This is the beginning to a Gundam Wing fanfic I started a LONG time ago. Consider it a small teaser, or preview to what the story is about. I had to post something, or the plotbunny would never leave me alone! The idea came from the series, the movie, and Episode Zero (the manga). Though no specific characters are mentioned at this time, it would eventually involve almost all the characters, including some that have appeared only in the mangas. The main coupling will remain a surprise, though I will admit to using only CANNON couplings—cannon, meaning based solely on evidence from the series, whether I like it or not.
Unfortunately, I have since all but abandoned the Gundam Wing genre. Too many stories featured Relena-bashings, and not enough with my preferred couples. While I am not opposed to yaoi, 1x2 just doesn't appeal to me and I don't see it happening. 3x4 is slightly better, but only in a universe where Midii Une doesn't exist.
For these reasons, and other which will go unmentioned, I leave you with a glimpse at what would have been Gundam Wing: Wing Zero.
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DISCLAIMER: Don't own Gundam.
Probably never will.
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It had once been a four-star motel, the townspeople say, long before the war had even begun. Well renowned for its splendid architectural detail (mainly believed to be Arabian in nature) and fabulous service, travelers and soldiers alike came from all over the countryside to stay just even one night. There were no billboard signs anywhere on the building, no public advertisements made, not even an official name to the building. It was simply known by word of mouth as The Motel:
"Oh, stay at The Motel; it's fabulous!"
"I've never had such a good night's rest!"
"Can't beat the service there with a stick, my boy!"
The town village, itself, was nothing to overlook either. Humble and small, the economy was well-off from extensive trading and massive plantations surrounding it. The market fruits and vegetables glistening each day in the early morning sunlight; likewise, meat from the local butcher was displayed daily in all its fresh glory. Spices that grew in the fields were some of the best in all the world, further adding to the town's popularity. It was a very good life to all who lived there.
Now, it was little more than a distant memory. Some weren't entirely sure that time had really existed. Whatever the war itself hadn't destroyed, it's end had basically crushed.
The Motelstayed vacant—abandoned—for close to a decade. The once brightly-colored walls were faded down to a pale beige, crumbling under the pressure of age and any remains of its once-infamous design had long since been destroyed. Most of the windows were black with soot, the rest cracked or broken. Grime scaled the outer walls, leaving them a puke-green, near brown color. Inside was hardly better.
The first group of orphans to appear were no more than seven or eight years old and came from up north. There were six of them all together, three siblings and three companions, with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and each other. They spent a good week and a half holing up in the street alleys, begging for shelter and stealing for food before they seemingly vanished from sight.
No one knew where they had gone to, not even the few individuals who charitably supplied them with daily scraps of food to eat whenever possible. It wasn't until, late one night, they saw the candlelight shining through the windows of The Motel that the citizens realized the children had claimed it as their home. Since it had been empty for so long, no one complained.
It wasn't long before a various array of children began arriving in the town, all of them war-orphans, taking up residence in The Motel, as few as hours within one another. Some became well known among the marketplace, whether it be for amazingly sweet social skills or unparalleled ability at shoplifting everything in sight. Life became more stable for the array of children, except for one fact.
There was still no one to take care of them; the eldest was just ten years old.
A little more than a month or so after the ex-motel (now a homeless shelter for the young war victims) first took up residence, a young couple came into town. Very young. Of all the orphans who had arrived, these two remained in the minds and hearts of all who met them.
The girl was ten years old, a young ten, with rich, auburn hair and the brightest emeralds for eyes. Her clothes (a navy-blue sundress with spaghetti-straps, reaching just past her knees) were soiled and ragged, but still in decent shape, much like the rest of them. Hints of a Southern Confederate accent crept into her speech, possibly indicating she must have come from the Americas…though what she was doing so far East in Eurasia was a mystery. Her voice spun with a sugary sweetness, while her smile could melt the coldest of hearts, making her near irresistible to refuse.
The young Southern Belle was very shy in nature, and was rarely seen without a tiny hand clasped tightly with the boy's. Likewise, the boy was rarely seen anywhere without her by his side.
He was at least three years her senior, placing him at about thirteen years of age, and a full head taller. For these reasons, he became her self-proclaimed protector, watching over the little girl whenever he could. His hair was one or two shades lighter than hers, pulled back tightly into a low ponytail that reached just below his shoulders, while his eyes shone a fiery amber, almost solid red. His jeans and solid red t-shirt were no worse for the wear, aside from being awful dusty, but what was unusual about his ensemble was an old, brown duster trench coat he wore anytime it wasn't too hot out.
Many of the elder woman smiled, saying he would definitely become a heartbreaker when he got older, with that mischievous smirk and smooth accent. He, too, carried traces of a southern accent, those his was unmistakably Cajun.
To the casual observer, the strong bond between the two could easily have been described as one very similar to close siblings, the best of friends. Always together, always looking out for one another, never a harsh word between them. Residents of The [Ex-]Motel knew better.
They saw the way he would gently brush auburn locks away from her eyes when he spoke privately to her. They saw the way she would snuggle close to him on cold, winter nights. They saw how he would pull her onto his lap with the utmost of care whenever she cried, holding her close and stroking her hair softly…how she responded by curling up reflexively, easily at peace in his arms. They saw the smiles, the embraces, the shine in their eyes. They knew it was more than just friendship, despite the age difference.
And it made them remember. Remember that it was still possible to love. Remember that no matter what, they had each other. No matter what hardships, memories of things past, or difficulties, it was all things they could face together. They were a family.
After Colony One-Nine-Six, the middle of winter. After just one year of peace, yet another war threatened to arise. It was easily prevented by the legendary Gundams and their pilots, though none of the town orphans knew this at the time. They had a much larger problem on their hands:
The children were getting sick.
At first, it was no more serious than the common cold; the building they were living in wasawful drafty, especially in frigid temperatures of negative two degrees Celsius. But they had no medicine, and soon various degrees of fever were beginning to spring up. Travelers still wandered into the town every now and then, bringing along with them a variety of diseases that the multi-cultural group was instantly exposed to.
No one could help them; the town doctor had perished in battle during the Eve Wars, though to the children he just "never came back." Filled with a new fear, the orphan residents began loosing what little hope they had left. More and more of them were becoming ill with each passing day.
It was then that she first showed up. No one knew exactly where she was from, despite the hints of a French accent she spoke. At eighteen years of age, it was hard to tell if she was another war orphan, an ex-soldier, or perhaps both. She seemed empty at first, wandering into the main square one afternoon with a lost look upon her face, like she knew neither where she was nor how she'd gotten there.
That changed soon after she arrived at the shelter, though the townspeople didn't know that. All they knew was that she was in the same condition when she arrived as the rest of them, if older.
Once again, the orphans knew better. This mysterious girl soon became what each an every one of them need, what they hadn't had since the wars first began.
A mother.