30-Jan-2001 to 16-May-2001

"In the Pale Moonlight" is the third story in the 'Dance of the Heart' story arc and will be split into four parts, five acts each, plus and addition fifth part solo. "Moonlight" will cover the time period between Episode 49 and/through Endless Waltz.

There are also a series of Moonlight Side Fics.

Previous original characters will be returning (the Behr sisters), along with all the old goodies. Some notes to help you along:

The Behr Sisters:
DOCE (F) 26; Nickname: Doc; Height: 5'8"; Hair: medium brown, wavy; Eyes: brown; Stats: Doctor

BLAIRE (F) 20; Nickname: Blaire; Height: 5'6"; Hair: Strawberry blonde, cropped below the ears, mushroom-like; Eyes: yellow-green/grey; Stats: artillery/psychic*

OCHENTA (F) 19; Nickname: Nita; Height: 5'4"; Hair: black, chin-length; Eyes: black, large dark glasses; Stats: hacker/computer expert: DragonLady

DEVENLEY (F) 18; Nickname: Deven, Ice Queen; Height: 5'5"; Hair: platinum blonde, spiky, boy-cut, long spiky bangs; Eyes: aquamarine; Stats: Pilot/Psychic*

JACQUELINE (F) 17; Nickname: Jack; Height: 5'7"; Hair: long, dark brown, red highlights, should-blades, wavy, usually pulled back w/ clip; Eyes: large, dark brown, flecks of green; Stats: hand-to-hand combat;

KATALYNNA (F) 16; Nickname: Kat; Height: 5'7"; Hair: black cherry, shoulder blade length, wavy, pulled back in high pony-tail; Eyes: dark green; Stats: martial arts/weaponry;

CARINA (F) 15; Nickname: Rini; Height: 5'5"; Hair: straight, shoulder-length chestnut, small curl, pulled back at sides; Eyes: golden brown; Stats: acrobat/gymnastics;

The Five Scientists:
J--Samuel Jackson; G--Garret Greene; S--Pierre Seagram; H--Palwashi Hilel; O--Indra Osiris; and Howard Greene

The Winner Clan:
A long and detailed list of the 29 Winner Sisters. Not *all* will be appearing in "Moonlight"--don't worry, there's no quiz. ^_^;;

Are you scared yet? ^_^;; Oh, good. I was worried you might be.

Okay, then, without further ado... the warnings:

Pairings: Established 3+4 (4x3), Establishing: 1+2 (2x1) Implied: 2+5 (5x2), 1+5 (1x5), 1+3 (3x1), 2+H (Hx2), 1+H? (1xH???), 6+9, 6+13, 13+5, 1+R (at least in her mind ^_^;;), R+D, 9+S, 11+S

Warnings: The following fic contains scenes that are humorous, sappy, angsty (what do you mean that's not a word!!) slightly AU with Incoherence and random POV switching. Original Characters are presented, all characters are IC according to the author's interpretation of them. Oh, and a definite warning for unexpected Lemon-goodness. YAOI and YURI, with a splash of hetero every now-and-then. Major Angst: In the Pale Moonlight

Spoilers: Anyone who hasn't seen Gundam Wing and its OVA: Endless Waltz... [shakes head] I'm sorry, 'cause this fic picks up right after Episode 49 and continues into Endless Waltz.

Acknowledgements go out to some wonderful people who have made my sojourn in GW-fanfiction more than just enjoyable: Bonnejeanne and Von, RavynFyre, and Laekin, who I adore and try to model my own stories' standards to. Bonne, especially, for smiling down upon my first GW-attempted-fic, "You Make Me Feel", and giving me enough reassurance to continue. Two beautiful women who do a wonderful job at keeping me and my stories (or is that 'my stories and me'? ^_~v) on track: KwyckSylver and Blue Lemmings, for grammar and story beta-ing. Alexia for her enthused insistence upon my finishing a story. Kris for his mimicry (hey! It's the best compliment, ne?). But, most especially, to Lilie the mouse, for hitting the storyboards with me and pounding out the knots. ^_~v Thanks, ladies and gent!

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters belong to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency and are only being used for non-profit entertainment purposes. The Behr Siblings belong to me, myself, and I. This fic and the ideas contained within are copyright of the author and may not be reprinted without permission.

Notes: This is the Sequel to "Dance With the Devil" and represents Part 3 in the DANCE OF THE HEART Arc. The action picks up hours after Heero blows up the last falling chunk of Libra and continues up to the events in Endless Waltz. Also, something to note: I'm trying something a bit different with this fic. There will be four main parts, with a series of side fics thrown in for spice.

The Moonlight Series Index is split into four main parts (the fifth part will stand on it's own later) seperated into four acts each. Part One deals mainly with Duo, Heero, and Hilde. There's 3+4 and a 1x5 in the first act. Part Two is all 3x4/4x3. Part Three is Wufei, Mariemeia, and the Scientists. Part Four is Relena, Dorothy, Noin, Zechs, Sally, Une, and the Behr Siblings.

You already know that "Car Wash" is a side story to Part One. I have four more side-stories that will be released shortly. Three are for Part Four; One is for Part Two. "You Were Meant for Me," "Wake Up," and "Foolish Games" will adjoin part four. "You Learn" sticks to part two.

In the Pale Moonlight by Andrea Readwolf

Part 1 Act One

~Act I~

He managed to convince the meds that he was fine-no damage done, in perfect health, etc. etc. etc.-and, after a series of insisted upon tests, they finally had to give in and let him go. He was five feet from the exit when he overheard three of the nurses at their station.

"Where did you want these?"

"What? Oh, those. They need to go to 134."

"Winner?"

"Yep. That's the one."

"Is he really as cute as they say he is?"

"Screw that! Is he rich and single? *That's* the question!"

"As if that matters! You're old enough to be his mother!"

"What's going on here? Those bags need to be places girls! We've got a lot of injured people here! No time for gossiping!"

The trio of women dissipated and Heero backtracked to follow the small brunette with the IV bags. He waited outside the room she entered, noting the other people in the hallways and other rooms. He had been surprised when he entered MOII. Maybe he'd just been in 'mission mode' so long, living like a terrorist and outlaw that he'd entered the space station with expectations of Oz.

Another fortress like Barge or Libra. A floating military base. Something like that would have been in character of the military organization he'd been sent to Earth to annihilate. Finding instead a large mobile medical satellite pique his opinion of the Oz leader. 'Former Oz leader,' his mind reminded him.

Trieze Khushrenada was dead. Died at the hands of a Gundam pilot. Pilot 05, Chang Wufei.

"Wufei."

"Excuse me?"

Heero looked up, realizing the nurse had come out of the room and was looking at him. "Nothing," he said and let her flit away to her next patient.

Now as he entered the medical room, Heero received another surprise. Coming out of the battle nearly unscratched, he'd assumed everyone else had made out almost as well if not better than him. Seeing the blonde boy who so naturally radiated with what Duo had described as "good vibes" attached to several bits of machinery was a bit more than just 'unnerving'.

"What happened?" he asked, looking over to the tall, green-eyed pilot of 03.

"Dorothy Catalonia," Trowa answered, untangling his fingers from Quatre's unconscious hand. He stood and joined the Japanese boy at the door to the room. "She was in the control room of the mobile dolls," he explained. "She was controlling the mobile dolls."

Trowa looked back at the sleeping boy on the bed. "He didn't want to fight her, of course. She insisted."

"Where is she now?"

"I don't know." Trowa turned back to the bed and sat back down beside Quatre, taking up his hand again.

Heero hesitated, but entered the room. "Is he going to be okay?" he asked, studying the three lines dancing across one of the screens that indicated pulse rate, the amount of oxygen in the blood, and blood pressure.

"Fine," Trowa returned, a bit insistent. "He's just sleeping right now," he added, tracing his fingers over Quatre's palm and knuckles. "The blade went straight through, puncturing."

Heero remained silent, observing the boy and his lover, at a loss for words to say.

"He's going to be just fine," Trowa finished off. "Good as new in a couple of weeks."

Heero reached out, sliding his hand over the taller boy's shoulder and squeezing. "You gonna stay?" he asked finally.

Trowa didn't say anything for a minute, staring at the bed, and then he looked up. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "For a little bit. At least till he's better." He swallowed and cleared his throat. "What about you? What do you have planned now?"

Heero shrugged. "Don't know. Have that money put aside, courtesy of OZ and Romafeller." He shrugged again. "Figured I might get an apartment someplace."

Trowa nodded, looking back to the bed. "That's as good a plan as any, I guess."

"What about you? You plan on going back to the circus?"

He was quiet, studying the face of the golden prince before him. "Yeah, I guess," Trowa said finally before looking back up at Heero. "I mean, it's someplace, right?"

"Right."

The two fell into a comfortable silence, each lost to his own thoughts as they watched Quatre sleep.

"He's here," Trowa broke the silence minutes later.

"Hn?" Heero looked away from the bed to study the other boy.

"Duo," Trowa clarified. "I saw him when I was looking for Quatre. Apparently that girl of his is here too." Trowa looked up at him then. "He's three doors down," he said, nodding his head in that direction. "He went to be with her. You should go to him."

Trowa turned back to Quatre, as if to ignore Heero. He studied the two boys, staring at Trowa's hands as they moved back and forth over Quatre's hand. And then, without another word, he turned and left the room.

He found himself in front of the room, three doors down from Quatre's. Tentatively he pushed the door open and peeked in. His throat, chest, and stomach clenched as the sight registered in his mind.

There were two bodies in the room: Duo's and that girl's, Hilde's. There was only one bed; two chairs sat off against the wall, unused. The Gundam pilot had crawled up into bed with the still unconscious girl and was wrapped around her, curled around her head, his head and face pressed against her head and face as he held her.

Heero swallowed and backed out of the room before he could disturb the other pilot. He backed down the hallway, by-passing the room Quatre and Trowa were in without stopping, by-passing the nurses' station without hearing their buzzing tongues wagging, exiting the wing, following one of the painted lines on the floor.

Purple, he realized after the other colored lines fed off in different directions. He was following the purple line. He stopped then and there and somebody pushed past him, mumbling an apology as he entered the door to his right. Smoke, laughter, a bit of music, and the stench of alcohol wafted out of the room, encircling Heero, pulling him in.

And then, with a bit of surprise, the Japanese boy found himself standing inside a bar, staring at the dark interior. The music he heard was a bit of jazz and blues drifting up out of an old-styled jukebox. The smoke was a filtered mist supplied by air ducts that was supposed to add to the atmosphere of the place. Heero just grunted and made his way to the bar.

There weren't that many people in here, but there was enough to keep the air filled with chatter and laughter. Celebrators, he thought, shifting up onto the stool and staring off at the many bottles lining the back wall.

"Hey kid! Ain't you a bit young to be in here?" a voice broke into his solitude.

Instinct had him reaching for his gun, habit had him already pulling in when the OZ insignia on the bartender's uniform flashed. A hand on his shoulder and a familiar voice were the only things that saved the man his life.

"Is that the gratitude you show to the man who saved your family and home?" A glass slapped down on the bar top, the amber liquid inside splashing around.

"Wufei.."

"Fancy meeting you here," the Chinese pilot replied, climbing up onto the bar stool next to him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same thing of you." Wufei looked at the tumbler full of whiskey and shot the remaining, slapping the empty glass back down and signaling for another. "I," he told the newcomer, "am celebrating the end of all war." He watched as the bartender refilled his glass. "You?"

"I don't know."

"He'll have the same," he told the bartender. "Oh hell! Just leave the damn bottle."

"Got the credits?"

Wufei looked like he was ready to throw a tantrum right then and there. Heero pulled out a card key and handed it to the man while Wufei snatched up both bottle and glass and hopped off the stool.

"Ungrateful wretch!" he grumbled. "C'mon. I've got a table over here."

Heero retrieved his card from the bartender, snatched up his own glass, and followed the Altron pilot to the back corner of the room. Wufei tipped the bottle, filling both his glass and Heero's before the other boy could slide into a seat.

"What is it?" he asked, eyeing the ginger liquid.

"Whiskey." Seeing the other's dubious look, he added, "It won't kill you, you know."

"Hn." Heero took the glass and shot the contents down, gasping and then coughing as the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat to pool like a pit of lava in his stomach. "Uah! How can you drink this stuff?"

Wufei smirked. "It tastes like shit," he said, "But it won't kill ya." Wufei was already refilling their glasses. "I thought you would be with the others, celebrating this grand and glorious event."

"Hn. The others are all in the medical wing." Wufei shot him a look and he decided to elaborate. "Quatre was injured, apparently fighting Dorothy; Trowa's with him."

Wufei frowned. "Dorothy?"

Heero took another sip of his whiskey and grimaced. "A friend of Relena's. Meet her in Sank. Apparently she was controlling the mobile dolls for Zechs."

"Hn. Interesting." Wufei took a swallow of his own. "And what about Duo? Why aren't you with him?"

"He's with the girl."

"Hilde?" Heero nodded. "I take it she hasn't waken up yet, then." Heero shook his head and with another 'hn', Wufei threw back another swallow of the burning liquid. "You know," he said, gasping, "He's gonna blame himself if something happens to her. He holds himself responsible. I guess you could say he's like me, blaming himself for the actions of headstrong women."

"You blame yourself?" Heero asked, fingering his glass as he stared at the Chinese boy.

"Hn." Wufei stared at his drink. "It was my fault she died," he confided softly.

Cobalt eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"Merien." Wufei leaned back against the booth and pulled out a small wallet, flipping it open for the Japanese boy to see. "Merien," he repeated, allowing Heero to take the picture.

It was a full body portrait of a pretty young Chinese girl-probably in her preteens-dressed in a red and white wrap dress. Piles of dark hair were tied back in buns and wraps, white flowers laced through the black silk. Looking closer, Heero could discern the detail of the dress-white birds flying, blending, metamorphosizing into red blossoms. Large, dark, wide set eyes were painted with kohl, wide cheeks darkened with a light rouge, lips stained with a cherry coloring. The over all effect was very beautiful.

"Pretty," Heero acknowledged, handing the picture back to its owner.

"My wife," Wufei countered, fingering the image's face before tossing back the rest of his drink and pouring himself another glass. He looked up, seeing Heero's somewhat stunned expression and smirked, taking another sip.

