Monsoon Season
by Violaine

The hand that had so lovingly caressed Wufei's timid face dropped to the Japanese pilot's side upon laying eyes on Treize Khushrenada. Heero felt an unbearable weight sink down on his chest, crushing every emotion out and replacing it with nothing more than that seething jealousy. Eyes the color of heaven washed over Treize, assessing his position. The man held no weapon, nor was his stance an offensive one. Suddenly the realization sunk in and Heero whirled around to Wufei, who was standing in shock, staring at his lover. A hand reached out and grabbed the front of his already rumpled blue tank top.

"You told him, didn't you?" was Heero's only question. The words came through clenched teeth, and were hissed out with the semblance of a snake, curling their way through the air to Wufei's ear. Now it was the Perfect Soldier's turn to be livid.

Before Chang could answer, another step sounded from Treize's position.

"Release the boy, zero one." His Excellency's voice was calm and understated, flowing out from his mouth like warm butter, and his stance had not changed. This was not a vengeful man.

Wufei still stood dazed, thoughts rambling through his head at an agonizingly fast pace. He looked up at Heero rather pleadingly, then to Treize again. The gaze Wufei offered that man, however, spoke a thousand words all at once, and not all of them niceties. Heero glared at the Chinese pilot sadly, then spun back around to regard Treize.

The OZ official walked toward the two slowly, and with a regal air that came all too easy. The rose on his lapel seemed almost fictional, appearing perfect even in the onslaught of torrid rain. As far as Heero could tell, the man wore no weapons at all, though that didn't mean much. He could think of a million places in that elaborate uniform that could easily and discreetly house a firearm. Without knowing why, Heero slid an arm around Wufei's back, and the other around his waist, pulling him into a protective embrace as if they'd been lovers for years and someone had come to split them apart.

Treize stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the two Asians share body heat, though it didn't last long. Much to His Excellency's approval, Wufei snaked his arms out from under Heero's and pushed the boy away with such brute force that Wufei himself almost lost his balance. Yuy released his grip reluctantly and stumbled backward, catching himself by grabbing the still dented hood of his car. His face contorted in pain as his saddened eyes flitted back and forth between the boy of his dreams and the man who threatened to wake him up. Finally his gaze settled on Wufei.

"Traitor," hissed Heero.

Chang was torn. He didn't love Treize, and he never had. But the man filled a void in his life so simply and efficiently. It was a space left unfilled for so long that it almost hurt to have it replenished by this man... by anyone. But he couldn't deny that there were feelings for Heero. Feelings not entirely different from what he felt for Treize... the sexual attraction, the spark of electricity... but there was something more with Heero, and Wufei couldn't deny it, not to himself. He and the other asian were one and the same. They knew the value of honor and valor, they fought until the end, or death if need be, to carry out their mission. There were times when relaxing that they could almost read each other's thoughts without so much as speaking a word, like that loudmouth baka did all the time. But the events that had transpired hitherto in the evening were far from expected. Wufei looked up as Treize wrapped a strong arm around him, taking Heero's place, then back to Heero, with his face a mess of emotions.

"I never... no, Heero, masaka," voiced Wufei. His face was cold and unfeeling, but not lying.

Treize pulled Wufei closer, and spread his cape over the smaller boy, almost like a mother hen would shield her chicks from a storm with her wings. He rubbed the boy's shoulders roughly, trying to warm him, then met Heero's enraged stare with a gaze of almost pity.

"The Little Dragon would not betray his allies. You're foolish to think otherwise. I am here of my own volition and conniving. Onegai, zero one, leave here and accept what fate has wrought you. Return to your comrades. Wufei will be safe with me." With that, Treize leaned down and planted a small kiss on Wufei's forehead, smiling down at him with joy positively beaming from every facial orifice. Wufei however, shot a sideways glance to Heero at Treize's action, and squirmed a bit at his touch. The older man took Wufei's shoulders in hand again and turned him to begin walking away.

"My name is Heero. Heero Yuy. And If I were you, I'd think twice about taking another step, Treize Khushrenada."

The unmistakable sound of a gun cocking into place was heard even through the deluge of water from the skies. The downpour hadn't relented in the slightest, and if anything, was becoming worse. Four sluggish feet stopped their assault upon the earth, and remained still, almost sinking a few millimeters into the soaked ground underneath. Wufei closed his eyes and took a long breath inward. Treize sighed and rubbed his chin. Heero's grip remained steady on the gun pointed directly at the back of Treize's head.

Slowly the two men turned, so as not to lead Heero to believe they intended on fighting. Dark asian eyes ground into blue ones, blinking from the water hitting him in the face. Without breaking his gaze, Wufei found his voice.

"Let me talk to him, Treize," Chang whispered. The older man nodded and released his grip on the boy as Wufei boldly took a step forward.

