“Now it’s going to be even weirder going in here,” Duo was saying as Heero tried the handle on the front door of Nataku’s. The long-haired mechanic actually looked a little nervous, like he was breaking into the place and was actually feeling guilty about doing so.

“I know but... avoiding it won’t make it go away, will it?” Heero pointed out as he pushed the door open, surprised to find it open. Pausing in the doorway, one hand lingering on the doorknob, he turned his intense gaze on Duo, making the lacrosse team manager swallow loudly. “Isn’t that something you told me once, Duo?”

“Well, yeah,” Duo started to agree, fumbling a little bit under Heero’s scrutiny. Those passionate, blue eyes never failed to make Duo weak at the knees. “But what if we run into Wufei,” Duo went on as he followed Heero into the darkened shop, closing the door behind him.

“Then we run into Wufei,” said Heero with a shrug as he headed towards the basement stairs, a destination that was almost automatic for both of them now. Heero was hell-bent on beginning another painting of Duo. (He had actually been complaining that some higher power was out to put a stop to his creation of beautiful art, especially now that he had Duo to be his subject whenever he wished.)

“Right again,” admitted Duo with a little sigh, running his fingers through his shaggy, chestnut brown bangs. “It would be pretty awful of us to just ditch him while he’s mourning someone as dear to him as Meilan.”

He had no sooner said this, when a creaking noise from somewhere above caught their attention. Heero and Duo looked up, their eyes roaming across the ceiling as the sound of footsteps overhead creaked across the attic. Soon, Wufei himself was descending the fold-down ladder that led up to the living quarters upstairs, a large, cardboard box filled with miscellaneous objects in his arms. He paused at the bottom, realizing that he wasn’t alone, though he looked a little surprised to see Heero and Duo standing in the middle of the shop.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his eyes thinning slightly as he adjusted his grip on the box. “The shop’s going to be closed for a while, so it’s not like you really need to come in to work.”

“I still have my studio in the basement. That’s all we’re here for,” said Heero with a shrug. He shot a furtive glance at Duo, who was nervously toying with the feathered tip of his braid.

“What’s in the box?” Duo asked, still twisting his long hair around in his hands, causing the long snake of hair to writhe and coil as if it was really alive. He took a few steps towards Wufei, trying to sniff around in the large box like a curious kitten before the Chinese teen possessively yanked it away from Duo’s snooping face.

“Just some old things of Meilan’s that her mother wanted me to have,” Wufei explained as concisely as he could, staring down into the mysterious contents of the box. The top of a large, folded fan stuck out from the depths of the cardboard carton, as well as what looked like the jade hilt of a Chinese sword.

“Jeez, if it’s just a bunch of old antiques, then what’s the big deal?” Duo moaned, acting like Wufei’s abrasiveness had offended and wounded him. Behind him, Heero rolled his eyes at Duo’s melodramatics, once again thinking the same thing about Duo and acting that everyone else seemed to; it was times like these that really made people like Heero wonder why Duo wasn't an actor.

“It’s personal!” Wufei snapped.

A strange glimmer settled in Duo’s eyes as he let his braid drop, the heavy rope of hair swinging over his chest like a pendulum. A smirk that spelled trouble appeared on Duo’s face as he said wryly, “Yeah right. I bet you’re smuggling dirty magazines somewhere.”

There was no name for the odd shade of red that Wufei’s skin turned when Duo said that. It was bad enough for the Chinese boy when Duo started laughing at his reaction, but when even Heero started chuckling at the sight, Wufei’s colour intensified, and he found himself overreacting. “Have you no shame, Maxwell?!” he demanded, trying to shuffle after Duo as best he could with the cumbersome box in his arms.

The braided teen was easily able to dart back and behind the safety of Heero. “Wow, joke, joke,” he insisted, holding up two hands of defeat, though he didn’t move from his spot behind Heero. “Take a chill-pill, ‘Fei. I was just trying to cheer you up some!”

“W-Well, try and be more appropriate next time!” Wufei sputtered indignantly.

