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"Back to the West "Written By: Hemlock Inyx 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.This fict is written out of love and not
for profit, don't sue. Thanks and enjoy! Rating: NC 17 Warnings: yaoi, lemon, alternate universe, Ghosts,
Time-traveling, OOC Pairings: 2x5, 1x4, 3xH Summary: " Back to the West "
Even considering the sweltering heat, the town below seemed unnaturally quiet. Nestled near the base of the mountain, surrounded by scrublands of semi-desert stretching into the distance, the place was a sprawling metropolis that had to be home to three of four thousand people. But Duo could see no sign of life. Wiping the sweat from his forehead and adjusting the brim of his Stetson to protect his eyes from the sun, Duo headed forward once more. By the time he reached the level plain, Duo was sure the place was deserted. The only living thing in sight was an enormous turkey vulture, sitting on a weathered sign that marked the city limits. As Duo drew closer, the buzzard gave a lazy flap of its wings and flew off. Pausing, Duo gazed at the sign it had been perched on. Chester City, Nevada, it read. Founded, 1888. When he started off again, Chester City seemed to become more dilapidated with each step he took. Many of the cabins lining the side streets had collapsed over the years, and the buildings on the main street were in little better shape. There had once been stretches of boardwalk in front of the larger structures, but they’d decayed long ago. Duo trudged past the first business establishments he came to—several saloons and brothels, one hotel, a general store, two blacksmith shops and a bakery They were all in various stages of decay, some merely sagging shells without windows or doors, nothing more than shady spots of lizards and rattlers to hide. Their corrugated metal roofs, creaking now and then in the heat, provided the only sounds to break the silence, other than the soft thud of his boots on the dirt street. Then the tinkle of a piano drifted though the still air, stopping him in his tracks. Duo wasn’t alone, after all. Bizarre as it seemed, someone was playing the piano in the Miner’s Saloon. For a minute Duo stood listening to the sad, haunting melody, then he turned and followed the sound. The Miner’s Saloon still had doors—swinging ones that squeaked in protest when he pushed them open. The final notes of the song died as Duo stepped into the semidarkness. The air inside was stale and the atmosphere spooky. The room was still furnished—half a dozen round tables surrounded by roughly built chairs. A couple of pool tables stood near one wall, as if waiting for players to enter and rack the balls. And there, on the far side of the front window, was the piano. But its stool was empty and the cover was pulled down over the keyboard. Duo looked around slowly, seeing no signs of life. Dust particles floated thickly in the dim light and dust blanketed every surface—including the piano and stool. It was disturbed only on the floor, where tiny trails had been left by mice. Puzzled, Duo wandered farther into the room. Cobwebs covered the walls and linked the row of dust-dry bottles that stood behind the bar. Seeing them made Duo think of how thirsty he was, so he looked away. He walked along the bar to where a calendar hung on the wall. It was gray with grime, the print so faded he couldn’t make out the year. Duo brushed it a little cleaner. It read 1897. But how long had the calendar been hanging there? Exactly what year was it? There was no clue in the Miner’s Saloon, so he’d have to look elsewhere for his answer. Then, just as Duo was about to leave, the swinging doors squeaked again. Over the sound a man said, "Move an inch and you’re dead." Duo didn’t move a muscle—simply stood listening to his heard pound. * * * * * * * Wufei waited, needing time to calm down enough to think clearly before he tried to say anything more. It was a good thing that ghosts reacted to situations as if they were still alive, because threatening to shoot one had been ridiculous. But ridiculous or not, Wufei had managed to startle him. And until the ghost began thinking straight again Wufei had the upper hand. Wufei needed those few minutes to establish whether or not the ghost could be trusted. Not all ghosts could be, not by any means. Besides, as long as the ghost was worrying about getting shot, it wouldn’t occur to