Gasaraki Fan Fiction / Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ What Has Come Before ❯ Back To One ( Chapter 2 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: I'm too broke to own them, and too poor for anyone to sue.

AN: slight hint of slash relationships (past tense, nothing except a mention to try and add a more personal touch) Where I don't mind it, I can't write it.

Chapter three will be a bit as it about

Thank you for the reviews!!!! For those of you wondering, the muses have informed me that this is gonna be a long fic with a possible sequel (already in noting progress) so hang on to your seats as this will be a long and hopefully enjoyable ride. I hope you like cliffhangers, because I learned from the best.

Chapter Two

Back To One

Long nights and long days

Memories never real

Ties that shatter our souls…

The reception hall lay in ruins. Most of the guests appeared unscathed, but not unshaken. Heero could feel the blood from a wound at the back of his head beginning to seep into his ear. He opened his eyes and looked at the woman underneath him. She groaned. "Relena, Relena? Are you ok?"

"God, Heero, what happened?" She opened her eyes. "Oh my, you're bleeding!"

"It's nothing serious. Can you stand?" Heero asked with concern filling his voice. He carefully stood up, feeling pain skewer through his back as he did.

Relena was able to take her first look around. "Oh, my." She gasped.

More security teams came in followed by the paramedics. Lady Une stood up "I want all Preventers who are not needed here to head to the office ASAP."


PREVENTER HQ was in an uproar two days later with agents and secretaries scrambling around putting together files and reports. The phone and computer lines crowded with incoming and outgoing messages. Through the noise and chaos the people of the Preventers seemed to be accomplishing more than it appeared.

"A lot of groups are already taking responsibility for the bombing. And we've already sent out task forces to deal with the most severe of the terrorists." Une stated to the men and women sitting in the briefing office. "The majority seems to be benign loud mouths."

"I feel a 'but' coming." Duo leaned back in his seat his eyes scanning over the others.

Zechs sat forward, "This is Une, it's not 'but', it's 'however'." Everyone released a nervous chuckle.

"Are you two finished?" Lady Une asked with a hint of annoyance. They settled back down and turned towards her. "However," she added with a hint of cynicism, "There are a couple of these that require staid attention. One of which appears near some of the outer colonies. Noin, Zechs, I would appreciate the two of you taking a transport and doing some reconnaissance." They nodded their heads and Une continued. "The other is here." She pointed to her world map indicating an area near the Middle East. "I've already sent a few mobile teams in. Only one of the teams returned, and they were pretty banged up."

They all sat staring at Lady Une, waiting for her to continue. Duo caught Sally out of the corner of his eye; she was sitting back in her seat, looking into her lap. {Ah, she knows what's going on.} Une was looking at Sally as well, obviously waiting for her to take over this meeting. A few moments passed, with still no response, Une continued once more "I would like the five original Gundum pilots, to take their Gundums out once more."

"Uh, Une, didn't anyone tell you? We destroyed our Gundums, after Operation Meteor was taken care of." Wufei told her. The other four pilots hid snickers behind tight-lipped mouths.

Une glared ruthlessly at Dr. Sally Po, "So we all thought. Something was just brought to my attention last night, Dr. Po, would you care to tell them?"

Sally twitched and looked up, biting her bottom lip, "What?"

Three hours and one explanation later that included the Manguanacs, original blueprints, and the building of decoy Gundums. The switch was made, and the real Gundums secure at a hidden base. Every pair of eyes in the briefing room stared unblinking at Sally, filled with disbelief. Trowa felt a stirring deep down. {This is wrong, this is wrong.} Repeated itself like a mantra inside his head. The chant became a beat that began to well up inside him. He cleared his throat, and asked quietly, "Excuse me." With that he was out of the crowded briefing room. He made his way down the hall into the men's bathroom. Locking himself into a stall, he sat down on the closed toilet his head held forcefully between sweating palms.

"What is wrong with me?" he asked of himself in a whisper, the beat still running steadily in his mind. He started to feel the pain; it was as if the beat was trying to escape from his mind. Ripping and tearing at his memories, telling him, screaming at him, reminding him, of… then it stopped. No slowing, no gradual decrease as they were in the dreams just gone as quickly as they had come. Fallen back into nothingness, leaving him empty.

After a while he returned back to the others, preparations already made, he caught his former lover glazing at him with concern. Trowa calmed his thoughts and gave Quatra a slight smile to let Quatra know that he was ok. Noin and Zechs were already gone by now, preparing for a trip to space, and Une dismissed the others for their own preparations. She came to Trowa as the others passed.

"Trowa, will you be alright for this?"

"Yes, I'll be fine." Was all he stated before following the others out.


The next day and half way around the globe, the sun was baring down on the tarmac, causing the asphalt to stick slightly to the soles of booted feet. With out a cloud in the sky the five men disembarked from the shuttle and squinted their eyes against the glare of mid-day. After a brief air-conditioned car ride, they came to their destination. A hanger, out in the desert sands, was unlocked. Dressed in Flight suits they pulled back the doors. The musty smell of a tomb offered itself, and inside, under huge tarps, stood five giant soldiers, waiting to return to battle.

