Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Restless Peace ❯ Stirrings ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: See previous parts. I am still learning French, so if there are mistakes, please let me know and I shall correct them.

Pairings: 1xRP, 2xHS, 3xMU, 4xDC, little 5xSP

Period: January 11, 197 to February 20, 197

 

 

Restless Peace: Stirrings

 

“Peace is not the absence of conflict but the presence of creative alternatives for responding to conflict—alternatives to passive or aggressive responses, alternatives to violence.” -Dorothy Thompson

“Love just is…whatever it may be

Love just is…you and me

Nothing less and nothing more

I don't know what I love your for…love just is”

-Hilary Duff, “Love Just Is”

 

11 January AC 197—Preventers' Headquarters, Paris, former France

“MY UNCLE DID NOT TRY TO KILL YOU!” Dorothy screamed near the top of her lungs. Fists clenched at her sides, she demanded to know what proof they had to back up their outrageous claims.

“We have his handwritten note,” Duo said wearily. He took out his copy of the note—Une had the original now, and she was having it meticulously tested—and handed it to “Miss Dorothy.” She looked over the note, hands clenching more with each sentence, teeth gritting harder with each word. Her eyes narrowed as she read on, and her breaths came in hostile gasps. Quatre attempted to soothe his fiancée by murmuring in her ear and gently setting his hands on a shoulder and hip of hers. However, she batted him, including his hands, away impatiently; she then proceeded to fling the copy onto the desk with an angry snort.

“This is a load of crap,” she announced.

“Oh? Why is that?” Trowa inquired. He was lounging in the chair—adjusted for his height—behind Wufei's desk, on which his feet rested. Because he was the only one with an office, at least one intact, they were all gathered in his office: Trowa, Duo, Heero, Quatre, Une, Dorothy, and Sally. Everyone sat in a chair in the room, except for Quatre and Dorothy who stood in the middle facing the desk. Midii was heading home with her friend Sylvia. The other friend was already on a plane home. The owner of the office (Wufei) was accompanying Vice Foreign Minister Darlian on her way home to the Cinq Kingdom.

“This used to be my uncle's handwriting, but if he were to write a note by hand now, it would be shakier. Because of his failing health, he dictates his letters, so it should be in a maid's handwriting, and the help would never send this note, much less a bomb; and do you really think that if Tío Henry can barely write a letter he can create a bomb?” Dorothy challenged. Sally sat up straighter, watching her boss.

“Perhaps one of the `help' helped him in the note and bomb,” suggested Heero, “One of them could feel the same way he does about all this, and your uncle could have insisted it be in his old handwriting.”

Dorothy heaved an exasperated sigh, “My uncle dictates in Spanish, or sometimes Catalan, and his staff only know those two languages; none know English, or at least how to write it. Anyway, whether in English or not, he always, always—¡Siempre!—signs his name with his full name and title: Enrique Martes Cataluna Mendizabal, Conde de Barcelona. He uses Henry because of some pop star named Enrique in his time; he says he was an embarrassment, also, having an Anglicized name helped in organizations like Romefeller.” A phone rang, Une's personal digital. She answered it, nodding and saying “I understand” and “really.”

“What was that?” asked Duo.

“They found a note at Dorothy's uncle's place,” she reported, “The house staff apparently also has some interesting things to remark on.”

“The staff could be easily bribed to lie,” Dorothy snorted, “and who is `they'?”

“`They' are the people in the special team I sent to scour your uncle's mansion to find any clues as to his innocence or guilt,” Lady explained hotly. Sally put a hand on Lady's arm. She thought about saying something, but after looking at Dorothy and Lady, she decided just to stay out of it.

“You have no right to go through my uncle's house!” the niece screeched. She was angry again, really angry. However, Une, calm once more, let her examine the necessary paperwork and authorization, which they had obtained.

 

12 January AC 197—Tetas Rosas (Henry Catalonia's estate), Barcelona, Kingdom of Catalonia, former Spain

Once Duo saw the Catalonian Estate, he felt sympathy for the agents who had been assigned to comb the entire property grounds—“every inch of space, every blade of grass,” Une had required. It was long, hard, and boring, not to mention it was really work for local law enforcement. Plus the winter weather made the agents certain they were going to lose some toes. Unfortunately for them, Une did not want to trust her life, or anyone else's, to locals, and she was afraid they might feel loyalty to Uncle Henry and not do their job correctly.

After hearing some agents grumbling about the search, Duo muttered to Quatre, “Sheesh, this place is huge. I'm glad I don't have to do it. Ever have a place as big as this?”

Quatre blushed faintly and mumbled something inaudible.

“What was that?”

He repeated but just barely audible.

“How big is your place?” Duo asked louder when he heard Quatre explain this was a pretty small place as far as mansions go. Jealousy and resentment were building up in him, yet when he saw Quatre fidget, still flushed, embarrassed at being singled out among his friends again for his economic background, Duo relaxed. Quatre's being uncomfortable made him feel better and almost guilty for it and sorry for his friend, so he flashed a smile to ease Quatre.

“So when are you planning your wedding?” Dorothy asked. She, like the others, had only seen the boys whisper, Quatre blush and fidget as Duo look at him expectantly, and then Duo smile to ease Quatre. When they did things like this, she loved to tease them that they were secret lovers. Though she was teasing this time as well, today she wore a straight face and spoke with a serious tone. Quatre kissed her and told her not to be silly, that they were friends and nothing more, but his voice, too, lacked the usual playfulness.

