Rated: PG-13; some weirdness. It gets worse in the next part.
Blue Forest Banshee Part 82
Wufei's Disaster
Wufei glared at the bundle of cut flowers in his arms. "Someone tell me again why the hell we're doing this," he demanded of the room in general.
Heavy sighs of exasperation came from all directions.
"We are doing this," Heero obliged him this time, taking pity on poor, beleaguered Trowa, "Because Moira is one of our own and we like her."
Wufei snorted. "Why didn't she just tell them to find another sucker? What are they going to do; fire her?"
"You have obviously never been to a committee meeting," snickered Tiffany, looping a length of spring garland over a curtain rod. "They go on and on, until your brain begins to melt and your bladder threatens to explode. But you don't dare go to the bathroom; you'll come back and discover someone's nominated and seconded you for a job just like this." She stepped back and used her wand to tweak the garland. "She's young; she'll learn."
"Still doesn't explain why we're helping," he grumbled again.
"Because we are her friends," said Trowa patiently. He just managed to keep from rolling his eyes, probably only because Wufei would have seen and gone off on another rant.
The Were-Dragon had been moody as hell since his encounter with Ling Ping Mei. The engagement was officially over; that should have been a cause for celebration, and indeed, Wufei had seemed cheerful enough when they went out to the karaoke bar. But something was wrong. Wufei was brooding over something, and Wufei never brooded. When Chang Wufei was upset, the whole bloody world knew about it. Except now...
"Friends?" Wufei sneered, just to have something to complain about. "Is this how friends make friends spend their day off?"
Heero glared at him. "You wouldn't know a friend if it crawled up your leg and bit you on the ass."
Oh, yeah; that hit the spot. "Hey! I have lots of friends, Yuy!"
"Like Ling Ping Mei?"
Okay, that was not good. Trowa could have told Heero that naming the Pink Disaster would only inflame the tension. Of course, Heero had been getting mighty tired of Wufei's muttering and grumbling the past few weeks; witness his reaction to the catnip incident.
Predictably, Wufei exploded.
"Damn you, you son of a skink!" he yelled, spinning about to face Heero.
Unfortunately, several things went very wrong in that instant.
Wufei turned sharply, not realizing that Duo was walking up behind him. The bundle of flowers in his arms caused him to forget the heavy ceramic vase dangling from one hand. Duo wasn't paying attention to the conversation and was not aware of stepping into the crossfire of words. Trowa opened his mouth to shout a warning, just an instant too late. Heero started toward them, also just an instant too late. Tiffany gasped and fumbled for the wand she'd stuck into her back pocket, an instant too late.
And then the heavy ceramic vase that dangled from Wufei's fingers swung through the air, arcing gracefully up and out, and catching Duo smack in the middle of his face.
The impact spun the Banshee around and sent him stumbling to his knees, hands reaching up even as he lost consciousness and fell forward, face down, hard onto the stone floor, blood leaking all around him.
~*~
Sitting in the dark, a fine mist of rain falling around him, Wufei studied the silent water flowing beneath the bridge.
Dark and filthy, just like his nonexistent soul. Running heedlessly downhill; caring nothing of the damage it may cause to the lives of others.
Gods... Ancestors... What is happening to me...? What am I becoming?
He couldn't shut out his father's voice, that shrill, hateful condemnation coming from the final letter, the last letter he would ever receive. Be careful what you wish for...
Faithless. Dishonorable. Cowardly. Words that cut and wounded.
It wasn't even about Ling Ping Mei; she was barely mentioned.
Instead, it focused on every single mistake he had ever made. His disdain at becoming the Family historian. His refusal to defer to his elder brother. His behavior with Xho Lai... Oh, that was a very sore point, one his Honorable Father just couldn't seem to turn loose of. His being chosen to attend the School of Magic and Wizardry. Even though his Honorable Father had been almost beside himself with pride at the time.
"My son has talent! My son has great ability! My son will become a Wizard!"
And then his son, the Wizard, was supposed to return home, to that tiny insulated enclave, marry a female who detested him and bury himself in a dusty, cobweb-ridden library with only the shades of his ancestors for company.
No, the pride of the family had refused all of that, preferring to live and work - like a common Human for heavens sake! - with other Magical Creatures and Magical Humans!
Did this ungrateful wretch of a son have any idea how hard it was to arrange a betrothal for him? Did he know how lucky he was that Ling the Elder happened to have a spare daughter? And how lucky that Ling the Elder was willing to over-look Wufei's youthful indiscretions? Did he not realize how much his Honorable Father had to concede to Ling to seal the betrothal? Ungrateful wretch! Shame on the Ancestors! Humiliation to the Family Chang! Why, it would be well-nigh impossible for his brothers and sisters - through no fault of their own - to arrange decent marriages for their own children because of him!
