shorter to walk through
the park to the subway." "I see," he said. "You are a nurse. Um,
I understand.” His voice had a certain timbre to it that resonated
inside Duo. That accent, the formal English, made him relax a little.
He knew instinctively that Wufei was a gentleman, a foreign,
very commanding, gentleman, and that he was safe with him. It occurred
to Duo to wonder at this knowledge, because no one who lived in New
York ever trusted a stranger. But this man... God please let him be
gay…and single. Duo took a sip of the water and swallowed. "Well,
I should be going," he said. Gazing at him intently, Wufei said with apparent reluctance,
"Rest for a little while. You have had a shock. I will call you
a taxi in a short time, and then you can go. “ It struck Duo then. A taxi... Oh, Lord, he had no money,
not a penny. "I...I don't have any money. My wallet is gone.
Do you think the cabbie would wait while I go up to my apartment to
get a check or something?" "Please, do not worry. I will pay the fare. It
is of no consequence." "Oh, I can't ask you..." "Consider it a loan, then." "Oh, yes, I'll pay you back, Mr. Chang." "Please, it is not important, truly. Rest for a
time. Do not concern yourself with trivialities." "Well, that's very nice of you. But, really, I
don't want to be a bother. I hope I'm not disturbing you. I mean,
it's so late .... " Wufei bared his teeth in what was obviously meant to
be a smile. "I am always up at night. That is when I do my best
work." "Oh, I see." But Duo didn't see at all. "Where do you live, Mr. Maxwell?" he asked.
"Oh, the Upper East Side," Duo said vaguely.
"Not so far, then." "No, not far, but at night..." "Yes, of course, I see." "And cabs are so expensive, so I usually take the
bus." Duo was blathering on with his usual inability to make
conversation with attractive men, he realized ruefully. He stole a glance at Wufei. He sat there in perfect
repose, without nervous mannerisms or unnecessary movement A
very handsome man. There was the hint of a slender but taut physique
under his dark wool trousers and black turtleneck sweater. His hair
was very black, silky, longish—tied into a tail—and damp
from the rain outside. His unblemished skin was as pale as alabaster.
His eyes were dark—black, not the brown he'd first supposed--and
fringed with long, beautiful dark lashes. His nose was curved,
his nostrils flared imperiously. There was something about this Chang
Wufei that was very unusual, very different. It must be his foreignness,
Duo decided. Yes, that was it. Nervously he sipped at the water, feeling
more inconsequential than ever. "You're sure," Duo began, "Um, I mean,
are you sure I'm not keeping you from anything important?" "I'm quite sure. My time is entirely my own. I
am at your disposal, Mr. Maxwell." Duo looked down in confusion. "You're just being
polite. I'd prefer you to be frank with me. If you just show me your
phone, I'll call a cab." “Soon.” "But….” "I would rather you took your time. It would be
unconscionable of me to send you out into the night, not knowing if
you were recovered. Call it selfishness on my part if you will." Duo sank back against the sofa. His head ached, it was
true, and it was so warm and pleasant in this room .... It was easier
to stay, just for a little longer. "All right," he said,
"but just for a few minutes. I don't want to impose." "Will you report the...ah, attack, Mr. Maxwell?"
he asked carefully. "Call me Duo, please. I mean, we're practically old friends now that you saved my life .... " he stopped, not sure if he was making a fool of himself. "Duo, then. Will you?" "What? Oh, report the attack?" He knew instantly
what Wufei was getting at. "No, I don't think so. After all,
I have no idea who they were. I couldn't even give the police descriptions." "It is a shame," Wufei said, "that it
was too dark for me to have seen them, myself." He paused. "Do
you need to report to the police the loss of your driver's license,
that sort of thing?" "No," Duo replied. "I only have to request
a duplicate. And the credit card company will automatically replace
mine with a new one--new numbers, you know. I don't think I'll bother
with the whole police routine. What would be the sense of going through
all that? My God, there must be thousands of crimes like that every
night in New York. They're never solved." Wufei nodded gravely, and Duo could tell he preferred
it that way. Obviously Wufei was a bit eccentric and would hate newspaper
coverage or questions from the police. "Oh, I'd never get you involved. You don't have
to worry about that," Duo assured him. "Your concern is appreciated," Wufei replied,
his black eyes fixed on him. Duo had never known a man who spoke as Wufei did, so
courtly and polite and obviously well educated. Even the doctors at
the hospital didn't sound like Chang Wufei. "Are you from...um, somewhere in Asia?" Duo
asked, searching for a topic of conversation. Wufei’s gaze bored into him like the beam of a
lantern. "Originally," he said, "I was from China,
but I have lived in many places in the world." "How interesting," Duo said. "I've always
wanted to travel. I went to Bermuda once." "It is not always interesting," he said in
an odd tone. "Oh, because you have to travel for business,"
Duo guessed. "You could call it that," he replied dryly. "What is your business? This house is so old and
so lovely. Well, it's none of my business, I know." Duo gave
him a small-embarrassed smile. "Just tell me to quiet down, like
my father does when I get nosy." "You are not nosy," Wufei said. "I consider
your question fair, but I cannot answer you in detail. My affairs
are far-flung and complicated." "Oh, forget I asked," Duo said, fluttering
his hand as if to wave away his questions. Wufei shrugged. "In truth, I am retired. I have
an agent here in New York who handles everything for me." "That must be nice," Duo said before thinking.