Duo slipped on his sunglasses as Lady Une walked over, a slip of paper in her hand. She handed the note to Dorothy, whose middle was in Quatre's arms. Duo was just close enough, when he leaned a little, to be able to read:

 

A la secretaria de Senora Une:

¡Deje mi sobrina! Diga a su senora que ella deje la herencia y la empresa de mi familia o la atacare cuando Senora Une este en su oficina. Mi ataque hare todos de documentos oficiales asi ella tiene cuidado. Tambien la « Viceministro de los Asuntos Exteriores » lindo pequena.

Gracias por su atencion a mi solicitud.

Atentamente,

Enrique Martes Cataluña Mendizabal, Conde de Barcelona

 

Dorothy snorted again, “You cannot believe this. This letter, which is in a maid's handwriting, I might add, is clearly not the English copy you had earlier. This is not as threatening, barely threatening. The Spanish one is clearly an uncle looking out for his niece and her inheritance. Besides, I went and found my uncle's original copy if you need more proof.”

“Oh? And when did you write it?” Lady Une almost asked. Instead, she asked, “Oh? May I see it?” Duo caught himself from doing or saying anything inappropriate when Dorothy reached into her chest and took out the note from her bra. Une nearly rolled her eyes but stopped herself in time. Duo leaned to his other side to get a look at the second—or was it third?—note:

 

A la secretària de Senyora Une:

Deixi la meva neboda! Digui a la seva senyora que ella deixi l'herencia i l'empresa de la meva família o l'atacare quan Senyora Une estigui en la seva oficina. El meu atac fare tots de documents oficials així ella va amb compte. També la «Viceministro dels Afers» exteriors bufo petita.

Gracies per la seva atencio a la meva sol·licitud.

Atentament,

Enrique Dimarts Catalunya Mendizabal, Conde de Barcelona

 

“See? My uncle was never intending anything harmful,” Dorothy explained. “Someone just found out about the note and made their own, modified version. Really, it is not that hard to find out the way the servants gossip and divulge anything and everything to whomever in town.” She sniffed at the end. Sensing the danger in the air between the two women, Quatre decided it was time that he and his fiancee go home and rest. Duo watched as his friend got her into the limousine, gave a wave, and then got into it himself. After the auto was gone, he turned to his current boss.

“So, what do you think?”

“Well, I have no idea what the note she gave me says. It's in Catalan. However, though I hate to admit it, her uncle had nothing to do with this,” she admitted. She shook her head and gazed out at the landscape.

“Really? Why didn't you say anything?”

“She's keeping something from me, and until I see her cards, I am certainly not letting her see mine,” she let him know with a smile. She nodded toward him and walked off to see how Heero was doing with his analysis of the servants. As the breeze went through his bangs, he could not help but wonder what the whole hands of each woman were.

 

31 January AC 197—Le manoir de la famille d'Une (Une Family Mansion), Perpignan, Province of le Languedoc, former France

“Bon anniversaire!” cried the closest people to Midii. Amato, her youngest brother, sat in her lap and happily helped her blow out her candles. Thayer cast a few glances at the eldest brother, Luc, but their meaning was anyone's guess. Midii smiled at everyone and held onto Amato tightly. He was like her own son with how their mother had been gone constantly during the war. She had cared for him since he was only a few months old, and sometimes she felt as though she were closer to him than to the others, despite the fact they were closer to her age. Luc was fifteen, and Thayer was twelve, nearly thirteen. There was gap between Thayer and Luc, and Midii ached for the two on days like these. Michel should have been ten, and François should have been eight. However, the battles too close to civilians claimed their young lives, so there was a big age gap between Thayer and Amato.

“Where is your friend?” questioned Sylvia Noventa gaily. She had vowed earlier not to let her friend fall into melancholy on the happy occasion. “Shouldn't a boyfriend be present for his girlfriend's birthday?”

Midii smiled, “We are not dating, not really. We're just friends, honestly. He sent me a gift anyway, and he's off on a mission for the Preventers.” She missed Trowa, but she could not do anything to change the situation. Amato quickly ate his piece of cake and rushed off to grab the present he had personally picked out. He brought it back to his adoring sister.

“Voici, Midii,” he proclaimed proudly. “J'ai choisi cet un a toi.”

“English!” roared Caroline, “I told you to speak in English.” Amato squeaked an apology. Midii kissed his forehead and thanked him—in French. He smiled, quite happy to have his sister's favour. Inside the present was a picture book similar to the one destroyed from her childhood.

“I don't see why we have to speak in the horrible language,” sneered Luc then smirked, “Though I'm quite sure I know how Midii learned it so fast.” He expected his sister to hunt him down for his implications. Instead Midii gave him a tart smirk. He knew he would pay for it later, when there were no witnesses or guests.

“Thank you, everyone,” Midii said, “You've made my seventeenth birthday wonderful. It's much comfier than the ones we had to have at the refugee camps.” Their old neighbours from the camps chuckled while the rest nervously laughed. “However, I believe it's time for me to get my brothers upstairs, ready for bed, and done with homework. I am sure my parents have plans for entertaining you. Please do feel free to stay even though the birthday girl has gone to bed.” She stood, and the others did as well. “Thank you, again, for giving me the honour of your presences.” She bowed her head. The guests acknowledged and returned it. She swooped Amato into her arms and climbed the stairs. Then, her closest friend, Sylvia, followed at the end of the train, making sure Thayer and Luc followed as well. The boys complained about the early bedtime, but their sister would hear none of it.