"We were married when we were both twelve; it was an arranged marriage, betrothal from birth. Let's just say our clans rested a lot of weight on our union," Wufei explained before sipping from his glass again. "We didn't love each other, that didn't matter much. But we. respected each other." He rubbed his eyes and nose, sounding very drained all of a sudden. "Yeah, respect, at least, in our own ways."

"What happened?" Heero asked after a moment of silence.

Wufei sighed, tilting his head to the side as he stared down at the picture. "We had. different views of life." He smiled. "She was a warrior, a true warrior. Not like me. It was in her spirit to fight for justice." His smile grew constricted. "She used to yell at me. Yell at me to get my nose out of whatever damn book I was taken up with at the time. Tell me to get my head out of the damn clouds and pay attention to what was happening in the real world."

Heero didn't say anything, didn't know what to say, and so the silence stretched out between the two until Wufei's voice broke through again.

"I. didn't want to fight. I never asked to be a gundam pilot," he admitted. "It was just. expected of me. No one asked me what *I* wanted." He continued to finger the photograph. "I think Master O knew that. understood how I felt about the whole situation."

He looked up, seeing that Heero was still paying attention and somewhat. relieved to finally be able to tell this to someone else.

"He was making two mobile suits," he confided. "I think he knew I had no intention of coming down to Earth when it was time. Merien would have jumped at the chance to come here. She would go on and on about what an honor it was to fight for our clans and protect our families." He frowned. "I agreed with her, of course. I just didn't want the honor."

"How did she."

"Die?" Wufei finished, folding the wallet and putting it away. His face grew cold and he topped off his glass. "They Alliance decided my colony was no longer worthy and sent a task force to annihilate everyone. Merien jumped into Shiren before I could stop her and went off to fight them. I was too slow. I was too slow to stop her and too slow to save her. By the time I made it to Shenlong and then to her. it was too late. She defeated the bastards, though. Sent them running home with their tails between their tails."

He tossed back the entire tumbler-full of whiskey. "She died in my arms." he whispered, staring at the empty glass.

"You loved her."

"She was my wife," he countered.

"You loved her.?"

"As much as you can love a person you both hate and admire." Wufei responded, his eyes closing shut.

"Do you love Duo?"

Wufei's head snapped up, eyes blinking. Finally, he smirked and gave a little laugh. "Is that what brought you to my table, Yuy?"

"Do you?"

"Yes." Wufei fell forward onto the table, leaning down onto his folded arms. "Do you?"

Heero paused, taken back by first the answer and then the question, and then answered honestly. "I don't know."

"What does this tell you?" Wufei asked, stretching an arm across the table to touch Heero's chest. "Right here," he emphasized, tapping the center of his chest with a finger. "What does it tell you?"

Heero was quiet. Wufei pulled back, nodding. "Hn. You shouldn't be here. You should be up there with him."

"He's with Hilde."

"He needs your support. Especially if she doesn't pull through. He's going to need you even more." Wufei shook his head. "You don't belong in this lonely place, Heero Yuy. You have someplace to go to."

"No. I have no place to go," Heero denied.

"Yes. Yes, you do," Wufei insisted. "You have Duo, whether you're ready to admit it or not. You still have your colony. Hell! You even have that princess of yours-if you really want her."

"Relena."

"Hn. That's the one," Wufei grimaced. Heero smiled, and then grew neutral.

"She's going to be too busy now for me to be hanging around," Heero said, sounding a bit lost. "I'd only be a distraction to her, preventing her from doing the work she needs to do-"

"Then go back to your colony!" Wufei offered. "It's still spinning, isn't it?"

Heero frowned. "I have no colony."

Wufei mimicked the frown. "I though you were from Lagrange 1."

"Hn. That's where Dr. J's labs were."

Wufei puzzled that. "And before that?"

"I lived from day to day with Odin-" Heero's frown took the hint of something. pain? Wufei wondered. "Until he died. And then J found me."

"When was that?" Wufei asked, his voice soft.

Heero shrugged, and for a moment it didn't look like he was going to answer. And then he did. "When I was nine."

Wufei swallowed. When he was nine. he'd just discovered the ancient's personal library and made the decision to read every tomb. He was never given the chance to finish. he would never be given the chance to finish. "Who was Odin?"

"The man who I lived with before Dr. J," Heero answered, his face falling neutral, stoic.

"You father?"

"No," Heero answered immediately, suredly. And then his face puzzled and he shook his head. "At least, he never said so; never referred to himself as such. " Heero shrugged. "But he's as close to a father as I guess I could say I've ever had."

Wufei nodded, remembering his own father. when was the last time he told the man he'd loved him.? Wufei shook his head; it was too late for those things now. "What happened to him? I mean, how did he die?"

"He was shot," Heero answered like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then, seeing Wufei's look for more, he added, "We were on a mission."

"Mission?" Wufei's frown returned in force. 'On a mission? And only 9 years old?'

"He was an assassin-the best," Heero replied with just a hint of pride. "He taught me everything he could about guns and defense, and first aid and self-care." A small smirk played at the Japanese boy's lips. "I learned how to hold a gun when I was four; how to disable one, clean it, put it back together; how to aim, shoot, fire; where weakest points on the body were, the strongest; how to use your body as a weapon; how to stay alive even when the odds were against you; reiki-"

"Reiki?" Wufei interrupted.

Heero nodded. "It's a. form of. energy healing," he tried to explain.

"Yes," Wufei nodded. "I'm familiar with it." He smiled at Heero's look. "It's an ancient form of Japanese healing, predating even the first Middle Age-and not unlike many of the methods used by some of the Chinese."

"The Chinese and the Japanese are much alike," Wufei added after a moment.

"We're *all* much alike," Heero countered. They stared at each other for a minute or two, and then stared off into nothing, letting the slow thrum of the music dance around them, between them, within them; letting the misty air swirl across them, encasing them in their own little worlds.

"And Dr. J?" Wufei asked finally.

Heero looked back to the Chinese boy, and then shrugged. "Trained me," he answered.

"Train."

"I remember, the first thing Dr. J did, when he took me to his labs, was run test after test." Heero looked off over Wufei's shoulder, sipping from his whiskey, which Wufei kept filled for him. "I'd never been to a doctor before. A hospital, a couple of times when Odin was sent to finish a job, but, I'd never actually *been* to a doctor. Odin or one of the team, always fixed each other up: set broken bones, removed bullets. patch yourself up and live to work another day. If you get sick, you go to bed and heal yourself. To go from that. to. to Dr. J's staff was just. I wasn't sure of what they wanted, so I just did what they asked.

"Piss in a cup, sure. Take some blood, okay. Run on this treadmill until you're told to stop? Hn. Push ups, sit-ups, weights, targets. Easy stuff. I'd never taken an actually written test before then, you know that? I remember when they brought me into what was dubbed 'the school room' one day and sat me down at the desk in the room with a pen, a pencil, and a large packet of paper."

Heero snorted, his eyes refocusing on Wufei. The Chinese pilot was leaned over the table again, listening intently to the other boy's narrative. It made Heero feel kinda good, knowing that there was someone who was actually interesting in listening to something he had to say.

"What happened? You didn't know how to read?" At the glare the Japanese boy shot him, he reworded his question. "How'd you do on the test?"

Heero snorted again. "It was easy stuff-once I figured out what they were trying to ask me. The first test I took was a basic vocabulary test. It was strange, because it was the first time I was seeing some of the words. I knew how to read, of course-it helps being able to read if you're going to communicate with other people in a team. But when you're running silent, you don't use big vocabulary words and such, you know?

"The next test they gave me was a mathematical examination-filled with geometry and easy algebraic equations. Then they gave me another. and another. and another. It took me a couple of times to realize they were giving me variations of same of the same tests, some in different languages. Then I got mad 'cause I realized that they weren't just *asking* me what I knew, they were treating me like some. thing."

Heero shrugged. "I learned a lot more book stuff with Dr. J, I guess you could say. I 'honed' the skills Odin taught me. and I learned how to pilot." He nodded. "But it wasn't exactly the best years of my life, you know?"

Wufei nodded, murmuring. "I remember when Master O came to our colony. It was like he was searching for something. someone; traveling from colony to colony, visiting all the clans. Looking. The clans were all excited when he arrived at our colony; a huge celebration was held. I remember how excited and pleased my family was when he chose to stay with our clan and how eager everyone was to please him. I was young, I don't know how young. Maybe four or five, and I didn't fully understand what his purpose for being there was, but I was thirsty for knowledge and I used to always follow him around. He used to talk to me like I wasn't a child, like I was. almost an equal, and he would discuss complex equations with me. I wasn't picky. I wanted to learn and to know everything.

"Supplies were not easy to come by on my colony-it wasn't like we were the richest clan in the L5 cluster-but we were a proud people. The gundanium was, of course, harder to get a hand on, which is why Sheren, the first suit he made was of mostly titanium. She wasn't nearly as resilient as Shenlong; not enough to save Merien."

They lapsed into another spell of silence, each boy remembering thoughts of an existence that no longer belonged to them, closed off forever in the past. They continued to sip from their drinks until Wufei reached out to refill their glasses and only a few precious drops tumbled free from the bottle.

"Hn. We seem to be out of drink," Wufei observed.

"Hn. So it seems." Heero yawned. "What time is it anyway?"

"Um." Wufei frowned, looking for a time display somewhere in the smoky room. None was to be found. "Good question," he answered, rubbing his face. "We should probably turn in."

"I'll carry you if you carry me?" Heero offered. They smiled, their shoulders shaking, and then each boy gave a tiny, startled bark of laughter.

"C'mon, hero, I've had more to drink than you!" Wufei tiltered to his feet and looked around him. "Any idea of how to get out of this place?"

"We could always just blast a hole through the wall."

Wufei shot him a look. "I don't think the management would appreciate that very much."

Heero shrugged. "He overcharged us."

"Hn. Point." Wufei paused. "You have anything?"

"No," Heero frown. "Left it in ZERO. I guess the exit will have to do."

Wufei stumbled forward. "Exit it is."

"How many drinks did you have before I got here?" Heero asked, catching the Chinese pilot before he could stumble over into his face.

"I don't know," Wufei admitted, shooting a smile towards Heero. "I lost count 'round two."

Heero just snorted and the two began making their way towards the exit. "Any idea where we're supposed to sleep?"

"Hmm. 'nother good question." Wufei tried to stand up on his own outside the bar, and found that his head was distinctively light. "Nope. Haven't got a clue."

"Hn. Well," Heero looked at him. "We could always crash in our suits."

Wufei groaned. "Uh un. I don't know you if you've noticed this or not, but those seats weren't exactly made with our comfort in mind."

They started stumbling down the corridor, with no direction in mind. "Hn. I've noticed." The two war heroes were saved from the horrible fate of sleeping in their gundams by the fortune of running into Howard some odd minutes later.

"Oiya! Boys! Where ya goin'? The party's that away!" The old man had taken one good look at the two teenaged pilots before coming to the conclusion the both of them had already participated in the celebration as much as they were going to for the night. It had taken a bit of muscling-especially when Heero slid to the floor and refused to get up, saying he was going to sleep right there and the Ozies could be damned-but the wizened old man managed to get both boys settled into the bed in the quarters assigned to him.

"Here, drink up," he ordered both of them, shoving a glass under the noses.

"Gah, what is it?" Heero asked, pulling away before taking the glass away from him.

"Water," Howard replied. "Don't worry, it won't kill ya."

Heero gave an accusatoinatory glace to his neighbor. "Where have I heard that before?"

Wufei finished his glass, flopping back into the mattress and mumbled a reply. "You're still alive, aren't you? So quick whining like a woman."

"Hn," was the only answer he was graced by as Heero followed suit and fell back into the bed.

"Get some sleep, and if I was you, I'd sleep through the morning," Howard advised, pulling out of the room and hitting the light. He stopped in the frame of the door though, turning to look back at them. "And, in case I didn't say it before, good job, guys," he said in a soft whispery voice. Two murmured and mumbled voices rose up from the bed before the door could slide shut behind him.

  It was another ten minutes of silence with only the thrumming of the large space station around them, each boy caught in his own drink-induced stupor of thoughts. And then Heero's voice, muddled and hoarse, broke through the silence.

"What was it like.?" he asked, staring up at the darkened ceiling.

"What was what like.?" Wufei returned, shifting in his state of almost-but-not-quite-there sleep.

"Touching him," Heero answered, his voice just a whisper.

Two black eyes blinked open, adjusting to the darkened shadows even as he turned to look at the other boy in bed with him. Out of all the questions. "What?" was the only response he could give.

Heero turned then too, shifting onto his side, blue eyes dark in the shadows of the room, looking almost as dark as Wufei's own as they stared out at him. "What was it like," Heero repeated, "to touch him.?"

"Wh-who.?" Wufei's voice hitched, already knowing the answer but hoping to avoid the subject. There would only ever be one "He" between them.

"Duo." Heero's voice sounded like a sigh to him and Wufei found he couldn't keep his eyes open, couldn't look at him, at the expression on that face. Even in the darkened room that wasn't quite pitch black, that face haunted him. The longing, the pain, the desire. that face, freed from its long-held-to mask. Was the mask broken? Why did the other boy remove it now? Why in front of him?

"Like heaven," Wufei answered after a moment. Something brushed against his cheek and two obsidian orbs blinked open, surprised. Wufei swallowed, Heero 's knuckled grazing back over his cheek again. "He felt like heave."

Tentatively, he reached out, his fingers brushing against Heero's shoulders before traveling down that extended arm. "Soft," he whispered, his palm cupping up around the sleek muscles, powerful, strong, in those arms. "Hard," he added as his fingers and palm slid closer to home until they slipped over Heero's wrist and hand, taking it, turning it; Wufei kissed Heero's palm. "Callused."

Heero's breath hitched in his chest and then he groaned, his eyes shutting tight against the image of Wufei kissing his palm. He felt his body tighten and his mind reel. It had been six months. Six months since he'd last touched a human being like this, felt the stir in his blood, and the rise of need with a body so close by, touching him. He knew it was wrong; he knew he shouldn't be doing this, but a part of him didn't care. A part of him wanted desperately to touch, to feel, to exalt in the feeling of another person against his body, reminding him that he wasn't alone, was still alive.

Wufei's tongue darted out and swiped at the center of Heero's palm, pulling back with the hint of tanginess, the scent of gundanium alloy, leather, grease, and a natural musk wafting up around him, intoxicating him more than the bottle of whiskey ever could. It was that sense of danger that surrounded the other boy, that infused itself into every situation, that appealed to him. Called to him, dared and taunted him. A challenge he couldn't refuse.