Did he not understand that the Great Dragons would shun the Family Chang?!
There would be No Further Communication. He had had his chance, but the Honorable Father's patience had reached its end. His name would be expunged from the Family histories. He was no longer a Chang.
Rotten old man...
And himself, three times a fool for even caring...
For letting his anger and betrayal, and yes, his hurt, build and build, until he was teetering on the edge of something... evil.
Damn him for his temper. Damn him for his jealousy. Damn him for daring to dream, to want, to need... something that belonged to another.
He choked on that thought and drew his legs up to rest his head on his knees.
What had he done? What had he done...? It was only banter, only the usual sniping that he and Heero had engaged in from the day they met; two Dragons testing each other's boundaries. If he had gone against Heero it would have been one thing, but he failed to exercise restraint around their colleagues and friends. He failed to behave with the honor expected of him as a Were-Dragon... He failed to see... He... failed...
And Duo, his darling little Banshee, lying on the cold stone floor in a pool of his own blood...
Heero should have torn his throat out for that. He should have broken his worthless neck. He should have ripped him from stem to stern and scattered his entrails to the four winds...
All he did was turn his back, gathering his angel, his beloved, his Banshee into his arms...
Trowa... His best friend in the world... Standing on the far side of that pool of crimson, just looking at him, a single tear sliding down his face... A look of such sadness, such betrayal, in his emerald eyes.
What have I become...? Ancestors... help me... Please...
~*~
Mistress Loquinn looked up wearily at the scratching sound on her office door. Too high to be the cat... She wasn't in the mood for visitors. The sun had barely risen after a cold dark night spent watching over her patient and she was tired, physically and emotionally.
The damage done to the Banshee was startling, but not overwhelming; she had healed worse, but never anything quite so fraught with these unsettled emotions. She had made sure, without telling Heero or Tiffany, that Duo wouldn't remember a thing. Being hit in the face by a five-pound ceramic pot was not a memory he needed to retain; nor was the shock of the moment of impact. No, when the Banshee awoke, he would be as good as new and completely oblivious.
Maybe if she just ignored it, whoever was out there would just go away...
...Or not, as the scratching continued.
~*~
The healer look exhausted. Another thing for him to atone for; add it to the list.
She glared down at him, a Valkyrie prepared to do battle; he lowered his eyes in shame.
"I came to ask... if Duo is all right... And... and also to ask... for help..." he whispered.
Gods, how it hurt to say that! To abase himself, to admit to a weakness so humiliating.
Mistress Loquinn eyed him narrowly before opening the door fully and admitting him to her office. He left a puddle where he had stood; the Were-Dragon was dripping. Automatically, she waved her hand, drying his clothing. Well. Someone had spent some time outside this past night. She couldn't quite manage to feel sorry for him.
"Duo is still sleeping; he will be fine when he wakes." She seated herself behind her desk, well aware that her chair was a good six inches higher than his and that she thus loomed over him in a rather threatening manner. "Just what sort of help are you looking for, Chang?"
He winced, his hands twisting together nervously.
It took a couple of false starts before he was able to spit it out, and even then his voice was so low she could barely hear him. "I can't manage my temper; I... I need help. Professional help..." His boots were apparently the most fascinating things in the world.
Would wonders never cease! She exhaled a silent sigh of relief. She had been prepared to tell him that his continuing position at the Castle depended on him accepting some sort of help; that these temper tantrums had to stop, before he killed someone. How much better that he had reached that same conclusion. And how difficult that must have been...
"All right; I will give you a name and you will go. Today. And report back to me."
If she expected an argument, she didn't get it.
"Yes, Mistress," was all he said in a thin whisper. He didn't even ask if he could see Duo.
~*~
Horribly conspicuous.
That's how he felt; standing in the waiting room of the therapist that Mistress Loquinn had referred him to. It wasn't a large room, only about twelve chairs, but over half of them were filled, and he was waiting his turn at the frosted glass window. People were staring at him; he just knew they were, wondering what sort of lunacy lurked under his nervous façade.
When his turn at the window came, he handed the female a card, muttering "I'm supposed to see Dr Tolbien."
She read the card, frowning slightly, then brightened. "Oh, yes, Mr Chang. You're from the Castle. Mistress Loquinn called about you."
Wufei flinched. Did she have to yell it to the whole world? He hunched in on himself, feeling... just horribly conspicuous and wishing that he could just sink into the bowels of the earth and never come back.