“So where is he this time?” Sylvia asked in a soft voice as soon as they thought the boys would be asleep.

“He wouldn't tell me exactly,” Midii explained, “But I do know that he has been seeing a lot of Lady lately. I don't know what's happening yet. He's only been able to contact me on public phones, and so he can't divulge too much information. He's supposed to come here in a week or two, and then I can interrogate him properly.”

Sylvia giggled, “Interrogate him?”

“Oh you know what I mean,” she smiled, “He'll be able to answer my questions better, without someone overhearing.” She drank her hot chocolate as the pitter-patter of little footsteps approached.

“It seems we have a visitor,” Sylvia chuckled softly. Amato climbed back into Midii's lap, claiming he could not sleep. He curled up and shuts his eyes. “How does Trowa get along with the boys?”

“Oh very well,” the former spy assured, “He has his rows with Luc sometimes, but I think that has mainly to do with Luc's age and attitude. He doesn't want to be replaced as my protector or something. I think the war had a very bad effect on him, but I'm slowly getting him back to my sweet little brother.

“Thayer seems to like Trowa very well, but he doesn't see him as a brother. I'm not quite sure how he sees him, though. He spends most of the time hissing at Luc, and what those two are up to, I'll never know. Thayer and Trowa aren't the two most talkative guys around, so I guess their bond is one of those things where they don't have to say anything.

“As for Amato, I think Trowa just has way too much fun with him. Amato adores Trowa, and Trowa is always giving him things. Well, he gives the other boys things, but they are not nearly as thrilled as Amato is to receive them. Amato sees Trowa as a superhero ever since he found out about Trowa's being a Gundam pilot, and he wants to grow up to be him.”

Sylvia chuckled, “That's boys for you.” Midii nodded in agreement, stroking Amato's back. She looked out the window and watched the stars twinkle, wondering on which one her Trowa was and if he were thinking of her.

 

03 February AC 197—Preventer's Headquarters, Paris, former France

Observing people was one Mariemaia's favorite pastimes. She sat on her chair and watched as Preventers walked back and forth, all hurried. They completely ignored her, much like her own soldiers had done. However, she used this to her own advantage. She was like a spy for her new mother. People tended not to see her, so she was able to overhear many important conversations. Then she would report it all to Lady Une. This skill of hers was very important right now as the people who had tried to take her mother's life were still at large. Ms. Sally was out getting their lunch, and Mariemaia has volunteered to stay in case she was able to eavesdrop on someone who might know something.

“Well, where are they?” asked a male voice.

“I hear Une assigned them to special missions throughout Earth Sphere,” a deeper voice answered, “They're out of our hair for now at least.” About whom were they talking? Who was sent out throughout Earth Sphere?

“Have you managed to catch a glimpse of them yet?” the higher pitched one questioned.

“Not yet, I only have their names.”

“Those names were released at the New Year. That's nothing special. We need pictures, faces to go with the names of the Gundam pilots, or we'll never be able to stay out of their way.” The Gundam pilots! They were obviously new. Everyone who had been here for more than a month knew who Wufei was, and most had been the object of his irritation at some point. However, Mariemaia remembered her mother saying that the pilots were off the case. Heero was in his new home, and he did not feel too well. Duo was keeping an ear posted in the colonies, but he was at home adjusting to that life as well. Trowa kept switching between life at his circus home and visits to his girlfriend. Quatre was off playing the dutiful fiancé and father-to-be while Wufei was checking on some family business in former China.

“Yeah, well, hurry up and break those codes. We need their pictures. I'm sure they're not the kids everyone claims them to be,” the higher pitched seemed angry.

“I'll get it done in time,” growled the deeper voice, “Stay off my ass. We'll get the information to Vincent with days to spare.”

“Oh yeah?” inquired the other, “What happens when Vincent holds me accountable and breaks my….” The question dangled as the voices fade and the footsteps carried them too far away for Mariemaia to make out anything else. Instantly, more footsteps headed toward her. For an elated second Mariemaia thought the men might be headed back, but there was only one set of feet, and they were on a different pace than either of the men.

“Did you hear anything good?” Ms. Sally asked as she rounded the corner and spied Mariemaia crouched with her ear to the wall.

“I'm not sure,” she admitted, her brow knit. She sat at the desk and chewed absentmindedly on her sandwich. “They were talking about the Gundam pilots, and they were sure they weren't that young. A lot of people think they're very young though.” Ms. Sally chuckled. The girl often thought of the pilots as old, or at any rate not young. While adults found this funny, the pilots were amused but enjoyed not being thought of as children. “Then there was that Vincent guy. He doesn't sound nice, but does he hate my mother? And does he hate her enough to bomb her office?” This perked Sally's interest and sounded off an alarm inside.

“Vincent who?” she asked. “What were they saying?” Mariemaia quickly recounted the conversation to her. Ms. Sally appeared to go into deep thought about this. She told Mariemaia to finish eating her food while she went to talk to her mother about the conversation. Mariemaia watched the older woman dash away, leaving behind her lunch.