Wufei's fingers laced into Heero's, pulling on the arm until the binded fists rested on the pillow beside Wufei's head, succeeding in bringing Heero's body closer. He knew this was wrong, knew it was probably just the whiskey in his blood, making him hot, making him need, making him weak. He dove into that excuse, relishing in the freedom it gave him as he leaned up and kissed Heero.

Heero surprised him. He hadn't expected the other boy to react so forcefully, not only kissing him back but pressing him back into the bed, forcing his lips open, his mouth to open for the Japanese boy's tongue as his body seemed to surge up and over him, pressing Wufei completely back into the bed.

Both boys groaned, moving against each other in an attempt to bank the fires racing through their blood-but only succeeded in feeding the flames. Wufei tore his lips away from Heero as a cry tore from his throat, his frustration, his need to feel whole. Heero bent over him, his mouth seizing over Wufei's bare shoulder where the scampy tank top didn't cover, and bit down hard against the caramel skin. Wufei screamed, jumping beneath him. Heero's hips thrust against him, pressing him back into the mattress. Wufei squeeze his eyes shut, ignoring the tears as Heero lapped at his abused shoulder. His arms wound round tight against Heero's chest and torso, to hold the other to him. It wasn't enough.

Heero pulled back; Wufei cried, distressed. A moment of fear and trepidation passed over him as Heero's hands began to tug at his white pants. It came and passed and came again a minute later when he laid completely naked as the other boy hovered above him, in a similar state of undress as well. Heero's head dipped, his tongue pressing into Wufei's mouth. Wufei welcomed it, craved it, sucked on it as Heero's hips came crashing down into his with fierce-some pressure, causing him to moan around the invading tongue. Heero's erection dug into his, trapped between their two bodies as their hips rocked against each other. Wufei's arms and legs managed to wrap themselves around Heero's body, holding them closer together.

The tensing of the muscles above him was the little warning given to him before his world rocked, tilted, turned over, and Wufei found himself moving over Heero as the other pilot rolled under him, changing their positions, causing Wufei to fall onto Heero, grounding their erections together with even more force than before. Wufei gave a startled cry, pulling back, falling back as the full length of Heero's penis moved beneath the underside of his own, teasing the sensitive skin of his most private areas. Wufei could feel the head of the other's penis, right *there*, moving back and forth over his opening with ever thrust of their hips and the fear from minutes before returned full force.

Hands moved up over his chest, smoothing down the planes and contours. Beneath him, Heero's moans and groans reverberating through his chest and torso, humming between Wufei's thighs. The sight of Heero, beneath him like that, head thrown back, muscles cording, straining, tensing. hard. sleek. sexy as hell.

The hole inside of him seemed to swell, to engulf him, and Wufei wanted to scream with his frustration, his pain, his uncontrollable need. He'd never. but he wanted to. He wanted this man. He wanted him inside him. Trembling fingers wrapped around the foreign penis-similar, yet different, his mind registered. Bigger than him-and squeezed, coaxed. Beneath him, Heero became even more vocal than before, moving against Wufei's hands, taking as much as he was willing to give.

So lost in his mindless haze of feeling, he didn't pay attention to what the other pilot was doing until he felt the tight, dry sheath of skin tug against him as Wufei dropped his hips, swallowing Heero's entire length inside himself. The scream that tore through the room was choked off at the throat as Wufei threw his head back, back arched, eyes squeezed shut against the streaming tears. Heero held absolutely still, torn between two warring desires: The first, to plummet into the boy, to fuck him long and hard. The second to not move, not hurt the boy any more.

Wufei shifted on his knees, embedding Heero's penis deeper inside of himself. It hurt. It hurt so damn bad. Worse than the time he'd fallen off the roof and broken his arm. Worse that being banged and battered around the cockpit of a mobile suit. Worse than anything his mind and young body had every experienced. But, beneath that hurt was something else. the delicious feel of being filled. a. warped pleasure the pain brought on. It felt good. It felt so damn good.

He moved again, raising up so only the tip of Heero's penis remained inside his body. And then he fell down, grinding his hips against Heero's as hard as he could. Both boys cried out, arched in a tangle of pain and pleasure. A second passed, filled with nothing but the heavy, panted breaths and their own sensations of pain and pleasure, before they looked at each other. A beat. A heartbeat. And then they moved, thrusting against one another, their bodies demanding, taking, giving, screaming for. for. for something. Something more than just a sexual release. Maybe even more than just a stress release.

They shifted again and again. At one moment Wufei straddling Heero, then, the next, Heero surging over Wufei, grounding him back into the mattress as their sweaty stomachs and chests pressed against each other. And then again on their sides, pushing, pulling against the other, their wills clashing, clanging, banging, fucking, kissing, understanding, loving, forgiving.

Until each was too exhausted to do more than moan and succumb to the sleep that had been courting them for hours now.

In the morning cycle, when Heero finally managed to drag his mind back to consciousness-and his body with it-the space beside him was cold. The bed empty. If it weren't for the blood and semen stains that covered both the sheets and his penis, he would have thought the entire incident a dream.

It took him only fifteen minutes to shower and redress in his clothes from before-and ten of those minutes were dedicated towards stretches and stomach crunches. It wasn't hard to find the medical wing he'd been in the previous night; the purple line and numerous signs posted up at every juncture helped show him the way. It was another fifteen minutes, however, before he arrived.

He'd intended to stop by Quatre's room again, but somehow found himself in front of the door three down instead, his palm pressing up against the swinging door to press it open. Looking in with a sense of trepidation and resolution, Heero felt his chest clench and his stomach flare.

Duo was still on the bed, still cradling the girl, but this time he was awake, whispering to the girl, so low that Heero couldn't even make out the words. He must have made a sound however, because Duo looked up startled, and saw him.

"I'm sorry," the Japanese boy fumbled, immediately beginning to pull the door shut. "I'll leave you two alone-"

"Heero! No, wait!" Duo called, scrambling to his feet. The door cracked back open and the dark-haired boy hovered a bit in the doorway, clearly torn between staying or leaving.

"Listen," Duo began, moistening his lips. "Hilde's got this place back on L2. It's nothing big, but it's a, uh, it's a house. You know, three bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen and a TV room. Nice. Real homey like. Anyway, she's all alone there. You know, no family and all, and I was thinking of maybe moving back in with her there, maybe starting up a little business-you know, nothing fancy. Just some salvage work. I know that. I' m good at it, and maybe take up a few classes at the local college. And I was thinking, you know, if you've got nothing much planned or anything, maybe you'd like to stay with me. With us, I mean. Back on L2. At the house."

Suddenly the tirade of chatter stopped, dropping the two boys into an intense moment, each staring at the other expectantly.

"Auh, who am I kiddin'? You probably already have something planned for yourself-"

"No," Heero whispered hoarsely, swallowing. The single syllable managed to deaden Duo's voice and the braided boy turned back, a hopeful glint sparkling in his violet eyes, mixed with a tinge of fear. "I.-wasn't. supposed to survive the war," Heero continued after a moment, his voice halty. "I have nothing now."

Duo swallowed, taking an involuntary step closer to the boy in the doorway. "You could." he offered, holding his hand up and out towards Heero. "I'd be kinda lonesome without my partner, you know."

Heero stared at the hand and then shifted just inside the door, leaning back against it until it clicked shut. And then he stepped further into the room until he was standing before Duo's hands. He reached out, his fingers hovering inches away from Duo's.

"I'd like that." he whispered, his dark blue eyes darting up to meet with Duo's.

Duo grinned, closing the gap and sliding his hand into Heero's, squeezing in a firm handshake. "Then we stay partners," he whispered back. He turned away, clearing his throat loudly. "Good then," he continued at his normal, loud, volume. "I assume you won't have a problem getting us some legal-looking GED's 'cause I'm telling ya man, if I have to deal with another one of those crummy, know-it-all high schools, I'm gonna give up on this whole formal education gig for good!"

His rain of chatter fell silent again as he stared down at the occupant of the bed.

"Look at her," he called back to his partner. "She's pretty well banged up, ain't she? Worse than I've ever seen you, even."

Duo leaned forward, propping his arms up against the sidebars. One hand reached out and brushed silky black bangs away from the girl's ashen face. "She's a good kid. Brave. Smart." He shot a grin back to Heero who had come up beside him. "Stubborn. Won't take no for an answer."

"I'm sure you two will be happy together." Heero almost choked over the words, trying to get them out. Thankfully, Duo didn't seem to notice.

"Hn. I doubt that," Duo shot back, qworking a smile. "We'd have fun together, don't get me wrong. But I'm not the type of guy she needs. And really, she's not my type at all. She's gonna make some guy very lucky though." He smirked. "At least up until the honeymoon's over. Then she's going to make his life a living hell!"

"You. and her. aren't." Heero seemed to have trouble with the words, but luckily, Duo seemed to know what he was getting at.

"A couple?" He stood up, turning around to lean back on the bed-a position that also provided him with a better view of a certain boy. "Nah. We're just not each other's types. Tell you the truth, I kinda like to think of her as, like, my adoptive sister or something. Family, you know? Sort of like how I think of you and the others." He looked down at the sleeping girl, thinking, 'an incestuous family, but a family.'

"Oh."

"Hey, listen," Duo pushed away from the bed. "Don't go too far away, okay? When she wakes up and gets a clean bill of health, I'd like to get up off of this place. Get back to L2 and get back to work. Don't want to be inactive too long, you know?"

"I'll be in my room when you're ready," Heero replied, moving for the door.

"Cool. Hey, Heero?" Duo called, turning from the small window. "Thanks for agreeing."

Heero studied him for a minute, and then nodded. "Thanks for asking," he managed to say before slipping out the door with a lighter step and yet a heavier heart.

He stopped by Quatre's room then to find the blond boy awake as well. He only stayed there long enough to reassure himself that the blond boy was truly "all right" as well as assure Quatre that *he* was fine as well, and then he took off again, wandering through the space station like a lost soul. He ran into some people he knew, or, at least, was acquainted with-Lady Une, Sally Po, Lucrezia Noin in a small cafeteria. Some of the Behr sisters who must have returned the night before in the shopping district of the satellite. Howard down in the hangers with Sweepers and Manganacs. It didn't take him long before he returned to the room where Duo and the girl were holed up in.

If he was surprised to see the girl finally awake when he got there, he didn't show it. She smiled at him and greeted him and murmured something along the lines of 'she'd love to have him come stay with them back on L2'. And then the nurse had come in, telling them that she needed her rest and that the sooner she got it, the sooner she'd be feeling better and be able to get out of there.

She get better a lot sooner than expected-or, rather, maybe it was just the nurses and doctors who were anxious to get rid of the exuberant boy who was her constant companion. Less than a week later, the trio was on a shuttle bound for L2 and the new life that awaited them.

In the Pale Moonlight by Andrea Readwolf

Part 2, Act One

~Act I~

No one had been aware of the extremity of the wound the pilot of Gundam 04 had incurred until the five gundams docked in the hanger awaiting them on the medical satellite, MOII. There had been a lot of backslapping and cheering, hugging and celebrating as tech crews, soldiers and medical staff bombarded the five young war heroes. And then, the medical staff succeeded in whisking away the five pilots in separate directions. Quatre lasted until the last door slid shut between him and his teammates before collapsing into a lucky orderly's arms.

It was an hour after their arrival on MOII when the boy was abandoned in a solitary room, doped up with painkillers and sedatives, and sleeping away blissfully unaware of the machines attached to his body. And that is how the tall, graceful pilot of 03 found him when the boy managed to rid himself of his own troupe of medical personal.

Trowa had been the only one aware of Quatre's injury--but even *he* hadn't known the severity of the wound. With an almost hesitant step, he approached the bed, eyes wavering from the sleeping face to the wires and tubing connecting the boy to the large machines behind the bed. He studied the steady pulse, watching for a minute before reaching out and touching the pale blond boy.

The pulse jumped and Trowa almost retreated back. Almost. Instead, he slipped his fingers up around Quatre's and gave the limp fingers a gentle squeeze. "Quatre..."

'You're hurt... and it's my fault.'

~Isn't it better this way?~

'No!'

~No strings, Nanashi... haven't you learned anything yet?~

'This is different.'

~Is it really?~

'Yes.'

~How?~

'I-- care, about what happens to him.'

~And you think that matters? Do you think he cares about you?~

'Quatre cares about everyone. He has a kind and generous heart.'

~And a wealthy and prestigious family. Do you really think they will appreciate you hanging around their Quatre?~

'Their... Quatre...?'

~Of course. He has family. He has obligations to fulfill. You would only get in the way.~

'I--'

~Would only get in his way. You're nothing but a well-trained whore, Nanashi. He deserves better than anything you could give him.~

Trowa continued to war with his inner demons, and soon, he began to loose his battle. When Heero stopped by a little while later, his decision was already made. He would stay until Quatre was healed... and then he would leave.

He hurt. That was his first conscious thought. Or was it unconscious, spilling over into conscious thought? Either way, it didn't matter because he hurt, consciously or unconsciously, his body hurt. His mind and body fought free from the drug-induced sleep forced upon him and nuisances revealed themselves. Like the fact he was on an uncomfortable bed, and there was a stinging, pinching on his arm, and his throat was dry and his head still light and fuzzy. And what in the name of Allah was that insistent beeping all about!

Quatre tried to sit up but found his body heavily protested, and so he slumped back into the bed, breathless from the shearing pain radiating from his side out.

Stiff and sore and dry--all noted without opening his eyes. He was almost afraid of what he'd find. Cautious, Quatre tested his optical senses and wasn't too surprised to find himself in a darkened hospital room. He sighed, resolute to his fate, when his eyes picked up something else in the dark room--a large dark spot next to his hips. He flexed his fingers, smiling as a familiar warmth and smoothness registered.

'Trowa...'

He squeezed the hand holding his for a second before slipping it free, careful not to wake his sleeping lover. He reached out and ran his fingers through the soft bangs shielding the other boy's face, pausing when Trowa shifted. And then, what little light there was in the room, managed to find that one visible eye and illuminate it as it blinked opened and focused up on the sole occupant of the bed.

"Hi," Quatre murmured, clearing his dry throat, tracing his fingers over Trowa's cheek.

