PART FOUR

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"The white man came out of the hut in time to see the enormous conflagration of sunset put out by the swift and stealthy shadows that, rising like a black and impalpable vapor above the treetops, spread over the heaven, extinguishing the crimson glow of floating clouds and the red brilliance of departing daylight. In a few moments all the stars came out above the intense blackness of the earth, and the great lagoon gleaming suddenly with reflected lights resembled an oval patch of night sky flung down into the hopeless and abysmal night of the wilderness."

-Joseph Conrad, The Lagoon

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TEN

 

      The absence of Quatre created a tension around the remaining Gundam pilots.  Even though they managed to pull a semblance of order around their lives, they could not mask the dispirit they felt.   All of them had sustained varying amounts of physical damage, as well as the psychological blow of losing Sandrock’s pilot.  They planned no more missions for several days, and the war reached a stalemate until one day when Heero returned from one of his mysterious excursions with news.  The other four looked up from their half-hearted ERS game when he entered. 

      “The Preventers want to meet with us tomorrow,” he announced, occupying the empty chair between Kyu and Duo.

      “Why tomorrow?” Wufei asked.

      “A man in the Alliance cabinet contacted Une.  He says he has information that could be helpful to us.”

      “Probably a trick,” Kyu said skeptically.  “What was his name?”

      “I don’t know.  I heard second-hand from Zechs.  According to him, he’s a man Une knows from her time running the Preventers.  She says he’s trustworthy not to stab us in the back, but he may have a different agenda.”

      “Wufei, you probably know Une’s judgment better than any of us.”

      The Chinese pilot considered it for a minute.  “She’s normally pretty good about judging people’s character, but I have seen her mess up from time to time.  We should be cautious.”

      “As always,” Heero said.

      “What time?” Trowa asked quietly.  His normally reticent nature had become even more and nonverbal than usual since Alaska, and when he spoke at all, it was short and quiet.

      “6:00 hours.”

      “Fun,” Duo commented sardonically.  The others did not comment.  The game commenced in silence.  Kyu and Wufei tired of it after a few minutes, gave their respective hands to Duo and Trowa, and wandered off to the back.  Duo sighed after them, and Heero glared down the hallway for a moment.

      “Duo,” Trowa said.  “You and Heero can finish playing if you like.  I’m going to bed.”

      The last two pilots sat in silence for a long minute.  “Aren’t you going to do anything about Kyu and Wufei?” Duo asked at last.

      Heero shook his head.  “Kyu and I barely know each other, Duo.”

      “Do you remember her?” the American asked after a moment.

      “No,” he responded softly.  “All I remember is war.”

      The other pilot smiled wryly.  “Not much of a life, is it Heero?”  The Japanese boy did not respond.  “I haven’t asked you this...but...how do you know she’s your sister?”     

A smile.  “I’ll tell you later.”  With that, he stood and began walking down the hall. 

Duo sighed resignedly, tossing his cards across the table.  “So much for ERS.  And I was winning, too.”

 

 

      “Well, Mr. Winner,” Seth Ross said.  Quatre watched him wordlessly as he sat across the black-topped table.  His wrists were bound together, which they had wisely considered necessary despite his injuries.  The healing scrapes and burns from Sandrock’s explosions itched and the bruises and fractures ached, both of which disinclined him from feeling remotely conciliatory toward the treacherous politician.  “You are alive,” he continued after a brief pause, “on my good graces alone.  Does that concern you?”

      “Kill me if you want to,” he said.  “I’ll do nothing for you.”

      “You are a businessman, Quatre Winner.  I’m familiar with businessman, and the issue is always one of negotiation.”

      The captive’s mouth twitched into a smile.  “I’m a Gundam pilot before a businessman.  Especially during war.”

      “This is your war.”

      “That’s bullshit and we both know it.”