“Hey, can I eat this?” asked Carson Logan. She nodded to give permission, and he contentedly grabbed the sandwich and took large bites from it. In between mouthfuls, he asked why she looked upset.

“We don't have any clue who is trying to kill my new mother, and there could be spies everywhere. There are a lot of new recruits, and we don't have time to sift through each one. One of them could be sent to kill my mother, and he could get through the screening process,” she lamented, “I'm scared for her life and mine. I'm also scared that the pilots won't come back help because they have their own lives now.”

He assured her that everyone would be fine and that things would work out. “As for that recruit problem. Don't worry. I've taken care of it.”

“What did you do? How did you do it?” she asked quite happily. She was very interested in what he had done. Unfortunately for her, he would not explain his plan at all, and he only asked for her trust in him. Trust was something Mariemaia was very reluctant to hand out.

 

09 February AC 197—Le manoir de la famille d'Une (Une Family Mansion), Perpignan, Province of le Languedoc, former France

Luc stared as his big sister as she sung quietly to herself. It was a song from their childhood, and he was longing to sing it as it was in French. However, his mother and sister, who were the only ones to see the world outside the camp in the war, insisted they speak English in the household. They claimed that the officials may speak a little of other languages, but they mainly spoke English. Therefore, Luc now had to brush up on the language; his mother and sister forbade him from speaking, even singing, French for awhile, at least in the house around family.

“Midii,” he started, heavily accented, “When exactly is your `friend' coming here?” He knew Trowa was more than a friend, but his sister insisted on him being called a friend and nothing more. This seemed rather silly to Luc as he never made out with any of his friends—of course his friends were all boys, too.

“Soon,” she promised breaking her song, “He has had a long day at the office, or rather the tent. Or whatever it is he works in. He's staying your room for the night, so don't do anything or say anything to him. Got it?”

He grinned, “Oh, I got it. Did you choose my room so you can sneak in during the middle of the night? Our rooms are right next to each other.” His grin got wider as his sister turned to face him with huge eyes. Her nostrils flared, and she raised her fist.

“I am not going to sleep with him!” she roared, “Now take that back or I'll beat it out of you!” Little brothers were such a pain sometimes. Luc giggled and ran away with Midii following right on his heels. He stormed down the hallway, weaving through the boxes that were still packed. Midii got closer to him with every second, screaming threats in German. He was not sure where she picked that up, but it sounded very threatening. As he got to staircase, he tripped on the second step and fell from second floor down to the first. Midii stopped at the top of staircase to gasp in horror and let out a small scream. Fortunately for everyone, Trowa had just walked into the house when no one had answered the door, and his reflexes allowed him to catch Luc before he got hurt or hit the floor.

“Oh thank God,” Midii heaved a sigh of relief, “Trowa, you're a lifesaver! Luc! You scared me to death! You should be more careful.” Luc stared at her in bewilderment, still in Trowa's arms. Who was she to yell at him? She was the one who chased him! Her death threats were the reason he almost split his head open!

“Your sister is right,” Trowa agreed as he righted the boy to his feet. He was completely brainwashed by Midii. Though Midii would scold him for saying such a thing aloud, Luc was sure Trowa was using a strategy to get into Midii's pants. “You should be more careful,” he continued, “Who knows what would have happened if I had not been here.”

“Luc, why don't you go find the other boys and play with them?” his sister suggested. Looking between the two “friends,” he decided he would probably prefer leaving then spying on them.

After he left, Midii took Trowa up to her room and interrogated him, “What took you so long? Did you find out anything?”

“Well, Lady Une wants to keep up her search on who tried to kill her, but the leads are getting cold, and there are more important things coming. Since the New Year started, Preventer applications has tripled at least if not more. A year ago, Lady Une and us pilots had to hunt through military and government records to find anyone who might remotely qualify, and then we had to beg them to join,” he explained then smirked, “I suppose many were flocking to Mariemaia—Anyway, she has to deal with creating new training programs, sifting through the new recruits, toughening the applications to weed out the weaker ones, and not to mention dealing with everything the President insists she focus on immediately.”

“What sort of thing does he want her to focus on?” she questioned. She put up a few stuffed animals and pillows that were in the way.

“Well, the trials for the `soldiers' during the `Mariemaia Incident' are winding down. As a symbol for peace, the President asked for leniency on their sentences, and most of them have gotten pretty mild punishments. The only `soldiers' who even got prison terms were the ones who were part of the Barton foundation. Most are old men, so they'll probably die before their term is up. If you've watched or read the news, you'll know the public is most displeased about the lenience. So, the President wants Une to deal with the different hotspots throughout Earth Sphere, which also means Lady must speed up the training process so that she can have Preventers to send to `put out the fires.'”

“Well, how bad can these hotspots be?”

“Crime lords have taken over many regions and colonies. Colony L-1B40125 is controlled by a mob boss. Vincent Monticule is the name, I believe, we have on file. Protests are also rumored to start soon, if the governments are telling the truth that is,” he finished.

“Protests for what?” she asked, “You mean for the prison terms? Oh please, how upset can people be over that?”

“You wouldn't believe it if I told you.”