"Hi," Trowa repeated, sitting up in his chair, pulling away from the searching fingertips. He was about to pull completely away from the bed when Quatre's hand fell over his, lacing their fingers together and holding him there. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," Quatre croaked.

"Thirsty?" Quatre nodded, watching with a greedy eye as Trowa poured some water into a cup and held it out to him. Quatre drank and Trowa watched, and then he took the cup away, making sure to leave it in ready distance.

"How are the others?" the blond boy asked, relaxing back into the bed, playing with Trowa's fingers.

"Fine, from what I know," Trowa answered. "You were the only one hurt." He looked down, unable to meet the blond boy's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Quatre tugged on Trowa's hand, smiling up at him. "I was just about to thank you, for getting me off Libra..."

"Quatre..."

"Is there any word about Dorothy?" he asked, cutting the other boy off before he could go into a spiel of self-failures.

Trowa frowned--or, rather, his remained stoic, which was as good as frowning. "None," he answered with certainty. Perhaps he knew the blond boy too well. It was one of the things he'd made sure to check on after he'd assured himself of Quatre's well-being.

Quatre looked away, consumed by his thoughts, his hand and fingers never relinquishing their hold on Trowa's. "I see," he murmured. "Do you think she made it out safely?" he asked, turning back to his lover.

Trowa lowered his head a mere inch--a nod. "She has a strong spirit. I am sure she is still alive." This seemed to make Quatre happy, and in turn, made him happy.

"I hope so," Quatre returned, smiling as he looked off into space. He looked back to Trowa. A radiant smile lit his face as he looked upon his lover and, on a whim, he brought Trowa's hand to his lips and kissed the roughened skin. "You make a wonderful sight to wake-up to. Have I ever told you that?"

Trowa smiled--the slight twisting of the corner of his lips. "I think you might have mentioned it once or twice before," he answered.

"Only once or twice?" Quatre grinned, tugging on his arm playfully. "Obviously not enough." He pulled Trowa down closer to him until the other's face was hovering over his. Still grinning, Quatre tilted his chin up to look into his lover's face and said, "You, Trowa Barton, make a wonderful sight to wake-up to."

And then he pulled Trowa the rest of the way down and kissed the soft brown- haired boy.

"I'll have none of that hanky-panky stuff here while I'm on duty, now!" a busy musical voice sounded. "Shoo! Shoo! You heard me, boy. This young man here needs his rest!"

Quatre and Trowa broke away to look at the big mother-hen looking woman who'd suddenly appeared in their room, shooing Trowa away from the bed.

"See what you've gone done here!" She continued, her voice not menacing at all. "Lookie there! This poor boy's heart rate be racin' round like a dog's!"

Quatre laughed, laying back in bed agreeably as the middle-aged woman went about her business, chattering--to him or herself, he wasn't quite sure--all the way.

"There ya go, sugah," she said after another minute of fussing. "You's hungry any? They gonna be bringin' in some good food round in a bit. You and your boyfriend here can *eat* this here food. Not like any of the *hos-pee-tal* crap they serve dock side."

Quatre laughed and managed to tell the woman ‘thank you'--which she brushed off easily with a "You don't have to thank *me* for doin' my job, sugah. It's *me* who hassa to thank *you* for saving my boy's life. I didn't want him fighting in that damnedable war no anyhow!"

And then she was gone--as suddenly as she'd arrived--leaving Quatre and Trowa looking sheepishly at one another.

"So..." Quatre voiced.

"So," Trowa mimicked.

"How are the others?"

"Fine from what I--"

"You know, yes," Quatre finished nodding. "Have you seen or spoken to anybody yet?"

Trowa produced a slight decline of chin--a nod. "Heero stopped by while you were sleeping," he replied. "He's fine," he answered before Quatre could ask. "Duo was in the room three doors down last time I check--watching over the girl."

"Ah, yes, Hilde was her name, correct?" Trowa thought so but wasn't sure. "Is she doing any better?" Trowa didn't know but promised to find out for him.

"What about Wufei?" Quatre asked.

"I am fine," Wufei's calm voice answered him.

"Wufei!" Quatre cried out. Trowa nodded to the newcomer. Wufei nodded back.

"I understand you, however, are not," the Chinese youth continued, stepping into the private medical room.

"I'm fine," Quatre insisted.

Wufei arched an eyebrow in questionable mockery. "That is why you are in a hospital bed, then?"

Quatre looked down and fidgeted with the white flat sheet across his lap. "So what are your plans now, Wufei?" he asked with renewed enthusiasm.

"I'm not really sure what I'll do now," the boy answered truthfully.

"You're always welcome to stay with us," Quatre offered, smiling, inviting.

Wufei gave a small bow. "Thank you, Quatre, for thinking of me, but I do not need your charity."

"I never--" A look of horrible abashment stole over the blond's face.

Wufei smiled and hushed him. "I only came by to say goodbye and tell you it was an honor to fight beside you. And you, Trowa," he added, turning to the taller young man, standing opposite the bed. He held out his hand, over the bed, to Trowa.

Trowa looked at the hand for a moment, and then reached out and clasped it, squeezing a bit more tightly than Wufei anticipated--though the smaller boy didn't let on. Onyx meet dark jade. Something passed between the two-- warriors recognizing each other in an almost completely silent exchange.

Trowa nodded.

"Leaving?" Quatre fidgeted. "Why? Where are you going, Wufei? Do you really have to leave so soon? I was hoping we might all go somewhere together and celebrate the end of the war..."

Wufei turned back to the boy on the bed, recovering his throbbing hand. "Perhaps another time, Winner."

Quatre's pouty frown was not mollified. "But, where will you go, Wufei?"

The boy in question looked at him, quiet for a moment. "I don't really know yet," he answered finally. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. "Perhaps I will take a Journey of Discovery--and learn who Chang Wufei is."

"Please," Quatre pleaded, turning on the puppy-dog eyes and not even aware of it. "Please keep in touch, Wufei."

Wufei began easing his way towards the exit. "You have my communication's code," he told the blond. "I don't plan on being very far away from Nataku for any length of time. You know how to reach me," he replied.

"Be safe, Wufei," Trowa added.

Wufei hovered at the door, looked back over his shoulder, not really looking at one or the other. "The same to you," he replied. "Quatre, Trowa."

And then he was gone.

Quatre rubbed his chest absently. "He's hurting," he said, just above a whisper. Trowa remained silent. "I wish he would let us help him..."

"He doesn't want our help."

"I know, Trowa," the blond boy said, looking away from the door finally. "But that still doesn't stop the hurting. That still doesn't stop me from *wanting* to help him..."

Trowa smiled and brushed Quatre's cheek with a knuckle. "You should concentrate more on helping yourself, small one."

Quatre ‘humphfed' and pouted. "I'm fine. Really!" he insisted. "It's just a little puncture wound. It'll heal right up, good as new!"

A sparkle gleamed from those marine-depths and a knowing smile caressed those rose-tainted lips. Quatre's hold on Trowa tightened, slowly pulling the standing boy closer again. "Ne... Trowa...?"

"Yes, Quatre?" He tried not to get too close. He didn't want to hurt the boy, first of all; and second, he really didn't relish the idea of someone else walking in on them.

"C'mon here," the bed-laidened boy requested, continuing to pull the other nearer. "I wanna tell you something."

Trowa felt his cock swell in his pants and his heart thump in his chest. He knew only too well what his lover had in mind when *that* look overtook him... "Quatre, I really think you should try to get some more rest," he tried, swallowing deep, deliberate breaths. He could have bet money on the response that would bring. He would have won.

"Trowa...?" Quatre wheedled, his lips puckering and a playful pout and his eyes seeming to grow magically large. "Please...?"

;~Don't give in! Don't give in! Don't give--auh! You sucker!~

Trowa found himself half on the bed, half off, his upper body thrown over Quatre's as the surprisingly strong smaller boy, dragged him up over him, locking his arms around Trowa; his lips stealing over his.

"Mmmm... You taste as good as you look," Quatre murmured after he finally released his lover. "I wanna eat you all up..." His tongue swiped at Trowa's ear, before drawing on the lobe, sucking it between his teeth and murmuring his appreciation. "I want you..."

"Quatre... you're hurt," Trowa admonished.

"I don't care." Quatre hands stole down Trowa's back, dancing in and out of the waistband of his jeans.

"You'll pull your stitches and then in will take longer for you to heal!" Trowa gasped--the gasp having more to do with Quatre's fingers teasing his cleft than Quatre's not caring to get better.

"Mmmm... I'm a fast healer," the blond boy protested, squeezing one cheek before settling into a deep massage of the tight ass under his fingertips. "Have I told you what a nice ass you have, Trowa?" he practically giggled, nuzzling Trowa's neck.

"Quatre..."

"Master Quatre..."

Quatre groaned. This just was not his day. Was he *destined* to be sexually frustrated for the rest of his stay here? If so, he'd have to make arrangements to get off here, and quick!

Quatre unburied his face from Trowa's neck, but refused to relinquish his hold on the boy otherwise--despite Trowa's somewhat uncomfortable squirming. He ignored the pain that shot up and down his side where the stitches attempted to tear free. The large, hulking man in the door way seemed only mildly disconcerted to having found his young master in such a compromising position.

"Yes, Rashid? Was there something you needed?" Quatre asked, his sweet, innocent voice sounding just as sweet and innocent as always--despite his hand glued to another man's ass.

"I tried to find you," the bear of a man replied. "They told me you were here." The already dark face darkened. "Master Quatre, you should have informed us sooner of your injuries!"

"Rashid! We were in the middle of a war! When do you suggest would have been a good time for me to inform everyone that I had a little cut?"

"Thirty-two stitches is hardly little!" the larger man retorted.

"They're small," Quatre insisted. "Itty-bitty stitches, Rashid." The blond let go of Trowa long enough to demonstrate just how small the statures were. "They had to use so many to ensure little scarring."

"And to seal up your insides," Trowa added, trying to rest the majority of his weight OFF of Quatre--though the position the boy held him in didn't help much.

Quatre shot his lover a glare that told him just how much he appreciated his support. "Enough," he said, tuning back to Rashid. "What's done is done and cannot be changed. It's over now, and all we can do is deal with it, no?" Quatre smiled sheepishly then. "I am sorry if I caused you to worry or stress, Rashid. It was not my intention. Quite the opposite, really."

The older man continued to frown from his standing place just inside the doorway.

"Forgiven?" Quatre asked, releasing Trowa and holding his arms out to the older man as a child would to his parent. Trowa seized the opportunity to scramble off the bed and re-straighten his clothes. Rashid relented and went to the blond on the bed, embracing the small boy in a bear of a hug.

"You should be more careful, Master Quatre," the man whispered over the blond's head, his chest rumbling with the deep, resonating sound. "The Maganac soldiers take your well-being very seriously, and would be deeply saddened if we learned of our failure to protect you."

"You could never fail me, Rashid," Quatre whispered against the man's tunic. "I fear it is I who has failed you, and too often."

"Never."

Quatre sniffled, rubbing his face in the soft, worn material. "I'm sorry, Rashid. I'm sorry for making you upset."

"I am not upset at you, Master Quatre," the bear man replied, still holding the boy close. "Only at your injuries which I failed to prevent."

"They'll heal. I'm a fast healer." Quatre pulled back and smiled, looking up into Rashid's face. "I don't even get sick!"

"I promise, I'll be as good as new in no time," he insisted, punctuated the statement with a yawn.

"Of course, Master Quatre," the man replied, laying Quatre back down into the bed. "But for now, you should rest." He climbed off the bed.

"Wait, Rashid! Before you leave, please, tell me... is... is everyone okay?"

Quatre's eyes were already drooping shut so he didn't see the man's hesitance.

"No damage that cannot be fixed, Master Quatre," the bear man replied, knowing a full recount could wait till after the young boy had rested.

Quatre smiled, cozying deeper into the bed that would not yield for him. "Good. I'm glad." One hand came up to rub his chest in an absent, soothing manner. "Good," he repeated more sleepily.

Rashid looked from the sleeping boy to the young man standing next to the bed, looking down at the bed. As if sensing the older man's stare, Trowa looked up and their eyes meant.

"Master Trowa," Rashid said formally, bowing his head a fraction.

Trowa started to correct him, remind him that he was *not* a master of anything to anyone and certainly not this seasoned soldier, but gave it up. He nodded instead. And then--with a small quirk of his lips, the bear man turned and left, leaving him to his quiet vigil over the sleeping blond.

*

It was several hours later before Quatre re-awoke. A small tray of food had been brought during that time and was waiting for him on the bed table.

"Good morning," Trowa said, his normal soft voice filling the air of the room, drowning out the steady bleep of the heart monitor.

Quatre smiled. "Haven't we already done this today?"

Trowa shared his smile, albeit a small one. "That was much earlier," the tall young man answered.

"Mmmm, I see," Quatre replied, eyes racking over every inch of his lover. "So... do I get my morning kiss?" he asked teasingly.

Trowa turned a stoic look towards the food tray. "I think perhaps you should try to eat something--to help you regain your strength."

Quatre pouted. "I'd rather do something else than eat... Unless they're serving Trowa ala Carte as the main dish..."

"Quatre..."

Trowa could feel the draw the other boy had over him, could feel his own body gravitating towards the bed as his blood sang.

"Trowa..."

Trowa leaned closer; Quatre wrapped his hand behind Trowa's neck and pulled him the rest of the way down. Their lips touched, a sweet chaste kiss--and then Quatre's lips parted and sucked Trowa's bottom lip into his mouth. Trowa moaned, his tongue following his lip and sweeping into the blond boy's mouth. Quatre moaned, appreciating the caress of the silky tongue against his own, entreating the taller boy to be more aggressive, to take more.

"I'd suggest getting a private room but this is about as good as you'll get," a bemused voice stated from behind them.

Quatre groaned. Allah was definitely being unkind to him today. There was no other way to explain it. Trowa pulled away almost immediately, his scent and taste still lingering, and Quatre was too slow to stop him, to hold him close. And then the owner of the newcomer's voice registered on his brain and he sat up and turned to great him with excitement.

"Heero! You're alive! Are you okay?" he gushed.

The Japanese boy smirked--actually *smirked*. "Hai. I am fine," Heero replied.

Trowa looked at his friend, noticing the small changes in him, and inwardly he smiled. "You talked to Duo," was all he said.

Heero looked at him... and then nodded. "Hai. Just now."