      “Very well, Quatre.  I was going to treat you like the man I thought you were, but it seems I will have to deal with you as a terrorist after all.”  There was something eerily sadistic in the President’s smile.  “I know you have a high tolerance for pain, but I wonder just how high that tolerance will go.  Perhaps it would be best simply to give me what information you have on the other pilots...before I am forced to wrest it from you.”

      “You will never control the earth,” Quatre said.  “We’re fighting to protect it, like we always have, and always will.  It’s something beautiful, something that all of us humans have a connection with.  That’s why those with evil intentions will always be destroyed.”

      “Evil?  I’m merely practical.  I would have killed you without second thought, Quatre Winner, but now that I’ve allowed you to live, I want to get what you’re worth.  And I will.”

 

 

      Sally entered the room cautiously.  Arranged meetings bothered her, particularly when she had no part in the arranging of them.  Zechs had assured them all that everything would be safe, but Sally still felt slightly uncomfortable that she had no part in organizing of it.

      The Preventers made their own ways, in pairs of two so as not to attract suspicion.  Zechs had opted to go with Une, much to Noin’s displeasure, and she and Noin had made arrangement to fly into Sierra Vista—where the pilots had regrouped after their defeat at Alaska—and followed the instructions Zechs had provided to the old warehouse.

      It was, as she had expected, completely filthy.  Four boys living in the same space would do that, even if this enigmatic female pilot was around to take care of them.  Any girl who builds and pilots her own Gundam isn’t fit to be a housekeeper in any case, she thought with an internal smirk.  Noin and she crossed through the living room toward the kitchen, where they had been instructed to go.

      Everyone else was there already.  The pilots were gathered around the opposite side of the table, Heero in the middle, with Duo and Kyu on either side.  Trowa was sitting next to Duo, looking harangued and weary.  He had been close to Quatre, Sally knew.  Wufei, surprisingly, was sitting next to the girl who must be Kyu, and not just in the chair beside her, but possessively beside her.  Sally disregarded this as amusing yet unimportant information.

      “Hello, Sally,” Wufei said.  “I see you’ve been doing well.”

      “You too, Wufei.”  Sally returned.  “I’ve heard some interesting stories about your exploits.”

      “I try.”

      “Well, come sit with us, ladies,” Zechs offered.  The two of them occupied the remaining chairs.

      “Have we begun?” asked Noin.

      “We were waiting for you,” Heero said.  “This is my sister, Kyu Hayakawa,” he said, pointing to the lithe figure beside him.

      “Sally Po.”

      “Lucrezia Noin.”

      Their pleasantries finished, they sat down.  “It’s taken us quite a while to meet up like this,” Sally commented.

      “It was necessary,” Une said.  “Our limited contact was more desirable for the warfare we were forced to engage in.”  There was something of the old Colonel in her words.  “We also had secrets we needed keeping,” she added ominously.

      “Skip the drama,” Heero said.  With a smile at the pilot, Une began to tell them all of their conspiracy.  Relena was not dead, she said, merely hidden in safety so that the war would be fought and she reinstated.  Sally listened to the story, and glanced toward Noin and the pilots more than once, searching for a mirror to her own incredulity.  Apparently, she, Noin, Duo and Trowa had been the only ones not to learn of the plan.  When the exposition was complete, Sally leaned back in her chair and thought about it.

      “So you knew it was orchestrated from the beginning?”

      “To an extent.  Who is involved, and why, is still the mystery.”

      “David Harrenhelm may be the key to that problem,” Une said.  “He’s very intelligent; I had him as a student many years ago.  He has a knack for seeing what goes on in people’s heads, and what he sees in Ross’s isn’t good.”

      “What is he offering?”