 

Valentine's Day AC 197—Apartment 215, Hiedra Verde Apartment Complex, Colony V-7629, L-1 Colony Cluster

Tending to a sick boyfriend was not Relena's ideal way of celebrating Valentine's Day. However, that was how she had to spend it this year…unless she got a new boyfriend. Heero had come down with a cold, a particularly bad one. She had solace in that they were alone at least. Apparently Heero's “mother”—whoever that brave woman was—was off visiting her brother. She was going to drag Heero along, but he came down with the cold, and she decided not to risk it.

“Come on,” she coerced, “take the medicine. Please? For me?” She made her eyes bigger and pouted her lips at him. He gave her a look with a snort. Then he turned his head and refused even to consider taking the medicine.

“I'm fine,” he protested, “I'm not sick.” He sneezed. Relena blessed him. “I don't get sick.”

“You are sick. You have a small fever, and you keep sneezing. Next thing you know you'll be coughing,” she warned. Why was he being so stubborn?

“When I do, I'll be sure to blame you,” he informed scornfully. Relena decided most of the romance of the day was probably lost on him anyway, so she did not feel too bad about taking care of him. Still, she was a tad disappointed. She wanted to drag him to a restaurant at least or to parade him around in front of reporters.

“Heero, please? Just take the medicine for me,” she pleaded.

“No,” he obstinately replied, “I'm not sick and that tastes horrible!” He crossed his arms to demonstrate his stubbornness. She clenched her teeth and counted to ten while picturing her last day on the beach in the Cinq Kingdom. It had been in August, and it had also been her last vacation. “I won't take it, and you won't make me.”

“Just take the damn medicine!” Relena nearly screamed, reaching the end of her patience. He was caught off guard (a rare occurrence) with her tone and curse, and she took the opportunity to force the medicine down his throat. He gagged and choked but swallowed. In spite of this, he sneezed as he swallowed and most of the cherry liquid came out in a quite disgusting way. She sighed and held down a choke.

In the kitchen, she grabbed a washcloth and paper towels. She walked back and cleaned off his hands and arms with the wet washcloth. She used the paper towels to clean off the coffee table on which she had been sitting in front of him. After that, she tossed his blanket in a hamper of clothes to be washed and retrieved him a new one. As she did all this, she noticed him smile then smirk and then grin suspiciously. She inquired as to what caused his sudden good mood.

“It seems I turned your white shirt festive,” he said almost proudly. It served her right. She looked down. Indeed her shirt had been white when she entered his apartment; however, it was now red from being covered in cherry cough medicine, as well as mucus, making it “festive.”

 

Valentine's Day AC 197—Schbeiker Residence, 3125 French Court Road, Colony Z-51706, L-2 Colony Cluster

“I love you,” whispered Duo. He kissed Hilde firmly on the lips. She returned the kiss and let her hand trail down his chest. Both hands came to rest at the top of his pants with her fingers on the inside. He grabbed one of the larger teddy bears in the room and threw it at the door, shutting it effectively. He sat on the bed and pulled her into his lap. She abandoned his lips to nibble on his earlobe. He seemed to enjoy her decision by the noise that escaped from of his mouth.

“I'm glad you dumped that witch,” she told him.

“Same here,” he said, “Niwanna just wasn't right for me. You are.”

“We should probably tone it down a notch. My aunts could walk in anytime.” They were at Hilde's aunt's house. Duo had wanted to spend the holiday alone with his new girlfriend, but he took what he could get. Hilde agreed to try the relationship again, and he was not going to mess it up again so early in the relationship.

“Ah, Hilde, come on. I promised your dad I wouldn't go that far. I even agreed to let your older sister move in with us,” he pleaded his case, “It's Valentine's Day. Just one quick session, please.” He got on his knees and begged. Doing this routine caused her to laugh, especially when he started pouting. Hearing her laughs, Duo struggled to keep his face, but as he failed and started to laugh, he got his revenge by tickling her. She fell on the floor in a fit of giggles attempting to grab his hands. He crouched over her, still tickling, as she squirmed on the floor. She tried to say no fair, but she was giggling so hard she was lucky she got breath. She took her hands away from guarding her sides to slap him on the arm good-naturedly. He took it with a smirk and declared war on her. His strokes and probes in her ticklish places became more intense—but not painful. Hilde was sure that if one could die from tickling, she would do it right now. She laughed louder, and when Duo started to put his hand over her mouth (he did not want anyone walking in on them), she licked it, wearing a devious smile. He jerked his hand back instantly with a look of disgust then wiped it off on her shirt; for once wiping it on her chest was an accident.

A person behind them cleared her throat and said, “Now, now, what would Dad say?” Duo quickly got off Hilde, a faint blush graced his cheeks.

Duo had recently learned that Hilde's father had divorced her mother when she was about five years old. Her mother had gotten the scrap yard and the children in the settlement. Over the years, she saw her father frequently, but he had joined the military when she was thirteen; this was what inspired Hilde to join Oz. Her older brother and sister had gone to college on Earth with full scholarships issued by the Winner family. This left Hilde alone with her mother during the war. While Hilde was in Oz, her mother left for safety on the moon (no one ever threatened to blow it up). Duo and Hilde now ran the scrap yard, but her mother was still the owner and on the moon. Hilde's sister, the eldest, just got out of college and was looking for a job and a home.

“Delana, you wouldn't dare,” the younger sister growled.

