Con laid Wufei carefully on Quatre’s cot, trying not to jar his arm. Wufei gritted his teeth, refusing to acknowledge his pain in front of a stranger. Trowa removed the Chinese pilot’s white tunic, taking it off the right arm first and then the left to reduce unnecessary movement of the wounded shoulder. Wufei’s tank top was then removed as well. Con’s face paled slightly at the sight of the hole in the boy’s bronzed skin, but for a moment he couldn’t take his eyes off the sight of smooth flesh over the firm muscles in Wufei’s chest. Quatre brought in a couple of white towels from the bathroom, along with a small basin of water. Trowa lifted Wufei up slightly and checked the back of his shoulder.

"It went all the way through," he reported. Quatre turned to Con.

"Do you have a medical kit somewhere? We’ll need some bandages, scissors, gauze, and medical tape." Con nodded and reached under a low table, pulling out a large first-aid kit. When he brought it over to the cot, Quatre took it from him and opened it with a professional air. Con watched, amazed, as Quatre calmly examined the wounds. He searched in the kit, then turned to Con. "There isn’t any antiseptic solution in here. Do you have some?" Con thought a moment.

"Yes, I do. Wait a minute and I’ll get it." He walked into the bathroom and came back with a large brown bottle, handing it to Quatre. The blonde boy set it down and picked up the first towel. Dipping it in the water, he cleaned the blood off of Wufei’s skin as gently as he could. By the time he had finished, the towel and the water in the basin were a dark shade of pink. Then the Arabian looked at Wufei.

"This is going to really hurt," he warned. The Chinese boy merely nodded and steeled himself. Quatre opened the bottle and grabbed the second towel, placing it under Wufei’s arm. Then he opened the bottle and poured a liberal amount onto the wound. Wufei’s arm muscles spasmed and a jaw in his muscle tensed as the liquid bubbled. Quatre looked apologetic, but gently turned Wufei on his right side and poured again onto the exit wound. Now a fine sheen of sweat covered the Chinese pilot’s skin and his breathing was slightly ragged, jaw clenched. Quatre used the second towel soaked in some clean water to rinse the antiseptic off. He then placed bandages over both wounds and wrapped them with the gauze, taping the gauze tightly in place. Throughout the entire procedure, Wufei hadn’t made a sound. Once the last piece of tape was in place, the Chinese boy let out a slow breath and lay back slowly on the cot. Con disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a glass of water, holding something in his hand. Wufei looked at him suspiciously.

"What are you holding?" he asked. Con smiled in a soothing manner.

"They’re sleeping pills. You need to take them so you can get some rest," he answered. Wufei shifted in the cot, wincing when he accidentally moved his arm.

"That is not necessary. I can go to sleep without the aid of those pills," he insisted. The smile was still on the older boy’s face.

"I’m sure you can, but these will help keep you asleep so your body can get the rest it needs to heal. Don’t worry, I’m sure Quatre won’t let you sleep too long," he said. Wufei glared at him but reached out and took the pills, popping both into his mouth. Then he took the glass and drained it, lying back on the cot again with no small amount of relief. Con grinned as the Chinese boy glared stubbornly at him. "Now you go to sleep, and when you wake up, there will be something for you to eat." Wufei snorted and turned his face away. Con took the blanket at the foot of the bed and began pulling it up over the injured boy. Wufei slapped at Con’s hands with his right hand, but the older boy grabbed his hand and placed it at his side on the cot, bringing the thin blanket up to the top of Wufei’s chest. "Now," he said sternly, "go to sleep." Wufei thought to himself that it was a good thing Duo wasn’t there. As it was, Quatre was smiling widely behind his hand, and even Trowa had a small smile on his face at the sight of Con fussing over Wufei like a mother. The Chinese boy growled softly. Con turned to him.

"What?" he asked pleasantly. Wufei scowled again.

"Nothing," he replied, relaxing into the pillow. When the pills took effect, Wufei was more than happy to surrender, for sleep was preferable to being treated like a child… although he had to admit, it was rather a nice feeling to let someone take care of him.

Quatre sighed in relief as Wufei’s eyes drifted shut, and his breathing evened out. Trowa took out a small communicator and talked briefly with someone. Con kept his curiosity in check, but it flared again as he watched Quatre. Putting the medical supplies back in the first-aid kit, Quatre dumped the water out of the basin and filled it with clean water, putting the towels in it to soak. Con looked curiously at the blond boy.

"You handled that as if you have done it before," he remarked, affecting a casual air. Quatre smiled at him.

"We all have done it at one time or another," he answered. Con stared.