Heero glanced back at his lover, who was currently sticking his tongue out at the disgruntled Chinese youth opposite them. A smile curled his lips as he said, “I don’t know, Wufei. It was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, ‘Fei. Even Heero thought it was a laugh,” added Duo in his own defense. “You need to chillax a little, my friend. It’s just a box of stuff.”

Wufei glared at the pair of them, his cheeks puffed out a little, and his black eyebrows fused together over his nose. Then he glanced down at the contents of his package of Meilan’s things, as if he were contemplating whether or not it was all that private after all. Another look at Duo, who was grinning stupidly at him, and Heero, who was smiling softly at Duo, was somehow enough to make Wufei relent with a heavy sigh of defeat. “Fine, you can look,” he said, setting the box down at his feet. “But don’t expect anything too exciting. It’s just stuff that really only means anything to me or Meilan.”

Duo shrugged and stepped around Heero, eagerly making his way to the mysterious box like a kid running to the Christmas tree for presents. He plopped right down on his ass and wasted no time starting through the contents of the box as Heero knelt beside him. Wufei stooped on the other side of the box like a wary sentry, ready to draw the line should any boundaries be overstepped.

“Oooh, pretty,” hummed Duo as he pulled out the large fan and flipped it open. It was made of a silky, red cloth with golden patterns on it and its frame was of a black, lacquered wood. Red and gold tassels hung from the place where all the fan’s ribs joined together. “Where’d this come from, ‘Fei?”

“China,” Wufei answered with a shrug, his glare a silent warning to Duo that if he should mess up that fan in any way, Wufei would kill him.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Duo said drolly, waving the fan at Wufei and stirring puffs of air into his face. “It’s nice to know your wit is working. Now answer the question for real.”

Wufei sighed, glancing off to something to the side as he tugged at the tight pigtail of hair at the nape of his neck. “I bought it for Meilan the first time I ever went to China. I gave it to her for her tenth birthday.”

Duo grinned widely as he folded the fan up again and set it back in the box carefully. “Thank you. Now was that really so hard?” he asked as he started rooting through the box again. His fingertips passed over an empty cricket cage, some folded silk shirts and a few other items in favour of something that more struck his fancy. “Aha! Look at these!” he finally exclaimed as he pulled out a small stack of vinyl 45’s. “These are practically obsolete! What d’ya play them on?” Duo asked as he flipped through the round, black discs.

“Meilan had a turntable. One of those portable ones that look like fat suitcases,” said Wufei, not even realizing that he was volunteering information that he had been trying to avoid sharing hardly five minutes before. “I already brought it home.”

Duo’s head snapped up. “You have a home? As in one that isn’t here?” He looked genuinely shocked and flabbergasted at this piece of information.

For a moment, it looked like Wufei was going to get pissed off again. “Of course I have a home! Doesn’t everybody!? I live six streets over, on Altron Place.”

“I suppose,” Duo said quietly, his thoughts a little morose for a second as he thought of what it meant to have a home. The sight of Heero’s slim hands reaching out to grasp the beautiful sword still sitting inside the box, however, was enough to cheer Duo out of his momentary slip into the doldrums. “I’d just always kind of assumed that you lived here,” Duo added, quickly placing his happy smile on his face again. He would never allow himself to slip and let his shields down around anyone other than Heero, who was the one person he trusted to understand his weaknesses.

“Humph, well, I don’t. Not anymore, anyway,” bit Wufei a little testily. “Home is where the heart is, right? Well, the heart isn’t here anymore. It died. This place is fucking dead.” This was a display of a particular breed of passion such that Heero and Duo were unused to seeing in Wufei. It was a nice reminder that he was, indeed, human, and not an arrogant, alien cyborg that sniffed pompously at the entire human race.

“But you are not,” commented Heero idly, drawing the attention of Duo and Wufei, who had not even been aware that Heero had been listening to their arguing. He was standing beside the box, the empty sheath of the sword clutched in his right hand as he experimentally toyed with the weapon in his left, his midnight blue eyes tracking every twitch of the singing blade as he it moved through the air. The blade was a traditional Chinese steel, with a straight, thin, flat blade that quivered slightly with each movement, with a trapezoidal, carved piece of jade for a hilt, its handle wrapped in white cloth and its pommel a piece of wrought gold.