The female behind the frosted window handed him a plastic clipboard with a cheap ballpoint pen attached and a handful of forms. "Dr Tolbien will be ready for you in about fifteen minutes; in the meantime, fill out these forms as completely as you can." She shut the frosted glass and he was forced to turn back to the waiting room. There was a vacant chair in the far corner under the window; he slunk across the room, trying not to make eye contact with any of the other waitees.
The pen had cheap gloppy ink that balled up around the point and deposited itself at random places on the pages, leaving splotches and puddles and smearing even as he stared at it. The questions on the forms ranged from stupid to invasive. What was all this about... about masturbation...? And why the hell did a therapist need to know when a female's last period was. He paused, blinking. Oh crap... Did they do that kind of therapy here?! He shook himself and skipped to the next question; best not to think about things like that.
And then his name was called.
~*~
Wufei stood silently just inside the doorway of the ward; he wouldn't go any further until he was invited. He wasn't going to make any more stupid mistakes, not today.
Heero had arranged himself in the middle of the bed, a pile of pillows at his back, and Duo lay between his up-drawn legs, his head resting on the Wyvern's chest. His eyes were closed; he might have been asleep, but for one hand rubbing gently at the soft worn fabric of Heero's aging jeans. Heero's arms rested loosely around the Banshee's shoulders, protecting but not possessive, and he had his nose buried in a handful of the thick auburn hair.
Heero would know that Wufei was there; Heero was a Wyvern, a natural-born guardian. Wufei waited until Heero chose to acknowledge him.
Wufei didn't want to stare, and he knew he shouldn't watch, but his eyes just would not stay down. It wasn't as if they would be angry; they were in a semi-public place, after all, and they weren't doing anything embarrassing. Still... It just didn't feel... proper for Wufei to be watching while the Wyvern cuddled and comforted the Banshee. But it didn't stop him.
An added problem was that, even though he was responsible for Duo being here, even though he should be thanking his ancestors that Heero had let him live after that, he was still picturing himself in Heero's place. His arms around Duo; his lips brushing lightly over that burnished hair; his fingers stroking tenderly over the fair column of the Banshee's throat.
~ Bad Wufei! ~ sneered his inner self. ~ Always wanting things! Never satisfied, never content. You really are pathetic! ~
Well. He supposed there was no point in arguing with that. Not if he wanted to retain at least some of his honor.
Heero looked up then, acknowledging his presence with a single arched eyebrow. Wufei bowed his head, his body language clear as handwriting to the other Dragon. He didn't need to see the inclination of Heero's head to know that permission to approach had been granted.
Duo raised his head from Heero's chest, smiling at Wufei. No sign remained of blood, bruises or broken bones; Mistress Loquinn was one of the best healers on the continent. Duo started to speak, but a sign from Heero silenced him. He flicked worried eyes Heero's way, but settled back as bidden.
Wufei bowed low, his hands out to display the dozen small appointment cards. Heero took one and read it, then put it back in Wufei's hand.
"How many?" he asked.
"Twelve, Heero," Wufei replied immediately. "Twice a week for six weeks. More, if I need it."
"Very well," rumbled the Wyvern with a narrow glare. He leaned back against the pillows, offering Wufei the opportunity to make his apologies to Duo.
The Banshee glanced from one Dragon to the other curiously, not understanding their rituals or the fact that Heero had just - figuratively - taken his foot off Wufei's throat.
Wufei sank to his knees gratefully; for this moment, for this person, he would gladly abase himself.
"Duo, I am so sorry for hurting you. I have lost control of my temper and I know I need help. I will make this right for you somehow; any way you choose. I am unworthy to be called a friend. I am unworthy of being a Were-Dragon. I am..." He had to pause to find his voice. "I am unworthy of the name Chang... I cannot ask for forgiveness; what I did was unforgivable, but I swear to you that I will never hurt you again."
Almost before he finished, Duo was reaching for his hand. "Wufei! Of course, I forgive you! You didn't do it deliberately! And I don't even remember it, anyway. So just stop that ‘unforgivable' crap!"
"Duo," warned Heero softly. "Do not argue with Wufei. Accept or do not accept the apology; this is not the time for forgiveness. That will be addressed at a later time."
Duo frowned and started to argue, but Wufei stopped him.
"Heero is right, Duo. There is no forgiveness for allowing my temper to cause injury to a friend. Forgiveness must be earned; a simple apology is not enough."
"But..." Duo looked up at Heero and then back at Wufei. "Okay, this is more of that ‘Dragon' stuff, right?"