it to simply drift away on him. And Wufei certainly didn’t want that. This new ghost was the most magnificent specimen he’d seen in all his years of studying the paranormal. The ghost cowboy had to look almost exactly as he’d done centuries ago. "Don’t turn around," Wufei said faintly. "I want you to take your gun out of its holster. Slowly…and put it on the floor…then slide it away from you." Apparition or not, what Wufei could see of that old revolver looked deadly. And it was all too common for a ghost to do something that surprised the devil out of Wufei. This one though, did exactly what he’d been told. Wufei watched as the ghost slowly bent down. When he first noticed the ghost though the window, he’d seemed so alive that Wufei hadn’t been sure what he was dealing with. And even up close the ghost looked incredibly real—from his broad shoulders, past his pattable-looking behind, un-characteristic long braided hair, to those long, lean legs. If it weren’t for the ghosts clothes, Wufei might have believed he was flesh and blood. But his outfit was a dead giveaway—definitely manufactured in the late 1800s. A red-check shirt of roughly woven cotton, worn with faded black jeans, a black Stetson, dusty black cowboy boots and a hand-tooled leather gun belt. Individually, no one item screamed out that it hadn’t originated in today’s world. But add them together and the message was unmistakable. There were too many subtle clues in the fabrics and tailoring for Wufei’s trained eye to miss. "All right," Wufei said as the ghost stood up again, his back still to him. "Now, tell me who you are." "My name’s Duo Maxwell, mister." Mister. That sounded like more solid evidence the ghost had lived a long time ago. Either that, or he was from the South. Looking at him, Wufei doubted the latter. And the revolver, Wufei noted, glancing over to where it had been slid, was a frontier-model Colt. Everything added up to Duo Maxwell having met his maker near the end of the 1800s. And, undoubtedly, he’d died right here in Chester City. Why else would he have materialized here? "Mister?" "Yes?" "Do you reckon I could turn around? It feels kind of strange, your being just a voice and all. "All right," Wufei agreed, curious to see if Duo’s face was as clearly defined as the rest of him. It was. Smooth plains and angles, with an unusual shade of eyes, violet or close enough. His skin was a sun-kissed shade of gold that had become unthinkable after people realized the dangers of UV, and also started living in space. The only softening features were his expressive eyes and the most sensuous mouth Wufei had ever seen—on a man or ghost. All in all, Wufei knew that if Duo Maxwell were alive, his hormones would be going into overdrive. Duo hesitantly reached up to remove his hat, revealing his chestnut colored bangs which fell to hang down over his eyes. Seeing that, Wufei almost wished Duo was alive. "Pleased to meet you, mister," Duo said, his eyes lingering warily on Wufei’s pistol. "But I don’t believe you mentioned your name." "Wufei, Chang Wufei." The ghost nodded, then glanced at Wufei’s pistol again and said, "That’s a gun." Wufei wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question. His little plastic automatic wasn’t something Duo would have seen back in his time. And its design was space-age compared to the revolver. "It’s a Glock…they’re made in Austria. And it’s a newer model than your Colt." "Uh-huh," he said, still not taking his eyes off it. "I didn’t mean you any harm with my Colt, though, mister." "No…no, I realize that now. But when I first spotted you I thought you might be…" Wufei caught himself before saying he’d thought Duo might be alive. Ghosts were often sensitive about their dead status, so Wufei tried not to remind them of it. "You just took me by surprise," Wufei explained instead. "I’m alone in town." The instant Wufei said that he regretted it. Admitting he was on his own wasn’t smart. But it was too late to call back his words. Wufei would just have to stay on his guard and hope Duo wasn’t a malevolent ghost. "I didn’t mean to startle you, mister. I just heard the piano and came in. You play very well." "I’m glad you enjoyed it," Wufei said, not bothering to correct his assumption. It would be better to keep the focus of their conversation entirely on Duo. Duo stood watching Wufei with a curious expression, but he no longer seemed afraid. Any minute now, reality