Spoilers: Wufei�s past; little to nothing for the actual series (Notice how this seems to be a reoccurring theme...)

Wufei was having a bad day. He supposed it was his fault for ignoring the clear warnings the morning had given him that this was one of those times where he would�ve been better off staying in bed.

The first indication had been the broken dishwasher that had silently flooded his kitchen in the night, and the consequent and rather futile call to the plumber, which earned him an indefinite date for repair�which would cost him an unmentioned but undoubtedly large sum of money. While slogging through his new indoor pool and cursing his neighbors who�d borrowed his mop and never given it back, he began to remember how he could have happily blown whole cities into oblivion seven years ago. Later, he would be alarmed at how his hand twitched toward his waist for a gun that was no longer there, and his eyes latched unerringly to the closet where his sword was gathering dust in a box. But at the moment, he savored his growing fury.

The cold shower, prompted by the water heater�s untimely death sometime late the previous night, did surprisingly little to cool his temper. The flat tire did nothing to improve things, nor did the large, friendly man who�d shared his seat on the public bus�not even when the happy fellow commuter had leaned over and explained in loving detail why he didn�t believe in bathing regularly, or deodorant.

By the time he reached the university, rampant destruction in a Gundam was small on the scale of damage Wufei felt he was capable of dishing out. This only escalated when he got off the bus and was confronted by hundreds of discreet (and not-so-discreet) stares. This had happened to him the first couple of weeks, when he�d been the novel new professor�stranger still that he was younger than many of the students he was teaching, but since then the curiosity had worn off. So what was going on now? Wufei wanted to check the nearest mirror to see if he had something on his face.

Fortunately, before he cracked under the strain and began questioning students at gunpoint, one of the boys in his class solved the dilemma by raising his hand during the first five minutes of Wufei�s terse lecture and inquired, �Were you really one of those Gundam pilots?�

Oh. Now this wasn�t something he was really prepared for, although in retrospect he should have been. Almost as soon as a truce had been officially declared, Heero Yuy had sat his tight butt down at the nearest computer and set about rewriting history. When Wufei had protested, Duo had distracted him by asking him to help the braided pilot move into a new apartment�one he was going to share with Yuy. Yuy hadn�t said anything�for nearly two weeks, nor had he eaten much or slept at all.

By the time the Japanese pilot was done, all records of the Gundam pilots' exploits were erased�or if they couldn�t be totally erased, they had been obscured. Their names and faces had been removed from newspapers, videotapes, and their voices from audio recordings, along with their fingerprints and physical descriptions and anything else that had identified them that OZ (or subsequent factions) had gathered.

Heero filled the void of information with plausible lives, unrelated to the war. Quatre hadn�t needed an identity, but everyone else got permanent names, birth certificates, scholarly degrees, bank accounts, driver�s licenses, and complete background information, as seamless as Heero Yuy, Perfect Soldier, could make it.

Of course, Heero had only been sixteen at the time.

It was inevitable, Wufei reflected as he faced his class and felt the tension of fear and contempt and no small awe fill the space between them, widening a chasm he hadn�t noticed was between them before. Inevitable that something in Yuy�s programming slip eventually, but the rationalization didn�t really help to calm Wufei�s ragged nerves.

Wufei tried to keep the focus of the class on task, but his lecture on ancient Chinese history kept getting interrupted by questions of:

�How many of you were there, really?�

�Did you kill all those people?�

�Why did you attack the Colonies if you were supposed to be helping them?�

�Were you really working for OZ so they had a reason to attack the Colonies?�

And it continued that way, voices rising and tension mounting, until one of the faculty members arrived to relieve him of his class and told him to report to the Dean.

Hours later, head pounding and throat burning from too much useless talking, heart aching with the sense that the peace he�d found in his life here had been permanently shattered, he trudged up the steps of his apartment and stopped dead when he reached the top.

He supposed this was inevitable, too, Wufei decided as he stared at the open door to his apartment�the one he knew he�d locked before he left.

Perfect. Just perfect. The perfect ending of a wonderful day. On top of everything else, I�ve been robbed. All of his stress narrowed into an old but surprisingly fitting phrase he hadn�t used since he�d tossed his sword in the closet. This is very unjust.