For no more than a split second, Heero stripped his eyes away from the OZ official to regard the object of his affections. When he looked back, Treize was still standing perfectly still, arms by his side. It seemed no matter what that man was faced with, he always retained his presence of mind. There stood Heero, almost crazed over something that wasn't even his, ready to strike at the first false movement he saw. But none were made. Thick and rick, Wufei's voice broke the silence.

"Yuy, I... I'll be all right," he offered. His eyes.. no, his entire face was no more animate than a concrete wall. Every emotion Heero watched him go through that night was gone. Chinese eyes laid bare on the table. A Chinese face as unfeeling as a desolate highway. And a Japanese heart slowly petrifying into nothing more than a fossil. Heero was wrong. Wrong to try and tell Wufei his feelings. Wrong to even feel them. And wrong to have thought even for a moment that they would be returned. Heero Yuy lowered the gun and let it slide from his grip, making a splatter in the rain puddle beside his sneakers. His face? The face of a man defeated.

Wufei tried to speak again. He opened his mouth to vocalize the words he wanted to say, but was met with a curt shake of "zero one's" head. He didn't want to hear any more. Chang closed his mouth and hung his head for a moment before catching some movement out of the corner of his eye. Heero moved one leg behind the other, and back, as he placed his left arm out straight by his side, and the right one across his stomach. The pilot of Wing Zero bowed elaborately before Treize Khushrenada, harboring an evil smirk, though one of definite compliance, on his face. Treize merely nodded, quite gentlemanly. Before Wufei could even gauge what was happening, a car door slammed, enclosing Yuy inside his vehicle. Tires spun after the engine started, catapulting the driver and automobile out of the clearing, and out of Wufei's life.

"Come, Dragon, you'll catch your death." His Excellency stood with an outstretched arm, the one that the cape covered, and smiled lightly at his little lover. Chang could do nothing but look at the ruts in the earth made by Heero's squealing tires. After a long while, the Chinese boy shrugged his shoulders down, along with his head and walked to Treize, allowing him to shelter him from the rain that not only ravaged his body, but his heart too. They walked close together, side by side, as Wufei took one last look at the place Heero'd stood. Black eyes fell upon the gun lying in almost an inch of pooled water. His face contorted due to an emotion he had no idea could come from his body, and before the hot stinging moisture at the corners of his eyes could fall, he turned away and resolved himself to his fate.

"Sumimasen, Heero"


A frustrated scream accompanied the sound of a clenched fist banging against the steering wheel of the vehicle Heero Yuy operated. Tears, yes tears, streamed down the pilot's face as he cursed himself for all he was worth... which at the moment wasn't much.

"Baka. Heero no BAKA! Fucking fool. I am the PERFECT Soldier. Goddamned PERFECT. Why? Why, why, why, fucking WHY?!"

The same fist crashed down on the dashboard, cracking it slightly underneath the force of the blow. He groaned out another yell, calling out to anyone that would listen. All four windows in the car were rolled down, and rain pelted in from all directions, further soaking the boy. None of it mattered anymore. He'd made a fool of himself, and there was no way he could face Chang Wufei again. He'd return to Quatre's mansion in a few days to retrieve his things, then he'd be gone. A Gundam pilot didn't need friends, let alone lovers. But even as those thoughts coursed through Heero's brain, the nagging attraction and affection he felt for Chang was ever present. Heero started mumbling.

"No. No, I'm above this. Wufei is nothing. Wufei is a slut. Wufei is sleeping with the enemy. Wufei is a slut. Slut. I'm above this. I'm the Perfect Soldier. And I'm not.... I'm not gay. I'm not. No. I don't need anyone. This was all a mistake. A big fucking mistake. Just a moment of weakness."

Heero was starting to believe himself. He drove and drove, watching the dotted lines of the highway melt into one streaming ribbon of yellow. The asphalt started to look almost intoxicating to him, all black with tiny silver flecks of glitter. Finally the words, all too foreign to Heero Yuy, started to subside. His mind was a blank, just as he liked it, and he focused on the nothingness to drive him on, make his life worth living. For all intents and purposes, telling Wufei how he felt was a failed mission. The regret and pain that resulted had nothing to do with a heart breaking. It was only a matter of pride. Heero Yuy had failed a mission.

Late night quickly found it's way into early morning, and Heero still drove. He didn't care where he was, or how he got there. Eventually the day gave way into afternoon, evening, and then night. It was 2am, twenty four hours since he'd picked up a sopping wet Wufei, before he returned to Quatre's mansion. He hadn't slept in days, and wanted only to rest, pack his things, and leave.