"You said ‘we’," he said. "Do you mean you, Trowa, and Wufei?" he asked. Quatre nodded.

"And two others, Heero and Duo," he added. "There are five of us who work together sometimes, and alone other times. All of us at one point in time have needed patching up." Con’s brow furrowed in thought.

"What kind of work do you all do?" he asked. Trowa spoke up then.

"It’s rather dangerous, and we are not at liberty to discuss it," he said. Con nodded.

"That kind of job, huh? Well, that’s okay. You guys seem okay to me, and Wufei here saved my life tonight, taking that bullet for me." He smiled. "I’m not about to pry into your lives." He looked at a clock on the wall. "Wow, it’s time to get to bed. I’ll make you guys a place to sleep on the floor, if that’s okay with you," he said, and smiled when the two boys nodded. "Good. Wufei will be out for some time, so sleep in if you want," Con told them. He pulled blankets out of a large cedar chest and got two pillows out of a small closet. Then he went into a small storage room attached to the cabin. He came back out dragging a large mattress with him. "This should do, but the two of you will have to share, if that’s okay with you," Con said as he raised a questioning eyebrow. Both boys nodded slowly. Con grinned inwardly and made a comfortable bed for them on the floor. He crawled into his hammock and closed his eyes. His thoughts drifted momentarily to Rimbo and Lambert. The two thieves were only out of commission for a while, and he was worried that they might return. Con was jerked out of his thoughts by the sounds of Trowa and Quatre settling in for the night. It took effort to keep his amusement from showing as the two of them tried to find a way to get comfortable without touching each other. He heard them shift several times, many frustrated sighs, and the rustle of blankets. They looked so good together, yet neither one apparently had made a move to bring the relationship to a more serious nature. They obviously were uncomfortable being in such a position. Con relaxed more. It might be interesting to see if he could get those two to openly admit the full extent of their feelings. As he fell into deep slumber, he was totally unaware that Quatre was thinking the same thing about him and Wufei.

The next morning brought a pleasant surprise to Trowa and Quatre. As a breeze wafted in through the open window, a patch of sunlight hit Quatre’s closed eyelids. He drowsily mumbled his protest and shifted, burying his face further into his pillow. Then his pillow moved. Quatre froze, and opened his eyes. He squeaked when he realized his head was on Trowa’s chest, the taller pilot’s right arm draped over his back, and their legs rather tangled together. It had been cool in the night, and Quatre had moved closer to his fellow pilot for warmth, and apparently Trowa had been cold too. Quatre started to move away, when Trowa’s arm tightened around him, and the taller pilot mumbled a bit, obviously beginning to wake up. Quatre almost panicked, not sure if he wanted Trowa to see what had happened as they slept. He was wondering if he should move when Trowa opened his eyes, and he found himself staring into their emerald green depths. He gave a small smile.

"Good morning Trowa," he managed, his throat dry. He was rather worried; although he and Trowa had admitted to an attraction, he wasn’t sure if it was more than that. He believed that he felt much more than a mere attraction for the green-eyed boy, but he was unsure of Trowa’s views on their relationship. So it should be no surprise that Quatre looked a little worried. Trowa blinked as he noticed the position they were in.

"Good morning, Quatre," he replied, gracing the smaller boy with a smile. Quatre relaxed. At least Trowa wasn’t upset or anything. The taller pilot stretched slightly and disentangled his legs from Quatre’s. Both boys stood up and made their "bed", and both noticed that Con’s hammock was empty. The older boy had gone beachcombing. Quatre walked over to the cot to check on Wufei, trying to find a diversion to keep his mind from dwelling on what he would like to do with Trowa on a real bed. Feeling the Chinese boy’s forehead, he found the Chinese pilot felt a little warm and hoped it was from being covered all night. There was some blood showing on the bandage that covered the bullet’s place of entry, and more on the bandage that covered the exit wound. Quatre sighed and changed the bandages with Trowa’s help, since Wufei was still asleep and couldn’t help by holding himself up. Trowa looked up from the task at hand when Quatre laughed suddenly. When the blonde realized Trowa was looking at him, he blushed.

"Sorry. I was just thinking; here is Mister Independent himself, who won’t let the rest of us help him, and goes out of his way to keep his distance. And yet circumstances beyond his control force him to rely on someone else," Quatre said. He looked down at the boy on the cot. "You know, Trowa, Wufei is so severe and stern when he’s awake, it’s a surprise to see how peaceful he looks when he’s asleep." Trowa smiled a little then.

"Yes, I see what you mean. Even Heero has loosened up a little recently, yet Wufei has remained rather stubborn," the taller pilot analyzed. Quatre’s eyes gleamed.

