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"Witness Protection"Written By: Snowdragonct Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved. Rating: R Warnings: Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots),
some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he
has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded
to the “pure, chaste” version of Duo, he might be a bit
dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters
in here…hey, Quat’s a lawyer…how much lower could he
get? Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2) A/N: I’ll apologize in advance that Zechs is, well, deceased right from the start. I like him a lot, and there’ll be mention of him…but mostly in the form of discussing/investigating his murder. Sorry. Summary: When Zechs Merquise is found murdered, detectives Heero Yuy and Wufei Chang are tasked with the unenviable chore of keeping the only witness to the crime alive long enough to testify against the leader of the Oz syndicate, Treize Khushrenada. A/N: This is not THE hot tub scene…just a
sort of random one. Tro’ and Quat will have their moment…soon.
"Witness Protection" Chapter Twenty Five: Making Amends I got the call from Winner in the middle of the afternoon. He hadn’t wasted a moment. He and Barton were already enroute, and expected to reach us by the next evening. They’d procured a laptop, as well as several more cell phone battery packs and boosters, and planned to stop along the way for perishable groceries like milk, eggs and bread. Winner even promised to bring a surprise supper—“Duo’s favorite” according to Barton—and a couple of movies to watch. I found myself looking forward to the distraction as well as a break from being cloistered with two adversaries. I was so pleased after the call, I forgot to tell Chang. Of course, considering I was in the middle of checking out the woods around the lake house, looking for tracks, cigarette butts, or any sign at all that someone might be casing the place, it was understandable that I might relegate the news to a back burner. Or, we could talk about the real reason I totally forgot. As I hiked from the forest down to the lake, and started up from the boat house towards the chalet, I was treated to a glimpse of Maxwell climbing into the hot tub stark naked. Yep. He’d tossed aside a robe he apparently purloined from a closet somewhere, and stretched languidly before throwing those long, beautiful legs over the side of the tub and sliding into the steaming water. It was probably just as well I was a good five-hundred feet away. It kept me from grabbing him and running my hands down the lean waist and onto the firm muscles of his ass to pull him into a heated kiss, before tumbling headfirst into the water with him. I looked at the lake, wondering if the water was frigid enough to cool me down. Probably not. “Maxwell! Decency!” I heard Wufei yell, sticking his head out the door with his hand over his eyes. “For fuck’s sake! At least wear boxers!” “Only if you join me!” came the teasing response. “Not in this lifetime, you—you pervert!” A loud, throaty laugh was all the answer Chang got. Oh yeah. Maxwell was back in full force. What the hell had Barton said to him in that brief phone conversation? Whatever it was, it did the trick. Maybe our chat that morning had helped too. I know Duo seemed to want to talk to someone about Zechs. Not that I’m the most sympathetic of listeners, but I’d certainly enjoyed the story of their first encounter. I hiked up the hill and entered the house through the hallway by the kitchen, so I could nip in and get a bite to eat. Chang was washing the breakfast dishes, keeping one eye on the deck for security. It had to be killing him knowing Maxwell was happily lounging in that hot tub buck naked. His poor, virgin eyes… “What the fuck are you grinning about?” he growled at me. “I saw that little show on the deck,” I replied with vast amusement. “And exactly what did you find humorous about it?” “Your scandalized expression,” I answered, feeling way more cheerful than I should have. But hey, the past few days had been so horribly morose that the upturn in mood seemed correspondingly extreme. “For fuck’s sake, Chang. You’d think you never saw a naked guy before.” “He’s got no sense of modesty at all.” “He used to dance naked on a stage,” I pointed out. “But not now. And not here. He doesn’t need to be so—so—not self-conscious.” “What’s he got to be self-conscious about?” I asked, helping myself to the leftovers of the food Maxwell had cooked for himself the night before. Damned if I was going to eat another frozen dinner. “Even you have to admit, he’s a handsome man.” The look my partner darted my way was scorching. “I don’t have to admit any such thing!” “Are you incapable of telling the difference between, say, a fat slob like Mueller, and someone like Maxwell, who clearly stays in shape?” A grimace crossed his face, as no doubt he pictured Mueller out in that hot tub. “I can tell the difference!” he said defensively. “But that doesn’t mean I want to look at either of them naked!” “Of course not,” I shrugged. “But on the other hand, you don’t need to be so childishly embarrassed about it. I know you’ve seen naked guys in the showers at work.” “I’ve tried not to,” he grumbled back. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I rarely use the public facilities to shower at work. I don’t like the exposure.” I sat at the table, giving him a long, frank look. God, he really was a prude. “You know, the more you react, the more he’ll push.” “So, you’re suggesting I not bat an eye at his shameless exhibitionism?” “Exactly.” Chang fixed me with a glare. “Fine. Let’s see you walk out there and tell him I’ve made soup for lunch.” I looked up quickly, realizing he’d just called my bluff. “—without blushing,” he added with a wicked smirk. I fumbled for an out. “You haven’t made soup.” He picked up a can and a can opener. “I’m about to.” “Well, when it’s ready, I’ll go get him,” I said firmly, praying Maxwell would finish his soak, don the robe, and come inside on his own long before I had to make good on that promise. I’ve never seen anyone throw together a lunch as quickly as Chang did. I kept a steady glare on him as he hastily scooped soup into a pan and put it on the stove, cranking up the heat so high I’m amazed it didn’t burn instantly. “Soup’s on!” he sang out all of two minutes after my idiotic promise. He threw bowls onto the table with alarming alacrity, and looked at me expectantly. I stood up, trying to look calm, cool, and collected. I knew I’d have to carry off the charade for Maxwell as much as for Chang. “I’ll go get him,” I said with quiet dignity. I might’ve felt more dignified if my hand wasn’t shaking when I opened the door to the deck and took a tentative step outside. Maxwell had his head back against the edge of the tub, his braid trailing over the rim to stay dry. His arms were out to the side, draped across the tiles, and his face was turned up towards the sky, his eyes closed in bliss. Small pearls of sweat were beaded on his brow, and the wisps of chestnut bangs clung alluringly to his skin. When I cleared my throat uneasily, keenly aware of Chang hovering at the door watching and listening intently, one indigo eye opened lazily. “Hm?” “Uh—lunch is ready,” I said, my voice a bit raspy. Chang reached out a foot to shove me in the ass. “Go on over and tell him what I made, Yuy!” he challenged. Bastard. “Sure,” I said, making my face as expressionless as possible. I walked over and sat on the edge of the tub, just beyond the fingers of Duo’s left hand. I had my back to the water, but that meant I could look straight down and see the lean body through the crystal clear water. “Chang made soup.” Duo looked up at me with a questioning gleam in his eyes. “What kind?” “Jesus Christ, how should I know?” I demanded, looking to Chang for help. “Chicken.” I wasn’t sure if he was answering the question, or taunting me. So I dropped a hand into the water, directly above Maxwell, and swished it back and forth experimentally. Screw Chang, anyway. If he thought I was going to get flustered and embarrassed at seeing Duo naked, he had another thing coming. Now, hot and bothered? Yeah. That I was sure to get. But not embarrassed. After all, I’d played this game before in the kitchen—not that my partner knew about it. “Coming, Maxwell?” I asked quietly, catching his gaze and flicking my eyes aside towards Wufei to alert him to the fact that something was up. Duo frowned slightly, and then appeared to catch on. He cleared his throat gruffly. “I could be,” he replied in a throaty growl. “Better hurry,” I replied just as huskily. “Before it gets cold.” Maxwell smirked at me and stood up. I let my gaze travel from his flushed face, down the wet skin of his chest to his waist and—lower. And then I glanced over at my partner so he could see I wasn’t cringing with embarrassment. “For fuck’s sake!” he exploded, his cheeks crimson. “You win!” He fled back inside, and I threw my head back and laughed at his retreat. Then I felt a warm, wet hand catch hold of my wrist. “So, you gonna tell me what that was about?” I’d automatically flinched from the touch before I realized what I was doing. And just as quickly, Maxwell let go and stepped away, getting out of the tub and walking over to pick up his robe. “Maxwell—.” He threw the garment on, tossing his braid over a shoulder and then tying the sash. “’S okay, Yuy. I know how you feel about—leftovers,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to—.” “Would you shut up?” I said sharply. “I don’t know what’s worse—when you get confrontational, or when you get depressed. Isn’t