Trowa nodded. Quatre beamed. "How is he? How is Hilde? That is her name, right? Is she awake yet? I really wanted to thank her for bringing us those plans but--"

"He is fine," Heero cut in. "The girl is still unconscious." He stepped away from the door and entered the room, coming closer to the bed. "You are looking better than last time I saw you."

Quatre grinned and shot a look towards Trowa. "Oh, I've been better," he admitted, turning back to Heero.

"He still needs his rest," Trowa interjected. "And relaxation. Otherwise he'll pull out those stitches."

Heero shot another bemused look to the lovers. "Stitches, huh? Let's take a look." He reached for the flat sheet only to have it snatched out of his hand by Quatre.

Quatre knew he was blushing, but he didn't care. He knew Heero was looking at him funny, but he didn't care about that either. "I'm a bit un--undressed," he explained, shifting uneasily and feeling the bed sheets slide against his naked ass.

Heero's lips quirked, and his eyes shot over to Trowa. The taller boy met his look before flickering back to Quatre. "Are you hiding something?" he asked, his voice teasing and amused.

Quatre's mouth worked, soundless, for several moments before speech was possible. "No. No!" he assured. "It's just that..."

He shifted again, acutely aware that the other boy could *see* what was wrong-- besides his arousal that still hadn't gone away from before Heero's arrival, Quatre's only barrier against complete nakedness was a thin little hospital gown that didn't even go to his knees--not to mention that it was missing a back.

Quatre gulped in a fortifying breath, pushed the sheet down, and pulled the gown aside, exposing his entire side from armpit down to thigh, entirely naked except for the gauzy white patch taped over his wound. "It's all covered," he told them. "Not much to see, see?" His voice quivered with his nervousness.

Warm fingers brushing against his skin, scalding him, caused him to start and yelp. "Hold still," Heero warned a second before the tape pulled free from his flushed skin.

"Ah!" Quatre yelled, surprised by the unexpected pain. And then he realized Heero and Trowa were leaning over him, studying his wound and completely ignoring *him*.

"Not too bad," Trowa murmured.

"I've seen worse," Heero commented, poking at the small row of statures, testing their hold.

"I've seen better," Trowa returned, noting the angry red coloring of infection as well as the deep purplish-blue bruise.

"Good hand. Tight."

"Kept small. There should be little scaring."

"Any internal damage?"

"Yes. It went straight in."

"You'll have to keep an eye out for infection," Heero said, pointing at the fevered skin.

"It shouldn't be too hard." Trowa smiled. "I kept you alive, didn't I? And you were worse off than a little hole."

"Hn."

"WILL YOU STOP TALKING AS IF I'M NOT EVEN *HERE*?"

Both boys pulled back and looked up at the blond's red face. Heero replaced the gauze and proclaimed, "You'll live."

"Well, that's nice to know," Quatre snapped, licking his drying lips and panting.

"But you should be careful," he continued. "They're already starting to pull free."

Quatre frowned. "I don't feel any pain, though."

Heero tapped the IV bag hiding behind Quatre's bed. "Pain killer. I doubt you'd feel anything but good and groggy."

Quatre pouted but didn't reply. Heero moved around the bed to take a closer look at the prescribed medicine. A brow arched and he looked back to Trowa over Quatre's head. "Were you aware they have him on Triandarin?

Trowa moved around the bed, frowning. "No. Really?"

"What?" Quatre asked, curious. "What is it?"

"Well that explains a lot," his lover mused, not answering. "I'll talk to the nurse about changing it to something else."

"Change WHAT?"

Trowa and Heero's attention snapped back to Quatre. "They have you on Triandarin," Heero answered.

"Is that good or bad?" Quatre asked, his voice wavering.

Trowa looked at Heero. Heero looked at Trowa. Heero looked at Quatre. "Triandarin has an interesting side-effect," Heero hedged.

Quatre twisted around to look at them. Heero shot a glance towards Trowa before walked back around to the front of the bed. Trowa followed him from the other side.

"It acts like an aphrodisiac, Quatre," Trowa said, his voice soft and calm like always. "Reduces you body to a numb state of pleasure."

"Oh," Quatre replied. And then, "OH!" His marine eyes darted to Heero before stopping on Trowa. "But, no, I mean, Trowa, you know--"

His lover stopped him with a finger over his lips. Trowa offered a small smile for him. "You should get some more sleep."

"And try not to move around so much," Heero added. "Allow those stitched to settle a bit."

Quatre's cheeks pinkened.

"I'll go talk to the nurse," Trowa offered, but Quatre whimpered and held out a hand. "Stay with me," the blond boy begged.

Trowa looked at Heero with a silent question. The Japanese boy nodded and left to go talk with the nurse. Trowa's hand slipped into Quatre's and the blond boy tugged on it. "Sleep with me," he asked, sleepy again.

"Just rest," Trowa soothed. Quatre pouted--eyes closed, nose itching. "Hold me?" Trowa hesitated. "Please, Trowa? I'm cold, hold me..."

The taller boy sighed and climbed up onto the bed, settling the smaller blond into his arms. In a moment of overwhelming tenderness, Trowa leaned closer and brushed Quatre's forehead, under the sun-kissed bangs, with his lips. "Rest, Quatre. I'll be here when you wake up again," he whispered.

But Quatre was already asleep.

*

Trowa knew it was the medication that caused the spirited young man in his arms to be so somnolent. A side effect of any medication. He brushed the damp, grungy bangs away from Quatre's forehead and brushed his cheek.

Beautiful. He was so beautiful. Did he have any idea?

Trowa leaned forward and kissed the sleeping beauty. His angel. No. Not an angel. Much more than that. Quatre was real, but not real. Like a prince charming. The kind you dream about; who stars in your private fantasies--but whom you will never meet. Who you weren't supposed to ever meet.

But they had meet.

And for ten hellish months full of war and nightmares, missions and death, Trowa had been given the opportunity to live out his own fantasy of sorts. He had tasted the sweetness in the form of a blond Arabian. A prince. A blond Arabian Prince.

Trowa smiled at the thought. He knew the fantasy couldn't last forever; knew better then to delude himself into believing that it could, that this relationship with the small blond would last beyond the war and the fighting. Trowa knew that nothing was forever--good or bad, and he knew it would be easier to leave before Quatre told him to. It would be too hard if he had to hear Quatre tell him to get lost. No. He would leave his Prince Charming free to continue his life the war and he had interrupted.

Trowa was no fairy princess. Trowa wasn't even Trowa. Just a used whore without a real name of his own. An ex-soldier with no war to fight in. No reason to live, really.

An image of a fiery redhead filled his vision. Catherine. She was like a sister to him. The only real family he'd every come close to knowing. She would be sad if he died. For some reason, the thought of her sad made him sad.

He would go back to Catherine and the circus.

He looked down at the sleeping prince in his arms.

After Quatre was healed.

*

A nurse came by with a new IV bag shortly after Heero left. Trowa said nothing as the young girl tried to hide her shocked staring and curiosity about the two boys on the bed, holding each other--for all practically purposes, cuddling. He watched her as she fumbled and dropped the old back before replacing it with the new medication. She tried to talk to him, but when he didn't reply her nervousness increased tenfold and she darted out of there as quick as her little legs and fumbling fingers could take her.

When Quatre did wake up several hours later he was feeling more than just an ounce grouchy and uncomfortable. In true, royally rich-boy-spoiled fashion, Quatre called for his immediate release and then for Rashid when the medical faculty refused to release him. It actually took him almost a complete twenty- four hours before the small blond had attained permission to leave--and that being within the custody of a primary care physician.

Trowa sat back and watched the commotion his small blonde Arabian prince stirred up, secretly laughing his ass off behind the stoic mask.

In the Pale Moonlight by Andrea Readwolf

Part 3 Act One

Atlong followed the hordes of cheering mobile suits back to the space station, MOII, at a more subdued pace than his comrades. A part of him dreaded going there, having to face all those people—what would they say? Would they do? Would they hate him out-right? After all, he was their enemy. He had been their enemy for almost a year. He was responsible for their leader's death. He was responsible for many of their family's deaths.

A part of him dreaded going there, but another part of him dreaded being alone. Being left behind. And that part of him begged to be swallowed up by the swarms of people MOII promised. But most of all, he wanted to forget. He wanted to forget this battle. This day. This month. This year. This war. He wanted to forget the fact that he no longer had a home or family. He wanted to forget that he was an orphan of the war he had helped create, execute, end... Forget that he had nothing more to show of his life for the past year than a banged up mobile suit made of gundanium alloy. A machine of mass destruction. That was all he owned, all he had to show. One of seven—no, six—such suits in the entire Earth and colonies.

He wanted to forget everything and anything.

"Are you lost, Chang Wufei?"

He thought it was another voice in his head, coming to haunt him. And then he froze, realizing the voice was all too real. Suddenly, he wished he was anywhere but *here*, and he lowered his head, feeling even more dejected and lost.

He stood standing there, his back to the voice, caught in the indecision of the moment. Turn, and face her... or run away. Run away like he was burning to do. Run far, far away.

His feet were frozen.

"Wufei, I..."

There was a hesitation in the voice. One that made it easier for him to turn and face her. He looked at her, but her face was turned down, her eyes staring at some point on the floor between them. Her military uniform looked sharp and fresh, hardy; belaying the soft tones of the light brown hair that fell loose, down over her shoulders. She wasn't bad looking, he concluded. For a woman. And she was strong, a noble fighter, he recalled. Dedicated.

"Wufei," she began, her voice softer than he ever remembered coming from this woman. "I want to thank you."

It was such a calm statement, and completely unexpected. It hurt him, and he lashed out against it. "Thank me?" he spat. "For *what*?"

"For ending the war," she replied, no heat or anger or mockery in her voice.

That angered him more, recalling that he was responsible for Trieze's death. "I wasn't the one who surrendered," he growled.

"No, but by fulfilling Master Treize's wish, you provide the final blow." Lady Une looked up, her solid brown eyes meeting with his directly and Wufei realized, once again, he'd misjudged her. She wasn't soft, and she wasn't a cold, callous adversary. She was hardened, yes, and hurting. Like him.

"He was so sure he could count on you," she said, her voice wavering almost unnoticeably. "Thank you. For ending the war between Earth and the colonies."

"Wish?" He swallowed. "Count on me?" He wanted to scream. To shout out. To lash out at the man who wasn't there to fight back.

Lady Une smiled, that soft look returning, and motioned to one of the doors lining the corridor. "Please," she said, holding her hand out to the door. "May we sit and talk for a moment?"

He was suspicious, he knew she could see, but then, she couldn't blame him, could she? After all, they *were* enemies... weren't they? They were silent, still, standing in the corridor staring at one another, and then he swayed, and preceded her through the indicated door. If she was going to kill him for killing Trieze at least he wouldn't have to think about it anymore.

Wufei coughed as the smoky air filled his lungs, and for a minute, he couldn't see in the sudden darkness. But the room wasn't completely dark he realized. And it wasn't completely empty, either. With somewhat surprise, he realized she had led him to a bar.

"We can talk privately here," Lady Une said, pushing past him and leading to a small alcove near the back.

"A--a--BAR?" he sputtered.

"OZ treats its members well," she replied.

"When not sacrificing them for the cause," he retorted.

She paused; looked at him, and then smiled. "Touché," she returned, sliding behind a selected table. A waitress was at their table before Wufei even had the chance to sit, asking them what they would like to drink.

Lady Une wasted no time in deciding her drink, a glass of red rose wine, and both women turned to the fifteen year old war hero. "Whatever," Wufei grumbled, waving his hand.

The waitress turned worried, questioning eyes towards the Commander. Lady Une gave a small nod and the waitress was off, to retrieve their drinks.

Wufei sat, and he took a moment to look at his---companion was it now? They weren't enemies anymore, were they? Had they ever really been enemies, he questioned himself. In these mixed-up, up-side-down, past 12 months? What was true anymore? The waitress returned with their drinks before either one said a word. He stared down at the tumbler of amber-brown liquid, untrusting.

"You said something about Trieze's wish," he prodded, knowing nowhere else to begin.

"Yes," Une replied, rolling her glass between her fingers, studying the curve of the glass. Wufei thought she wasn't going to say anymore. And then she looked up.

"It was Master Trieze's wish," she said, her voice calm, cool, level, "That he die honorably in battle, and that—" Her voice wavered, just a tremble of a note before she pulled it back into regiment. "At such time of his..." She seemed to hesitate over the word. "Passing," she swallowed. "The Earth Forces were to surrender unconditionally to White Fang." She studied his reaction to this. "Those were his orders to me."

Wufei didn't know what to say--she didn't seem to mind the silence that stretched out between them, but it grated upon his nerves. 'Why?' It was a burning question, searing itself across his brain, pounding itself out inside his head till he thought he would scream. 'Why him? Why choose death? Why did he think *he* was going to die? Why him?'

"Why?" Wufei's voice choked out, startling the heavy silence around them.

Lady Une took a slow drink and set the glass down with a decided clink. She looked straight at him, meeting his piercing glare, not flinching or giving an inch.

"I cannot answer that," she said finally. "I am sorry."

"You can't, or you won't?" Wufei prodded.

She paused, actually considering the value of his question. "I cannot," she replied after a tried minute. "I'm sorry."

Lady Une stood, zipping her id card through the credit table and entering her personal code. "I wanted to thank you," she said as she did, "And I have. Perhaps--" she hesitated from immediate departure. "Perhaps, one day, we will meet again, as allies."

They stared at each other, wills clashing.

"Perhaps," the Chinese boy conceded.

They held a moment longer... and then she nodded and turned away from him.

Wufei found himself alone again. Alone in a semi-empty blues bar. Oh, how fullingly ironic, he thought, ordering another drink. Might as well take advantage of it.

He raised his glass and shot the remainder of firewater down his throat and waited for whatever the liquor promised him.

There was a delicious warmth pressed against his back, wrapped around his waist, like a cocoon. A protective warmth. Welcoming. He felt safe in a way he hadn't experienced since longer than he could remember. That good feeling began to ebb as other feelings began to register in his drink-fogged mind. Like the very uncomfortable burning originating from his ass. The musky scent that wasn't his own. The weight of legs tangled with his and hot breath against his neck. Two obsidian eyes flashed open as reality swooped down upon him like a giant anvil and it took a great reserve of control not to bolt right then and there.

That warmth was from another's body, body heat--which wouldn't have really alarmed him all that much if it wasn't for the identity of that body: Heero Yuy.