Her sister chuckled, “Listen, you two lovebirds, it's time for supper, and Dad will be suspicious if you two aren't there.” She watched them leave and smiled. Her stay at the old house was certainly going to be fun—for her at least.

 

Valentine's Day AC 197—Le manoir de la famille d'Une, Perpignan, Province of le Languedoc, former France

“I'm telling you, English is such a silly language. All the sounds are in the nose,” complained Luc to his younger brother Amato as he tagged along.

“It sounds really funny,” giggled Amato, “and there are so many rules used to say words. Ou allons-nous?” He wondered where his brother could want to go on such a day.

“On va espionner Midii et son petit ami,” answered his brother.

“But it's Valentine's Day! She'll be kissing!”

“Exactement,” Luc displayed a video camera. “We get her on tape, we can blackmail her.” Amato seemed less than convinced. “Trust me.”

“Elle va nous frapper. Elle va nous tuer,” he warned; his fright caused him to switch to French again.

Luc looked at him and mocked, “Speak English!” His littlest brother pouted. Ignoring him, Luc set up the video camera and positioned it to face the courtyard underneath the balcony they boarded. His sister and her boyfriend seemed to be attached at the lips as well as the hips.

“Why is Trowa's hand on Midii's boob?” questioned Amato. He looked to his older brother for an answer.

“It's nothing,” he said impatiently. “Talk softer!”

“Luc, why did he move his hand down there? And why is she making those noises?” Amato's voice was barely a whisper.

“You are too young to know, Amato, and you are certainly too young to hear or to watch this,” Thayer's voice explained from behind. Luc turned and looked, and Amato jumped up from his crouched position excitedly.

“Hush!”

“Thayer, why won't you tell me? I want to know,” pleaded Amato. When Thayer refused, Amato did what Luc had feared from the beginning. His little brother ran down the staircase from the balcony and headed straight to the couple. Midii and Trowa instantly jerked apart; Midii pulled Amato close to her and started to explain how he should leave adults alone when they spend time together. He interrupted her and gestured up to the balcony, pointing out Luc and his camera. Thayer saw that he would bear the blame with his older brother, so they bolted out immediately, separating in hopes of their sister catching the other one. She took off after them, a strategy forming in her head of how to get her brothers.

Trowa chuckled and took Amato in his lap after Midii left. The boy was not dressed for the cold outside weather, so he wrapped him in his jacket.

“Trowa, what's going on, and why can't I know?” he looked up at him.

“How old are you, Amato?”

“Um…j'ai cinq ans,” he answered. Five years old, well that was too young to explain too much.

“Midii is just upset because your brothers were watching us when they shouldn't have.”

“Luc said that's how you get people to do things for you.”

“Luc is wrong.”

“What's this?” the boy pulled out Trowa's gun. “Is this what you use on the bad men? I want one. I want to be just like you!” He hugged Trowa as Trowa carried him inside the house.

 

Valentine's Day AC 197—La mansion de la familia de Cataluna, Barcelona, Kingdom of Catalonia, former Spain

Alone at last, thought Quatre. Lately, Dorothy's relatives were constantly around them, making sure she did nothing to jeopardize the baby or her engagement to him. Her male relatives were especially critical when it came to him. Quatre had the distinct feeling they did not approve of him, much less like him. When her relatives were not fussing over the coming baby or impending wedding, they were discussing the case Lady Une and the Preventers were building against their uncle Henry, though current events seeped into their conversations somehow.

But none of that mattered at the moment. The relatives were at home, or away at any rate, and Quatre had Dorothy all to himself. She rested in his arms as the sheets covered their bodies as they lay in bed. He stroked her tummy; it had a slight bulge now. He loved rubbing it, thinking about their child the skin and tissue concealed. While the extra weight and swelling mesmerized him, it did less than enchant his lover. She was self-conscience about the amount of kilograms she had accumulated over the recent weeks.

“This is better,” she murmured as she cuddled closer. He tightened the circle of his arms around her.

“I was thinking the same thing,” he responded. “What did the doctor say?”

“Well, I'm not allowed to go to space. He thinks that since I'm from Earth, I might have a good chance with constant supervision. He says that if I go up to outer space, I might lose the baby or have the complications your family has so often.”

“I won't let you get hurt,” he promised, “I won't lose you or the baby.” The phone rang. Sighing, he answered it.

“What was that about?”

“My…uncle wants to talk to me,” he answered and kissed her cheek. “Uh, happy Valentine's Day.”

“Te amo,” she said, worried about the tone of his voice after the call.

 

Valentine's Day AC 197—Preventers' Headquarters, Paris, former France

She looked on her partner with slight pity and worry. He was only sixteen, and on Valentine's Day he was stuck working. Currently, he had pushed all his papers off to the side of his desk, and he was in the lounge with her. She knew he was tired of talking about work and was probably thinking about his wife and other family today with the way everyone in the office talked today.

“How do you say I love you in Chinese?” Sally inquired, “In Mandarin, I mean.”

“I thought you said you were Chinese,” Wufei asked smugly. He scribbled down something on a paper and showed her. She looked at it blankly and bit her lower lip a little.

“Only a quarter and I confess I was never too good with the language. I can't read that.”

He thought for a moment, “Wo ai ni.”

She smiled, “It sounds nice. I'm sure you said that often to your wife.”

“Not quite,” he informed with a chuckle.

“Why not?” she questioned, “Not the romantic type?”