there any middle ground with you?” He looked up quickly, startled. “I was teasing Chang about being a prude, and he dared me to come out here to call you in for lunch…without being mortally embarrassed.” There was a momentary glimmer of amusement in the dark eyes. “I could’ve told him you weren’t half the prude he is.” He gave me a shy glance from under the damp chestnut bangs. “So that was just for show?” I nodded. He nodded in reply, heading past me towards the door. “But if he hadn’t been here—,” I added, letting Maxwell draw any conclusion he wanted from the unfinished sentence. He paused, looking back over his shoulder with a puzzled scowl. And then he turned and went inside, leaving me sitting on the edge of the tub breathing just a little too hard. What if Chang hadn’t been there? What would I have done then? The possibilities whirled tantalizingly through my mind as I got up and followed Duo in. Chang was eating his soup over the sink, apparently afraid to get any closer to Maxwell, when I walked into the kitchen. “That’s the last fucking time I dare you to do anything, Yuy,” grumbled my partner, barely glancing up at me. I sat at the table across from Maxwell, who was studiously avoiding eye contact as he ate his soup. “Well, Chang,” I said with a shrug. “You should know by now that I don’t embarrass easily.” “Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered. “I thought for sure—.” “Well, you thought wrong,” I said smugly, digging into my own lunch with gusto. Duo finished eating first, and got up to take his bowl to the sink, nearly bumping up against Wufei as he reached to put it in. Sure enough, Chang edged to one side to keep space between them. “Turkey,” Maxwell said with a smirk. Wufei scowled at him. “What did you call me?” Duo’s smirk widened into a grin. “Turkey,” he repeated. “Not you. The soup. It’s not chicken—it’s turkey.” He gave a wide-eyed look to my partner. “Or weren’t you talking about the soup?” Chang blushed crimson again, and Maxwell laughed aloud before turning and walking out of the kitchen, brushing past me in a way that made heat rush straight to my groin. I thanked my lucky stars Wufei was too busy with his own embarrassment to notice the rise of color in my cheeks. “My turn to sleep, isn’t it?” I asked, pleased with my victory. My partner merely grunted a noncommittal reply as he kept eating his soup. I pressed my lips together to avoid smirking as I deposited my dishes in the sink, and then I headed upstairs to catch a few hours of rest. Of course, lying down to sleep, and actually falling asleep were two different things. I found my mind replaying the brief encounter on the deck. For a moment Duo and I had been on the same side—co-conspirators in Chang’s embarrassment. But after he left, when that warm, questioning hand touched my wrist—I completely fucked up. Why did I have to flinch? It was just a knee-jerk reaction for me. I’d never been especially tactile, not even as a child. And as a cop on the force, and a gay one at that, I refrained from physical displays of affection of any kind. I didn’t hug, shake hands, give slaps on the shoulder, or pats on the back to any of my co-workers. Frankly, I couldn’t remember if I’d ever even touched Chang…except for the time I’d had to apply pressure to a gunshot wound to keep him from bleeding to death. But when I recoiled from Maxwell’s touch, it was obvious he took it personally. And I could hardly blame him. After I’d refused to even let him help me bandage my injured leg, he had to know I was avoiding physical contact with him. Part of me wanted to try to explain it—to tell him I didn’t mean to imply he was tainted goods, even though I’d been trying to convince myself he was. But frankly, that ship had sailed. The longer we were housed in such close proximity, the more I knew there were depths to his personality that he’d hidden from all but his closest friends. And his lovers. I’d already seen through the brassy, crude act and glimpsed the friendly, thoughtful side he hid so well. I even knew he was capable of love and forgiveness—and that he could be hurt. I hadn’t meant to hurt him. Not this time. But my reaction had done just that. And he’d reminded me of the things I called him back in interrogation. Did he really think I still had the same opinion of him? I hadn’t exactly done anything to indicate otherwise, had I? But then, I tried. I didn’t let him go inside without at least admitting that it was partly Chang’s presence that held me back. So why did he still think I considered him “leftovers?” In just twenty-four hours, Winner and Barton would arrive, and the question of my feelings towards Duo would become a moot point. He’d have Barton, and all the comfort sex he could want. He’d no longer need to bait me or tease me or make overt sexual overtures of any kind. Damn it!