      “Help getting into the Alliance base.  He wants to speak with you pilots more than us, because you have what it takes to bring the ORA down.  We Preventers are meant to stop trouble before it starts; we’re only a nuisance once its erupted.”  Une smiled coldly.  “Once you meet with him—“ a beep sounded.  Une glanced down and, with a slightly surprised expression, retrieved a small phone from her belt.  “Une speaking...we were just...what?  Are you sure?  I see...Yes, and please be more careful contacting me.  Une out.”  Her face swathed in an impenetrable expression, she dropped the phone to her lap, severing the connection.  After an expectant pause, she continued, “I have some good news, boys.  Our dear minister has just informed us that Quatre is alive.”

      “Quatre?” all five pilots exclaimed simultaneously.

      Before any of them could make demands of her, she added, “He’s a prisoner of Rho.  Badly injured, but Harrenhelm says he’s alive and in no danger of getting worse...unless the ORA decides they don’t want him anymore.”

      “Well, then, we’d better make plans to get him out,” Duo said, cracking his knuckles.  “Who’s ready?”

 

 

      Quatre was awoken by the cell door swinging open.  He glanced over at it without moving.  It was Yvette, one of Kushcrevska’s private assassins.  “Hello, Mr. Winner,” she said brightly, the French accent rolling gracefully off her tongue.  “Lady Natasha would like to speak with you.”  She strode gracefully toward him and appraised his unmoving form expectantly.  Quatre muttered something profane and Yvette smiled.  “I think you should consider her request.  If you don’t want a repeat of last time.  On the other hand,” she added, he voice changing, “if you cooperate, I’ll give you something much more...satisfying.”

      “Touch me again and I’ll break your arm.”

      “You seem fairly certain you could.”

      “I am a Gundam pilot.  What would you expect?”

      “Natasha says you must come,” she said, sounding slightly desperate.  “She will kill your girlfriend if you refuse.”

      Quatre sprung from the bed, staring at her as the blood rushed through him.  “What girlfriend?” he demanded, grasping her arm.  He thought for a moment.  Maybe they think...there’s no way she means Callista.  She’s on L4 with Madison.

      “The pretty blonde.”

      “She’s gone.  I sent her away.”

      “He does not believe me,” she said   Raul!” she called.  The door opened again, and the huge Spaniard entered.  Quatre’s heart shattered.  Callista stared back at him, fear sparkling in her gorgeous eyes.  She tried to pull toward him, but the big man restrained her, twisting her arm back.  A whimper of pain escaped her.  “Quatre!”

      “Don’t touch her,” Quatre said viciously.  He found his body responding to the threat, readying himself to leap at Raul.  He caught the expression on Yvette’s face, the widening of her eyes and the small shake of her head.

      “Now, now,” a thick Russian accent murmured from the doorway.  “No need for a show.” Natasha walked calmly into their midst, smiling triumphantly at her prisoner.  “But now you see...we have much more persuasive methods than physical pain, Mr. Winner.”

      Callista struggled against her captor.  “Don’t tell them anything, Quatre!  They killed Madison!”

      He felt a shock at that, glanced at Yvette’s face and saw the confirmation in her eyes.  “Callista...”  He looked between her and the calm Russian woman.  Such hate he had never felt toward anyone.  But Callista...he glanced at her face.  “I’ll do anything you want,” he said at last, defeated.

      “Exactly what I want to hear, Mr. Winner,” Natasha said with a satisfied smile.

      Callista screamed and jerked away from the huge arm that held her.  “Run, Quatre!”  He moved, darting toward her as he saw the glint of metal in Raul’s hand, but the gun fired before he reached her.  She fell into his arms, clutching at him as he caught her at the waist and dropped to the floor.  He stared into her pain filled eyes, his heart flooding with fear.

      “No, Cal.”

      “Quatre...” she whispered, “I—“

      He quieted her with a finger.  She smiled and her eyes closed.  He clutched her body tightly against his chest, rapidly trying to form some kind of plan.  

      “Dammit, Raul!” Natasha said.  “Now he’s useless.”  She sighed.  “Kill him, Yvette.”

      “No.” 