He kicked the door open, teeth clenched, and willed the fiend to still be in the room, so he could have something on which to vent his brewing frustration. Of course, it would serve him right to be mugged on top of everything else for being so careless, but he was past the point of caring.

A cursory examination of the room gutted the fire of his wrath into a smolder of uneasiness. The place looked�surprisingly clean. Wufei wandered in a few steps, enough to see his kitchen, and the spotless floor. His gaze swung back to the living room where someone had started a castle of cards on the coffee table, and on the floor next to that, had dug out and set up the chessboard. Though his CD collection was scattered haphazardly around the floor in front of it, the stereo itself was in its place, and the TV, too, though it was currently showing a blessedly muted talk show on some random channel.

Back to the kitchen, and Wufei�s anger was focusing again as the adrenaline faded and the annoyance set in. Someone had taken every conceivable condiment and meat product out of his refrigerator�possibly to make a sandwich, since the bread was out, too�and laid them on the counter. And if that didn�t cinch the identity of Wufei�s mystery houseguest, the Baggage Klame soundtrack blaring out of the stereo did.

Wufei hated Baggage Klame. He didn�t own any of their CD�s. In fact, he only knew one person who did.

He was suddenly aware of the absence of a noise he�d been hearing since he�d walked in but hadn�t really identified: running water. Then, just like that, before he could collect his thoughts or rally his anger, Duo stepped out of his bathroom, towel around his waist (My only clean towel, Wufei heard his inner voice say mournfully) and their eyes locked.

Wufei could have thought of a dozen responses, each more scathing than the last. His nerves had been waiting since this morning to leap at someone and gut them. Duo was a soldier. He could survive it. But Wufei would make survival pretty damn challenging if his temper had anything to say about it. Besides, he hadn�t seen Duo in months and now he just came waltzing back here and made himself at home?

Wufei opened his mouth to snarl. He wanted to say something harsh. He wanted to say something cold and sharp and angry and hurtful, to make up for this day, and every day he�d spent worrying since Duo had wandered out of his life a year ago for parts unknown without even a good bye. Wufei supposed he should have been expecting it, since it hadn�t been the first time, but that still didn�t make it right, and he fully intended to point that out�and a lot of other things that had been bothering him about Duo�s behavior lately. Then Duo turned those sad, dark eyes on him and quirked that sad, dark smile and Wufei felt all the words die painfully until only two remained. And he said them.

�Welcome back.�

Welcome home.

Duo paused tentatively, as if testing the words for hostility and suddenly Wufei was glad he�d spoken sincerely without any of the anger he�d felt earlier, anger he couldn�t begin to feel now. Then Duo�s smile touched his eyes, lighting purple in the deep blue depths, and Wufei felt all vestiges of annoyance fade.

You have got it bad, Chang.

�Thanks,� Duo said easily, moving past him. �Want a sandwich?�

Wufei swallowed as they brushed together, and pressed himself back against the door to close it, giving himself more room. �Shouldn�t you get dressed first?�

Duo threw a hooded look over his shoulder, smile curving dangerously. �What�s the matter, Wufei? We�re all men, here.�

Wufei pulled himself back from the situation abruptly before he could get caught in the illusion of an invitation. He was too strung out. Duo had been flirting with him for too long for it to mean anything any more. That he was thinking of taking it seriously was a testament to how on edge he was.

Pushing himself off the door, he gave Duo an impersonal once-over, trying to assess the extent of a year�s worth of change, and saw little that made his daily worry justified.

Well, what did you expect, Chang? He�s always taken care of himself.

But that had been before...

After the war, Heero and Duo had chosen to live together�the odd couple, Quatre had called them with one of his teasing but understanding smiles. But they�d worked out rather well, enjoying what Wufei could only describe as marital bliss for almost two years.

Then one day, Heero had vanished.