"That's right," agreed Heero. "There are certain rules of conduct for Dragons; Wufei has seriously violated those rules. He will have to make amends and modify his behavior so that this never happens again." He nuzzled Duo's neck gently. "Please do not interfere, angel," he whispered. "His honor is at stake here."
Duo's nature argued against what it deemed ‘holding a grudge' but he had to bow to Heero's logic. At least partly.
He sighed in exasperation. "Okay; I accept your apology, and I'll try not to forgive you until one of you tells me it's time. Is that all right?" And these guys called him complicated!
Wufei looked up at the bright-eyed creature. Not a sign of Wufei's failure of honor remained... That is the way it will stay, he vowed to himself. He squeezed Duo's hand gently. "Thank you. You will have no cause to regret your generosity." He got to his feet then and bowed deeply to Heero once more.
Heero nodded, dismissing him. "Go home, Wufei. Trowa is worried."
~*~
So he went home eventually, after a short detour to Mistress Loquinn's office to show her the appointment cards. She already knew, though, having received a call from the psychologist shortly after Wufei left his office. She pronounced it a Good Thing and informed the very subdued Were-Dragon that her door was always open to him, should he feel inclined to talk.
He rather doubted that he would avail himself of that offer, but then, he never would have pictured himself in a Human psychologist's office either.
He was just so pathetic.
~*~
I was very angry with Wufei, for hurting Duo, but I had lost most of that anger by midnight, when he hadn't come home.
At first, I wasn't awfully worried; I figured he was pouting somewhere, or maybe even out getting drunk. I was still having some trouble getting past my own overwhelming sense of... betrayal, I guess. Dragons don't hurt innocent people. Dragons are guardians and protectors and teachers; sure they're often grumpy and frequently testy, but I've never known one to be outright mean. I guess it was a little bit scary to know how easily a Dragon can hurt someone when they become careless or uncaring. Kind of like biting into a perfect apple and discovering a worm. Or half a worm.
Tiffany called within a few hours to tell me that Mistress Loquinn had made all the necessary repairs and that Duo would be fine in the morning. It got darker. The light mist that had drizzled down all day turned into one of those empty-the-heavens downpours. It reminded me of our little adventure in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and I shivered at that thought.
Dusk came, and nightfall and the rain got heavier. I started to worry, but still I figured he was off feeling sorry for himself. I started calling around, but no one knew where he was. To be honest, I don't think anyone particularly cared right then. They were probably hoping he'd drowned himself in the river.
For a while, I stood at the balcony door, watching the parking lot, hoping to see him drive in, but in the dark and the heavy rain, even my eyes aren't that good.
I lingered for a bit in his room, looking at the photos stuck into the edge of the mirror frame. Most of them are pictures of Duo, but there are plenty of me and Heero; even some of Q and Inazuma and the others from our office.
Wufei has always been grumpy and caustic, but never as much as this. If I didn't know differently, I might wonder if he was really as glad as he seemed that Ling Ping Mei had formally ended their engagement. He was definitely surprised that she had cut him free, but that may have been just the slap. She clocked him a good one that day.
He's been pissy as hell ever since then; maybe he's just angry that he didn't get to drop her first. Although, if I understand the Were-Dragons correctly, it was never up to Wufei to end the engagement; only the female has that prerogative. All he could do was to keep on stalling the way he has been since he finished school.
Finally, a little after midnight I collected the plushie dragon from my room and curled up in the recliner to wait, hugging the stuffed toy. He gave it to me; as a joke, I think, but I like it. It's soft and floppy and perfect for hugging. I'd feel silly as hell if he ever caught me with it, so I leave it in my room.
Tonight, though, I don't care if he thinks I'm being kittenish. I just want him to come home...
~*~
He didn't have a chance to knock a second time; the door was snatched open almost immediately, and Trowa was staring at him. His usually sleek and meticulously arranged hair looked... rumpled and his eyes... His emerald eyes were red and puffy and... fevered.
For a long moment they just stared at each other. Then Trowa snarled like the puma he was.
"Goddammit, Wufei!" he yelled. "Where the fuck have you been? Don't you know how worried I've been?!" He stopped suddenly, staring at the drooping Were-Dragon. "Are you... wet?! Have you been out in the rain? You damned idiot!" He grabbed Wufei's arm and dragged him inside the apartment. "What's the matter with you?! Why didn't you come home?"
Wufei let himself be hauled inside, let his friend start pulling at his wet clothes. Home. He used the word ‘home.' Dragons...
"I didn't know... if I was... was welcome..." he whispered, and Trowa stopped what he was doing to stare at him.