      Quatre stared in surprise as the French assassin stepped between him and the Russian.  Yvette pulled a dagger from the belt at her hip and wielded it comfortably in her palm.  “He will not die.”

      Natasha’s mouth tightened at her declaration, and a glance passed between her and Raul.  Quatre reacted, slipping smoothly away from Callista and lunging for the Russian woman.  Yvette, acting almost simultaneously, went for Raul.  Quatre grabbed Natasha’s wrist with on hand and twisted, pulling her thin body into his.  He wrapped the other arm around her neck, holding her head just to the breaking point. 

      Raul hesitated as he saw the danger in which Kushcrevska had found herself, and Yvette used the opportunity to wrest the handgun away and strike it across his temple.  The big man crashed to the ground.

      Yvette looked at Natasha with a mixture of scorn and triumph.  “You wanted to see power,” she said.  “I think you got more than you bargained for.”  She glanced up at Quatre.  “It would be best,” she said hesitantly, “If you don’t kill her.”

He hesitated, feeling an overpowering desire to break her fragile neck and kick her brutally a few times after she was dead, but after his fingers tightened around her throat, he managed to release it, and throw her to the ground. 

      He turned back to Callista, bending down and lifting her into his arms.  “Is there somewhere here I can hide for a while?” he asked.  “I need to take care of her.”

      “Follow me.”

 

 

 

 

 

ELEVEN

 

      The first sign of battle was the scream of one of the watchmen.

      “It’s a Gundam!”

      The whole of the Alaska base came under immediate alert, troops rushing to their Mobile Suits as the five Gundams came rushing across the plain.  The Alliance Council, which was being held in the top of the South tower, was postponed, and the councilmen escorted to rooms deep within the base, where they would be protected.  Ross, ambitious and autocratic as he was, made his way to the North tower, where he could observe the battle and have a measure of control on its outcome.  “Find Senator Kushcrevska,” he told one of his subordinates.  “Tell her to bring the Gundam pilot to me now!”

       He turned toward the battle.  “You won’t get the best of me here,” he said quietly, his eyes narrowing.  “I will win, and you will die.”

 

 

      As the Gundams drew near a second time to the Alaska base, Heero spoke to all of them.  “Stick to the plan,” he said, “unless we know for sure something goes wrong.”

      “And let’s not forget they have Quatre in there,” Duo said.  “We need to be careful of the buildings.”

      “You don’t have to state the obvious before every battle, Maxwell,” Wufei said.

      “You don’t sound as anal as usual,” Duo teased.  “Heart not in it today?  Or maybe you’ve gone all soft inside.”

      “We have a battle to win, boys,” Kyu chided.  “You can fight over me later.”

      “I wasn’t—“ Duo protested.

      “Heads up,” warned Trowa.  Heavyarms let loose a barrage of artillery at the oncoming wave of Suits.

      “Hey Wufei,” Duo said as Deathscythe leapt from the ground and accelerated toward the battle.  “Bet you ten bucks I do more damage.”

      “You’re on, Maxwell.”

 

 

      The snowmobile skidded to a stop just outside the visible range of the base.  Sally removed her helmet in order to speak.  “Which way do you think we should go?” she asked.

      “I don’t know,” Noin replied, scanning the terrain.  The battle had begun, on the opposite side of the base, as per the plan they and the Gundam pilots had devised.  “I suppose we’ll see once Zechs gets here,” she said.

      “It seems we’re always backing them up instead of just going in,” Sally said.  “But you know what?  I don’t think I’d like it the other way around.”

      Zechs was the element of surprise in this battle.  His reconstruction of Tallgeese on L2 had been a complete secret outside the conspirators, and even Kyu, Une and Wufei had not been privy to this information prior to the meeting.  But they all agreed with the plan.  The five Gundams would face the troops, fight them with all their strength, and Tallgeese IV would surprise and distract the garrison on the opposite the Gundams so that Sally and Noin could infiltrate the base and find Quatre.