He hadn�t even died, which Wufei suspected might have been dealt with better, as morbid as the thought was. With death there was�as clich� as it sounded�a sense of closure. A person could rage and mourn and brood but, eventually, one came to realize that all the grief was inside, that it had nothing to do with the person who had moved on, for they could not appreciate all the tears, where ever they were, and that the living had to move on, too. Duo would never be able to do that. He could grieve, legitimately, years after the event, because somewhere in the universe, Heero could be suffering and in pain.

Wufei had tried to help Duo through it. He had thought nothing could be worse than holding his wife in his arms and watching her die. Duo had proved him wrong.

The ex-Gundam pilot was not suicidal�had never been, really. But without Heero to anchor him, he was wild and reckless, more than he had any right to be, with all the responsibility resting on his shoulders. After Heero�s disappearance, Duo had taken the absent pilot�s place at Relena�s side as a bodyguard, until his true talent showed. Duo was surprisingly good at politics. Ambassador Duo Maxwell�that was something Wufei would not have predicted for his friend at the end of the war.

Wufei shook himself out of his thoughts to see that Duo�s alluring gaze had faded into a bemused lift of an eyebrow, silently questioning his prolonged silence. �Whatever,� he said gruffly. �Just don�t drip on my furniture. And thanks, a sandwich would be great.�

Despite Duo�s blatant innuendo, he detoured into the bedroom (My bedroom, Wufei thought petulantly) and came back out wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt before placing himself before his row of food and setting to work, the towel now wrapped skillfully around his head. He made short work of sandwich-making, and handed Wufei a pastrami sandwich with lettuce and plenty of mayonnaise a moment later. Then he took his own ham and cheese and sat on the other side of the island, dragging the stool with a foot so he was directly opposite Wufei. The Asian man took a bite of his sandwich, hummed appreciatively, and swallowed it before breeching the almost comfortable silence.

�What have you been doing?� he asked in a practiced tone of mild curiosity, though everything in him wanted to take Duo�s shoulders and shake answers out of him. Duo was about the only one that could spontaneously summon the ruthless soldier that lingered in Wufei during these quieter days of relative peace.

Duo took the towel off his head and dropped it next to the stool, plucking half-heartedly at the wavy honeyed locks that framed his face and spilled down his back. �Trying to find myself.�

Trying to find Heero.

�Duo...� Wufei groped for words that would make the pain go away, but he was as unsuccessful now as he had been five years ago. Finally, he switched tactics. �Find anything?�

�Yes.�

That was unexpected. Wufei choked on a bite of sandwich. Carefully, he recovered, chewed and swallowed, before asking, �Honto?� in a tone he hoped didn�t reveal any of his trepidation.

�Aa.�

Duo wasn�t looking at him, staring resolutely at his sandwich as he ate with almost methodical rhythm, bangs and hair falling forward to obscure his face in shadow. Wufei worried his lip, knowing by this reaction that the news would not be happy, wondering if he could offer the comfort that needed to be given after all he�d been through today. Finally, he decided that avoiding it would only make it worse. Bracing himself, he asked softly, �What did you find?�

�A grave.�

Wufei sat very still and concentrated on breathing, drawing painful breaths around the ice that had crystallized his heart and was spreading through his chest, paralyzing him. The clock on the wall ticked steadily as Duo lifted his sandwich, bit into it and set it down in three distinct movements. Wufei knew he should speak, had to speak, but couldn�t seem to get anything past the knot in his throat, the sudden prickling behind his eyes.

The sadness he felt for a lost comrade was doubled by the grief he felt coming off Duo in waves. The other man�s face was still hidden, but he held himself completely still and carefully, as if his body were an open wound or a broken bone, as if he knew that moving too much would shatter him. Wufei knew the pose because he�d held himself in such a way just before he�d become a Gundam pilot, after his wife had died.

The silence was searing. Wufei knew he had to break it, even though he still had nothing to say. �Oh,� he forced out, the sound brittle, but it was something.