"If you were welcome?" he gasped. "You live here, you lunatic! Why are you all wet? Gods, Wufei..."
"I...I walked... home..." He almost didn't say it; was almost afraid to say it, afraid of somehow jinxing himself.
"In the rain?! Jesus Christ on a stick!" He grabbed Wufei's hand and dragged him into the bathroom. "You are soaked! You'll take pneumonia, you jerk! Where's your car?"
Wufei shrugged. "Back there... I couldn't find my keys." Trowa rumbled softly, muttering to himself about stupid Dragons, while stripping Wufei out of his wet garments and wrapping a bath towel around him, flipping one corner up to ruffle his dripping hair. He still had a place to come to. How amazing. Trowa loved Duo, just adored the little Banshee, but still he was... worried over Wufei...
He really didn't know what to say, how to think. Trowa should have been angry at him for hurting Duo, not for walking in the rain. How very absurd...
"Wufei, dammit..." Arms came up and wrapped around him, folding him close against a strong chest, letting him hear the beating of a worried heart. "What the hell is going on? I was scared I'd never see you again... What happened?"
"I... I feel... lost..." he whispered miserably. "I don't know... I don't know anything..."
Trowa butted his head gently against Wufei's. "Duo's all right; Mistress Loquinn took care of him. He's going to be fine; she even got rid of that little scar on his cheek. You know he won't be mad at you... Wufei... Talk to me; you're scaring me."
"I don't have a home any more," Wufei said softly. "I don't have anything. He took it all away..." He didn't like that place. He didn't want to be in that place. He was so happy to be gone from that place. Why did he hurt so much for it now? Why did it feel as if his heart had been ripped from his chest? Why did he feel so... broken?
"Wufei? I don't understand..." Trowa drew back to look at him in growing alarm, and noted his glazed eyes. "Wufei?"
"I don't belong... anymore... I don't have a home... I don't have... I don't have a name anymore..."
"Wufei...?"
"He took it back... He erased me... Because... because I... dishonored him... all of them..." He drew a deep shuddering breath. "I don't exist anymore..." His voice hitched painfully and his fingers wound themselves into Trowa's sweater. "I'm... nothing..."
"You are not nothing!" cried Trowa, appalled. He hauled Wufei back out to the living room, trading the bath towel for a comforter on the way and settled them both into the recliner, wrapping his arms around the shaking Dragon. "You're something" he hissed as Wufei hiccupped and began to sob. "Goddammit, you're my best friend! That's something!"
~*~
I don't know how much sleep Wufei got; I know I didn't get much, but at least it was better than the night before.
However long he'd been asleep, I discovered that he wasn't going to be awake any time soon when he didn't so much as twitch when I climbed out of the recliner. I thought about leaving him where he was; it was already warm and he was curled into a dragony ball under the comforter.
The thing is, that chair is sometimes contrary. You have to think heavy to make it stay reclined when only one person is in it. I guess neither of us are heavy enough alone. He would be okay as long as he didn't move, I thought, until I got out of the shower, so I hurried off to clean up.
To my relief, he was right where I'd left him when I came back, so I scooped him up and carried him to his room to tuck him into his own bed. He grumbled a little, probably at the cold sheets, but curled around the extra pillow readily enough.
I had to go to the office; I'd spent the previous day worrying over the idiot dragon, but I left a note hovering in midair to tell him where I was, and for him to not leave the apartment until I got home. I didn't want him taking off in the bad weather again.
I was a little surprised to find Duo in the office and being thoroughly examined by Tiffany and Inazuma. Estaban was at his own desk, just looking thoughtful. Sometimes, I wonder about him, but not right now.
Right now, my attention was all for Duo.
"Trowa! Where's Wufei?" he cried the moment he saw me.
Okay, I should have been prepared for that. "Um... He's kind of... you know... I thought he should rest today," I said hesitantly.
Duo's bright eyes clouded over. "He's not... avoiding me, is he? I'm not mad; I don't remember a thing. I already told him that!" he exclaimed.
"I don't think..." I began, but he continued as if I'd not spoken.
"Heero's still being a hardass, but dammit, it's my face! Look! Mistress Loquinn even took away that scar I had. So, I'm not mad! Please tell him that, Trowa. Please?"
Finally, I got an opening. "Duo, he didn't sleep night before last, and he had a hard time last night, so I just let him sleep this morning." Close enough to the truth to distract the Banshee, I hoped.
"Oh," he said as if startled. "Well, that's okay then."
Estaban snorted. "It's not always about you, Duo," he laughed.