      Once they saw him rocket through the ice-covered plains, they started to get ready.  Noin put her helmet back on, and saw Sally do likewise in front of her.  She braced herself, watching Tallgeese harry the lesser Mobile Suits and draw them away from the snowmobile’s path.

      It lurched suddenly, and Noin grasped the woman in front of her in slight surprise, but regained her composure as they hurtled across the hundred and fifty yards to the base.  The snowmobile skid to a halt mere feet from the wall, snow showering around them as they leapt away and began fastening the harnesses they had brought to scale the walls.

 

 

      Quatre laid Callista’s body on the floor, cradling her head in his lap.  Her eyes fluttered open, and the dark irises focused on his face.

      “Quatre,” she said softly, “I’m sorry I caused so much trouble for you.”

      The Arabian shook his head fervently.  “It’s my fault you’re hurt, Callista.  And I’ll make it right, I promise.  Once I get this bandaged, we can—“

      “I’m going to die,” she said, her voice wavering.  Tears began to form in her eyes.  “I don’t want to; I’m so afraid.  But I can feel it happening.”  He did not bother refuting her, knowing there was no purpose in hopeless reassurances.  His left hand reached down to hers, gripping the cold fingers with as much feeling as he could.  “I’m glad you’re here with me, Quatre.”

      “I promised I’d never leave you,” he said.  “I meant that.”

      Callista smiled, and whispered quietly, “I love you, Quatre.”

      He stared into her face, pale, dying, but still more beautiful than life itself, and pressed his palm against her cheek.  He was afraid, he had always been afraid, of saying those three words.  Such fear held him in reserve for a long moment between the two.  His right hand moved over her heart, feeling it beat as he had so many times, feeling it weaken, each beat ever slower than the one before.  He leaned down toward her, and said, “I...” Her heart stopped.  “I love you.”

 

 

      Heero pulled Wing Zero around just as Tallgeese flew across the base to join them.

      “The ladies are in,” Zechs announced.  “Mind if I join you?”

      “Be our guest,” Kyu said, “but mind the little boys.  They’re having a contest.”

      “A contest?”

      “No time for idle talk,” Trowa said.  “We may just be a distraction, but we’re facing a large number of troops.  If the plan fails, we still have to retreat.”

      “You’re always spoiling our fun, Trowa,” Duo commented.  Heero permitted himself an internal smile.  His cheerfulness was and always would be insatiable.  Duo was easily the most annoying person he knew, but he certainly lightened up the mood.

      Zero responded fluidly as he slipped to the side of a badly-placed beam sword.  The Leo to which it belonged was sliced apart by Heero’s own sabre, and it exploded.  Heero turned to the next target, an Aries, whose gun was ineffective against Zero’s armor. 

      “Heero, watch out behind you,” Kyu said.

      The Omega’s blow barely missed the Gundam, which leapt to the side.  Wufei’s Dragon Fang glanced off the shoulder, partially disabling it, and Heero finished the job with a quick slash across the cockpit.

      “Thanks,” he said.

      “What?  Heero’s actually thanking someone instead of shooting him?” Duo exclaimed sarcastically.

      “I could shoot you later, if you prefer that sort of relationship,” Heero offered.  His voice suggested he was serious.

      “Okay, okay,” Duo said.  “All right, clean up time.”

 

     

      The women came around the corner quickly, wielding their firearms in preparation for whatever awaited them.  Three guards noticed their advance, and shouted for them to surrender.  Sally and Noin let loose a round of ammunition, and the men fell to the floor.  “Come on,” Sally said, and the two of them continued running down the hall.

      Two corridors and a turn later, they came on another, larger, contingent of soldiers, and leapt back into the other hallway.  Noin ran out of ammo quickly, and Sally covered her while she loaded.  “There’s too many of them,” she said, pulling her gun back around the corner.