The tarps came off. The pilots climbed in. Diagnostics run, engines started. Oiled, greased, fueled, they maneuvered out of the dark bay, and were lost in the contrasting light as they speed out across the sand to Belgistan.


"Damn, what's with this sand storm?" Duo grumbled. "Quatra, I thought you told your boys to turn off the fans!" He said laughing at his own joke.

"I don't know what's going on here. This feels like something…almost unnatural…but not." Quatra remarked, seriously disturbed by the swirling dust.

The five men moved slowly and cautiously through the dessert. Strange electrical activity was reported earlier near to this area. After the incident at the wedding Heero refused to sit back idly while someone tried to use his marriage to start a new war. So after some initial recon, the five former Gundum pilots, led by Heero went into the desert to find out what they could. All the team knew so far was that the area was being used for a type of archeological dig; the strange thing was the energy readings. No dig needed equipment that broadcast that type of calibration.

So here they were. Blinded by the dust, and the engines nearly choking as the filters worked overtime to remove the dirt.

Wufei came on the radio. "Hey, guys, I'm starting to pick something up."

"What?" Heero asked, his own eyes scanning the view screen and readouts. "I'm not showing anything… Any of the rest of you see anything?"

Duo replied first. "See? We can see with this stuff? Man everything on this machine is jammed up. I want my Shinigami." He wined.

"That is your Shinigami." Wufei returned.

"I know, but it's been eight years since I've been in the cockpit. I would've liked at least a little time to practice being 'The God of Death'."

"What about you Quatra? I'm reading whatever this is from just behind us."

"I thought I had something out front. I think this sand is messing with us more than we realize. Heero why don't you or I fly up and see if we can spot anything from a higher altitude."

"Yah. I'm on it." Came Heeros' reply. He took Wing and flew upwards. A static filled response reached the others. "It gets worse for a bit, then just disappears. Out about 100 miles is the edge, on all sides. It's as if this storm is stuck just in this area." After nearly ten minutes Heero landed back with the rest. "Wufei, you said that what you picked up was behind us?"

"Yah, hey Trowa? You're further back then me, do you have anything?" No response. "Trowa?" Still nothing. "Hey Barton?"

The four pilots all tried to rouse their companion on the radio. Heavyarms was still there, but no acknowledgment could be discerned. "Hey Heero, you wanna…"

"Already hacking." Heero made his way around the security system in Trowa's Mobile suit through cyberspace. After a bit he finally connected to the internal speaker and microphone. "All the stuff is working. He's in there and can hear us."

"C'mon Tro-man, we all know you're the silent type, but give us a sign that you're ok." Duo called out. Nothing…

"Wait. I hear him breathing…Trowa? Are you hurt? He's breathing is real heavy guys." Wufei stated. "I'm heading over there, see if I can get in."

"Roger Wufei." Heero acknowledged.

Before Wufei could reach Trowa's suit, a scream pierced the radio waves. "INCOMING!" Trowa yelled. The other four turned to look, they were barely able to move out of the way as a beam cannon blast blew past them. The one, who called out the warning, did not move. The others watched as Trowa took the hit straight on. Heavyarms flew backwards and shattered.

Trowa felt like something was controlling him… When his friends called out for him he tried all he could to answer. When they entered the area and the dust came upon them, Trowa could do nothing more then sit and watch as his hands maneuvered the giant machine he was in. He felt like he was in a video unable to participate…only allowed to watch. He was the first to notice the disturbances behind the group. The other four pilots finally recognized that something was wrong, and turned around to help Trowa. When his sensors picked up the rise in energy ahead of his group, it took all his will to warn them. The other four were spared the blast, yet he being unable to control his own body was hit full force.

Trowa did all he could to remain conscious. He felt the pain raging through him, he felt the swirling debris slam against his body and a will not his own bid him into the blackness.


Trance set in, the dance began, steps carefully planned, the stage ancient as the stone. He was the center of attention, he was to perform, he was the priest. His motions were automatic. Fan up, fan down. Right foot, left foot. Right, left. Arm out, right, left, stop.

A costumed figure stood in front of him. A mask hiding the newcomer's features. He reached up and felt that his own face was masked as well.

The new person stretched a strong arm out, opening the fan with a deft flick of the wrist. The fan was made of sharpened metal shafts and silk. The person bowed, acknowledging that the fight was soon to begin.

He also spread his own fan and bowed. The two came together. They matched each other in a macabre dance. Neither able to strike true. It appeared as if hours past. Yet it went too quickly. The dance gave him power, he seized the upper hand, connecting on the mask of the newcomer. Time stopped. The mask shattered, the woman underneath crying.

He stopped, he knew her, he forgot, he danced, she screamed. The pain in her voice called to his soul. She cried his name, the sorrow in her voice filled him, terrified him. Broke him from his trance, the dance, the truth. Blackness.