Tiffany gave him a look, but didn't say anything.
To me he said, "He's been going on and on about Wufei being upset, like it's the end of the world. Wufei is always upset about something; he's the king of drama queens!"
True as that may be, it kind of irritated me that he was being so... derisive? I guess that's one of the things that make me wonder about him. He does this kind of off-the-wall thing every so often; just jumps into a conversation or a situation with an attitude that would make Wufei look like Pollyanna. It's always kind of hit and run too; before you can gather your wits to make a reply, he's dropped it and gone on to something else.
True to form, I was still blinking, trying to shift gears to defend Wufei somehow, when Moira stood up from her desk, slamming a book down angrily.
"God damn it!" she yelled. "What the hell is your problem?! Did Portia cut you off again? You have been on the rag for three days now, and I am sick and damn tired of it! If you're not going to be supportive, then just shut the hell up!"
Okay; first thing here. Moira does not yell. Ever. She also does not fawn over people or make excuses for bad behavior. She and Wufei had traded insults every bit as often as Wufei and Heero do, but it's always a mutual thing and never descends into pettiness. Childish? Well... maybe, but not meanly childish. She and Wufei knew each other at Hogwarts; that has a lot to do with it.
And rather than wait for Estaban to respond, she stalked across the room and out the door, muttering under her breath about stupid men. We all stared after her, mostly in astonishment.
Finally, after at least two minutes of silence, Tiffany swung around to glare at Estaban. "You," she declared ominously, "are an idiot." She pointed at the file cabinets. "That's your job for the rest of the week."
Estaban swallowed whatever he was about to say and turned away to the mountainous pile of filing.
Have I ever mentioned how much we all hate to file?
Duo looked slightly stunned; I'm not sure if it was because of Estaban's lack of sympathy for the Were-Dragon, or Moira's explosion. But Duo is a kind-hearted creature; I'm fairly sure he's never held a grudge, except maybe against the Matriarch of his Clan, and who could blame him for that.
I moved in to give him a hug and he hugged me back.
"Trowa, he's okay, isn't he?" he whispered against my collarbone. "He came to the infirmary yesterday afternoon and talked with Heero, but he wouldn't accept my forgiveness. Said he wasn't worthy or some crap like that."
I don't lie to Duo. Sometimes I have to edit what I say, but I don't actually lie. "I think he's just really scared at what happened." I thought about it a little while Duo stood in my embrace. "Maybe... Maybe something else is going on, too. I don't know. He'll be okay, though. Wufei's tough." I held him away from me and smiled at his hopeful look. "Maybe even as tough as you."
He punched me lightly on the bicep. "You are so full of shit," he grinned.
"Who is full of shit?" Heero stood in the doorway shrugging out of his cloak.
Whoa. Talk about timing... What would have happened if he had walked in while Duo was in my arms? The mind just... boggles.
"Trowa is," Duo laughed. "He's trying, in his own unique round-about way, to convince me that I'm a strong masterful person."
Heero eyed me dubiously. "Masterful?"
I shrugged, really hoping he wasn't going to take it the wrong way. "Well, competent. You know; confident and in control." He raised one eyebrow and smirked. I let out the breath I'd been holding.
"Hn. I would have to agree with that. The Banshee is very competent, alarmingly confident and quite often in control." Duo snickered.
"Okay; now you're both full of shit!" He bounced out of the room.
Heero looked around. "Where is Wufei?"
I couldn't help sighing. "Heero, he didn't come home that night. I think he was out in the rain all night. He finally showed up late last night. He was a mess. He didn't get to sleep until after midnight, and he didn't sleep well, so I didn't try to wake him."
Heero blinked slowly; I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. "Is he all right?"
"I think so," I said slowly. "I think maybe he just really scared himself."
"He's seeing a psychologist."
My jaw dropped. "He what?!"
"Either he gets his anger under control or his job is forfeit."
Oh. My. God.
No wonder Wufei was so... so fractured. He must be utterly humiliated. Suddenly, I wanted to run home and check on him; make sure he was really okay. Get him to talk to me. Give him a hug.
But I couldn't do that. He'd have a pissy dragon hissy-fit if I tried to fuss over him. But...
Heero laid his hand on my shoulder. "Check on him at lunchtime. If he doesn't like it, tell him I ordered it."
I nodded. "Thanks, Heero."
My best friend, the immoveable object, will accept pretty much anything if it comes from Heero or Q as an order.