was going to kick in and he’d realize Wufei’s gun couldn’t hurt him. He’d also realize that he didn’t have to stay. But Wufei needed him to stay. Wufei had to get Duo to talk to him. Thus far, fewer of Chester City’s ghosts had cooperated with him that he’d initially hoped. "Duo…I’m going to put my gun away, but will you promise me something first?" "What’s that, mister?" "Promise me you won’t disappear? I’d like to talk to you for a little longer." Duo’s expression grew even more confused, but he nodded. Wufei lowered the Glock and stuck it in the waist of his shorts. Duo swallowed hard, he gaze following Chang Wufei’s gun. He’d never seen a man wearing as little as this one was. Not outside the privacy of a bathing chamber or bedroom, at least. Oh, his friend Trowa had told him how clothing had changed a lot over the years, but seeing it for himself was an entirely different matter. Those little red things Wufei was wearing…well, even his underwear came down to his knees. But those red things barely covered the tops of Wufei’s muscular thighs, leaving his long, though shorter than his, legs almost entirely naked. And Wufei’s thin white shirt didn’t cover much, either. Its sleeves had been ripped off and was unbuttoned so that Duo could see most of his chest and just a hint of his coral nipples. Intensely aware of the way his body was reacting, Duo shifted his hat, letting it come to rest just below his belt buckle. Then Duo forced himself to focus on Wufei’s face, even though there was far less of it visible than there was of the rest of him. Wufei had a luscious mouth, pale skin and long, silky-black hair pulled back into a tail. But the upper part of his face was hidden by the most peculiar spectacles Duo had ever seen. They were goggles, really, with wings at the sides. And the lenses were such a deep purple that Duo couldn’t imagine how Wufei saw anything though them. Duo glanced back at the wall calendar, trying to decide how to proceed. He’d like to just come right out and ask Wufei what year it was, but he could hardly admit he didn’t know. Wufei would ask him why, and he wouldn’t have a credible answer for him. Trowa had told him that even in the future most people didn’t believe time travel was possible. "And those of us who know it is," Trowa had explained, "make a point of not talking about it. If too many people caught on and started changing events in time, we’d have a cosmic disaster on our hands." So, Duo reminded himself, he had to be very careful about what he said. Odds on this man believing in time travel had to be danged low. And if he slipped up, Wufei would think he was suffering from some disorder of the mind and pull his gun on him again. Casually, Duo gestured at the calendar, hoping Wufei would be able to see it though his goggles. "That’s been hanging there since 1897?" "Yes…a long time." "Uh-huh." Well, so much for that try. Duo thought for a moment, then said, "You know, I’ve never been to Chester City before." "Really?" Wufei seemed to find that surprising, but it was hard to tell when Duo couldn’t see his eyes. "You mean not since you…?" "Not since I what?" Duo said. Wufei cleared his throat, then rubbed his palms on those little red things—a nervous gesture that drew Duo’s attention back to his naked legs. Anxiously, Duo checked that his hat was still keeping everything under cover. "Duo…you do know what you are, don’t you?" Duo shifted his gaze to Wufei’s face again, hoping to see a clue to what he meant by his question. But if there was a clue, it was hidden by the goggles. "Mister…" Duo hesitated, not wanting to say anything that might insult Wufei. "Mister, I hope this question doesn’t sound unmannerly, but I’ve been wondering if there’s something wrong with your eyes." "No. Nothing." "Well, then, would you mind taking off those spectacles for a minute? They make it difficult to talk to you." "Oh, could you try to just ignore them, Duo? If I took them off, you probably wouldn’t seem nearly as clear to me." An extreme sense of embarrassment swept over Duo. He shouldn’t have said a word about the goggles because Chang Wufei must be partially blind. They had to be some newfangled invention that helped people see. Yet Wufei had just finished saying there was nothing wrong with his eyes, so… "Duo…you haven’t answered my question. Do you know what you are?" Duo shrugged, feeling like a bit of a fool because he didn’t understand what Wufei was