      “Nothing we can do,” said Noin, snapping the clip into the gun and swinging it around to fire a few shots of her own.  Suddenly she jerked back and grabbed her shoulder, hissing through her teeth.

      “Is it bad?”  Sally asked,  taking a few shots again to stall the soldiers.

      “Not too bad,” she said in a strained voice.  “Can’t do anything now, anyway.”

      The two women were about to go back to business when they heard a surprised cry from the guards, followed by gunfire.  With a bewildered look at one another, they bent their heads cautiously around their respective corners in time to see the last of the guards topple to the floor from the weight of his own weapon.

      “Quatre!” they exclaimed in surprise, running toward him. 

He turned toward them, tossed a lock of blonde hair from his face, and gave them a halfhearted smile.  “Nice to see you, too,” he said.  The damage done from Sandrocks’ explosion was painfully evident, but Sally felt it would be wiser to say nothing.

“All the pilots thought you were dead.  But we found out otherwise, and thought we’d come help out,” Noin said.

“Even though, by the looks of things, you don’t need much help from us,” added Sally with a grin.

“Quatre,” a voice said from the left called.  They turned, and raised their guns as one.

“It’s okay,” Quatre said, putting a hand up to stall their efforts.  “Yvette has been helping me.”  The two women lowered the weapons, looking to Quatre for further information.  He turned to the French woman, however, and said, “did you find her?”

Yvette nodded, stealing a sideways glance at the ex-Preventers.  “She’s going toward the North Tower.  Ross should be there, too.”

Quatre smiled grimly.  “Good.  Have one of you got an extra gun?” he asked Noin and Sally.  The latter reached to her hip and pulled her last-resort handgun from its holster, flipped it over, and offered it to the pilot.  “Care to join us?” he asked as he took it.

“Sure,” Noin said, “but where are we going?”

He started walking without looking back, and Sally could not repress a chill at the determination on his face.  “To end the war.”

 

 

      Natasha stalked into the North Tower with a huge bruise still flowering on her face.  Ross faced her impatiently.  “Where is Winner?” he demanded.

      “He’s gotten away,” she spat with equal disgust.  “And all because of that wench of a French assassin you assigned as my bodyguard.  I told you she wasn’t trustworthy.”

      “You let him get away and it’s my fault?”  He shook his head vehemently.  “I should have known you weren’t up to this.  You made an excellent figurehead for Rho, Natasha, but I’m afraid that deep down, you’re nothing more than an ignorant—“

      “Don’t you dare insult me.  I made this revolution possible, Seth!  Not you!  I am the one who set up the Organization, and I am the one that made the appearances and made myself hated by pacifists everywhere.”

      “And well you should be.”

      “You’re very good at weaving webs,” Natasha said bitterly.  “But one day, a thread is going to snap, and everything you’ve built will come tumbling down around you.  I want to see the look on your face when you lose, Ross.”

      “I’m afraid you won’t ever see it,” he said, and calmly reached under his greatcoat to the handgun he had stashed at his waist.  He aimed it nonchalantly at her head.  “Our agreement is at an end.”

      The click that sounded next was not from his gun.  “That’s enough Ross,” David Harrenhelm said.  “I think you should consider putting that down.”  Both Kushcrevska and Ross whirled to see the Civil Minister, with most of the Council immediately behind him, and Lady Une beside him, armed and angry.  “I think the Council would agree that you are not fit to be President, Mr. Ross.  Resign.”

      Ross smirked. “You think you can force me to surrender?  Only one of you is armed, and I can easily kill you and the rest of this weak pacifistic Council.”

      “You won’t find me so easy to deal with,” Une said.

      “And leave the Alliance leaderless in a time of war?  I think you’re underestimating my importance, Miss Une.  With Relena Peacecraft dead, I am the only one capable of running the Alliance.”

      Une smiled.  “Indeed you are,” she agreed.

      “If I were dead,” Relena Peacecraft said, appearing in the doorway to the left. “but I am not.”