Sleep finally came at some obscene hour of the morning—and I dreamed of running and being chased and getting Maxwell to the trial only to hear a single gunshot ring out, scream a belated warning, and see a bloody hole appear between the wide, expressive indigo eyes. And then I was on my knees on the floor, clinging to him while watching the light fade from those eyes, and saying I was sorry, over and over. I shot upright, gasping. “What the fuck?” A glance at the window showed me that it was dark out, and I guessed I’d only slept for a couple of hours. But I got up anyway, needing to see that he was all right. I nearly bumped into Chang in the hallway. “Yuy? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked urgently, gun drawn and ready. “Of course. Why do you ask?” “You yelled. Loudly.” “Oh.” I ran a hand down my face. “Sorry. Must’ve been dreaming.” I gestured him to go ahead back downstairs, and he muttered a curse under his breath, shoving the gun back into its holster and turning on his heel. I thought I heard him muttering about false alarms, and having years taken off his life as he stalked away, and I almost managed a wry smile. When I turned around, Maxwell was leaning in the door of his room, a sheet thrown hastily around his waist. Apparently he’d heard me too. “Must’ve been a hell of a nightmare,” he said, running his gaze over my tousled hair and studying what must have been a very haggard face. I just waved a hand dismissively. “Wanna talk about it?” I glared defensively. “No, I don’t,” I growled. His lips pressed together in frustration, and he dropped his gaze to the floor. “I know a little about nightmares,” he said quietly. “I’m sure you do,” I conceded. “But you can’t help me with mine.” “Ah, that’s right,” he drawled snidely. “Mister Tough-Guy Yuy doesn’t need anyone or anything, does he?” He turned back to his room. “Sweet dreams.” Right. His door closed except for the last six inches, and I heard the squeak of bedsprings as he threw himself across the mattress. Giving up on sleep, I followed Wufei downstairs and went to make a pot of coffee. Since I knew I’d be wide awake the rest of the night, I sent my partner to bed, and took over monitoring security. I was half-asleep at dawn, nodding over my fourth cup of coffee at the kitchen table, when Maxwell padded in and headed for the pot to pour himself some. “Morning,” he said without so much as a glance my way. “So it is,” I sighed, my gaze drawn to the lightening sky beyond the glass doors onto the deck. “Is it okay if I sit out on the deck this morning?” “Not in the hot tub?” I couldn’t help teasing. “Well, maybe once Wuffers is up and around I’ll take a dip—just for the shock value. But at this hour, I was kind of thinkin’ of watching the sun rise.” I noticed he had his sketch book tucked under an arm, and I gestured to it. “Gonna draw a picture of it?” “Might finish the one I started the other day,” he admitted, self-consciously tucking the pad a little tighter under his arm. “Helps pass the time.” “Like sex?” I blurted without thinking. He turned sharply, his eyes flashing. “I told you that wasn’t what it was about!” “No—it was a distraction,” I replied, stunned by the bitterness in my voice. He slammed his cup down, turning to face me. “You won’t let it be anything else!” he accused. I blinked in surprise. “Such as—?” “Such as—.” He paused, fumbling and casting about for what he wanted to say. It was kind of refreshing watching him struggle for the right words. “—a beginning,” he finally blurted. “A beginning?” I echoed. “Maxwell, you’re in witness protection. After the trial you’ll be relocated. Do you understand what that means?” “Yeah, I get the picture. I won’t ever see Tro’ or Quat or the kids from the orphanage again—at least not while Khushrenada’s still breathing. I get that.” “So how can you begin anything?” I asked, feeling a strange ache in my chest even as I said the words. “Yuy—there can be beginnings, middles, and endings—all in the blink of an eye,” he said with amazing clarity. “Who’s to say the value in a moment is how long it lasts?” I gaped at him, wondering who the hell he really was. “What? Now you have a philosophy degree?” “I’m just sayin’, you can’t live for tomorrow, Yuy. Ya gotta live for today.” He cocked his head to the side, giving me a surprisingly childlike look. “Y’see what I mean?” Strangely enough, I did see it. I even understood where it was coming from. “You talked about a future with Zechs,” I reminded him. “Wasn’t that ‘living for tomorrow’?” “Uh-uh. That was planning for tomorrow. Didn’t mean we gave up a moment of ‘today.’” He picked up his cup and sipped his