“What does that mean?” asked Wufei, his onyx black eyes narrowing at Heero.

“It means....” Heero trailed off, suddenly swinging the blade around in a whistling arc that flew over the top of Duo’s head and came to an abrupt halt hardly a centimeter away from the side of Wufei’s face. “It means that you are alive, and therefore you should act it. The death of one shouldn’t kill another.”

Wufei’s eyes were trained on the still-shivering blade next to his cheek as he thought about what Heero had said. At last, he closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly, a quiet admission that he found Heero to be right, which was no small feat considering Wufei and his pride. “You know,” Wufei started quietly, his eyes still closed, “it would have been fitting to die by that sword. It was Meilan’s, after all.”

“Oh, stop being grim,” moaned Duo with a roll of his eyes. He still held the stack of 45’s in his lap and was leaning his chin on the heel of one hand, whose elbow was propped up on one of his knees.

Wufei at last opened his eyes and focused them on Duo. There was a moment of silence before he finally said, “Oh, like you’re one to complain about who’s being grim, Maxwell.”

Duo’s lips cracked into a smile and he bowled over laughing, barely able to keep the 45’s from spilling all over the floor. “Yeah, well, I may have written the book on grim--”

“You wrote a book of fairy tales?” Wufei interjected, a wry smile crossing his features. The guy had a challenge-radar on him that could detect a good competition from miles away.

“Ha, funny,” Duo drawled with another roll of his eyes. “I was just going to say that you needed to work on your sense of humour, but I guess I was wrong.”

Meanwhile, Heero had since withdrawn the sword from Wufei’s personal space, and was now standing beside Duo, holding the sword in front of him and examining the craftsmanship. The sword zinged as he let it fly through the air again, and he experimentally tested the weight, noting its feather-lightness. “This is a very fine blade,” was Heero’s final assessment when he was through. His words interrupted Duo’s and Wufei’s banter and drew two pairs of inquiring eyes.

“It’s been in Meilan’s family for generations,” announced Wufei with a touch of pride. “Her ancestor made it, and it’s been passed down the line ever since.”

“And now it’s yours?” Heero asked as he carefully slid the weapon back into its red scabbard.

“Obviously,” said Wufei. He stood up and went over to Heero to take the sword from him, holding it reverently in both hands. The blade clacked inside the scabbard as Wufei turned it upright, leaning it against his shoulder. “Meilan practiced sword katas a lot, and I would venture to say that she was the only person better at it than me.”

“I think it says a lot that she left it to you,” Duo spoke up insightfully. He was currently staring at a framed photograph of Wufei and Meilan in their younger years. In the picture, a six-year-old Meilan held the string of a plump, red balloon, and next to her was a disgruntled Wufei, whose face was sticky with cotton candy. It looked like they were at the circus or something. “She’s probably dropping you a subtle hint that you need more practice!”

Surprisingly, instead of leaping down Duo’s throat, the expected reaction, Wufei’s face remained somber and collected. “Trowa, of all people, said the same thing,” he said, furtively glancing at the photograph in Duo’s hands.

“Trowa....” Duo murmured, his mouth flattening into a straight line. Turning his chin upwards, he addressed Wufei, “When did he say that? Recently, I’d guess, right?”

Wufei’s eyebrows dipped low over his nose again. “A few days ago. Why does it matter?”

“Heero says he has no idea where he is,” Duo explained, knowing that there was no need to hide something about a close friend from Wufei. Their little circle of them, Heero, Duo, Trowa, Quatre and Wufei, that is, had actually become pretty close-knit since Duo had become involved with the lacrosse team. To be honest, Duo had never known a better group of people, and doubted he would ever find another that would make him feel so comfortable and warm. Trowa and Wufei had actually risen to the level of best friend that Duo gave to Quatre, and Heero had turned out to be the other half of himself that he had been always searching for. These people were the most important in all the world to him, the best family he had ever had, and Duo would fight to the death to protect them.

