Title: Who's a Weak Onna?

Author: Gina Lin Melton

Genre: Romance, Minor Angst, Humor

Rating: PG-13 to R


Pairing: Wufei C./Sally P.

(AN: Based loosely on something that actually happened, not to me, but to my brother, although details have been changed to protect the easily embarrassed.)

Wufei never saw the ditch. Riding along at nearly top speed, trying out his new dirt bike, he was focused on the smooth sound of the engine and the wind singing through his ears. The feeling of absolute freedom he always got when riding a motorcycle.

What a great place to ride, too. Miles of dirt roads, jumps and trails, all his. He was totally alone because it was a weekday.

He'd been there before, but not on this particular trail.

The feeling when he saw the huge crevasse of knowing he'd never make it was quickly replaced by absolute terror as he lost control and heard the sickening crunch of bone hitting metal before he mercifully lost consciousness.

Pain. No stranger to a Gundam pilot. He gritted his teeth as he tentatively moved his head upon opening his eyes. Thank whatever powers there were for protective riding gear. It had probably saved his life. He reached up and felt his helmet and was astonished to find it had a large crack in it.

He moved his limbs very slowly and gasped as a sharp pain shot through his left thigh. He reached down. Blood. A compound fracture, no doubt. Shit.

He felt woozy. Shock was setting in quickly, from pain, blood loss and now the realization that he was probably seriously injured. His protective chest plate had at least prevented internal injuries. No broken ribs. At least there was that.

They'd come looking for him. He'd told Quatre and Trowa at the house they were all staying at that he would be back in a few hours. They'd come. He looked around to see if the daypack he'd strapped to his bike was within reach.

He groaned as he realized he'd have to move a few feet to get near enough. The bike was totaled. He barely looked at it. His entire focus was on moving that one meter.

He pushed himself up on his elbows and slowly inched over to the bike. Each movement of his leg made him nauseous. Swallowing bile, he continued.

Finally, he was able to reach the buckle of the strap that held the pack on. Water. He reached inside and grabbed the bottle of water inside and drank deeply.

And promptly vomited it all back up, retching and gasping, rolling to the side to keep from spewing on himself. He groaned with disgust and wiped his mouth. "Slowly," he muttered to himself.

Fortunately, the ground was sandy and not too uncomfortable. He reached into the pack, searching for something to wrap around his bleeding thigh.

A flannel shirt was inside, and he pulled a strip off the bottom and bound it tightly above the wound, then put his belt over the cloth and tightened it, trying to slow the bleeding. The bone ends must have missed his artery, or he'd already have bled to death, he knew that. In that respect, he was lucky.

Lying back carefully on the hard sandy soil, he waited to be rescued.


"He's not back," said Quatre, looking at Heero and wringing his hands. "He said he'd be back in a couple of hours. I should have never let him go riding alone."

Trowa nodded, putting a comforting hand on Quatre's shoulder. He hated it when his sensitive companion got upset.

"Well, let's not sit here with our thumbs up our asses!" said Duo, "What are we waiting for?"

Heero nodded, and Duo recognized the "mission accepted" face his stoic friend now put on. As usual, action was his forte, not words. He was already moving to grab a few necessary items and heading out the door to the Jeep he was currently driving.

Duo was close behind, braid flying as he ran after Heero and claimed shotgun in the Jeep.

Quatre shook his head at Trowa's unspoken question. "I'm staying here in case someone tries to contact us."

Trowa nodded again and put his arms comfortingly around the distressed young man.


Heero recognized the area from the quickly drawn map Wufei had left with Quatre.

It was an old bombed out rural area full of dips and uneven terrain, no doubt a dirt biker's paradise. No wonder Wufei couldn't resist getting away for a few hours.

Heero came to a stop in a cloud of dust and jumping out, began with Duo to search, calling his friends name.

Wufei woke again from a light sleep to the faint sound of someone calling his name.

"Duo?" he thought dazedly.

"Over here!" he croaked as loudly as he could. His voice sounded disgustingly thin in his ears. Weak. He grimaced.

Duo paused and cupped a hand to his ear.

"I heard something a few degrees northeast of my present position," he radioed to Heero through their communicators. "Going to investigate."

Duo ran yelling and then pausing every few seconds for another response.

He came to the edge of a large ditch and 20 meters below him was a slight figure lying on the ground in black leather motorcycle gear.

"Found him!" hollered Duo through the communicator. "Come help me, he's in a big ditch, injured, left leg, looks like," as he scrabbled down the loose rocky dirt of the steep crevasse.

"I'm coming," said Heero briefly and took off at a dead run in the direction of Duo's transmission.

"Wufei! Can you hear me, dude?" asked Duo, kneeling down beside his injured friend.

"Yes, Maxwell, my ears are not damaged," said Wufei dryly, through his teeth.

"Just lie still until Heero gets here and we'll carry you to the Jeep," said Duo, looking behind him.

He was slightly sickened by the sight of naked bone coming through Wufei's thigh and the blood slowly seeping out of the wound.

"I bet that hurts like a mother," said Duo, licking his lips and looking a bit green.

"No, it feels great, I wish I'd fucked up the other one too," said Wufei sarcastically in a brittle voice.

"Geez Wu-man, don't get all bitchy, I'm just trying to help," said Duo, offended.

"I am NOT bitchy!" said Wufei heatedly, hissing with pain as the sudden outburst sent a fierce spasm of pain down his leg.

"You should try to be quiet," said Duo, as finally Heero appeared at the top of the incline and scrambled down to them.

"We have to stabilize that leg," said Heero, making Duo feel stupid that he hadn't even thought of anything like that.

"A splint of some sort," said Duo, nodding. "How about the tailpipe of the bike? I can have it off in a jiffy," he said, pulling a wrench and a screwdriver out of his voluminous pockets.

"I always wondered what you kept in there, besides a spare parachute," said Wufei, as Heero made short work of the rest of his flannel shirt from the pack, tearing it into strips to secure the splint.

"Wu-man, you made a joke!" said Duo, grinning back at him. "It must be the pain. Endolphins or whatever."

"The word is endorphins, moron!" said Wufei, watching warily as Duo approached with a straight piece of lightweight aluminum from his bike's tailpipe.

"This is going to hurt," said Heero, aligning Wufei's injured leg as gently as possible against the metal length and beginning to secure the long strips of cloth around the leg.

"I can give you sumthin for the pain," said Duo, reaching into the field pack he'd brought.

"I can bear it," said Wufei, looking disdainfully at Duo at the suggestion.

Duo shrugged. "Whatever blows your hair back," he said.

Wufei finally passed out, but not nearly soon enough, Duo thought, gritting his teeth as he watched Heero impassively do what was necessary.

"Take his arms," said Heero, taking Wufei's good leg next to him and then the injured one in his arms.

Duo took his friends upper torso in his and together they carried the still unconscious Wufei to the Jeep.

"God, he's such as stubborn bastard," said Duo, holding Wufei's torso to keep him still as Heero drove them back to the house.

Heero nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.

Duo radioed ahead to tell Quatre they were taking Wufei to the Preventor's Hospital, and to notify Sally Po.