getting at. "I’m a man. But I guess that much is obvious. And I…well, I’ve been a lot of things. Been in the mining business in Nevada, ranched in Arizona, got into the oil game in California. Why?" "And when did you do all that? What years, I mean." "What years?" Duo said slowly, giving himself time to think. There was something in Wufei’s tone that was starting to annoy him. He sounded condescending, as if he thought he knew something he didn’t. And maybe Wufei did. Well, actually, there was no maybe about it. Wufei had to know a whole lot of things he didn’t. Trowa certainly hadn’t told him everything there was to know about the future. But regardless of how much Wufei knew, Duo didn’t like his patronizing attitude. Duo was almost tempted to tell Wufei the truth. That would certainly shock him out of his smugness. "Duo?" As Wufei said his name, he began nervously rubbing his palms on those little red things again. Duo swallowed hard. Annoying or not, Wufei was having quite an effect on him. "Duo, who’s the vice president of the United States?" "Chester Arthur, of course," Duo said before he could catch himself. But instead of saying he was crazy, Wufei simply nodded, then said, "Of course. The man Chester City was named for. But look…there’s something I have to tell you. It’s going to come as a terrible shock, and I’m sorry about that but…Duo, you’re dead. You’re a ghost." * * * * * * * It had taken Duo a few moments to realize Wufei wasn’t joshing him. But even with those stupid goggles hiding his eyes, Duo finally decided Wufei actually believed what he’d said. Rational people, though, didn’t believe ghosts really existed. And they certainly didn’t tell perfect strangers—very much alive strangers—that they were dead. And Duo had been worried that Wufei would think he was suffering from a disorder of the mind. Chang Wufei would be better named Wufei Challenged-in-the-head. But Duo wasn’t about to suggest that while he had a gun tucked into his waistband and his was laying ten feet away on the floor, so Duo just said, "Mister, I’m definitely not dead. I’m not even feeling a mite poorly." "Oh, Duo," Wufei murmured. "I really am sorry to have to tell you. And I know how difficult it is for you to accept. But if you’d like to talk about your…condition, I’ll be glad to help you work though your feelings." "Work though my feelings," Duo repeated. What in tarnation was that supposed to mean? Uneasy, Duo glances at Wufei’s gun again. Duo didn’t have the slightest idea how to deal with a crazy person. And a crazy person who was armed was a more worrisome problem yet. "Don’t be frightened to talk about your emotions," Wufei told him with a tiny smile. "I know men didn’t do it in your century, but it’s quite acceptable today. And I’ve had extensive training in working with ghosts. And extensive experience. I’m a paranormalist." "A…paranormalist." The word sounded strange on Duo’s tongue. "Oh, of course," Wufei said, "you don’t know what that is, do you? Paranormalism is a relatively recent field. I mean, there’ve always been people involved in the occult, but paranormalists are trained scientists. Paranormalism is a respectable profession." Duo nodded, but he wouldn’t be at all surprised if it was a profession that existed solely in Wufei’s mind. Paranormalism sure sounded like a made-up word to him. Or, if there really was such a profession, he’d put his money on it being one that attracted all kinds of quacks. "I…I’m sorry if I seem to be staring at you," Wufei was saying. "I don’t mean to. It’s just that you’ve thrown me a little. You see, you’re the most lifelike ghost I’ve ever come across." "Ah, I see." Duo stood wondering if he should demonstrate why he was so lifelike. But he’d already told Wufei once that he wasn’t dead and he’d totally ignored him. Apparently, Wufei wasn’t about to let reality intrude into his fantasy world. And maybe trying to press the truth wasn’t the best idea, anyway. Wufei would only find the details confusing, and he was obviously a danged confused man already. So maybe he should just follow his lead and play along. "If we’re going to talk about your condition, Duo, it might be best to start with your final memories of being alive. What year was it when…what year do you last remember?" "What year is it now?" "It’s 203 After Colony." Duo silently cheered. What a load that was off his mind. He’d made it to the right year, after all, and now he just