“Really?” Wufei sounded more interested and amused than worried or upset at this piece of information. His eyes flicked from Duo to Heero. “And you have absolutely no idea where he went?”

“You know Trowa,” said Heero with an air that suggested that this was a trait of the goalie’s that long predated Duo’s infiltration of their social circle. “When he wants to fade into the woodwork, he does, and there’s no finding the chameleon until he sheds his colours.”

“Yeah, so why are you worrying about it?” Wufei asked with a shrug. The point was actually a very logical and legit one. “He’ll be found when he wants to be found.”

Duo reached forward and placed the framed photograph in the box, exchanging it for another one he found inside. Pulling it out, he found a family portrait of Meilan’s entire extended family. The sight of it brought a sudden thought to Duo’s mind. “Aren’t your parents worried, Heero?”

Heero shook his head, long, tousled spikes of brown hair stroking his nose as he did so. “Trowa has an uncanny talent for telling only enough, you know?” Heero informed Duo, though explaining some of Trowa’s odder habits was a little bit harder than it would initially seem. “He tells O-kaa-san and O-tou-san so much, and yet he tells them nothing.”

“But you said it’d been days,” Duo pointed out as Heero sat back down beside him. “I think I would notice if my kid hadn’t been around in a couple days, Heero.”

Reaching out and taking back the picture Duo had just been examining, Wufei replaced it in the box and said casually, “He probably is just staying with his great-uncle again. No need for the parents to get worried if he’s with family, right?” Now crouching on the floor, Wufei blinked at Heero and Duo as if what he’d just said was the most plain thing in the world.

“Tro has a great-uncle? Cool,” said Duo. Turning to Heero, he unnecessarily put his hand on his shoulder to get his attention, even if it was merely just an excuse to touch his lover. “Do you know the guy, ‘Ro? That would make him your great-uncle too, wouldn’t it?”

“I know of him. I’ve never personally met him, actually,” answered Heero. “Apparently he and Trowa are close, even though he doesn’t really keep in touch with the family. I don’t know--it’s one of those things that Trowa is close-mouthed about.”

Interestingly enough it was Wufei who had the most to say on the matter. “I met him once,” he piped up. “It was a couple years ago, just before he met you, Heero, this one time when Trowa and his dad had been fighting about lacrosse and scholarships and that kind of thing. Trowa was so angry, had a lot of steam to blow off, and wanted to get away for a while. So he called up his great-uncle, asked him to come down from Seattle and meet him a couple towns away from here. I got roped into driving him over, because Trowa didn’t have his license yet.” Wufei finished the story with a small, nonchalant shrug.

“And you met him?” Duo pressed, finding the story interesting for some reason.

“Well, he shook my hand, said ‘hello’, and thanked me for bringing Trowa to see him,” said Wufei. He was sitting on the bottom rung of the fold-down ladder that led up to the attic. “He’s a pretty unimpressive guy, really. He’s just an old doctor with shaggy, gray hair and a false nose. I believe his name starts with an S, but I can’t remember for sure. It’s been a while.”

“And you think Trowa is with this Doctor S right now?” asked Duo, who didn’t quite seem to be buying the story that Trowa had a relative that spoke only to him. To Heero, Duo grinned and said, “I suppose that would explain why your parents aren’t tearing the state apart in search of him, huh?”

“It would,” Heero replied with a nonchalant shrug. “No big deal. They know Trowa will come back, and they trust him enough to know he won’t do anything too stupid.”

“Well, that’s a lot more faith than anyone would ever put in me,” groused Duo, his eyes shooting to the side in a narrowed glare. Quickly covering up his bitter moment, Duo smiled wide and asked cheerfully, “So, did Trowa mention what he might be doing with this obscure relative of his?”

Wufei rolled his shoulders noncommittally. “He was careful about not saying much, but I gathered it had something to do with Quatre. Doctor S is apparently a very resourceful man.”

Duo snorted, elbowing Heero suggestively in the side. “Well, that should have been obvious. You think Tro’s been missing some sweet lovin’ or something, huh?” The lecherous grin adorning Duo’s face was enough to suggest exactly what he was getting at.