coffee, looking over the rim at me. “While I admit, you have a point,” I conceded. “In my line of work, I have to always anticipate what the next moment might bring. It makes it—hard—to dwell on the here and now.” “That’s just sad,” he said with a shake of his head. “It’s practical,” I argued. “If that attack on the cabin had happened while we were—.” I couldn’t quite finish the sentence, and felt a blush creep up my cheeks. “We’d be dead now, because we got lost in a moment.” “But what a moment,” he shrugged, picking up his cup and leaving the kitchen with a sort of dreamy smirk on his lips. What a moment, indeed! And for the first time since the incident, I let my mind drift back to it without fighting not to. I let myself remember every touch and every feeling, realizing it had, indeed, been worth whatever consequences came after. But would it have been worth it if Maxwell ended up dead as a result? That, I just couldn’t accept. What was it he’d said about spending his last moments on Earth having wild sex in a hot tub? While that’d be a heck of a way to go, it wasn’t necessarily a good idea to “go” at all. I wanted him to live. And suddenly my dream made sense. It wasn’t about the case as much as it was about keeping Maxwell alive and giving him the chance to go on living. Whether Khushrenada was convicted or not, Duo Maxwell deserved to live. Oh shit. He wasn’t just a job any more, was he? But what was he then?
I kept myself busy enough to not dwell on that question for most of the morning. While Maxwell lounged on the deck, I did laundry, checked the security system, made a grocery list for after Winner and Barton’s arrival, and then walked every square inch of the yard and approaches to the lake house. When I got back inside, Duo had moved to the couch and was watching some sort of documentary on how they make aluminum foil. “Jesus Christ,” I sighed. “Fifty channels and that’s all you can find?” He glanced up with a smirk. “Actually, I was watching the segment before—about how they invented TNT—an’ I got distracted and forgot to change the channel.” He held up his pad of paper to indicate he’d been busy drawing. “I think the next episode is on making bombs out of fertilizer.” Wufei sauntered out of the kitchen, nibbling on a protein bar. “You should screen what he watches, Yuy. Next thing you know he’ll be cooking up more than spaghetti in the kitchen.” Maxwell tensed up as he usually did when Chang was around. “You won’t let me,” he accused. “One little fuck-up and you won’t even trust me to cook a meal for you any more.” “It was a fairly large ‘fuck-up,’” Wufei pointed out. “One that cost Winner a vacation home and nearly cost us our lives.” “I said I was sorry,” growled Maxwell. “So just give it a rest already!” With an irritated huff, he flipped his sketch book open and went back over to the bay window, settling on the cushions and looking outside, effectively shutting us out. “You—sketch?” Wufei said with a puzzled frown, following him over to the seat and looking down at the dog-eared sketch pad. Duo self-consciously put his hands over the page, glaring up at my partner. “What if I do?” he demanded. “Y’think just ‘cause I was a stripper I can’t have any hobbies?” Wufei scowled back. “Of course you can. I just thought they’d include straight lining heroin or molesting little boys.” As usual, when he got defensive, Chang resorted to sarcasm and insults. Duo was on his feet in a flash, the pad falling to the floor as he launched himself at Wufei. I think it was the first time I’d seen my partner so surprised that his reflexes didn’t save him. He ended up on the floor with a furious, cussing, spitting wildcat on top of him, raining blows on whatever he could reach. Knowing that Wufei had several black belts in various martial arts, I decided to intervene before he gathered his wits and struck back. So I caught Maxwell by the back of his collar, literally dragging him off Chang. “Easy there, tiger!” I chided, hauling him back to the couch and dumping him unceremoniously on it, putting myself between him and his target. “Chang was just trying to bait you! He doesn’t like when people surprise him.” Chest heaving and face flushed with anger, Duo glared up at me, fists clenched at his sides. “I want him gone!” he snarled. “Tell your fuckin’ boss I won’t testify unless they get someone else to baby sit me. I don’t want him here!” “He’s my partner,” I retorted, aware that behind me Chang had picked himself up from the floor and dusted himself off. “He has to be here. Believe me, he doesn’t want it any more than you do.” “Fuck ‘not wanting’ it! I won’t have him here!” Duo