      Ross’s face assumed an air of shock, immediately replaced by desperation.  The gun swung impossibly fast toward Relena. David and Une both ran for her, but his finger had already settled on the trigger.

      A shot rang out in the tower, and the gun fell from Ross’s lifeless hands.  He fell to the floor, blood pouring from his head to the carpet.

      “Hello, Relena,” Quatre said.  “I’m glad to see you’re alive after all.”

 

 

 

TWELVE

 

 

 “I am Relena Peacecraft-Dorlian, President of the Earth Alliance.  During these past months, you have all been fighting like dogs, squabbling over the pieces left behind after my supposed assassination.  I will tell you why this is so!  The man who has led you into war, against supposed terrorists, is the man behind the war itself.  He has manipulated and tricked, until the tense factions of our world have been driven to the basest demonstrations of fearful violence.  But now, his greed and ambition has repaid him with death, and his rebellion has become stagnant and fruitless.

“The pilots of the six Gundams, those you heard called terrorists and anarchists, are the very same brave souls who saved me from death and fought for those ideals we nearly lost.  These six have fought bravely, and valiantly, for the sake of peace and the sake of humanity, and the sake of what is still right with the earth.

      “This is what we should look to for the future.

      “This is what peace should bring us.

      “Not only prosperity, and happiness, but devotion, and loyalty, and the will to fight when it is necessary to protect that peace.  For true, satisfying peace itself is not the vacuum of conflict, but the acceptance of it, and the assimilation of differences in ourselves and others.  Peace is something beautiful that should not be wasted.  Peace is something worth fighting for.”

 

      Trowa stood on the street corner, watching the people around impassively, those that walked with purpose, and haste, and those that meandered with little thought to where they went, content in their aimlessness.  He smiled.

      “These people act as if the war never happened,” Duo said with a frown.  “How can people carry on with their lives after so much has happened?”

      “I find it reassuring,” Trowa intoned.  “They are able to survive the horrors of war and adapt again to peacetime.  I envy them.”

      “People like us, though, we’ll never forget.”

      “Someone has to remember,” Trowa agreed.  “So that they know what to do when the next war comes around.  So that they’ll know when to kill and when to spare life.  Otherwise, we’d all destroy each other.”

      Duo grinned his characteristic grin.  “Yeah,” he said.  “But at least for now, there’s some time to relax.”  He clapped a hand on Trowa’s shoulder.  “Are you sure you want to go back to the circus?” he asked.

      “Yes, of course,” Trowa said.  “Catherine was anxious to see me when I talked to her. I don’t think she’s convinced I’m well.  I do belong there, Duo.  I’m sure of that.”

      “It’s good to know where you belong.  Everyone needs somewhere to go when all the battles are done.”

 

 

      Quatre knelt by the grave, grasping the flowers in his hand as if to draw strength from their presence.  He brushed a bit of earth away from the lettering on the stone, the flat, cold surface against his hands filling him with anguish.  It was her he wanted, the warmth of her fingers and the softness of her touch.

      The newly reformed peace held little solace for him.  Callista was dead, a casualty from the war from which he had meant to protect her.  Everything he was fighting for, the chance to have a life with this woman interred beneath this dark mound, so bereft of life or comfort, had been lost.  Tears gathered in his eyes, and he did not bother to brush them away.  It had been so long since he had felt the need to cry.

      What had gone wrong? he wondered.  He was not the person he had been three years before.  It had been the assassins and the pressure, for a large part, he knew.  But that was not all.  It was peace, a time of peace, everything he had fought to accomplish in those first two wars.  But all that was left to him was his father’s business, millions of dollars and nothing he really wanted to spend it on.

      So what was the point in living?  He wasn’t protecting anyone, he was accomplishing little that was really important, and the only happiness in his life was Callista.  And she had been in love with that other Quatre, the kind Quatre, the gentle side of him that he had buried deep inside.