A rather humourous red colour overtook Heero’s cheeks as he thought about what Duo had said, and didn’t even bother to merit the comment with a direct answer. Instead, he quickly fought down the embarrassing flush that was painting his skin, put an arm around Duo and said, pulling him close, “All I know is that if you were missing, I would do anything to bring you home too.”

“But Q isn’t missing. We know exactly where he is,” said Duo, suddenly feeling a lot smaller than he was in Heero’s embrace, despite the fact that he stood a few inches over the Japanese youth.

“Yes, but he’s in trouble,” Heero countered, his arm tightening around Duo’s waist as if he was afraid he might be taken away from him.

“Yeah.... Big ass trouble,” Duo murmured. There was a pause where the three of them waited in awkward silence for someone to say something, or perhaps make a move. It turned out to be Duo who ended up breaking the ice again, which probably wasn’t too surprising, given Duo’s distaste for silence. “Tro shouldn’t have to help Q out all by himself. I feel like we should do something too.” Duo took Heero’s slight nod as an indication to continue. “I mean,” he said, “I know how to break and enter a place... not that I’m proud of it or nothin’.... And I can pick a lock, you know!”

Here, Wufei interjected. “That’s all well and good, Maxwell, but assuming that all went well and we did secure Winner, then what? We can’t very well just keep him like a bird, but we can’t let him just wander around either!”

“He has a point, Duo.”

Duo clenched his fists and let out a grunt of annoyance. “Fuck it!” he shouted, stomping one foot on the hard, wood floor and narrowly missing Heero’s foot. Twisting around in Heero’s arms, he grabbed the sleeves of Heero’s loose tank top, crying, “Why the fuck is everything so goddamned unfair!?”

Wufei remained in his place on the ladder, watching with amazement as Heero placed his hands on Duo’s, the motion somehow enough to quiet the emotional mechanic as he shook. He remembered a time, not so long ago, when the only time that Heero might have put his hands on Duo’s would have been to rip them off. And now, instead of yelling and fighting, as they had once been prone to do, they hardly had to say anything for there to be an understanding. Wufei recognized the perfect way they fit together; he’d fit in a similar way with Meilan.

“Don’t worry, my Shinigami,” assured Heero softly, his rough thumbs rubbing circles on the backs of Duo’s slim hands. “We’ll think of something; we’ll do something. Nothing will happen to Quatre with us on watch.”

“We’ve been saying that for days, now,” mumbled Duo with a frown. “And we haven’t done shit! Enough of this talking. I want some action!”

Heero arched his eyebrows with interest.

This time, it was Duo’s turn to flush. “You know what I mean!” he burst, his fingers clenching Heero’s shirt tighter. (Heero had an offhand thought right then that he was going to lose a lot of clothing at Duo’s moody, expressive hands.)

With a nostalgic sort of smile on his face, Wufei got up and moved to pick up his box of memories, then headed towards the door of the shop, as he’d been doing before he’d run into Heero and Duo, walking backwards so he could still address the pair of lovers. “I should get going,” he said as he backed up towards the door. “Good luck in whatever you endeavor to do... and please, don’t get yourselves killed.” With that, the bell hanging over the front door jingled as he turned around and opened it with one fluid motion, stepped through, and then kicked it shut behind him on his way out.

“He’s right, you know,” Heero commented as the bell’s loud clanking became softer. “Whatever we do, we have to be careful, and we have to be smart.”

“I have a feeling we’re not dealing with just your average idiot, here, ‘Ro,” deadpanned Duo. He reluctantly let go of Heero’s shirt and started to pace back and forth, his head thrust in deep thought. Things had become ver y complex and delicate, and for a moment, Duo wondered what had happened to the days when his biggest trouble was being the manager for the lacrosse team and winning a drag race here and there.

“True, our enemy is smart,” Heero agreed. “But we’ll just have to be smarter. That’s the only way to play this sick game of chess.”

(x) X (x)

a.n.: Sorry it took me a bit to get this one up; long story. Chapter title is a Doors song.

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