Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Gundam Wing Infinites - Heero Yuy ❯ Chapter 1

On a windswept hill, within the grounds of the Darlin estate, a burial was taking place. There were only four people present, but they were still four more that the deceased may have wanted. Lucrezia Noin, during the salvage operation in Siberia of Gundam Zero-One, had come across the lifeless body of the young boy. After the ball in Moscow, she took the body to the only person she thought might have any connection to him. Relena Peacecraft.

She was believed by OZ, correctly, to have some kind of connection with the insurgent from the orbital colonies. She was the closest thing the boy had to a friend, although she had wanted there to be something more, and he apparently had wanted none of this. Noin thought that Relena would be the only person on the Earth who would be concerned with the fate of the boy.

Noin had spent the month between the battle and the ball testing the waters, trying to decipher any link between Relena and the pilot. Her knowledge of Zechs served her well, the two were more alike than she had permission to admit. It wasn't her secret to tell, at least not at this point in time. Once she had confirmed OZ's beliefs, and without their sanction, she made arrangements to intercept the girl in Moscow, and to break the news of the boy's death. Without the knowledge of her superiors, even though Colonel Zechs must have suspected, she put herself in the service of the girl, all but going rogue.

Together they stood now, watching, as Pagan and another servant lowered the undecorated casket into the freshly dug earth. "Why… why did this have to happen to Heero?" Relena asked nobody in particular, tears in her eyes.

"He fought for what he believed in," Noin consoled, a sympathetic arm around the teary teenager. "He thought that dying for the colonies was a worthy sacrifice to make. He was a lot like your brother, in regard to his commitment to a cause."

"My brother?" Relena asked, looking up at the OZ instructor.

Lucrezia mentally slapped herself. Since bringing back the body of Zero-One's pilot, and learning his name was Heero Yuy, she had noticed how emotionally connected this girl was to the rebel soldier. At an emotional time like this, the last thing she should have done was mention that there was another Peacecraft, the confusion alone could have a damaging effect on her. Never mind the fact that Zechs could have been held responsible for the pilot's death, a conclusion Relena would quite probably jump to in her state.

"Who was my brother?" Relena demanded to know. Lucrezia was reluctant to volunteer that information, but she soon found a compromise.

"His name was Milliardo," she replied. "I knew him, or thought I knew him. The last I saw him was a few years ago." She gently led the princess of the Sanc Kingdom back to the estate, to prepare her for the function at the Romerfeller Foundation headquarters.

~~~~~~~~~~

Unknown to Relena and Noin, somebody else had observed the sombre occasion. From a tree overlooking the grounds of the Darlin estate, Duo Maxwell's binoculars told him all he needed to know.

"So he was human after all…" Duo mused aloud.

After the battle at the hidden Maguanac base, he had turned down Quatre's offer of further assistance, and spent the next month trying to track down any mention of the mysterious kid called Heero, or his Gundam suit. Through skill, ingenuity, and sheer luck, he had been able to confirm his death, and had managed to trace the movement of the casket from Siberia to the Darlin estate, in Europe. Not understanding, he went to investigate.

To learn that the daughter of the executed Vice Foreign Minister was the same as the girl who seemed to have had a crush on the unsociable kid. She must have either cared a lot about Heero, or been filthy rich, to have been able to bring his body all that way. Probably both, Duo decided, as he watched her and a taller, dark-haired girl walk back towards the mansion.

He quickly scaled the fence, leaping over and walking up to the grave, even though the two servants were still present, beginning to shovel dirt onto the casket. The binoculars were still looped around his neck, in one hand, he carried a bundle of flowers, similar to the ones he and Quatre had been given before they had been forced to sneak out under the cover-fire of the Maguanac Corps.

"Yo, Heero," he addressed the casket. "I know we didn't really know each other that well, but I'm just here to pay my respects. You were strong, easily stronger than I could ever hope to be. I'm never going to forgive you for stealing Deathscythe's parts, but the girls at Quatre's base gave me some flowers. Apparently we Gundam pilots are seen by a lot of people as heroes, so I thought that someone better reward you too." He tossed the flowers into the open grave, wiping away a rogue tear with his free hand.

"Rest in peace, Heero. May the God of Death keep you safe." He was about to turn and leave when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Reacting instinctively, he dropped, rolled out of arms reach, and rose up, drawing a pistol from it's hidden holster.

Swinging it up, he pointed the barrel in the specific direction of… the old servant. "There's no need for that here," the old man said calmly, reminding him of Father Maxwell. "Did you know this boy?" he asked.

"Yeah, he was a bud of mine," the braided American answered. He didn't divulge any more information; it was dangerous telling anyone more than they needed to know in this day and age.

"Miss Relena would want to speak to you, then," the old man responded, gesturing towards the estate.