had to get out of here and head for Boston. "And you last recall it being…?" Wufei prompted. "Well…" Hell, how could he play along when he had no idea what to say? And why should he try twisting the truth in knots for the benefit of a crazy person? Duo considered that for several seconds, then made his decision. Trowa might have warned him not to tell anyone he’d come from 1887, but Trowa had never met up with Chang Wufei. Besides, he may run, and he may hide, but Duo Maxwell never lied. And he damned well wasn’t going to start lying now, simply because this man couldn’t tell the difference between men and ghosts. "This is going to sound mighty complicated," Duo warned Wufei. Wufei merely nodded for Duo to continue. "Well, I last recall it being 1850. But that’s only because I went down the wrong tunnel. If I hadn’t, I’d last recall it being 1887." Wufei took a deep breath, trying to quell his excitement. It was difficult, though, when he just might be looking at an extremely rare case—a ghosts so into denial that he was transposing the dates of his birth and death. And tunnel, he’d said. Duo had gone down a tunnel. Heavens, that was such an obvious metaphor for the birth-canal it would make Freudians jump for joy. If there were still any Freudians around, that was. Their ranks had vastly diminished over the last century or so. Focusing his attention on the ghost once more, Wufei said, "So you were born in 1850. And you’re thirty-seven." Duo looked at Wufei strangely. "No mister. I said that 1850 was the last year I recall. I was born in 1861. December 30, 1861. And I’m twenty-six." "I see." Wufei spoke the words calmly as he could, but this went far beyond any textbook case he’d ever read. Duo Maxwell thought he could remember the time before he’d been born. What Wufei had here was a ghost not only in denial, but in some sort of dissociative state, as well. Wufei had to get more details before Duo decided to disappear on him. If he could manage to get enough of Duo’s story, he’d might be able to write a landmark paper about him. Possibly even a book. "Mister?" "Yes?" "Mister, you seem to be missing an important point here." "What’s that, Duo?" "That I’m not actually a ghost. That’s why I seem so lifelike to you." Wufei thought quickly, trying to decide how best to handle the situation without upsetting Duo. He probably didn’t even believe ghosts existed. And Wufei didn’t want to push too hard. But Duo seemed intelligent, so perhaps a rational explanation would be the best approach. "Duo," Wufei began, "it’s these glasses I’m wearing that make you seem so alive. I thought I’d mentioned that. You see, ghosts radiate auras that are cooler temperatures than the auras of living people." "Auras?" "An aura is an emanation of the life force in the atmosphere surround a person…or a ghost." When Duo still seemed uncertain, Wufei gestured at the air around himself. "And, as I said, a ghost’s aura is cooler than a living person’s. The life force diminishes after death. But the lenses in these glasses were specifically designed to pick up the cooler aura and digitize the prior human form from it." "Mister, I just don’t…" "Call me Wufei. Please." Duo had begun looking at him as if he was certain he was utterly insane, so Wufei gave Duo his most reassuring smile before going on. "I know is sounds confusing, Duo, but the bottom line is, that if I took off my glasses, I wouldn’t see you half as clearly—or not at all if you decided to dematerialize." Duo didn’t speak, simply stood watching him, his gaze making Wufei a little uncomfortable. Duo just looked too much like a real man. "What about touch?" Duo finally asked. "Can you feel a ghost?" Wufei shook his head. "If I reached out and tried to touch you, my hand would go straight though where you’re standing." "Try it." For some reason, that suggestion made Wufei even more uncomfortable. "There’s no point," Wufei said firmly. "I know from experience what would happen." "Then just do it to humor me. I don’t know from experience." "Well…promise me you won’t be too upset? This sort of thing can be very traumatic for a ghost who…Well, if can be very traumatic." "I promise I won’t be upset." Tentatively, Wufei reached forward. "Oh, Nataku," Wufei said faintly, not sure which was more of a shock—his hand hitting Duo’s solid chest or Duo snatching his gun from his waistband.
~ * ~ Chapter 2
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