snapped. “Nobody fuckin’ calls me a child molester!” “He was joking—.” “It’s not a joke!” Duo exploded. He stood up, his face inches from mine—I could feel the heat of his breath as he panted with emotion. But his eyes weren’t angry. We were so close I could see deep into the indigo depths. He was—hurt. “Oh God,” I said in a hushed whisper, feeling a stab of pity. “You were molested, weren’t you?” His eyes flickered and then went cold. “What’s it to you?” he muttered, shoving me aside and stalking past both Wufei and I and storming up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door so hard it shook the wall, sending a picture crashing to the ground. I looked at Wufei—the stricken look on his suddenly-pale face. “I-I didn’t know—,” he whispered in horror. “How could I have known?” I just shook my head. “You’ve got a fucking big mouth, Chang. For Christ’s sake, he’s a street kid. Nothing that’s happened in his past should surprise you.” I didn’t bother to tell him it had surprised me, too. I slowly bent and picked up the sketch book, looking down at the half-finished drawing of the view out the window of the safe house. Despite being an amateur picture, it had some intriguing details—Duo had noticed the spider web on the outside corner of the big window and included that wispy image in his drawing. He’d also lined in the hanging basket on the porch, complete with the dry, straggling remains of whatever flower had once filled it. I thought it a rather bleak view until I noticed that in firm, dark strokes there was a rendition of the bird nest protruding from the basket—and even the whimsical touch of a small head and beak gaping from the twigs. I walked over and looked out the window, and sure enough, there was a nest there, and if you squinted and watched, you could barely glimpse an occasional movement and a tiny beak reach up inquisitively. As I watched, an adult bird flitted in with a fat insect clamped in its bill, and stuffed it into the first beak it saw. It was gone so fast I barely registered its presence. And yet the crass, rude street kid had probably been watching it for hours. “He has an eye for detail,” Wufei said over my shoulder. “He’ll make a good witness if he can describe Khushrenada in that much detail,” I agreed. My partner raised an eyebrow. “What?” “I’m just—admiring your single-mindedness,” he said with a suggestion of a smirk. I scowled. “Isn’t the point of our being out here to ensure a conviction?” “Of course.” Wufei reached over and turned the page, sucking in a quick breath at the rather whimsical rendition of a sunrise over the mountains and lake. “Lovely…” The next turn of a page revealed a sketch of a sleeping man, easily recognizable as Zechs Merquise. His long hair was spread across the pillow, and his nude body was sprawled across the mattress, the sheets tangled around his hips. But his muscular legs and sculpted chest were outlined in great detail, the pencil having gone over the lines repeatedly, as if caressing what it was drawing. I got the impression of satiation and relaxed exhaustion—as if they’d just had sex, and when Merquise drifted off to sleep, Duo got the urge to draw him. I looked at Wufei, expecting a scandalized expression; but he looked grudgingly impressed. “I—had no idea he loved the man that much,” he admitted quietly. “You got that from a pencil drawing?” I demanded. “Look at the pose—the things he emphasized—the detail in the face and the hair.” I’d forgotten Chang had taken an art appreciation course at a local college and now considered himself something of an expert in the deep meanings behind art. “You don’t find it offensive?” I nudged. “Not in this context,” came the careful reply. He turned the page to reveal a picture of Barton, done up in the henna dye in all his glory. Although he had his back to the artist, and was looking over his shoulder, not much was left to the imagination. “Now that I find offensive,” Chang muttered. I grinned. There was absolutely nothing offensive about the curves of Barton’s ass, and the intricate detail of the painted leopard markings. In fact, it was quite exotic and lovely. I could see why Duo and Trowa had been friends “with benefits.” There were more pictures…Barton balancing on a high-wire, and one of him stroking a sleepy-looking leopard…Hilde pushing a little boy on a swing set…several children I guessed were from the orphanage Duo frequented… And then I turned a page and saw a picture of myself looking back at me. It was enough to take my breath away for a moment. Why had he drawn me? What in God’s name possessed him? “Yuy—,” breathed my partner quietly. “That’s an amazing