In the driveway of the estate, Heero switched off his car and killed the lights before sagging his tired head back on the headrest behind him. He breathed a sigh of almost relief and drew in another large breath as he heaved his body up to open the door. It was still raining. He was starting to hate the rain. Deep down though, as he looked up into the heavens, he knew he could never fully hate it. It was cathartic for him. It purged him of all the hatred and frustrations in the world. But now it would only remind him of the one he could never have..... No. With a loud slam, Heero closed the car door and pushed the thought out of his mind as he stalked his way up the drive to the front door. He would not give in again. He needed no one.


Wufei stared into a mug of untouched green tea. The tie that normally held his hair away from his angular face was nowhere to be seen, and locks of raven black fell to his shoulders as he hung his head. His nose wrinkled at the scent of the tea... good green leaves were so hard to find in this area. Just as he was about to swallow his pride, and the beverage, footsteps came trudging into the kitchen where he sat, the stopped abruptly. Chang didn't even have to raise his head to know cobalt blue eyes were drilling a hole into his back. But raise his head he did, and met the cold glare of The Perfect Soldier head on. A lump accumulated in Wufei's throat, and he tried to swallow it, but to no avail. There was nothing he could say to the boy, nothing he could do to make up for the previous night's follies. He hadn't wanted to go with Treize, but... but... hell, he didn't know what. Heero had all but professed his love for him, and Wufei turned him away. Lost in his own reverie, he didn't quite notice when Heero tossed his keys on the table and walked to the refrigerator.

So terribly did Wufei want to speak, to tell him that he didn't love Treize, that maybe, just maybe, they could work things out. But his damned pride just wouldn't let him. So instead, the boy went back to analyzing his tea mug, turning it in his hands on the table.

The refrigerator door slammed shut, and Heero emerged with a slice of cold pizza and a beer. Not once did he cast a gaze in Wufei's direction, and not once did he balk at leaving the room. A few feet out the door, a concerned angelic voice was heard.

"Oi, Heero, you're back! We've all been worried sick about you, even Wufei," said Quatre, who had obviously been woken up by the noise Heero had made trying to unlock the front door. He stood dressed in a long pink nightshirt, one that almost touched the floor. Back in the kitchen, Wufei cringed, vowing to kill Quatre the next chance he got for divulging that he was indeed worried about Yuy.

Either Heero didn't respond to the blonde boy, or the grunt was simply too inaudible to hear. Whichever it was, it left the Winner boy confused, and standing in the same spot as Heero brushed past him to retreat to his room. After just a second, Quatre made his way into the kitchen and beamed at Wufei, forgetting about Heero for the moment.

"He's back, did you see? I told you he'd be okay," offered the blonde. The boy simply grinned and sighed, oddly happy for it being 2am. Maybe he hadn't been asleep after all. He and Trowa had probably been... no, nevermind, Wufei didn't want to think about it. Quatre was again met with silence, which cause the smile to fade.

"Jeez, what's with you guys? Lover's quarrel?" Winner giggled innocently, simply wanting to poke some fun to cheer everyone up. In a flurry of luke-warm tea that was sent flying by the hand of the "Little Dragon", Wufei snatched the angel up off the floor by his nightshirt, and held him a good three or four inches off the ground. Quatre gasped and his eyes flew wide, kicking against the black haired boy.

"Don't you EVER say that again, do you hear me?" growled Wufei, as he shook the boy.

Tears formed at the corners of those aquamarine eyes, accompanied by a slight nod of his head, sending tufts of golden silk to flit across his forehead. Slowly Wufei lowered Quatre to the ground and released his grip, only to be met with a bold, smart smack across the face. Dark eyes widened at the blonde's bold move, but he found he could do nothing in defense, due to his earlier actions. He merely raised a hand to his reddening skin and rubbed. Quatre was livid.

"And if you EVER do that again, I'll tell Trowa!" Quatre seemed satisfied with his threat before it even had a chance to sink in with Wufei, and he turned on his heels, marching back up the stairs to his room. Chang remained dazed for a while, feeling genuinely horrid for having abused the poor boy like that. What was he becoming? Finally he blinked and peered out the door to the kitchen, expecting to see the hallway empty. But no, there was Heero, pizza and beer still in his hands, untouched. The depths of his eyes spoke multitudes; he'd seen what Wufei did to Quatre. A disgusted, scornful look passed over his face and on to Wufei, who hung his head in shame. When he looked up again, Heero was gone.

With a heavy sigh, the emotionally battered Gundam pilot turned around to look at the mess he'd made. The mess in the kitchen, that is, not in his life. He slid a hand over his face and instinctively walked to the cupboard for another tea bag. Upon opening the door he discovered an unopened bottle labeled "Wild Turkey". He knew it was liquor, he wasn't stupid, but in his present state of mind, it seemed just the thing to ease his frazzled thoughts. He grabbed the bottle, not even bothering to retrieve a glass as well, and seated himself at the table once more, more than ready to consume his pain medication.


On to part three. Back to part one.