“That's not quite it. You know how in English it's more romantic to say that in French?” She nodded. “Chinese overall do not find Mandarin, or whatever dialect, that romantic. English is more romantic, so Mei Lan preferred me to declare my love in English, not Chinese.”

“I'm sure you were very good to her,” she comforted and placed a hand on his. He hesitated, as if to protest, but nodded and thanked her.

“You don't have a date tonight?” he asked. She shook her head and explained she was too busy at the moment to meet any nice men. “I'm sure you'll find someone soon,” he said sincerely. He was rarely in this mood around her, or around anyone as far as she knew. He normally kept details about his late wife to himself, and he rarely seemed to enjoy hearing about her personal life. In fact, he only told her about Meiran (she had saw the young girl's name first in the Alliance reports) because she had caught him upset on the anniversary of this date.

“Thank you,” she said, “but I doubt it will be soon.” She then added as a little joke, “I'd settle for just a Valentine's kiss right now.” Rather than laugh, Wufei leaned toward her and kissed her.

 

17 February AC 197—Apartment 215, Hiedra Verde Apartment Complex, Colony V-7629, L-1 Colony Cluster

Heero sniffed and coughed. His coughing increased as time went on, and Wufei was sure he was going to cough up a lung. Heero claimed that nothing was wrong and that something must be in the air. Wufei decided he was definitely not as stubborn as he, at least when it came to health. It only took twenty minutes of Heero's coughing for Wufei to stand and to search for the medicine Ms. Kaeilan left. She said Heero refused to take it, and she had been the one who gave it to him on a regular basis. Well, Wufei decided he would do it for her this time. Heero spied his friend measuring out the liquid.

“I don' need dat,” he protested then had a horrible series of coughs.

“Is he coughing again?” yelled Ms. Kaeilan, the landlady, from the lobby below, “Do I need to come up there and give him the medicine?”

Wufei walked out to the railing over the staircase and told her, “I have it taken care of. Don't worry.”

“Thank you! Let me know if you need help!” she called up. Ms. Kaeilan had decided to become Heero's surrogate mother apparently, without Heero's input into the matter. Heero had kept his promise to the lady and returned after the war. When he got here, she gave him an apartment and took over his life.

When Wufei walked back into the apartment, Heero had moved to the couch. Wufei did not find this suspicious until he looked at the kitchen counter and saw nothing where the medicine bottle should have been. He looked at his friend and questioned him about it.

“I don' know wha' you're dalking abou',” was the snuffled response. Heero pulled a blanket over himself and sniffled.

“Fine, if you want to play that game,” Wufei rolled his eyes. Looking for the bottle could take hours, hours of listening to Heero making all those noises that come with a cold. The bottle could be anywhere with Heero hiding it. However, Wufei remembered Ms. Kaeilan telling him about a hidden reserve bottle for when Heero got into this mood. He quickly got it out and re-measured the dosage.

“Where did you find dat?” Heero demanded.

“Like I'm going to tell you,” he told him, “So you can get rid of the rest of the bottles?”

Heero grunted a reply. He turned his head as Wufei got the grape smelling liquid close to him. When Wufei got it close to his lips, Heero turned his face the other way, and it took awhile of playing this game for Wufei's tolerance to run out. In the end, he grabbed hold of Heero's hair and forced the liquid down his throat. Heero was not as stubborn as to spit it back out.

“You're as stubborn as my cousin's kid when it comes to medicine,” Wufei informed, “I had to use the same tactic when I watched him last week.”

“You have a cousin?” Heero croaked. Wufei looked up from washing out the measuring cup then gazed over at his comrade.

“Yes, I have a cousin. He's my mother's brother's son,” Wufei reported, “Not all my family was on the colony when it exploded, just most of my immediate family.” He put up the towel after drying the cup just as muffled voices came from outside. He walked to the window with Heero.

Outside was a crowd of bundled clothes. Huge jackets protected the mass from the cold of winter, and their combined breaths creating the illusion of smoke billowing above the mob. Angry shouts were heard even from Heero's apartment, though they were unable to make out the exact words. The people held signs, but the boys could not make out the words. The language was like nothing they had seen or heard before. They were commenting on that when a lady behind them said,

“That's because both of you are from the East.” It was Ms. Kaeilan, Ms. Laraine Kaeilan. “That's Gaelic, and most of those signs are writing in Irish Gaelic, or you may know it as Erse. A few are written in Scottish, but I can make them out easily enough.”

“So wha' are day so upset abou'?” Heero asked.

“Seems they're upset over punishments for some soldiers,” she explained. “They want some sort of justice for the innocent people they terrorized.”

“So my work begins,” Wufei sighed.

“You're here for work?” Heero questioned.

“You think I'm here to play your nursemaid, Heero?” his friend snorted, “Une sent me. She wants me here to take care of a hotspot here so it doesn't spark another fire.”

“Another one?” asked Heero's “mother.”

Heero looked at her and explained, “When Mariemaia and her soldiers attempted to dake ova', Une refers to it as da Barton Incident, and she calls it as a potential fire, a probable spark.” Wufei was already going for his jacket and cap. After putting on the cap, he slipped the winter jacket on as he walked out the door. Heero, much to Laraine's protests, followed suit.