~*~
Trowa let himself into the apartment silently, not wanting to disturb Wufei if he was still asleep. He mostly hoped that he was still sleeping. Dragons knew the poor guy needed it. Trowa might have been furious with him at one point, but seeing the wet, bedraggled, woebegone creature who had cried himself to sleep in Trowa's arms last night had gone a long way in securing his forgiveness. Of course, he knew better than to mention that to Wufei. The pissy Were-Dragon would have his head off if he knew Trowa felt sorry for him.
No sign of Wufei in the living room or the kitchen, but the bathroom had the damp steamy feel of recent shower activity. He peeked into Wufei's bedroom and gasped as he saw his friend sitting on the bed, playing with a knife.
Holy shit!
He flattened himself instantly against the hall wall.
Ohmigod, ohmigod! A knife. Wufei had a knife!
He shouldn't have gone to work. He should have called in. He should have stayed home. He should have hidden all the knives. He should have... he should have... he... Something! He should have done something to keep Wufei from having a knife in his hands, in his room, brushing the tip of that skinny blade under his chin!
What to do?! What to do now?!
Of course! Call Heero! Heero was a Dragon; Heero would know how to fix this!
He slithered out onto the balcony and dialed the office number with shaking fingers.
"Office of Magical Investigation; how may I help you?" said Duo warmly.
"DuothisisTrowaisHeerothere?" he hissed.
"...I beg your pardon...?"
Aaaaah! Calm; stay calm. Slowly... Must speak slowly...
"Duo, it's me. I really need to talk to Heero, right now."
"Trowa? He's down in the labs. The freaky five set the moat on fire about twenty minutes ago and almost fricasseed the moat monster; he said something about skinning them alive. Can I help?"
Oh, no... But Wufei would listen to Duo; he adored Duo!
"I think... Duo, will you come talk to Wufei? He's... he's got a knife and I'm afraid he's going to-to hurt himself! I don't think... I don't want to wait for Heero!"
"A knife?! Sonuvabitch! I'll be right there!" The line went dead.
Trowa crouched on the balcony, clutching his phone. Duo would talk to him; Wufei would listen to Duo. He adored Duo. He loved Duo. He would listen to him...
~*~
Duo appeared on the balcony less than five minutes later, accompanied by a very nervous young porter. The boy gave a sigh of relief when it became clear that they were on a solid surface.
"Thanks, Todd," said Duo brightly, treating the kid to a blinding smile. "Wufei will be so surprised. I'll catch a ride back with Trowa." Obviously dismissed, the kid nodded, glancing over the railing, and vanished again.
"Took me longer to convince him where to appear than the actual port," Duo grumbled. "Show me that damned Dragon," he commanded, and stalked into the apartment muttering under his breath about forgiveness and stubborn damn lizards.
"He's in his room, just sitting on the bed with a knife under his chin."
Duo gave him a look and flexed his fingers. He'd always been good with sleight of hand; he could probably have the knife in hand before Wufei even realised he was there. At least, that's what he told himself. At the very least, they would surprise the hell out of him.
"Okay; here's what we're going to do. I'm going to grab the knife and you're going to grab Wufei. If he throws a fit, we'll both sit on him. I left a message for Heero; I'm sure he'll come as soon as he gets it." He glanced around the edge of the door into Wufei's darkened room. "He's really into this ‘Dragon' thing right now." He could see something long and thin gleaming dully in the dim room; it looked like Wufei was scratching under his chin with it. Geez!
He poked Trowa and they both leaped into the room. Wufei let out a startled squawk when Duo snatched the knife from his hand and Trowa bowled him and they both fell off the side of the bed. Duo popped his head over the edge and grinned.
"Hi Wufei. Feeling better?"
The Were-Dragon blinked at him, then at the Were-Puma sprawled atop him. "Um... I'm... fine...?"
"Great!" laughed Duo in relief. He scrabbled backwards to give them space to get untangled and back onto the bed. He glanced down automatically at the knife in his hand.
Only it wasn't a knife.
For a moment, he wasn't sure what it was, not having had occasion himself to have any use for such a thing. When the penny dropped, he blinked and almost dropped the thing.
"Wufei! Is this a wand?"
"Yes," muttered the Dragon.
Trowa whipped his head around to stare at his best friend. "A wand?! What are you doing with a wand?"
"You mean, a Wizard's wand?" demanded Duo in astonishment.
"Yes," growled Wufei, not looking at them. "A Wizard's wand, and it's mine."
"Wufei! How did you get -!"
"He got it when he went to Hogwarts," said a new voice and all three turned to the doorway where Heero leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. "Wufei graduated from Hogwarts School of Magic and Wizardry; he's a Wizard."
~*~
The sound of jaws hitting the floor was deafening.
