Title: Everyone's compass points to home
Fandom: Guardian
Rating: G
Length: ~2000 words
Notes: team gen, background Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan. Set near the end of episode 4. This is me experimenting with hurt/comfort and quite possibly missing the point. *g* Also for the prompts Glue (FFW bingo) and Mysterious Gas Cloud (crack bingo). Much much thanks to trobadora for beta. <3 <3 <3 No warnings apply.
Summary: Da Qing had the worst hangover known to Cat: his body ached, his mouth felt glued shut, and his stomach was roiling as if he had a hairball.



Da Qing had the worst hangover known to Cat: his body ached, his mouth felt glued shut, and his stomach was roiling as if he had a hairball, even though he was in human form. He never got hairballs in his human body.

What had happened? He looked around the crowded Jeep, trying to piece it together, but Xiao Guo was hunched forward, clutching the back of his neck, Zhu Hong in the front passenger seat looked pale and withdrawn, Lao Chu was even grimmer than usual, and Lao Zhao—

Lao Zhao was driving too fast, with the focused intensity of someone who wanted to put their fist through a wall. The Jeep swung around a corner, almost fish-tailing, and Da Qing’s stomach lurched with it. He tried to yelp, but he still couldn’t speak, so he moaned and smacked Lao Zhao repeatedly on the shoulder.

Lao Zhao ignored him; if anything, he accelerated harder.

“The Deputy’s going to throw up,” said Lao Chu, sharply, and that actually got through: Lao Zhao swerved to the kerb with a squeal of tyres.

Da Qing tugged at the door handle and fell out onto the road, landing on his side and grazing his palms but glad to be somewhere solid and stationary. He scrambled around the back of the car so he could puke in the relative comfort and safety of the gutter.

A car door slammed, and then Lao Zhao was standing over him, hands on his hips, mouth tight.

What did I do? Da Qing wanted to ask, but he started retching again before he could coordinate his tongue to get the words out. Even though his stomach was empty by now, he still felt really gross.

Lao Zhao pointed at him, but when he spoke it was to Chu Shuzhi and his voice was clipped. “Get everyone checked over at the hospital. I’ll meet you back at the station.”

He threw Chu Shuzhi the car keys and stalked off into the night.

Da Qing wiped his mouth on his hand and sat on the kerb. “What happened? Didn’t we get the murderer?”

“There were two of them. They drugged you and Zhu Hong and knocked out Xiao Guo, but they’re dead now.” A muscle moved in Lao Chu’s jaw. “So is Lin Yusen.”

Oh. If Lin Yusen had got caught in the crossfire, no wonder Lao Zhao was so wound up. He took his role as guardian of Dragon City too much to heart and always blamed himself when anyone was hurt on his watch. And he’d been complaining about the kid getting underfoot during the investigation; that was even more reason he’d feel responsible.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Da Qing shook his head. He just wanted to see Lao Li and nibble on some dried fish to get the acrid taste of vomit out of his mouth.

But Zhu Hong rolled down the window. “Xiao Guo has a headache. He should see a doctor.”

“Of course he does,” grumbled Lao Chu, as if this were just one more character flaw on Guo Changcheng’s part.

Da Qing sighed and clambered to his feet.


*


They arrived back at the station around eleven. Xiao Guo had been scanned and examined and declared not concussed or otherwise injured, and Zhu Hong had stubbornly refused to see a doctor. “What do Human doctors know about Snakes?”

Meanwhile, Da Qing had catnapped in the car while the others were in the hospital, and despite waking with a taste in his mouth like fermented socks, he was feeling significantly less queasy, albeit still weak. Whatever poison the murderers had used, it had been a strong one.

“That’s because you got a double dose,” Lao Chu explained as they walked into the SID. “They drugged you, like they did Zhu Hong, but you got caught in the poisonous gas cloud as well.”

Lao Li overheard this and immediately came over and stroked Da Qing’s hair. “You’ve had a rough night! How about some dried fish?”

“Yes!” Da Qing was tempted to shift into his cat body so he could purr and wind around Lao Li’s ankles, but when he was like this, his stomach was bigger and he could eat more, so he stayed upright. “Where’s Lao Zhao?”

“Not here,” said Wang Zheng. “We thought he was with you.” She took one look at Zhu Hong and put her arm around her. “You look like you need some tea.”

“Don’t we have anything stronger than tea?” Zhu Hong pouted, but she was still pale, and she let herself be led to the couch and fussed over. Meanwhile Lao Chu snatched the medicine packet out of Xiao Guo’s hands and shoved him into a chair.

“Stay there. Try not to hurt yourself,” Lao Chu said, the any more than you already have implicit, and went to the kitchenette to mix up the medicine.

“Are they back?” Lin Jing came through from the lab. “Wow, you all look like hell. Is everyone all right?”

“We’re fine,” snapped Zhu Hong. “Where’s my tea?”

“The water’s still boiling.” Wang Zheng wrapped a fuzzy blanket around her shoulders.

Da Qing grabbed a handful of dried fish from the bowl Lao Li was offering him, stuck one in his mouth and stuffed the rest into his pocket and went to sit around the table with the others. While Zhu Hong and Xiao Guo caught Lin Jing up on the night’s events, he texted Lao Zhao. Boss, where are you? We’re back at the station.

Then he looked at Lin Jing. “Stop wasting time! We need popcorn!”

Lao Chu returned with a bowl of bitter-smelling headache medicine for Xiao Guo, and stood over him while he drank it. And then the door banged open, and Lao Zhao staggered in stinking of cigarettes and alcohol and carrying three bulging bags of takeout and two six-packs of beer.

Everyone stopped talking and stared at him.