Pressed full-length against his back, arm wrapped around his middle. Wufei was trapped; there wasn't a way from him to move without disturbing the other boy. Wufei was trapped and he didn't like that. He fought the urge to panic.

His heart choked his throat, his body stiffened. He had to get away. He had to get--

Behind him, Heero murmured in his sleep and shifted, sliding closer to him, his arm tightening around Wufei and pulling him closer. Heero's hips shifted, rocking into Wufei's. Wufei bit back a cry, fighting back the burning in his chest and stomach. He had to get out. He had to get away.

He managed to escape the bed without waking the other boy. Fumbling for his rumpled clothes, he stumbled for the bathroom and locked himself in. He fell against the sink, running the water and splashing his face repetitively with the cold water until the water warmed and scolded his fingers. He gasped, staring up at his reflection in the tiny mirror.

~What the hell are you doing, Chang?~

He sunk to his knees, choking.

~Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT! What the hell were you thinking?!~

~Shit! I gotta get out of here. I can't stay here. ~

He shoved into his rumpled clothes, crossed the room on silent feet, and escaped, not looking back at the Japanese pilot or the room that kept him.

He wasn't sure what made him run from one set of confusions to another, but he did. He ran away from the residence quarters to the medical wing. He ran from Heero Yuy to Duo Maxwell.

He just wanted to see the other boy, he told himself. To make sure for himself that Duo was all right, and maybe--Maybe one last chance, one last hope. Would the braided boy ask him to stay?

Part of him desperately hoped so.

If Duo did... would he stay?

~Yes.~

*No.*

He couldn't stay. Not now. He... just... couldn't...

~Even if the braided boy begged?~

*He wouldn't.*

~But if he did...?~

Perhaps. Perhaps he'd stay then. But that wouldn't be an option.

Wufei didn't know what he wanted. Didn't know what to do with himself. He wanted everything... and nothing... and anything in between.

Howard never made it back to his quarters that night. He and a couple of his sweepers got swinging drunk and all crashed in the nearest apartment. Cramming fifteen drunken men into one man's quarters might have been something he used to do on a regular basis--when he was a youngin', but, "Let's face it, old man, you're not as young as you used to be!"

Rubbing away the cricks in his neck and back, yawning away the last of his sleepiness, the 68-year-old man of all trades thought, "I'm getting too old for this." Howard trudged his way down to the hangers where he was sure to find some of his people. His body ached in places he'd forgot existed--and would like to forget again.

He laughed at his own thoughts, and then winced as the bones in his back popped. "Nope, definitely getting old."

"I've been telling ya that for a while," another man's voice answered him. "Here," the sandy-brown-going-grey-haired man said, shoving a plastic cup and two pain killers into the old man's hands.

"Ah, Craig! You're a life saver!" Howard gushed, downing the offerings.

"I've been telling ya *that*, too," his number one man grinned. "And you *still* haven't given me that raise I deserve."

Howard humphfed. "If I pay ya anymore, there'll be nothing left for *me*!"

"You gonna retire soon, anyway," Craig countered. "So what do you care?"

Howard grinned and shook his head--immediately regretting it when his head began pounding like a bass drum. "You trying to shove me into an early grave, that's what it is," Howard groaned.

"Hn. Fat lot of good that'll do me," Craig answered, shoving a clipboard into Howard's hands. "Here. Here's a list of the girls I managed to call in, five ships, plus I secure us some new ones--you did say get 'em if I could, so I did. Signed and sold. Seven are already out to sea, these two," Kevin nodded in the direction of two ships in the full hanger, "are being prepped as we speak. Shouldn't take too much to have them ready to go."

Howard nodded, looking over both ships with a critical eye. "Good ships?"

"Nothing but the best," Craig gleamed. "These two over here," he said, pointed over across the bay to two large docked ships, "are the Andromeda and the Ghebriel. I was looking them over earlier. They look fit enough to take on the Dade."

Howard looked up. "Really, now..." He gave the ships the eyeball, and then nodded. "I see. And what's our status on recovery?"

"We're doing good," Kevin replied. "Relatively speaking, of course. There's a lot of junk out there. The Sternlicht and Sicily have full bellies and are already on their way back in and--"

"Here?"

"What?"

"They're coming back here?" Howard clarified, frowning.

"Yeah, what did--"

"Delay that," Howard snapped. "Take 'em to sector 5A91 and 3X009."

"All the way out there?" Craig balked. "But, Howard! That'll use up more fuel!"

"You think I care about that," the old man snapped, whirling on his second. "Set up all the ships to unload in different sectors. I don't want any two ships in the same place at the same time. You only have seven ships out there? Call in all the crews if you have to, then. Bring in all our ships. I want all this scrap out of this area by 0 hundred!"

"But that's less than 24 hours!!!"

"I don't care!"

"Most of our ships are too far away to call in," Craig began.

"I don't care," Howard cut him off. "Call 'em all in. I want this place scrapped clean by 0:00 hours."

Craig looked at him, stunned. "Howard! Be reasonable, man! Do you realize how much *junk* there is out there?" He shook his head in bewilderment. "That's spreading our resources mighty thin! We don't *have* that many men! Even if we *could* get this place cleared out by then, our bays would *never* be able to hold so much *junk*!"

"Spread it out," Howard told him, walking over to the two docked ships. "I don't want anyone dumping in the same spot twice. Spread it out throughout all our sites."

"But we don't have enough men for that! Ships!"

"Get more," Howard replied. "I gave you an account. There's plenty there to get more ships, and this station here is chalk-load-filled with unemployed men, now. Offer 'em some work!"

"Howard, you're crazy."

The old man turned around, lowing his shades and grinning. "Maybe so, but I ain't seen you quitting me yet."

"You *do* realize this means I have to rearrange the entire schedule...?"

"That's what I'm paying ya to do, ain't it?" Howard turned back to the ships in front of him.

Craig sighed, defeated, throwing his arms up into the arm and letting them fall to his sides, he turned back to his makeshift office, complaining loudly all the way. Howard just grinned and shook his head. Craig was a good man. He was lucky to have him, and for as many years as he had...

He looked back up to the two ships, studying their outside hauls. They looked in good shape, fine designs. Of course, it's what's on the insides that count, he thought, climbing aboard the first one.

Wufei hesitated. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to go in. He wasn't sure if he really didn't want to just leave, avoid this risk. He swallowed. 'Since when have you been a coward, Chang?' he asked himself.

He pushed the door aside and looked in without knocking. He forgot to breathe he realized, that's why his chest was burning, his eyes stinging, his throat tight, his stomach clenched. 'Was this what Heero felt?' he wondered. 'Is this what he saw, that made him find a bar to get drunk in and forget?'

Wufei studied the lithe youth, curled up on the bed, cradling the unconscious girl. He swallowed. What was it about the boy that got to him? What had managed to permeate all his defenses? Why had he let the boy in? He swallowed a large gulp of air. He couldn't stay here. He should leave before Duo woke up. There was nothing to say to the boy. He wasn't even sure he could form the words if there was.

No. Best to leave. Get away. He would... he would, pay his respects to Quatre and Trowa, and then he would leave. Yes. It would be best if he just left.

Wufei backed out of the room, taking a moment to calm his emotions. He would leave, and things would go back to normal. That's all there was too it. He wasn't sure exactly *where* he would go, what he would do, but he didn't worry about that now. There would be plenty of time to think about those things once he was away.

He counted his breaths until they evened out and he could feel his control slipping back into place. He walked into the room, two doors down, just in time to hear the blond boy's query about him.

"I am fine," he answered, thankful that his voice sounded calm and even.

"I'll take this one," Howard said, stepping down the gangplank.

Craig stilled his approach, giving the old man a hard look. "Oh, no, you don't. I just fix this here schedule and no where on it does it say you're gonna be takin' one of the ships out on a joy ride--or do you forget what happened to the last ship you took out?"

Howard covered his chest with his fist. "Peacemillion was a *fine* ship," he praised. "They'll be none like her, mark my words."

"She was the best damn ship there ever was!" Craig shouted. "And *you* had to go rammin' her up Libra's ass! Now I tell you, that's no way to treat an expensive, delicate piece of art!"

Howard grinned. "Aye, but she went out with a bang, didn't she?" He lowered his tinted lenses and winked. "Any way, I'm going out and I'm taking the Ghebriel with me." He walked on past Craig, jabbing his thumb back to the ship he'd just exited.

Craig chased him out into the corridor. "Wait a minute, Howard, you can't mean to be going after him!"

The old man stilled in the center of the corridor, head falling to his chest. There was a heartbeat of silence.

"He's my only family, Craig. My little brother." He looked up, down the darkened passage.

"He made is choice, Howard," Craig told him gently. "You can't keep thinking to save him every time he gets into trouble. We're not kids anymore."

"You'd do the same thing for Nikki; you know you would."

"Nikki's dead," Craig said, pain and tears ringing clear through his voice. "Garret probably is now, too." He paused, licked his lips, hating to do this to his lifetime friend, knowing the pain he was causing. "Do you really think any of them could have survived that blast?"

Howard didn't say anything for a moment. And then, "They've survived worse things before. I'd be disappointed if they let a little fireworks show get the best of them."

He continued down the corridor; Craig didn't try to stop him.

Howard made his way back to the quarters assigned to him when MOII first took them on. He wasn't sure if he was surprised or not to find the apartment empty and everything in order, from the spick-and-span bathroom, to the crisp-and-sharply made bed. He shook his head, chuckling. Those kids were something else. He could just *imagine* what their heads must've been like this morning, and they still left the place in better shape then they'd found it.

"They would've made fine boy scouts," he mused, washing his face off and looking in the mirror.

"He's alive, Craig. You're wrong. I know he's alive..."

He had no real aim, no real goal. No real destination. He just knew he had to get away, get off this station, and soon.

He left the blond boy and his mate, not stopping by the room holding the braided boy who held *his* love and the girl. He didn't return to the room that had seen his indiscretion. He didn't even want to *think* about that. Not yet. He wasn't ready to justify his action of that night, yet. He wasn't ready to face himself. Wasn't ready to face Heero. See the look of contempt in the other's eyes.

No. He ran. He ran because it was the only thing he could do and still stay sane. A part of him realized he was running away--running away like he'd always had since before he could remember. Running away from the pain, away from--

He ran to his gundam. Checked his gauges and engines. Even made sure to check his com unit in case anyone wanted to reach him--even though he knew they wouldn't. *He* wouldn't, at any rate. So it really didn't matter.

As soon as his gundam was replenished (with fuel and rations but not bullets or armaments--MOII didn't *have* *those* things. Didn't *need* them. And neither did he. No, he didn't need guns or bullets anymore. The war was over. No more war. No more need for guns and bullets and violence. No more need for soldiers). He left. He took off. He ran away.

Atlong Gundam's engines roared to life and careened free from the hanger, leaving four deadened gundams behind.

"Well, kid, you look no worse for the wear!" Howard boasted, engulfing the slightly smaller boy in a bear's embrace.

Duo laughed and hugged the old man. "Me? Nah, I'm fine! Can't kill Death, don't cha know?" He winked, pulling back.

"You eat yet, kid? You're beginning to look like skin and bones!"

Duo shot him a sheepish grin. "I *knew* I was forgetting 'bout something..."

Howard just laughed and tugged on his arm. "Well, c'mon, then. I was 'bout to grab myself a bit to eat. Thought I'd stop by and check in on you, before I did. Good thing I did, too, huh?"

Duo hesitated between the bed and the old man. Howard turned to see what was keeping him and grinned. "Don't worry, boy. She's got a whole colony's worth of people here watching her. She'll be fine till you get back. Can't go staying in here the whole time, now, can you?"

"Nah, guess you're right," Duo answered, following Howard out. "I just hate to leave her, you know?"

"Don't worry 'bout it kid," Howard patted him on the back. "She's a good kid. She'll pull through. Probably be up by the time you get back."

"Yeah, you're right," Duo grinned. "So, what are ya're plans now?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that, you know. Cleaning up the galaxy and all that fun stuff," Howard replied, leading the braided boy down to the cafeteria wing.

Howard spent a good hour with his favorite gundam pilot, just shooting the breeze, mostly. But when they were done, he felt better. He knew he was stalling--that he was afraid to go out there and find out Craig was right, that there *were* no survivors...

But when he got back to the hanger, his things ready to go, there was some promising news waiting for him. Craig met him at the door, a nervous, but hopeful smile in place. "I just got word from the Broward," he said. "They think they found them."

It was all the reassurance Howard needed to hear to know they were alive.

In the Pale Moonlight by Andrea Readwolf

Part Four Act One

She was on the bridge when the final blows came. There, when the Libra exploded on their view screens, stealing away the life of Milliardo Peacecraft with it. There, when the blocks continued to fall, making his sacrifice almost all for nothing. There, when Gundam Wing Zero and its pilot fell, soaring ahead of the falling chunks. There, when the falling chunks melted away into bits and pieces of shooting stars. There, when the first whoops of joy spread throughout the soldiers, even before the view screens could pick up Wing Zero. There, as the crew members on the bridge broke out into cheers.

She was there, crying; the tears rolling down her cheeks, hands clasped between her small breasts, throat tight and sore, head bowed. 'Brother.'

And then the calls began pouring in and there was no time to allow herself to cry, to feel. Calls from the Earth nations. Calls from the colonies. Everyone wanted to know what was going on, what was happening, what was going to happen now?

And she was forced back into the political mêlée she had only just so recently escaped with Trieze's help.

But Trieze wasn't here anymore. Zechs wasn't here anymore. She was alone again.

'Heero.'

A shuttle was prepared to escort her to the colonies even before any of the Gundams had arrived at MOII. She was on board and jettisoned away before she could see any of them, talk with any of them, congratulate them and thank them.

She was to arrive in L1, where the leaders of all five Colonial Groups were already gathered-there previously to discuss their relationship with White Fang. Ready now to discuss their future relationship with Earth. And they all looked to *her* for guidance. One fifteen-soon-to-be-sixteen year old girl, once a diplomat's daughter, once a princess of a dissolved kingdom, once a queen of an entire world. Now just another war orphan.

"They're still tied up with the medical staff here," Noin was saying on the small view screen.

"But they're alright?" Relena asked urgently.

"Yes, from what I've been able to discover," Noin answered. "Apparently Quatre was the only one hurt-"

"Quatre?!"