"What?!" yelled Trowa and Duo together. Both turned to stare at the Were-Dragon.
Wufei looked away, his face coloring. "It's not that big a deal," he muttered.
"Not that big a deal?!" yelped Trowa. "How is being a Wizard not a big deal?!"
"But I thought Magical Creatures couldn't be Wizards!" That from Duo, who was staring at the wand in his hand as if expecting it to suddenly do something.
"I'm not a very good Wizard," Wufei said sulkily. "Not like Mr. Potter or Ms. Granger."
"You're a perfectly decent Wizard, Wufei," sighed Heero coming into the room to take the wand from the Banshee's hand and return it to its owner. "Why are you making my week difficult? Stop feeling sorry for yourself and come back to work," he said firmly.
Wufei looked away again. "Maybe I should just quit..."
"No!" cried Duo. "No! You can't just leave! Fei, we need you!"
"Wufei," growled Heero warningly. "Do not start that; not now, not today. I expect you at your desk tomorrow morning."
"Dammit; is this because of what happened?!" yelled Duo. "And stop ignoring me!"
Both Dragons looked at him.
"I am not ignoring-" began Heero, but Wufei interrupted him.
"Duo, I told you; I can't just forget what I did! I can't accept forgiveness yet!" He drew his legs up to wrap his arms around his knees. "If there hadn't been a porter on hand... If Mistress Loquinn hadn't gotten to you when she did..."
"But that is all irrelevant! There was and she did, and I'm fine! And I'm still waiting for someone to explain to me how a Magical Creature can be a Wizard! And why didn't Trowa know about this? He's your best friend, Wufei; how could you not tell him?!"
"Well, yeah," agreed Trowa in an aggrieved tone. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
Wufei grabbed two handfuls of his hair and tugged firmly in agitation. "Because it doesn't matter!" he yelled. "I'm not some great all-powerful figure! I'm just a Were-Dragon with barely enough talent to pass the boards! That's all! I have a wand! Big fuckin' deal! On a good day I can make it rain rose petals! Nobody cares, dammit!" He dropped his head onto his knees. "It just... it's just... nothing..." he whispered.
Heero Glared at him. "Stop that, worm. You would not be here if you or your talents were nothing."
"Fuck off, Yuy; you hate me anyway."
"Dammit, Chang-"
Duo blanched. "Tell him you don't hate him, Heero," he demanded anxiously, grabbing Heero's arm. "Tell him you forgive him!"
Patiently, Heero took hold of Duo's arms to look him square in the eyes. "Duo," he began, "This isn't about you; it's about Wufei and his lack of control. He's a Dragon and a Wizard, regardless of how good or bad a Wizard, and he has obligations."
During this, Wufei had begun tapping himself on the head with the wand, muttering softly.
"What are you doing?" Trowa asked anxiously.
"Just wondering if I can curse myself with my own wand," he replied listlessly.
"Wufei!" He grabbed for the wand and the two of them wrestled with it.
"Heero!"
"Duo, I can't!"
Duo let go of Heero's arm, eyes wide and deeply purple, and screamed. A heartbeat later, he was gone, the energy of his departure still rippling the air.
"Shit!"
~*~
The Weres and the Wyvern stared at the spot formerly occupied by the Banshee.
"Ohmigod...!" breathed Trowa. "What... what happened?" He let go of the wand and Wufei hugged it protectively to his chest, also staring at the empty area where Duo had been.
"He did it again..." he breathed with something akin to awe.
"Goddammit," Heero swore under his breath. This teleportation of Duo's was going to give him a coronary. He rounded on the Weres. Both of them shrank away looking terrified.
"Chang," he snarled, "You are forgiven." At Wufei's perplexed look, he waved his hand at the place where Duo had been. "If he needs you to be forgiven and you to accept that forgiveness for his peace of mind, then you are forgiven and you will accept that forgiveness. Do I make myself clear?"
A moment of silence ensued before Wufei opened his mouth. "But..."
"You will," Heero growled again, this time accompanied by a Glare of incendiary proportions.
Trowa poked the Were-Dragon in the ribs and hissed at him. Wufei turned wide eyes his way, then back to the furious Wyvern. "Okay..." he said faintly.
"And be at work tomorrow morning; your basket is overflowing." With that he stalked out of the room.
They heard the sliding door open and close and a moment later a shadow passed over Wufei's window and was gone.
The Weres looked at each other.
Trowa cleared his throat, green eye narrowed. "Wufei..." He pushed the pillows up against the headboard and leaned back. "We really need to talk."
TBC...
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