"Trowa, I think we could help Wufei to open up more," he said. Trowa looked at him curiously.

"And how do you suggest we work this miracle?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. Quatre smiled.

"Well, did you see how Wufei looked at Con?" he asked. Trowa nodded slowly.

"I see what you mean. You’re hoping that if Con and Wufei have a relationship, it will prompt Wufei to not be such a pessimist." Quatre nodded, and Trowa continued speaking. "But Quatre, we don’t know if Con likes guys." The blonde boy smiled again, but sadly this time.

"He used to have a boyfriend, but he was killed not too long ago. I think Con needs this as much as Wufei does, and they both certainly seem attracted to each other. I can feel it, Trowa, they fit well together!" Trowa smiled at the smaller pilot’s confidence.

"Well Quatre, is seems like a worthy undertaking to me." The two shared slight conspiratorial smiles.

Several hours later, Wufei groaned slightly and opened his eyes. His shoulder felt stiff and sore, and he had an overall feeling of unfitness, but he forced himself to sit up and place his feet on the floor. The main room of the cabin was empty, but Wufei could smell something good coming from one of the connecting rooms. The Chinese boy suddenly realized, not without some embarrassment, that he was clad only in his loose white pants. Sighing, he stood up and walked carefully to what appeared to be the cabin’s kitchen. Quatre was standing in front of a small stove, heating something in a saucepan. Wufei moved closer and the blonde boy looked up. The surprise on his face would have made Wufei laugh, if he were a person who was inclined to laughter.

"Wufei, what are you doing out of the bed! You should go back and lie down, you look a little flushed!" he said, trying to coax the Chinese boy back into the main room. Wufei shrugged away from Quatre’s hands and growled at the smaller boy.

"I am fine, Quatre. And who wouldn’t be flushed after sleeping under a cover for a while!" Quatre wasn’t so sure, but refrained from commenting, not wanting the other pilot to get worked up. Wufei sniffed the air. "Quatre, what are you cooking?" The blonde smiled.

"I’m just heating up some broth for you to eat," he said, turning back to the stove. Wufei sat heavily in a small chair, wincing.

"That sounds good, Quatre. I feel a little hungry," he replied. Quatre ladled some of the broth into a bowl and placed it in front of Wufei.

"You eat this, and there’s more on the stove," he said. "Trowa and I are going to walk a bit, but we won’t be far. If you need something, all you’ll need to do is call out, okay?" Wufei nodded his head and picked up a spoon, eating some of the broth. Quatre left and joined Trowa outside the door. Wufei sighed and ate another spoonful of broth. His body felt warm, uncomfortably so, and with the increasing warmth, his appetite seemed to wane. Now that he thought about it, maybe he wasn’t so hungry after all… Wufei stood up to head back into the main room. As his equilibrium shifted, he grasped the back of the chair. When he felt the world still, he started moving again. Just as he reached the doorway to the kitchen, he felt the heat rise in his body again. It felt like something was burning him from the inside out. Wufei opened his mouth to call for Trowa and Quatre, but his lips and mouth felt so dry, he couldn’t get more than a hoarse cry out. The world moved again, and Wufei felt himself tipping forward. But instead of hard floor, a pair of arms caught him. His feverish mind recognized Con’s face, looking worriedly at him.

Con cheerfully headed back toward the cabin, ready for some lunch. He usually ate lunch out on the beach, but with company around, he might as well enjoy it while he could. As he neared his home, he saw Quatre and Trowa walking some distance away, but not out of earshot. They appeared to be picking up shells and enjoying the feel of the surf. Con grinned and stepped into the doorway. His grin faded rapidly at the sight that met his eyes. Wufei was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his face flushed, and his eyes fever-bright. The Chinese boy’s gaze swept past him, like he hadn’t even seen him. Con turned and gave a shout, catching Trowa and Quatre’s attention, then hurried forward in time to catch the younger boy in his arms before he hit the floor. Wufei’s skin was hot and dry to the touch, almost frightfully so. Con lifted the boy and laid him on the cot as Trowa and Quatre ran into the cabin. Con looked at them.

"Wufei appears to have developed a high fever, and we need to get it down quickly," he said as calmly as he could. Quatre nodded. Then Trowa spoke up.

"A cold bath would be the fastest way to bring his temperature down. But, we’d have to remove the bandages to do it, which would mean having to rebandage the wounds." Con looked very serious.

"As long as we get his temperature down, that’s all that matters," he said. Then he picked Wufei up again, and carried him into the bathroom.