"Yes," Noin nodded. "I don't know how or where, but from what I could find out, it was nothing life-threatening."

Relena nodded, biting her lower lip. "And. Heero?"

"Fine," Noin replied, her voice somewhat constricted. "He's giving the doctors here hell because they don't believe he's in perfect condition." She gave the girl a wan smile.

Relena smiled in return, relaxing in her seat. "Good, I'm glad."

"Yes, he saved us all," Noin whispered. "Relena, you just worry about those bureaucrats and diplomats," she said, suddenly charged. "You're needed if this new peace is going to survive."

Relena was slower to agree, but she nodded and pasted on her best smile. "I will, yes, Noin," she replied, her voice carefully controlled. "And please, keep me informed?"

"Of course. Noin, signing off," she said before cutting the connection.

She sighed, falling back her chair.

"Was that Relena?" Sally asked, coming up behind her.

Noin nodded, closing her weary eyes. "Yes."

A part of her had been surprised when she docked the white Taurus suit in the designated hanger on MOII. She really hadn't expected anyone to be waiting for her, especially since she was so late in arriving, but there she was. For a moment, the dark-haired young woman didn't move, didn't say a word. She just sat there in her pilot's seat, hatch open, staring down at her lap, a still life.

And then she looked up, over from her cockpit, to the ginger-haired older woman standing on the catwalk, waiting patiently for her. Eyes met, held, shared.

Noin swallowed, gasped, choked, her eyes stinging against the repressed tears, chest burning, screaming for the air she couldn't seem to swallow. And she crumbled, losing the battle against herself.

Sally used the lesser gravity to jump the distance between them, hopping into the cockpit and pulling the smaller, darker woman into her arms. She cooed and rocked and soothed, holding the teenager to her breast. "It's okay, it's okay," she chanted upon a whisper as the teen allowed her tears and heartache out.

"She's got her work cut out for her."

"Relena can do it," Noin answered, pushing up from the console chair. "She's strong enough to lead the entire world into peace. Zechs believed in her."

"What about you?"

"I believe in her too," Noin replied.

"That's not what I meant," Sally returned, following her into the small common area of the apartment, seizing Noin's arm and turning her around so Noin was facing her. "How are *you* holding up?"

"I'm fine."

"Noin." Sally warned her not to try and hide.

"No, really," she insisted, forcing a smile to her lips. "I'm fine."

Sally leaned forward and embraced the other woman, hugging her tight. "It's okay to cry, you know."

"I know," the dark haired woman replied, her voice tight and soft. "But I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if I start again, I won't be able to stop, and I. I hate crying."

"Noin."

"It's okay. I'm okay. You'll see."

The door slid open for Lady Une without warning. The young woman halted just inside the doorway, blinking at the site of the two women holding each other. Her checks flushed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm interrupting-"

"Colonel Une, wait!" Noin called out, stepping away from Sally and brushing off her outfit as she wiped away any moisture from her eyes. "I wanted to. to thank you."

Une stared at her, blinking her confusion. "Thank me.?"

"Yes," Noin sniffled and swallowed. "For fighting for peace, in the end."

Lady Une hung her head, her golden brow hair falling forward to curtain her face. "Your thanks are misplaced," she said just above a whisper. "I fought for Mister Trieze. It was *he* who fought for peace."

"I'm sorry," Noin said after a tense moment of silence. "For your loss."

Une gasped, head rearing up to look at the other woman-the same age as herself, a part of her mind remembered-with watery, red eyes. "And. yours," she managed to say around the lump of pain in her throat. Her chest was burning. "Zechs was. very brave. and noble." She blinked and dragged in a huge cooling breath of recycled air into her starving lungs. "His. sacrifice will be remembered by all."

Noin's head fell to her chest. "Perhaps it's selfish of me, but." She looked up, eyes watering. "I would rather he was remembered only by a few." She smiled. "That way, maybe they will remember him for who he truly was." She looked out into space. "I hope he's finally found what he was looking for."

Une nodded, almost absently.

Sally looked from one woman to the other. You could cut through the air with a bamboo stalk, she thought. "I could use a drink," she said aloud. "Hell! We should be celebrating the end of the 'War to End All Wars', right? The End of the 'War for Peace'!"

"Peace."

"Peace be with you."

"Sleep in heavenly peace."

"You know, it's Christmas Day."

"Isn't that supposed to be December 25th?"

Noin nodded. "Yes." She looked at her timepiece and held it up for the others to see. "It's after midnight. Merry Christmas."

"Peace on earth on Christmas Day," Une whispered. "How appropriate."

Sally smiled. "Well then, all the more reason for a toast!"

"Here, will this do?" Une asked, going over to a cabinet and pulling out a bottle. Sally took it from her and eyed it critically.

"*Nice* vintage."

"It is-was, his Excellency's," Une admitted, almost shyly.

Sally and Noin looked at her shocked. "What's it doing in here, then?"

"These were his rooms," Une announced calmly.

Sally and Noin both looked around the room, searching for something that screamed 'the General of the World Nations was here'.

"Well, shall we?" Une asked after a moment of awkwardness for her. "I'm sure I can locate us three glasses. That is, unless, you would. care rather to not drink.with me."

Noin hesitated a moment, past prejudices warring with present. And then she stepped away from Sally's side, crossing to take Lady Une's hand in hers. "The world's made peace, Colonel. Surely we can too."

Une looked up, eyes watering with gratitude, and she nodded. "Yes, Lieutenant Noin. I would like that."

Noin smiled. "I'm no longer a member of OZ, Colonel. 'Lieutenant' no longer applies to me."

Une smiled. "And OZ no longer exists." She extended her hand in greeting. "Hello, my name is Lady Anne Midi Une. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Noin paused, and then smiled, extending her own hand. "And I am Lucrezia Noin. But please, just call me Noin. All my friends do."

"And I'm Sally Po," Sally added in. "Now that that's done, let's see what can be done for some glasses, ne?"

"Resting." The sixteen-year-old tugged at her tight ponytail, releasing the dark cherry black waves to fall around her shoulders as she fell into one of the four pilot seats in the cockpit.

"So what's this mean?" Ochenta Behr asked, running a hand through her chin- cropped, dark mane.

The two blondes sitting up front didn't look back, eyes locked on the console and view screen ahead of them. "What's what mean?" Blaire snapped, fiddling with the com unit.

"Well, Valdeon is dead, no?" Nita hedged. "I mean, Rini killed him. Isn't that what you said? So-what's going to happen? I mean, are they going to come chasing after *us* now? Are we going to prison? Are they going to kill us?"

"Who's this 'they'?" Kat demanded, finger-combing her now-loose hair.

"No one's going to prison," Blaire said before Nita could answer. "No one's going to kill us."

"But-"

Blaire whipped around in her seat. "Will you listen to me!"

The cockpit fell silent, two pairs of large eyes focused on the older blonde sibling.

"No *one* is going to prison and *no one* is going to come after us." Blair licked her dry lips. "Whoever knew about that satellite must have known Val was on it."

"There's no proof," Dev whispered.

"There was no one else there!" Kat cried, looking from the back of Dev's head to Blaire's angry blue eyes. "You were there, Blaire. You saw the place. It was deserted!"

"Yes," the blonde nodded. "So whoever was in charge will believe Valdeon is responsible for its destruction. They should have no reason to suspect us."

"But." Dev bit her lower lip, turning around to face her sisters. "What if they come after us? I mean, there was a lot of shit in there-right? Someone *had* to be footing the bill. and whoever that was, won't be very happy that there's nothing to show for it."

"Oh well!" Kat sang. "Too bad, so sad!"

"But what if they come after *us*!" Devenley cried. "If they blame Val, then they might take it out on his family!" She turned to her older sister. "We should at least warn the others! At the *very* least."

"No."

"But-"

"Shouldn't we tell them that Val is dead?" Nita asked.

"No." Blair shook her head. "Absolutely not."

"Blaire! Be reasonable!" Nita returned. "He's their brother! They should *know* he's dead!"

"Let them think he took off," Blaire answered.

"But, Blaire--!"

"Don't you see!" the older blonde girl cried. "If we tell them he's dead, they'll want to know why, how, when, how is it that *we* know. We don't want them asking questions that we don't want to answer!"

"I killed him," a quiet voice said. "You can tell them that."

"Rini!"

"Carina!"

"You should be resting," Blaire said without heat.

"And let you four make all the decisions," Jack gasped, pushing the smaller girl into the cockpit. "I don't think so."

"Jack!"

"Jacqueline! You should be in bed!"

"I'll live," the dark-haired girl replied, snatching the hair tie from Kat's idle hands and pulling the loose strands out of her face. "I'm too ornery to die. Ain't that right, Blaire?" She motioned Kat out of the chair and the younger sister got up. "We've got more important things to worry about here right now and I'm not about to be filled in on them later. So, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can get back to the bed. Deal?"

"Sleeping, huh?" Nita glared towards Kat.

"They *looked* like they were sleeping," the other girl replied, dropping down onto the arm of the chair.

"Enough," Blaire stopped them. "We have to plan our next move." She looked over to Jack, nodding.

"We don't know what shape Earth and the colonies'll be in when we get home-or even if they'll be there at all," the battered girl told them, meeting all their eyes. "So we have to make some choices."

"Who's side are we on." Dev whispered. They were quiet.

"Our own," Kat answered after a moment. She looked at them all. "First and foremost."

"And then?" Nita challenged.

"We're helping the gundam pilots now, aren't we?" Carina spoke up, leaning back against the wall, palms behind her, pressing into the cool metal surface.

"That's just for now," Kat answered.

"Are you suggesting we side with White Fang?" Nita attacked.

"No.!"

"Then the Earth Forces, perhaps?" the older sister continued.

"No." Kat frowned.

"Then what!"

"I'm saying we need to keep alert!" Kat shouted back. "And whatever we do, we do it together!"

"That goes without saying," Jack interjected, her voice soft and calm, yet hard as nails and determined at the same time, too. "That's why we're talking about this *now*, before we return to Peacemillion. We need to know what our stand will be."

"And what about me?" Rini spoke up. "Am I going to be included in this 'we'? Or are you just going to treat me like a baby who needs to be protected all the time?"

They were silent.

"You are our sister," Jack said when no one else did. "Of our blood. If this is what you really want-"

"It is!"

Jack shut her eyes tight, fighting back tears that threatened to fall. "Then. " She swallowed and shook her head. "We're not what you think we are, Rini," she said in a low, hoarse whisper.

"What?" the young girl cried sarcastically. "You're going to tell me you're not terrorists? Assassins? What is it you think *I* think you are? After today, what else *could* I think, huh? Tell me that!"

"Never mind, maybe we are," Kat mumbled under her breath.

"Rini, don't look like that," Jack choked. "Don't think like that. There's still a chance for you." She sniffed, rubbing her hand against her nose. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"'A chance'?" Rini mocked. "A chance to walk, Jack? Walk away from my sisters? My family? To just *forget* what happened today???"

"No!" Jack shouted. "A chance to escape the sickness, the hate and sickness of it all. the blood and the killing and-"

"I-I want to be with you," Rini swallowed. "I don't want to be left out anymore. I want to belong."

Jack closed her eyes against her baby sister's face and concentrated on her breaths. After a minute, when they blinked open again, Jack was calm and in control once more. "So be it," she said, her voice not wavering like before. "Welcome to the Angel Team, Rini."

"Momma used to call us all her little angels," Nita told her softly, smiling.

"So what do we do now?" Kat asked.

"I think I like the sound of that," Rini said, smiling broadly.

"The sound of what?"

"Of 'we'."

"My father was a doctor," Sally said, tipping her green glass goblet for another sip of the red rose wine. "Mn, my mother, was a healer."

The three woman were gathered around in a cozy circle around the low coffee table: Sally with her back to the sofa, her folded knees under the table; Une to her left, sitting in a similar position on the other end of the table; Noin stretched out on the sofa watching her wiggling, stocking-clad toes. All three of them were in various states of undress and well into their fourth bottle of wine. 'Tipsy' was reached a long time ago.

"I had been assisting them all my life, knew how to draw blood for an analysis, how to set broken bones, how to reduce fevers, and make pain killers from a snatch of weeds. Bullet wounds, knives and puncture wounds, even poisonings. They were kid's play to me." She studied her glass. "I guess it was only natural for me to join the Academy and 'study' medicine. I thought I could be like my father, legal, with a degree, but most of the classes were about things I'd been doing all my life. I was with older kids who knew less then me. The hardest part was learning all those damn technical names. I never saw the, or what nerves work when someone moves the little finger...."

"But you passed," Noin stated.

"Psf! Of course!" Sally reached for the bottle. Anne handed it over.

"Did you ever regret joining the Federation?" the sandy-brown haired woman asked, sipping her own wine.

"No," Sally answered honestly, shaking her head. "I used them as much as they tried to use me. I got that little piece of paper that says I'm legally capable of practicing medicine. And when things started getting worse, I left. Oz's take over of the Federation made my disappearance easier. I guess I should thank you for that much."

Anne shook her head empathically. "No. It was sloppily done. I didn't realize it at the time. It could have been done better."

"Hn! I think we did a fine job," Noin put in, holding her glass up.

"We lost a lot of good people in the coup d' Etat," Anne murmured. "I wonder now what Master Treize was thinking."

"Why do you call him 'Master' all the time!" Sally slapped her glass down, the red liquid slipping over the sides onto her hands.

Anne watched the wine settle in the green goblet. "I." She shook her head. "Because that's what he was," she answered finally. "He was my master; his wish, my command; his order, my doctrine; his well-being, my life."

"Yeah, well he's gone now," Noin replied harshly, sitting up. "No more master, djinni. It's time to break that bottle!"

Anne shook her head, sad and somewhat lost at the idea of 'no more master'. "I don't think." She shook her head again and laughed. "Free." Her shoulders rocked. "I've never been free." She whispered, swallowing hard.

Sally and Noin frowned, but didn't press. They didn't have too.

"Ever since I was little. There was always. someone." Anne fingered her glass. "My father, the people he worked for. my masters." She closed her eyes, trying to block out the images. They wouldn't go away.

"I don't remember my mother," she whispered. "She died, when I was very young. My governess said she's married beneath herself, that my father was no good for her and he'd kill her. She was right. She died in childbirth.