 

“Alright, break it up!” yelled Wufei. Heero stood there and looked menacingly. The shouts died down, they were calmer, but they were still bloodthirsty. Their hands clenched the signs harder, and their angry glares stayed on their faces. A few carried stones and large sticks.

“Let us through!” called someone. The people shouted in agreement. Another person shouted an obscenity fit for a sailor at the boys.

“Break it up! Before you get out of hand and do something you'll regret,” warned Wufei, his voice a murmur towards the end. He stood his ground next to Heero; their faces and expressions were determined and resolute. Somehow, Heero was not coughing or sneezing, not even sniffling. Either the medicine was really good and fast, which Wufei doubted, or Heero was alternately holding his breath and taking slow, controlled breaths. With Heero's background and training, the latter was most probable.

“Keep aside, lads!” a man yelled, “These are matters you can't possibly understand.” The boys sighed: their ages were constantly brought up against them. Ms. Kaeilan, from inside the apartment complex still, screamed at the crowd what the boys took to be Gaelic curses. Heero knew she was just sticking up for him, but it would have been better if she had let him deal with it. The curses caused the potential mob to become more unruly.

“This is your interpretation of peace?” Wufei shouted, standing on a nearby box. “Countless people gave their lives so you could demand more blood? So you could have no faith in the government and institutions? Is this what you told your children—your grandchildren that peace meant? Why don't you just write letters instead?” Well, it was not quite as elegant as Heero's girlfriend, but it served its purpose. The crowd broke up and went home.

“Dat was easy, too easy,” Heero said; his speech became nasally once more.

“Oh, please, you boys get suspicious if you don't have to dodge bullets and crawl through muck and needles,” muttered Ms. Kaeilan as she walked out and then directed the boys back into the warm apartment.

“These people weren't out for blood like they thought they were,” Wufei informed, “They were just angry about their own lives, probably from pent-up winter energy. They probably got swept away in the `trend' of protesting something, taking a stand in the street. It'll get tougher as soon as we find the real believers.”

“You're too young for any of this,” Ms. Kaeilan warned, “You best leave it to the adults and professionals. Let the Preventers deal with it.” Wufei gave Heero an incredulous look. How did she think they knew Lady Une? On what mission did she think he was? As she straightened his apartment, Ms. Kaeilan kept babbling about how Heero—being her only “son”—was trying to kill himself by not taking care of his body when he was sick. Heero nodded and seemed to become a different person. He kept saying “yes, ma'am” and “no, ma'am.” Eventually she kissed Heero's forehead, told him to wait for her to come back, tightened the blanket around him, and then left the apartment after saying her farewell to Wufei.

“She doesn't know?” he questioned once she was safely away.

“Know wha'?”

“About anything about you,” he furthered. “Does she know about Wing Zero? Any of the Gundams? Did you tell her about your real at all?”

“She's a sweet lady. She calls me her son. I don' wanna burs' her bubble now. Don' say anything to her,” Heero instructed.

“But what does she know? What does she think is going on?”

“Let me deal wid it. Wha' I tell her is none of your business,” he retorted. Sighing in defeat, Wufei just shook his head. He was too tired to keep arguing, and Heero was being particularly stubborn lately. No one seemed to know the reason, but it had to be big.

 

20 February AC 197—Specific location unknown, middle of woods, former United States of America

The crowd faced the stump of a very large and very old tree. Before, their numbers were twenty, but they had grown since word had spread. Their numbers tonight numbered close to a hundred, and they were certain more would join. They were certain because more people joined every day, and their group was not illegal, at least not yet. Being legal, they attracted more classes, so the group was certainly diversified. Despite their legality, no one in the cities and towns would rent them space to hold their meetings and rallies, so they had to take to the woods just outside the capital of the state. Their leader assured them this was for the best; it made it harder for the Preventers to silence them if they so chose to do.

“How long have we held the right to bear arms?” their leader demanded.

“Since 1776!” shouted one from the crowd.

“Who are these European aristocrats to tell us what we can't own?” yelled another. “Kill every single one who signed that agreement!”

The leader put his hands to calm the crowd as they began to demand the heads of the signers. “Killing is immoral, and God would not want us to bow to their level,” he warned. “Besides, children signed that document. Queen Relena is still but a girl, and Quatre Raberba Winner is barely a man.” He raised his voice. “Our leaders are incompetent and rely on children to guide their hands! We will have our day! We will win back our rights and set the children, all the children, back on the right path! There will be no more child soldiers or child diplomats, or even child businessmen! We will show the entire Earth Sphere what righteousness is!” The place erupted.

 

* Official language of the Region Catalonia (also Cataluna or Catalunya) in Spain. It is also the official language of Andorra, a small country between France and Spain in the Pyrenees. Catalan is a dialect of Spanish.

**Translations**

Spanish:

Tio—Uncle

¡Siempre!—Always!

Conde de Barcelona—Count of Barcelona

Hiedra Verde—Green Ivy

Te amo—I love you

French:

Bon anniversaire!—Happy Birthday!

Voici—Here

J'ai choisi cet un a toi—I chose this one for you

Où allons-nous? —Where are we going?

On va espionner Midii et son petit ami—We are going to spy on Midii and her boyfriend (used informally, literally, “One is going to spy on Midii…”)

Exactement—Exactly

Elle va nous frapper—She is going to hit us

Elle va nous tuer—She is going to kill us

J'ai cinq ans—I am five years old