"It is merely--convenient," Wufei replied. Duo sighed; he always said the wrong thing. Or if he
did say something acceptable, then his manner was wrong. He usually
just started talking and kept talking hoping that eventually he would
say something interesting. And this man was so urbane, so elegant,
like a character from a wonderful movie. Duo was embarrassed
at his own awkwardness and inability to respond cleverly or intelligently.
No wonder he was single, no wonder he didn't have dates very often.
Here he was with a handsome man, a nice man, someone who'd rescued
him heroically, romantically, and all he could do was stumble over
his tongue, stutter and make dumb remarks. Duo sat there, damp and miserable, unable to think of
a thing to say—for once—afraid even to meet Wufei's gaze,
and suddenly he wanted to disappear. Duo wished he didn't have to
deal with the social amenities; he simply couldn't do those things
well. He was a plain man, good at really only one thing in his life,
and that was his work. He was sure Chang Wufei recognized that
in him and was only being polite, gentlemanly. He swallowed, feeling
a lump in his throat, and his head pounded hollowly. "You are not feeling well" came Wufei's voice,
as if from a distance. "No, no, I'm all right," he murmured. "You do not look all right." Duo finally glanced up. "I think I should go home
now." "That might be wise," Wufei said. "I'll
phone for a taxi." "Thank you," Duo whispered, looking down at
his hands still tightly clasping the glass. "Please excuse me while I arrange it," he
said, and Duo was aware of Wufei rising and moving silently toward
the door. Wufei was back in a moment. "The cab will be here
in ten minutes," he said. "Will that do?" "Oh, yes, of course. You're awfully nice to do
this. I mean, not many people would bother. Chasing those men away
in the first place... Why, you might have been killed." That humorless smile again. "Do not concern yourself.
I was in no danger at all." Wufei spread his hands, and Duo saw
that they were very fine boned and as pale as ivory. "What was
I to do, leave you there on the ground?" "I don't know," Duo said quietly. "Most
people wouldn't have interfered. You must be very brave." "Not at all. In truth, I am the worst sort of coward,"
he said. Duo was surprised at the fervor in Wufei’s voice.
"Oh, no, you can't be, not after what you did." Wufei’s eyes met his, and he saw a spark in their
velvet depths. "I did only what needed doing at no cost to myself." "And for your troubles you got stuck with me,"
Duo said, trying for levity, achieving only pathos. "It is my pleasure," Wufei said smoothly,
and Duo knew he was lying. When he finally heard a knock at the door, Duo was nearly
overcome with relief. He stood and pulled his ruined coat around him
while Wufei went to answer it. Duo followed him, out of the library,
down a bare hallway to where he stood, holding the front door open. "He is waiting for you," Wufei said. "Can
you manage?" "Oh, yes, of course. Thank you. I can't ever repay
you--I mean for your help, for saving me. I will repay the money,
though. I hope you know how much I owe you, Mr. Chang." He stood in the open doorway, his features shadowed.
"You owe me nothing," he said. "And do me the favor
of calling me Wufei." Duo tried to smile. Cool, damp air came in through the
open door, and he pulled his torn coat around him more tightly. Outside
dawn was at hand. A cold, gray, empty November dawn. "I apologize for not seeing you safely home,"
Wufei said, looking down at him. "But I have some affairs that
keep me here." "Oh, that's okay. I'll be fine, honestly. You've
done too much already." Wufei glanced out and stepped aside from the open door,
moving back into the deep shadows of the hallway. There was an air
of distraction about him now, thought. No doubt he was dying to get
rid of him. "Well, I’ll be going now," he said. To Duo's surprise, Wufei took his hand, his fingers
smooth and cool, and in a charming, old-fashioned gesture, he raised
it to his lips. Duo felt the touch of Wufei’s lips and a shiver
ran up his arm as he gasped in frightened delight. Then Wufei raised
his head and said something that threw Duo into a state of stupefaction.
"Would you care to go to dinner this evening, Duo Maxwell?"
he asked. "What?" Duo finally managed to say. "But, of course, it was only a suggestion. Indeed, you may have previous plans…" Wufei let his words trail off eloquently. "Dinner?" Duo repeated stupidly. A corner of Wufei’s mouth quirked. "Surely
you must eat?" Duo stood there on the threshold of this courtly, mysterious
stranger who'd saved his life, a thousand emotions battling within
him. Then one achieved supremacy, and everything was abruptly
clear and simple. "Yes," Duo said, "I’d love to
go out to dinner with you, Wufei." "And how shall I find you?" Wufei asked. "I'm... oh, in the phone book." "Tonight, then," Wufei said. Duo could only nod and make his escape, but when he was in the taxi he braved a glance back toward the stately brownstone that was now emerging from the darkness. Chang Wufei was nowhere to be seen. Not a light shone from the building, and for no reason at all, Duo felt the chill of dawn deep inside. To be continued……………..
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