~~~~~~~~~~

Trowa Barton was perched on his bed, in the trailer he shared with Catherine when he was with the circus. It had been a month since the failed mission at Siberia, and Doktor S had not issued any new orders. All he could do was sit and watch as OZ slowly took over the world, it was almost enough to cause him to act of his own accord. He wasn't that foolish however, years with the mercenaries had taught him that acting on impulse was often a foolish thing to do.

On the television he was watching over Catherine's shoulder, a news report was winding up. "… The total number of casualties is expected to rise," the dark-haired anchor commented, closing the article. Trowa picked himself up off the bed, walking over and turning the television off.

"You sick of all this fighting, too?" Catherine asked; still unaware that he had been heavily involved in the war. "I'll go make us some dinner."

If I go out to fight, what would happen if OZ used the colonies against me again? No, I shouldn't risk it without orders from above he thought as he looked out the small window of the caravan, watching as the circus broke camp. They would be moving on again today.

Without warning, the Boss barged into the trailer, displaying his usual lack of care for the privacy of his employees. Trowa knew that he had caught Catherine at a few undesirable times; maybe that was why he did it. He didn't particularly like the man, and the man only tolerated his continual need to disappear because everybody knew Trowa was the best thing yet, but the only reason he hadn't done something to the Boss was that he needed the cover story, as well as the pay.

"Kid, meeting in half an hour. Tell your sister," the Boss almost spat at him. Trowa didn't know why the Boss kept referring to Catherine as his sister; he had no family. He had no past. Even his name wasn't his. He put it out of his mind, moving to tell Catherine, in the slim chance she hadn't heard.

"Hey everyone, gather round," the Boss announced. He seemed positively cheerful; something must be wrong. "Our next performance is confirmed. Hold on to your hats; we've got a request from an OZ base!"

From OZ… Trowa thought. It had been their inhuman tactics against the colonies that had caused the death of one of the other rebel pilots. Maybe this could be my chance to strike back.

"To celebrate," the Boss continued, "I would like to try something different, something special that will blow the soldiers away!"

A chance for revenge, revenge for that boy Trowa thought, surprising himself. The mercenaries had taught him that emotion wasn't necessary; it could often serve as a distraction, but to Trowa it felt almost right to let these emotions guide him. "Could you leave this new performance to me?" he asked the Boss, who was surprised that the silent fool was speaking.

"Have you got some ideas?" the Boss enquired.

"Yeah, and I think it will be a big hit with the soldiers." After finishing, he realised the hidden meaning of his statement. Catherine came up and put her hands on his shoulder, leaning on him, a silent message to say that she would back him up. Normally he felt uncomfortable when he came into unnecessary physical contact with a woman. When Middie Une had snuck up and given him a hug all those years ago, he nearly jumped out of his skin. With Catherine, it didn't seem to bother him as much.