      He arranged the flowers with excruciating care, thinking about what this meant.  There was nothing left for him, it seemed, only years of ruling a financial empire, which had its attractions, but was, in the end, thoroughly unsatisfying.  Callista had told him once that he was still the same inside.  Did that Quatre have a purpose?  Did he have the ability to heal these scars?

      Footsteps across the grass broke his reverie.  He glanced up to see Yvette.  “You loved her.”

      “Yes.”

      She smiled, and knelt beside him.  “I had a brother once, a brother I was very close to, named Phillipe.  We were as close as a brother and sister could be.  I wanted to be as much like him as I could.  He was everything to me.  But he was a soldier, Quatre, and he was killed in battle.”  She sighed.  “By a Gundam.”

      Quatre closed his eyes at this revelation.  “Sandrock?” he asked quietly.

      “Possibly.  I hated the Gundams for that reason, Quatre Winner.  Natasha was obsessed with them, she wanted to see them return and steal a piece of it for herself.  But I wanted to find you, the people who had stolen my brother.  Once I had seen you in action, however, once I had met you, I realized what you were, who you were.  You love what I love.  Peace.  I want you to forgive me, Quatre.  And I want to help you forgive yourself.”

      Quatre sat in silence a long time, then lifted his eyes and stared out of the cemetery into the city.  “I want to find myself again.  I know it’s hidden in me somewhere.”  He smiled, a genuine smile.  “It’s what Callista wanted me to do.”

 

 

     “Do you think Quatre will be all right?” Kyu asked. 

Wufei slipped his arm around her waist as they walked.  “Quatre is a lot stronger than he seems.  I disdained him for a while after we met, but now he’s one of the few people I don’t mind taking orders from every now and then.  He’s lost two people that he cared about dearly, but I think he’ll be all right.  Maybe he’ll end up better than before.  It wouldn’t surprise me.”

The two walked in silence for a few minutes.

“Une asked me to join the Preventers,” Kyu said.

“I know.”

Kyu sighed.  “You know everything.”

“Mostly.”  He smiled as she rolled her eyes, but then said, “Does it bother you that Heero’s vanished again?”

“He hasn’t vanished,” Kyu said loftily. “I know perfectly well where he is.”

“Where?”

“Not telling.”  Kyu grinned.  “I can have a few secrets from you, Mr. Chang, and my brother’s whereabouts is going to be one of them.  He wants to be left alone.”

“Very well, Miss Hayakawa, but you’ll have to make up for it later.”

“Not a problem,” she said with an even wider grin.  “but you’ll have to catch me first.”  She broke away from him suddenly and sprinted off across the garden.

“This had better be worth it,” Wufei muttered to himself, and ran after her.

     

      Relena came out of the conference room to find Heero waiting for her.  He was dressed casually as usual, in his jeans and that indestructible green shirt.

      “Did it go well?” he asked.

      “Pretty well,” she said.  After an uncomfortable silence, Relena asked hesitantly, “Are you sure you won’t stay, Heero?”

“Yes,” he said. 

“Kyu is going to be joining the Preventers.  You and she would be able to see each other more often.  And she will want you around when she and Wufei--”

      “I know.”  He met her eyes.  “I need some time alone, Relena.  Like always.”

      “But...you’ll come back?” she took a tentative step toward him.

      Heero touched her face gently with one hand, and smiled at her.  “Trust me, Relena. I’ve always come back before.”

 

     

“So remember this, my people.  Remember the horrors of war.  Remember why.  Ingrain it so deeply into your soul that your children will know it, and their children after them.  Because it is war that makes peace so beautiful.  It is war that shapes our hearts and minds to love even more the absence of conflict.  Let us not forget these lessons, people of earth.  Let us not forget what greed and ambition have wrought.  Let us not forget the pain we feel.  And remember always to hope for peace, even when we must fight to obtain it.”

           

 

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