Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Still alive. Still writing. I’ll start uploading more stuff soon, I promise.

Chang Wufei has a morning schedule set in stone. No matter which country he’s staying in or what mission he’s on, he follows the same two hour routine down to the last minute.

At 5:30, his internal alarm clock starts to ring and he rises. Two minutes to dress, three to brush his teeth, and one to sweep his short hair back into an immaculate ponytail.

5:35. He runs for thirty minutes, then stretches for ten. He takes only ten minutes to wash up, but nine to brew his morning tea – five to boil water, four to let the leaves steep.

One minute before 6:30, he settles down, preferably beneath a tree, to drink his tea (in lieu of breakfast – he’s never been able to stomach anything substantial so early in the morning) and plan for the day. He pictures himself completing his mission perfectly, effortlessly, until his movements are so engrained into his mind that he feels sure his body can accomplish them flawlessly.

Wufei thrives on routine. Despite the chaos of his daily battles and the insanity of his enemies, the quiet regularity of his mornings fills him with peace. He had kept the routine for two years and forty-six days without any error or irregularity.

Then he met Pilot 02.

Duo Maxwell lives his life desperate for change. He joined the Sweepers because there was always a new place to find, something different to see. Then someone said it was like he’d been born to sweep, he was so experienced at it, and the next place Duo found himself was hidden behind a crate on G’s ship, no idea where he was headed but more than a little proud he’d made it past the security systems undetected.

He’d had no idea.

He’d hated training, the rigidity of it, the repetition. He got through it by fighting to beat his own records, finding new ways to accomplish the same goal, anything to shake it up. Made his testers crazy. G said he was trying to teach him consistency, not recklessness. But Duo wasn’t interested in consistency.

When he’d first climbed into Deathscythe, he’d finally known. This was what he’d craved. Not adventure. Not the chance to change the world. More than just the adrenalin rush, the thrill of skimming his toes along the river of death.

Duo had known change was coming.

They both felt a chill run down their spines when they heard the sharp clang of the air vents closing. Despite Heero being in possession of a Gundam somewhere else on the Lunar base, despite Trowa being undercover and still on their side, they were going to die there. All because they needed a bit of air to survive.

“It’s a fitting end,” Duo said. “To die in space from lack of air.” He shifted his arms, trying to keep the circulation running to his hands. His cuffs bit sharply into his pale skin, making deep red lines, he was sure.

Wufei stayed silent, save for the click of the projector in his hand, moving to the next screen of specs for Nataku’s remodel.

“It’s like we asked for it,” Duo continued. “We fly into space with nothing but some metal between us and infinity. It’s only proper that space takes us down in the end.” He rolled his right shoulder, trying to move his braid. The loose hairs kept tickling his neck. “In fact, I’d rather die out here. I was never fighting for earth. I don’t know anything about earth. Space is my home. All I know is space. Run hard, run fast, and pray you stay alive.”

“Not all of space is like L-2,” Wufei interjected.

Click, went the projector.

“No, I guess you’re right.” Duo leaned to his right, as far as he could without falling, until his braid flopped backwards over his shoulder. “But my space is.”

Click. An image of Deathscythe came up, and Duo stared at it longingly. He ached to be in the cockpit, even if only for tests, like Heero was running. But the scientists probably knew that he’d take the chance to run. He felt that Heero would run the tests properly, with a detached curiosity, coldly analyzing the capabilities of the machine. Dread burned his stomach as he thought of the hours of stillness that awaited him in this dark room.

“How many hours do you think we have?” he asked without turning his head towards Wufei.

“Depends. How much longer do you plan to keep on talking?” he answered briskly. Wufei was sitting with his back straight and tense against the wall, his legs crossed, his left hand straining to aim the projector at the wall despite the cuffs that pinioned his wrists at the small of his back. He looked uncomfortable. Duo scooted closer to him.

“I’m not gonna die quietly. I’m gonna go out screaming as loud as I can, until the last bit of air is used up.”

“You’ll pass out before then,” Wufei said dully, wondering why he insisted on arguing.

“I won’t,” Duo said with confidence. He shifted closer. “I’ll keep myself up by talking to you, sunshine.”

“I’ll thank you not to waste my air with your talk,” said Wufei, a note of irony apparent in his voice.

“Don’t worry, I’ll only use up my air. We’ll draw a line straight down the middle of the room. You get the right side, I get the left. And I’ll do whatever I damn well please with my half.” He blew his bangs out of his eyes.

Wufei frowned. Click. Duo edged closer.

“I want some tea,” Wufei heard himself admit. “If I had a choice, I’d use my air to run five miles and then drink a cup of tea.”

“What kind?” Duo asked.

“Any kind.”

“Choose one.”

“Oolong. I don’t know. Maybe jasmine.”

Duo rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He took a deep, generous breath, and let it out in a long sigh. “Tea is good.”

Wufei agreed.

Click. The first set of specs appeared again.

“You’ve looked at them all. What now?” Duo asked him. Wufei shifted the projector to his right hand.

“I’ll look at them again. I have to make sure that I memorized them thoroughly.”

“You’re crazy. We’re dying, sunshine.”

Wufei stubbornly switched to the next slide. “You’re sitting too close to me,” he said. Duo moved closer, until their shoulders brushed.

“You smell like day-old sweat,” Duo commented.

“So do you,” Wufei shot back. Duo grinned at him and flipped his braid back to the front of his shoulder. It had begun to dig into his back. Wufei scowled as the frizzy hairs brushed against his bare arm.

“Look at us. I don’t even know your full name and we’re dying together,” Duo said.

“Chang Wufei.”

“Duo Maxwell. Nice to meet you.”

They let the silence stretch, until the lights in their eyes dimmed and they lost consciousness.

A/N: I’m thinking about making this into a multi-chapter fic. This just feels like a prologue to me. Let me know if you’re interested in seeing more.