"I am second out of six children. I haven't seen or heard from my brothers since I was eight years old. My father." Anne tried to moisten her dry lips. "He. gambled a lot. Lost a lot of money, owed a lot of people." She took a deep breath. "He lost too much and owed to the wrong people. He. They hurt him, badly. They tried to get the money from us, but. we were just children. Frances, my older brother was sick, very, very sick."

Neither women commented on the tears that were starting to slip over the eighteen-year-old's cheeks, nor did they try to stop her story.

"So they. they used me, instead." Anne shrugged, snorting and rubbing her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I didn't care. I did what they wanted me to do. They. they told me if I didn't, that they'd. kill my brothers and father. I didn't think to wonder if they weren't already dead. I just. did what I was told and I. hurt, a lot of other people." She stared off into space. "I hurt people that I cared about. and I killed off myself in the process. Killed off the little girl who I was. Killed 'Anne' to save her."

"I'm sorry," Sally said softly, reaching out to touch the girl's shoulder.

Anne looked up, startled, sniffling and blinking. And then she smiled. "It's okay. It's water under the bridge, they say." She shrugged. "When I'd done all I could for them, they turned me over to the Academy. And that's where Master Treize found me, and he took me under his wing. When he did that, I swore I would do anything he asked of me. It was Master Treize who found the part of me who was 'Anne', what little still existed of her, and coaxed her back out." She smiled. "He gave me back my life, I think. Nothing I could have done would ever repay him for that."

"A second chance." Noin murmured. She smiled. "That's what Zechs wanted. It's one of the things Treize offered him. A chance to get back at the people who'd hurt him." She shook her head. "General Khushrenada was an amazing man."

Sally smiled. "Yes, he was, wasn't he."

"I remember the first time I met him," Noin whispered. "It was after I found Zechs again. He and the general were already friends and he introduced me. I should have paid more attention to him. to them. I might have saved myself some heartache, huh?" She smiled for Sally, but her eyes were still red and bloodshot from her earlier bout of crying.

"What? You mean it wasn't a love at first sight?" Sally teased.

"At first sight." Noin's smile fell and she stared off. "Do you know, I was two or three when I first met him?" She nodded. "It was when Princess Relena was born-but, of course, I didn't know it at the time. I hardly remember it now." She squinted. "I know. we were at the castle, to celebrate. and, as was custom, all the children were left in one room with their governesses and nannies. That's where I first saw him, I think." She became sad. "I didn't see him again until the assault on Sanq came. My. my mother had been at the palace. She. she managed to get Zechs out and she brought him home.

"I remember, I was in my bed. I must have been sleeping but the bombs and gunfire woke me up. When she came home, I was awake, listening to them fight. My father was yelling at her for bringing Zechs home with her. My mother was crying. Zechs was crying. I wanted to cry too. I was scared.

"I tried to see them from my bedroom, but I didn't want them to see me. she was in the rocking chair, holding him. screaming. it was so loud. I could still hear the gunfire from the city-proper, screaming. I ran back to my bed and tried to hide."

Noin swallowed, well aware of the burning in her eyes and the burning in her chest and throat. "He wasn't there when I woke up the next morning. Neither was my father. I didn't see him again for another three years, when we were both in the Academy. By then, he was already calling himself 'Zechs'."

They sat in silence.

"I didn't know you were also from Sanq," Anne's soft voice broke the quiet.

Noin gave her a sad smile. "There's a lot you don't know about me. Anne."

"Thank you, M. Lamar," Relena was saying, bowing in the doorway of the room she'd been escorted to. She quickly palmed the door controls before the over- zealous man could follow her inside. She turned to face the room, sighing as she fell back against the door. Alone at last.

She'd arrived on L1 approximately four hours ago. And in that time she had been introduced to what she was convinced were every important colony representative and their subordinates. Twice over. She sighed walking into the-suite.

"It's very big for just one person," she mused, trying to brush off her weariness. She'd been up for over 28 hours now and, until Stella Leveret-a representative from L3-reached her, no one seemed ready to release her or show her to a room where she could rest and freshen up. That's where Byron Lamar came into the picture.

Mme Leveret had charged her young protégé-probably only a year or two older than Relena-with finding her a room and escorting her there. That was fine, but he had made no subtle innuendos about his desire to accompany her *inside* her room.

Relena sighed again and moved through the suite, observing the common area with it's sofa, love seat, reading chair, coffee table, and end table, complete with lamps, pictures of Monet and Theophilas, and knick-knacks. She entered the small kitchenette that was equipped with every convenience known to man. Relena spotted the replicator and sighed. There'd be no home-cooked meals for her for the next couple of days, at least, she told herself, already missing her chef at Peacecraft Manor. "Maybe I can have Noin ask Alauna to send me some of her butter biscuits," she consoled herself, exiting the kitchen.

There was a short corridor that led to two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and then a "master suite". Her small suitcase was set on a luggage stand near the closet, left open. Her blouses, skirts, and dresses already hanging in the closet. She shook her head at the waste.

"Not only do they leave me in a suite that can easily accommodate two more people," she sighed, swallowing a yawn. "But they clean up after me. Mother, if you could see your daughter now."

She suddenly had an overwhelming urge to call her mother back on Earth. Belatedly, she realized how worried the woman would be about her, knowing she had gone to space after her brother. She went back into the common area and sat down at the vidcom, keying in her personal code.

'I'm sorry; that number has not been recognized by this systems' datacorp. Please try again or press *01 for operator assistance.'

Relena stared at the screen, blinking-at first annoyed and then amused. She laughed, her shoulders rocking as she slumped over onto the console, burying her face in her arms. She wasn't sure when the laughter turned to tears because she fell asleep there.

Whatever decision the six Behr sisters came to was proved moot when the newsfeeds came in. The Earth Forces had surrendered. The colonies had rejected White Fang. And White Fang no longer existed. The war was over. There was no winner.

"There never is in war," Blaire said, maneuvering their ship through the debris.

"Still," Kat moped, "It kinda sucks that we missed all the action."

"Our part was not unnecessary," the blonde young woman told the dark-haired teenager. "We helped extend peace."

"You mean 'achieve' peace, don't you?"

Blaire smiled. "Why don't you join the others. I can pilot this ship asleep."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not try it if you don't mind," Kat returned, twirling a long dark lock of hair around a finger. "Besides, they'll sleep easier without me back there, tossing and turning."

"It bothers you," Blaire stated, gliding between two floating pieces of an Aries. "Seeing Jack when she's been hurt."

Katalynna Behr looked away, looking out the cockpit window to the battlefield graveyard, not bothering to reply.

"You could have tried to stop him," Blaire said, keeping her eyes on the course in front of her.

"I didn't see you jumping to help," Kat spat, following a mobile suit arm until it passed out of sight.

"I tried," Blaire whispered. "Jack stopped me."

Kat whipped around in her seat. "WHY?" she cried, confused and hurt and feeling almost like she'd been betrayed but not knowing why.

Blaire spared her sister a quick look. It was all that was need. Kat cried out, scrubbing out her eyes with the heel of her hands. "Why! Why! Why!" she moaned. "I hate him! I hate him!"

"He's dead," Blaire reminded her softly.

"Well then I hate her!" Kat shouted, tearing her hands from her face and glaring at her overly calm sister.

"No you don't," the blonde replied, her voice soothing. "You're mad at yourself for not doing anything, and you're mad at Jack for allowing it to go on for so long. but you don't hate her."

"We should have killed him sooner!" Kat spat vehemently.

"He was family."

"He wasn't family!" Kat shouted. "He wasn't *your* family!"

Blaire was quiet for a second, before quietly repeating, "He was family."

'Unidentified shuttle, you have entered a restricted area. Please turn around now.'

Blaire reached for the com unit. "This is the shuttlecraft Shooting Star. We're looking for Peacemillion to return some of her people to her. If you could just direct us the way, we'll be outta your hair in no time."

'Shooting Star, this is the Bridgelight, Peacemillion is regrettably lost.'

In the co-pilot's seat, Kat gasped. "Understood that, Bridgelight. Can you tell me where I might find Howard Green, then?"

'The old man's up over on MOII, Star. I'll call ahead and clear your passage. Oh, and watch out for floating debris. It's a war zone in there!'

"Ha ha," Blaire said deadpan, cutting off the com unit before it could pick up her voice. She looked over to her sister's worried face. "Don't worry. Doc's probably up there on MOII with the rest of the folks."

"Do you think.?"

"I don't think she'd stay on a ship that even the captain abandoned," Blaire retorted. "Go on," she said, nodding her head towards the back. "Go catch a quick nap. I'll call you up when we get ready to dock."

"Are you su-"

"Go." Blaire shoot her little sister a glare. "Don't *make* me repeat myself, girl."

Kat grinned. "Fine, fine, I'm going." She paused at the doorway. "You think those cute gundam pilots are there, too?"

"Doesn't matter if they are."

"Why not?" she asked frowning.

Blaire sighed and turned around to pin her sister with a *look*. "It *might* have escaped your notice, Kat, but all those boys are so-way up into each other, they won't even look at a girl, let alone you."

"You mean-" Kat blinked. Four times.

The blonde young woman smirked and turned back around in her seat. "Oooooh yeah," she replied. "I could tell that without even reading their minds-and you *don't* want to know what they were thinking." She grinned. "Then again, it might appeal to your perverted sense of humor. Now to bed with you!" She waved her hand. "And pleasant dreams."

"You. Are *so*. *Mean*." Kat grumbled, leaving the cockpit. Finally by herself, Blaire Behr chuckled.

After Heero left Duo to his silent observation of the girl, he began making his "rounds". He stayed some time with the two Gundam pilots before going off in search of the people in charge of the hunk of metal they were all stationed on. His search brought him to the three woman in one of the many cafeterias, nursing strong cups of black coffee and looking like hell.

"Oiya, Heero!" Sally Po called over to him, oblivious to the two wincing women on either side of her. "What are you doing up so early? You should be sleeping in."

Heero took in the sight of the three women-at one time they were all enemies, his mind noted off-handedly-sitting together like a small clique. "Hn."

"Ah, spoken like a true wise man." Noin nodded, trying to keep her eyes open and focused on the young Japanese man standing near their table. "Grab yourself a cup of coffee-"

"Don't, if you value your life. Noin made it-I've tasted better stuff when I was staying with the guerilla fighters on Earth."

"Oh, shut up," Noin spouted, tossing a packet of sugar at Sally. "No one's forcing you to drink it."

"Whatever," the sandy-blonde-haired woman retorted, tearing open the sugar packet and dumping it into her cup. "Pull up a chair and sit on the floor."

Lady Une didn't even look up from her coffee cup. Sally and Noin were adding more sugar to their cups. Heero hesitated a second before going over to the counter and pouring himself a cup of tea.

"So what are you doing up so early anyway?" Sally asked when he returned with the steaming cup.

"It's 7a.m," he stated, sitting down in the empty chair at their table.

"Yeah, like I said, early." Sally sipped her coffee and grimaced.

"What can we do for you, Heero?" Lady Une asked suddenly, looking up from her coffee cup

"What's going on?" he asked straightforward.

"Nani?"

"What's happening?" he repeated.

"Well, Relena left late last night to meet with the heads of the colonies," Noin told him. "There'll be a vid-conference between Earth and the colonies, I would imagine. They'll probably lock themselves in a large room for 3 months, pushing around ideals and concepts until they can all agree on something. They're trying to create a new Government and it will take some time."

Heero nodded. "Relena will do it."

"Yes, I'm sure she will," Une mused.

"What now?" he asked

"Now we pick up the pieces," Sally answered, smacking her lips against the still-bitter coffee.

"Howard's agreed to have his people survey the destruction of all the remaining mobile suits-I imagine you want to keep the gundams with you," Une offered.

Heero nodded again. "05 has already left." They looked at him, questions written plainly on their faces, but they didn't ask and he didn't tell.

"Most of the soldiers will be returning home to their families, to try and live a normal life," Noin spoke up.

"Hn. There's no such thing as a normal life." The three young woman frowned at him, at their coffees, at life in general.

"There will be a large outcry for employment," Sally forewarned.

"A possible recession for both Earth and the colonies, but we'll prevail," Une affirmed.

"What are your plans now, Heero?" Noin asked, turning focus back on the young Japanese pilot. "The war's over. You don't have to fight anymore."

"I will be heading back to L2 with Duo," he answered, a light flickering in his dark blue eyes.

"You *will* keep in touch, though, right?" Noin pressed.

Heero looked at her. Just, looked at her. And then he nodded. "If you wish."

"I will try to keep your names from enter the news feeds," Une offered with a weak smile. "So you may have some semblance of peace."

"Arigato, Lady," he acknowledged, giving her a nod. He pushed up from the table, satisfied with their discussion. "I will contact you."

"Heero!"

He paused, turning to look back at them.

"Thank you," Lady Une said, her voice ringing strong and proud. Sally and Noin both smiled and nodded to him. "On behalf of the Earth and the colonies, thank you."

Heero nodded once more and then left as suddenly as he'd appeared.

"This is their peace, too," Noin whispered.

"No one deserves it more, if you ask me," Sally put in.

Une just smiled and nodded, looking back down at her coffee cup.

"Commander Une! Commander Une!" A young ensign ran into the cafeteria and up to the table, breathless, his face flushed with an excited glow. "We've recovered both bodies," he gasped, beaming up at her.

She was standing, her chair crashing to the floor behind her. Sally and Noin looked up, surprised.

"Report," Une barked, sliding a pair of glasses onto her nose.

The young ensign snapped to attention. "Report in from the Andromeda. The bodies of one General Trieze Khushrenada of the Earth Forces and one Milliardo Peacecraft of White Fang have been recovered and are being brought to Hanger Bay 6, ma'am."

Lady Une was already on the move, Sally and Noin scrambling up after her.

"Ma'am!" the ensign called out before she'd made the doors. She turned on heel, freezing him with a glare. "One is still alive."

"Who?" Noin cried, reaching out and clenching Sally's hand which had somehow found its way into hers.

The boy looked genuinely apologetic. "I don't know, ma'am."

"Understood," Une replied, her voice clipped. She hesitated. "Thank you, ensign, for bringing me this news immediately."

The boy snapped to attention, but the three women had already turned and exited.

End Part 4 Act 1

Whew! You all can't *know* how glad I am to finally post this baby! ^_^ I hope the wait was worth it.

Andrea Readwolf

Please send comments to: andrea_readwolf@hotmail.com

On to Act 2

Back to the Series Index

Back to Andrea Readwolf's page