The Boss considered for a second. "Right, I'm going to let you handle this, kid," he said, `shooting' the kid with his finger. To anyone else, it would have looked like a friendly gesture, but nobody understood the silent message the Boss intended Trowa alone to hear. Screw this up and you're back on the street.

~~~~~~~~~~

Has OZ truly lost its way? Zechs thought as he watched the reconstruction of Zero-One. First Lady Une's immoral use of the Colonies as bargaining chips to secure the surrender of the Gundam pilots, then the dishonourable actions of Alex and Mueller during the Mogadishu attack, and probably in previous attacks they had taken part in.

"Fools like them shouldn't be granted any power," he commented to nobody in particular. "But does salvaging an enemy suit make me any less of a fool than them?"

~~~~~~~~~~

It was the night of Trowa's `grand show'. The spotlight focused on the apparatus he had hinted at to the Boss, the mobile suit Gundam Heavyarms.

"A mobile suit?" the Boss asked in shock. "What's Trowa doing?"

The answer quickly became apparent, as Trowa lifted the arm-mounted beam gatling gun, and proceeded to blow away the Big Top. His proper target, an airborne tanker carrying fuel Trowa suspected was for the OZ space force's new Taurus, crossed the path of his fire and promptly exploded in a vicious fireball.

Trowa gently moved Heavyarms out of the wreckage of the massive circus tent, careful not to accidentally crush any of his fellow performances. He hoped that they had the intelligence to run away, he was going to take a leaf out of the other pilot's book and self-detonate in a final grand stand. With OZ able to use the colonies in the way they had in Siberia, he felt he had no choice. It was the only way he could fight them.

As he moved, he continued to pour fire into the fuel carriers, not bothering to release the trigger as he shifted targets. There was no need to conserve ammunition. "This is going to be my last battle," he thought aloud, using the heat-knife to dismember a pair of Aries suits. The mild distraction eliminated, he redirected his fire towards the fuel refinery itself, unleashing all his firepower in the direction of the refinery's massive storage tanks. All resistance was crushed swiftly; OZ suits lying amongst the ruins of the refinery-base, riddled with bullet-holes.

As soon as the base was nothing but ruins and fire, he stopped, preparing to unleash the final defiant act of his life, short by most measures, long by the terms of a professional soldier. "This is the end," he commented, reaching for the detonation switch.

"Trowa? What are you doing? Trowa?" Catherine called from outside, running up to the foot of Heavyarms, oblivious to the danger of being there.

"Stay away. I am going to self-detonate," he replied using the external speakers.

"What do you mean, Trowa? Come down, we'll talk this out," she shouted back. Almost as soon as she finished, a Command Leo that had been playing dead sat up, firing its axillary beam cannons at the tiny human figure.

For a fraction of a second, Trowa was torn with indecision. His mind told him that it was useless to interfere, and it would make no difference anyway, if she stayed, she would die anyway. His heart told him that the least he could do for this woman was to protect her, save her life. A second passed, his mind made up.

Hauling on the controls, he induced the Gundam to flip, building up enough momentum to slide across the path of the two beams of energy. He was too slow, the legs of Heavyarms passing through most of the twin beams, the Gundanium alloy absorbing and dissipating their destructive energy.

Part of the beams travelled on. They missed Catherine, but impacted either side of her, the shockwave throwing her body a significant distance. "Catherine! NO!" Trowa screamed. He quickly emptied what little was left of his ammunition into the antique Leo suit, before leaping out of Heavyarms and running to where she lay, sprawled on the ground. "Catherine, are you alright?"

"I... I should be angry with… you, for wanting to make… such a wasteful and… selfish decision," she managed to gasp out. She was going to survive, but it was clear she was in immense pain.

"I was wrong. I should have listened to my heart from the beginning," the stoic admitted, very carefully picking the girl up, cradling her in his arms. She gingerly stretched a hand up to caress his face.

"When I get… better, I am going to… hit you," she threatened, as Trowa carried her away from the devastation he had caused. "Hard," she added, before slipping into unconsciousness.