Duo had run out of sandwich, but he still refused to raise his eyes, playing with the crumbs on his plate as he spoke. �It�s okay, Wu. It...I�ve been grieving for so long that� this is sort of like a relief. A resolution.�

�Yes but...� Wufei blurted, caught himself, then finished quietly, �you�ve hoped at least as long as you�ve grieved.�

�Yes.� The word was drawn out on a long breath, extending in the thick air between them to tremble like thin crystal. �And now I don�t have to do either.�

Wufei felt the moment when everything fell apart, and could do nothing to stop it. Duo pushed his plate away from him, dropped his head onto his fisted hands that lay curled over each other on the counter and cried. Wufei had never seen Duo cry before, despite all the time they�d spent together after Heero had vanished, and could only stare with immobile horror as numb shock settled over his body, an arm�s distance away from the bowed head. He could have reached out and laid a hand on the shaking shoulders, but he felt that if he acknowledged Duo�s tears, it would only make it worse somehow.

So he moved away instead, picking up his plate and Duo�s and taking them to the sink. With his back to the grieving man, he was able to find some of what he wanted to say. �How long are you staying?�

He could hear Duo collecting himself, thoughts climbing slowly out of the misery to realize that life was still moving, despite reports to the contrary. �Um,� he sniffed once, and there was the scrape of stool legs against the floor as he sat up. �However long you�re willing to put up with me, I guess...I�ll start looking for an apartment tomorrow.�

So. This was going to be permanent. At least, as permanent as Duo ever was. Wufei made a quick decision, turned to face him and approached. Taking him by the arm, he steered the dazed man gently towards the bedroom. �You can take my bed, tonight,� he said, hoping it was enough of an answer to the question he�d heard in Duo�s voice. Then he added, just in case the offer wasn�t clear, �Tomorrow, we can clean out the study and you can put your stuff in there.�

Duo swiped his bangs back from his eyes and gave Wufei a grateful look and an unsteady smile, but it was enough to ease the worry clenching a fist in the Wufei�s chest. He smiled back, and let the braided man go so he could climb wearily into bed while Wufei picked up some discarded pants and the odd shoe or sock. When Duo had settled, he turned to leave. His hand was on the light switch when he paused, and looked back at the still bundle on the bed. With a small sigh, he flipped the switch, then padded over to the small desk near the window, turned on the lamp, and settled into the chair, book in hand and glasses perched on his nose.

The quiet was soft. At some point it had rained, and outside, the muted cars swished past on silvered roads. Wufei heard cloth move restlessly and felt eyes on him as Duo rolled over and stared silently.

�Go to sleep Duo,� he said sternly.

�Ne...� Duo said tentatively, something in the quality of his hesitation lowering Wufei�s book so he could glare over the rims of his glasses like an old school master. Duo squirmed, but continued talking. �Ne, Wu...sleeping in an empty bed is...� More squirming. �Sleeping in an empty bed is damned depressing.� He cracked a grin.

�Mm.� Wufei heard the attempted lightness of the tone and responded in kind, encouraging the flicker of humor in those sad eyes. His expression softened. �Hard on your ego too, I suppose.�

That startled a chuckle out Duo. His eyes widened, surprised at the sound of his own laughter, and Wufei couldn�t help grinning. He was about to return to his book, triumphant, when he caught something beneath the sadness and the struggling amusement�seriousness. Duo was serious. This time, the invitation was real. Wufei felt his own eyes widen.

�Do you...are you sure?�

Duo rolled his eyes, huffing his exasperation. �I�m not going to jump you, Wu. I just want... the bed is awfully big.�

Wufei paused and considered that for a moment, before putting his book down, taking his glasses off and getting out of the chair, toeing off shoes and socks as he padded toward the bed. He didn�t allow himself to think of what he was doing, merely moved, removing the minimal amount of clothing to achieve comfort. Duo lifted the covers as he approached, and he slipped easily between the sheets as the other snuggled in instantly, with the effortlessness of someone well practiced in cuddling. Wufei was awkward for a few moments, unsure of where to put his hands, until he figured out that he and Duo fit well together if he stopped thinking and simply settled in. They faced each other, Duo�s head fit against his shoulder, and Wufei�s chin resting on top of the soft caramel-colored hair, arms around each other�s waists and legs tangled.

Duo sighed and relaxed against him. �Oyasumi, Wufei.�

�Oyasumi, Duo.�

Tomorrow...tomorrow they would figure out what they were going to do. Tonight, they simply slept in the comfort of each other.