Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam, don't own Zechs, don't own any of the Gundam Wing characters. I don't own anything Gundam save for the first two DVDs which I paid for with good money.

Give me a review, please! Should I continue, should I quit while I'm ahead? Any and all comments are welcome. This is mostly just a preview of what's to come, other chapters will be larger.

Sand. He was lying in sand. Somehow it all seemed strangely familiar; dressed in uniform, the beach lapping gently behind him, his body aching as though the Tallgeese had stepped on him. The Tallgeese. No…that was long ago, the Tallgeese was destroyed. So long ago.

Platinum hair cascading about his shoulders, he forced himself to sit up, look around. Moonlight streamed down, shining over a scene of nothing more then beach and ocean. No wreckage, no sign of what had happened to Epyon. It was gone, perhaps at the bottom of the ocean, perhaps drifting through space.

Milliardo Peacecraft, Zechs Marquise, lay back on the sand again, noticing his suit was slightly damp; he couldn't have been laying here more then a few hours. His body ached terribly, his thoughts were unclear. Slowly he drifted back into unconsciousness, willing sinking into a respite.

* * *

Heero was going to sacrifice himself, destroy the piece of ship that threatened to crash to Earth. He couldn't let him die so needlessly, not when heroes are needed in the world. He accomplished what he wanted; Earth and the Colonies had seen how truly terrible war was and, with any luck, it would bring peace. He couldn't let Heero die. The final battle was brief, hardly a battle at all. He shoved the Wing out of the way, Epyon, crippled, and took it upon himself to destroy it.

The explosion should have been brief…but for some reason, it lasted an eternity. Whether Heero made it out alive or not, he couldn't remember. Fire everywhere, rushing towards him, towards the Epyon; self-preservation kicked in – but was it the machine or himself? Either way, something happened to let him survive. He was alive and Earth was saved.

* * *

Pain returned, a searing pain in his chest, suggesting something was broken. He awoke to find the morning stealing over the shore. Once again, he forced himself to sit up and when the pain was a dull throb, he forced himself to stand up. Unconsciousness, brought about by another wave of pain, threatened to take him down, but he fought it. He had to. Who knows what would happen to him if someone saw him here. The image of an angry mob like that which sought the monster Frankenstein had built came to mind. The humor helped to ease the pain, brought a smile to his agonized features. An arm clutched about his torso, holding it tight, as he began to stumble away, leaving the beach.

Without knowing how long he walked or how far – hours and miles or just minutes and feet – he came upon what appeared to be a road; it wasn't paved, merely a track carved out of the sand. He sat there, resting, each breath a torment of it's own as his lungs pushed against whatever rib was cracked, or worse. Hunched over, he didn't notice the approach of the vehicle until it slowed and stopped near him. Glancing up, white-blond bangs partially hiding his eyes, he could barely make out that it was a man driving the car.

The vehicle was a faded-red truck, obviously having seen better times, but still running. The window was rolled down, the elbow of the driver jutting out.

"Need some help, stranger?"

Pain welled up again; he pushed himself too far. With another groan, he clutched his chest, and passed back into the blissful non-reality of unconsciousness.