likeness.” I tried, belatedly, to close the pad, but Wufei tugged it out of my hands, studying the detailed drawing. The eyes were what I’d noticed first. Did I really have that intense of an expression? There was a heat in the carefully-drawn eyes—a compelling depth—that I was sure I didn’t really possess. It wasn’t what I saw when I looked in the mirror, and yet I knew it was more accurate than any simple reflection. Chang looked at me with a frown. “He’s—. If I didn’t know better, Yuy, I’d say he’s got some sort of feelings for you—.” I yanked the pad from Wufei’s hands. “He’s bored, Chang. That’s all. I’m sure he meant to capture my scowl more than anything.” I hastily turned the page and stopped again, my jaw dropping. The next sketch was of Wufei…just a profile…that captured the arrogant tilt to the chin, and the dark intensity of his eyes. And yet, it made him look…breathtaking. “What the fuck?” blurted my partner. “What? Why?” I closed the pad before we could look any further, hoping Maxwell hadn’t tried to capture our moment on the safe house floor. “We shouldn’t, Wufei,” I said quickly. “These are his private drawings. It’s not our place to pry.” “Why me?” he asked in complete confusion. “What could he possibly see in me that he’d want to capture on paper?” “You’re dedicated to your job,” I said carefully. “Driven. I think that’s what shows in that portrait…your single-mindedness of purpose, and your devotion to duty. I suspect that’s what he sees when he looks at you.” “But why would he even look?” “It’s what he does, obviously,” I said with a shrug, trying not to imagine I’d seen passion in the drawing of my own eyes. “And he’s got a lot of time on his hands.” Chang shook his head. “I’ve been a complete prick to him, and yet he made the picture look—noble.” “Well—you are,” I conceded. “At least, when you aren’t being an ass; when you don’t let your past overshadow the present and influence how you treat a protected witness.” He gave a wry snort. “Why don’t you just come out and say what’s on your mind, Yuy?” “I think you need to realize Maxwell is not the guy who stole Meilan from you. And in spite of his past gang affiliation, he’s not a gang-banger any more. As for being gay—well, that’s a bit beyond his control, isn’t it?” “And here I always took you for a man of action,” Chang said snidely. “I never figured you for the lecturing type.” “I learned from the best.” “Oh ouch.” “Here’s the deal, Chang. Winner’s on his way here with a new laptop, cell batteries and groceries for us. I think you need to patch things up with Maxwell before he gets here, or he might carry out that threat to refuse to testify if you aren’t pulled from the case.” “Winner’s coming?” “Winner and Barton.” “Barton? What the hell is he coming here for?” “He’s driving Winner.” I couldn’t resist a slight smirk. “I think maybe they’re dating.” When Chang’s jaw dropped yet again, I decided maybe he’d had enough shocks for one day. “Look. I’ll talk to Maxwell if you’d like—.” “No.” He turned away, shaking his head. “No, Yuy. I’m the one who ran my mouth without thinking. I said something stupid and thoughtless, and it’s up to me to make it right.” He headed for the stairs, apparently wanting to get things over with immediately. While I agreed with him in principle, I wasn’t sure it would go over so well in practice. “He may deck you,” I cautioned. “It would be nothing less that I deserved,” shrugged my partner, his sense of justice coming into play. He paused at the first step and turned haunted eyes my way. “When do you suppose he was—molested?” I shrugged. “He was in and out of foster care all his life. It could have been one of his caretakers, or it could have been after he ran away from the orphanage. Who the hell knows?” “And I called him a—.” Wufei shook his head. “You’re right, Yuy. I’m an ass.” I grinned, glad to see he was appropriately repentant. “Yeah, but this time you didn’t mean to be.” He darted me a sharp look. I gestured to the stairs. “Go on. Get the groveling over with and maybe we won’t be sending you back with Winner when he leaves.” Looking rather like he was on his way to his own execution, Chang climbed the stairs. And I was unable to resist following, at least as far as the top step. I let him make the long walk down that hallway on his own. Watching Wufei tap lightly on Maxwell’s door, I vaguely wondered if there was a chance in Hell he’d be admitted. My question was answered when he opened the door, and I edged closer, hoping to catch a bit of the conversation. “…d’you want?” came Maxwell’s slightly hoarse voice. Had he been crying? I found the thought both ludicrous and