“Glad to see you’re all okay,” he said, ignoring their expressions. He dumped the food and drink on the table and headed straight for his office, pausing only to ruffle Da Qing’s hair in the most annoying way.

Da Qing smoothed it down again and considered whether to follow, but Lao Zhao in a shitty mood was hard work, and he was tired. At least now they were all safe under the same roof, with Lin Jing’s security system to keep dark forces out.

Besides, Lin Jing had been threatening to get out his karaoke machine, and someone had to stop things from escalating here. Luckily the arrival of food delayed the aural torture. Zhu Hong seemed to have recovered her appetite, and Lao Chu made Xiao Guo eat two fishcakes, after which Xiao Guo perked up and told Zhu Hong she looked pretty in her dress.

Lin Jing sniggered, until Lao Chu cuffed him on the back of the head.

“At least someone here has some taste,” said Zhu Hong, pointedly smiling at Xiao Guo, but even her smile was grim. She pulled her blanket tighter around herself and reached for a second bottle of beer.

“Are you sure you should be drinking, after being drugged?” asked Xiao Guo, unwittingly squandering any credit he’d just earned with her.

Zhu Hong sniffed and opened her beer. “Snakes and Cats have much better metabolisms than Humans.”

Da Qing figured this was going to turn into a slumber party.

There was a knock at the door, and Wang Zheng went to answer it, returning a moment later with Professor Shen.

Once again the chatter stopped, and everyone stared.

“Professor Shen,” said Xiao Guo, sitting bolt upright in an attempt to be polite.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Zhu Hong, and took a defiant drink from her beer bottle without turning her head away.

“I came to see if there’d been any developments with the case.” Professor Shen blinked at the table and all of them clustered around it and smiled tentatively. “It appears I’m interrupting.”

“We’re having a wake for Lin Yusen,” said Da Qing.

Professor Shen’s gaze flicked down, and his smile vanished, leaving him sombre. “I’m sorry.”

“The case is over,” said Zhu Hong. “Those murderous bastards can’t hurt anyone else.”

Wang Zheng perched on the back of the couch behind Zhu Hong and rubbed her shoulder. “That’s right,” she murmured. “They can’t.”

“And Chief Zhao?” Professor Shen’s expression was bland, but Da Qing had a sudden inkling that this was the crux of it, the real reason the mysterious professor had come by so late at night. It wasn’t the case; it was Lao Zhao.

The professor was unquestionably trouble. He’d been mixed up in all their cases lately, showing up at crime scenes all over the place, and he’d been far too calm about being interrogated. He wasn’t even intimidated by Lao Chu. It wasn’t natural! But Lao Zhao kept encouraging him, letting him hang around. Well, not tonight. Maybe some good would come of Boss’s bad mood after all.

Da Qing stood up. “He’s in his office. I’ll take you to him.”

Professor Shen nodded his thanks, and followed him down the hall. “Was anyone else hurt?”

“Just the suspects,” said Da Qing. “As for us, it was nothing we couldn’t handle. We’re professionals.”

“That’s a relief.” The professor sounded genuinely thankful, not just polite, as if it were any of his business. So suspicious.

The smell of tobacco smoke was undeniable to Da Qing’s keen senses, as they approached Lao Zhao’s office, and a frown darkened the professor’s brow, so Da Qing guessed he could smell it too.

Da Qing knocked. “Boss, there’s someone to see you.”

“Whoever it is, tell them to fuck off,” said Lao Zhao. “I’m not in the mood.”

Da Qing shrugged at Professor Shen, but the professor didn’t back down. He pushed the door open, coughed at the haze of smoke that billowed out, and covered his mouth and nose with his hand. “Chief Zhao.”

Lao Zhao was sunk down in his desk chair, ankles crossed on the desk, cigarette between his lips. He looked grim and blank, and he had a mug propped on his thigh for an ashtray and an open wine bottle in his other hand. He didn’t get up. “Shen Wei. What are you doing here?”

“I came to enquire about the case.” Professor Shen braved the polluted air and Lao Zhao’s scowl and went inside. “I hear it ended badly. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” said Lao Zhao.

“Nor yours, I’m sure.” The professor took the visitor’s chair. “Zhao Yunlan, you must know that smoking is bad for your health.”

Da Qing rolled his eyes and make a speedy exit before the fireworks started, but his cat ears didn’t pick up any shouted profanity behind him, and fifteen minutes later, when Zhu Hong was resting her head on Wang Zheng’s shoulder and telling her about Snake Tribe traditions, and Lin Jing was trying to explain quantum theory as it applied to dark energy to an increasingly irritated Lao Chu, and Da Qing was stuffing popcorn into Xiao Guo’s pockets while he slept—then Lao Zhao and Professor Shen came back through, walking side by side.

“—will feel better if you eat something,” Professor Shen was saying.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Lao Zhao didn’t sound angry anymore, more like indulgent. “Your generous concern for my health is noted, Professor. And yes, I’ve quit smoking. This evening was an aberration.”

“Your lungs will thank you.”

Da Qing whipped his head around, expecting a pithy retort from Lao Zhao, but Lao Zhao was smirking, maybe because of the way the professor was smiling back at him, all long eyelashes and pretty pink lips. And then Lao Zhao actually came over and shoved one of the leftover fish cakes into his mouth.

“How’s everyone doing?” he asked, with his mouth full.

So—that hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. But if the professor could shake Lao Zhao out of his black moods and get him to eat, maybe he’d be worth keeping around after all. This would clearly require further observation and reflection, but not right now. It was late. Da Qing curled up in the corner of the couch and let Lin Jing’s string theory—which continued relentlessly on, oblivious to the interactions playing out among the rest of the team—lull him to sleep.


END