Disclaimer: I don't own either Gundam Wing or Transformers, just this fic. So don't sue, mmkay? I promise to put Sunrise and Hasbro's toys back when I'm done.

Duty Calls

It starts with an electrical storm and a meteor shower. Twenty-four hours, six minutes and fifty-eight seconds post-impact, he gets a call. Lady Une's composure is visibly wavering on the vid-screen as she all but demands his immediate presence on earth. He doesn't ask questions, simply complies, then the screen goes black and he's left to surmise one thing:

This – whatever this is, exactly – is bad.

Someone got it right when they said that so long as mankind exists, there would always be battles, so Heero Yuy isn't at all surprised when he finds out they have another war on their hands. He is, however, a little taken aback when he's led to a hangar with the other ex-pilots and introduced to what Une calls their new comrades.

It is safe to say that he, along with the other four, immediately think of Gundams as they look at the menagerie of giant robots presented to them. Except, they're nothing at all like Gundams; these robots are very much alive. It's unsettling at the very least.

Their leader – Optimus Prime – apologizes for bringing their war to this time and place, but "sorry" will do him no good, because in one fell swoop, these aliens have shattered the peace that had been maintained for four short years.

"It's not our war," Heero tells Lady Une sternly.

"No," she says, "but it is our world."

Heero can't argue that, so he lets the Preventer explain their current situation. Confident these robots are allies, she will assign each a partner, because these robots will be as good protection from the opposing forces as any Gundam ever was, and these boys have all the know-how they will need to put an end to a centuries-old war.

While Une compromises with Optimus, Heero stands back, watches things play out. Quatre is already speaking with one of them, because Quatre is like that; willing and accepting and trusting. Until circumstances change, anyway. Then Quatre is just like the rest of them, hardened and impenetrable. The robot seems to at least appreciate Quatre's attempt at a warm welcome, but Heero wonders how quickly its opinion on the young millionaire will change once he sees him in the midst of a battle.

Duo is walking wide circles around another, head cocking from one side to the other, admiring the mechanics – and that's exactly what these are to him, Heero knows: cogs and gears and wires. It doesn't matter how sentient they seem to be; after Deathscythe's demolition, Duo swore off attaching himself to anything mechanical. Heero wonders what the Autobot would do if it knew the braided man wasn't as impressed as it would like to believe, if it knew he was merely picking it apart with his eyes.

Trowa and Wufei are quiet beside him, and he can't fathom what may or may not be going through either of their minds, save for the same thought that's going through his:

Not again.

This war is not at all like the ones they've fought before, Heero realizes. It's a relatively quite one that keeps its soldiers on their toes if only because of the promise of a potential surprise attack, something the Decepticons seem rather fond of. It's an unorganized war, Heero thinks, so it's really no wonder it's lasted so long.

There have been no attacks for almost a week, and in this time Heero has had the chance to get to know his partner. Ultra Magnus is, in Heero's opinion, everything a robot should be, and sometimes reminds me a little bit too much of Wing Zero. He's a soldier through and through, at home on the battlefield and restless during these periods of calm. He takes orders better than he gives them, and doesn't think twice before rushing headfirst into a losing battle, because he knows the chances that he doesn't come out alive are slim.

Heero sees a lot of himself in Magnus, and decides that it's that acknowledgment that makes this whole mess a little bit easier.

"You don't want to fight, do you?" Magnus asks from beside Heero, never turning his optics away from the setting sun. Heero says nothing, something Magnus has learned usually means to continue with whatever introspection is being made, because the man likes to be put under the metaphorical microscope, likes to see just how many people can get him right. Thus far, he can count them on his fingers.

"I'm no expert on human emotions," Magnus presses on, slowly, carefully, "but you seem reluctant to participate in this war."

Heero doesn't look away from the setting sun, either. He saves the "when you've fought for as long as I have" speech for another time and person, and instead says, "once you've had a taste of true peace, it's not easy returning to the battlefield."

Because people change and he was never perfect and he swore he'd never fight again.

"But you're a soldier," Magnus retorts quietly, as though that is all there is, was, and ever will be to this man at his side. "You were designed for war."

"Molded is a more accurate term, I think," he says, finally looking up at the large robot. Magnus has this look on his face as though he doesn't understand, as though something is unable to process, and Heero thinks that may not be too far from the truth. He could carry on with something elaborate, like how he was born a blank slate just like every other human being on the planet, and how he could have turned out any other way but didn't because the wrong people got a hold of him and turned him into something cold and ruthless. He could tell him that it was just as easy to change because of the people he found himself surrounded by later on in life. But he doesn't say any of that. Instead, he shrugs with one shoulder and says,

"Things change."

Magnus is quiet for a few moments, then slowly turns to look at Heero, finally meeting his gaze. "If that's true, then why are you even bothering with this war?"

One corner of Heero's mouth curves in the slightest and he shakes his head, sighing. He would suppose it's in his nature to be drawn to the field, and that's partly true, but that isn't the reason he agreed to join this war.

"Peace," he says, because to obtain peace, wars must be fought.

"Peace?" Magnus asks, and Heero can tell it really is a hard concept for the Autobot to swallow.

"It's something worth fighting for."

The crackling of static disrupts them, and Springer's voice comes through the comlink loud and clear.

Stop slacking off and get your aft over here and help us build this fragging city.

"You should go," Heero says, "it sounds like they need you."

Magnus stands, nodding. "Do you want to come with me?" he asks. He doesn't need to tell Heero why he's requesting his company, he knows the young man will understand.

And Heero does, he understands perfectly that Magnus is beginning to process the concept of change. Whether it will happen for the Autobot is another question entirely, but the point is that he's trying, and that, Heero supposes, is all that matters for now.

"Why not?" he says and stands back to allow Magnus the room he requires to transform.