disturbing. “I owe you an apology,” Wufei said firmly. “Y’don’t owe me shit, cop. You’re just here to keep me breathing until I’m no longer useful to your department.” The dripping contempt in Maxwell’s voice struck me. He really felt that he was nothing more than a pawn in a bigger game. Did he honestly think when it was over he’d just be hung out to dry? “Regardless of why I’m here,” Wufei said smoothly. “My comments were inexcusable. I spoke in ignorance and anger.” There was a wry snort. I could almost picture the way Maxwell must have rolled his eyes. “I asked about your sketches out of genuine interest,” my partner continued. One thing you had to admire about Chang was his dogged persistence. “It is a symptom of my ignorance that I was surprised that someone I’d considered a criminal could produce such lovely art work. For that I apologize as well.” There was a moment of awkward silence, and then… “Are you done?” “Almost. You don’t have to accept my apology, Maxwell. But I’m sincere in it. I misjudged you, and I insulted you—and I think I hurt you. I’m deeply sorry for all three, and I hope that we can have a less—adversarial—relationship from now on.” I shook my head, grinning, waiting for Maxwell to offer Chang a quick fuck or make some smart-assed remark. Instead there was silence, and then I heard footsteps as Wufei started to leave. “Chang?” Duo’s voice spoke up again. “Yes?” “I—no hard feelin’s. I guess maybe I’ve been called worse before.” My jaw dropped. Was Maxwell actually accepting Chang’s apology? “If you have,” came my partner’s smooth baritone. “It was unjust. You are a better person than you want the world to believe.” At that point you could have knocked me over with a feather. Where the heck had Chang pulled that shit from? I knew he didn’t think Maxwell was a better person than he pretended to be. But it wasn’t like Chang to offer insincere flattery, either. So what did that mean? Was he actually changing his attitude towards Maxwell? Just from a fumbled conversation and a few sketches? Although, I had to admit, seeing yourself drawn that way had a definite emotional impact. It made me wonder what Duo saw when he looked at me. I knew what it looked like—but what was he thinking? I turned and walked slowly back down the stairs, and into the kitchen, after placing Duo’s sketch pad on the window seat where he’d more or less left it. As I’d said to Chang, it wasn’t our place to keep looking through the private, intimate drawings. And yet, I couldn’t help wondering. When I put the picture of me together with some of the things Maxwell had said that morning, about beginnings, I almost believed the sex had been more than just a distraction for him. God, why was I unable to let it go? Why couldn’t I accept that it had been a whim on his part, and that now he was just playing me—trying to get more? Why did he seem so goddamned sincere? Even if he was, there was nowhere for me to take this. I was a cop and I’d fucked up royally by having sex with a witness. Feelings aside, I couldn’t let myself do that again. I was on the fucking clock twenty-four seven, until Khushrenada’s trial. And after that, Maxwell would be whisked away into the relocation program, and I’d never see him again. Sure, it was easy to flirt and tease—God, Maxwell made it unavoidable. But it couldn’t go any further. Not again. I couldn’t let him know I felt more than a passing lust for him. And yes, by this time I had to admit, I did feel something more. He hadn’t claimed he did. While he’d said there was more to the sex than killing time or seeking a distraction, he’d never expressed or claimed to have—feelings for me. Maybe I was just reading more into the pensive glances and the subtle gestures he made than was really there. If I’d been the kind of man given to casual sex and one-night stands, it would have been easier to shake off the desire to attach feelings to what had happened—what was happening between Maxwell and me. But I wasn’t that kind of guy. Maxwell was. And maybe that’s what I needed to focus on. If I could keep the idea firmly in my mind that he was just out for a good time, maybe the temptation would fade. Maybe I’d stop wanting something I couldn’t have. And maybe Hell would freeze over. Wufei came into the kitchen a moment later, and went into the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. “I’m going to take a quick walk around the perimeter,” he said curtly. “I just got back from that.” “Yes, but I need—solitude.” Ah. He needed to get his head around the fact that he’d just had to grovel for and beg forgiveness from a criminal. “Enjoy it then,” I said simply.
tbc... |
