Fallen Strands 1

Disclaimer: This would totally suck if I get sued on my first fanfic, so please don't attack me! I don't own anything from Gundam Wing (except for a few model kits and a photo book) and I don't plan on making money off of this, so it should be cool. Give respect to the creators. Make offerings, in fact. But not rice and salt. Maybe some sake. Yeah, sake. Anyhoo, on with the fic. (Oh, and I own a couple CD's too, imports! ^_^)

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Fallen Strands

Part 1

"Master Quatre!"

Nodding appreciatively to his head chef, the young man turned to see who else was calling for him this morning.

"Yes, Rahim? Did your team finish unloading the fireworks?"

The young Maguanac shrugged his shoulders and threw Quatre a grin. "Ah, that was no sweat. We passed them off to the experts an hour ago. They'll have the show ready for 9:00 tonight, no problem." He glanced back at the chef, who was now hurrying back to the kitchen. The Winner staff have been preparing for the New Years party for close to six months now, and there still seems to be endless decisions to be made.

Grinning even wider, Rahim pointed at the plump figure of the frantic cook. "What's makin' ol' Andre in such a rush? I didn't know his legs could stand that sort of punishment at those speeds."

The head of the Winner household smiled back at his comrade, and reminded him, "It still looks like you don't have any complaints about his cooking." Rahim looked down at his now-familiar and comfortable paunch and sighed ruefully. "Ah, it's the civilian life. Three square meals a day does that to a solider."

Quatre smiled again and looks around at the organized chaos around him. Staff members of all kinds were hurrying about, making last minute checks on everything. Here and there he recognized a face of another Maguanac, recruited as a helper during the crunch time. The task Quatre had asked of his normal staff was just too big for them to handle alone. Planning a New Years party for the Winner family is a large undertaking even in normal circumstances, but holding the Bicentennial Bash for many of the big names in the media as well as all of the major leaders of Earth and Space is another matter. Yet it seems like it's finally all coming together, thanks in part to many of his companions like the one to his right. The faithful Maguanacs offered their help in anyway the Winner staff needed them, from the delicate matter of transporting enough fireworks to bring down half the estate, to making the icing trim on the huge cake that was for dessert. Though it's not like they've had a lot of work elsewhere nowadays, Quatre mused. A mobile suit army isn't exactly in demand at the moment.

He leaned against a nearby pillar and looked back at his friend. "Yeah, it's nearing on four years since Relena started her campaign for total pacifism, and we've had over two solid years of peace. If that gives some of us a few more inches on our waistline, I'll take it."

Rahim laughed heartily and clapped his sworn Master on his back. "Oh, but not you Master Quatre! You still run around keeping the Winner business up, you're the only one still in shape. The only inches you've gained are in height. Oops," he checked his watch, "I gotta get goin'. I'm scheduled to help with the media set-up. See ya at the party Sir!" Rahim tipped two fingers against his brow in an informal salute as he started to jog off to the compound's entrance. Quatre breathed a sigh as he slowly drew himself away from an internal reverie. Recalling the time when Relena was a simple girl with a dream reminded him that there was also a time that he had almost let this ideal life that he lead now slip through his fingers.

Wondering why he suddenly was feeling wistful of one of the most painful times in his life, Quatre decided to head back up to his private quarters, hoping he could shake his minor funk with a little rest. It must just be all the strain of the planning for the celebration. Thankfully it'll soon be time to stop planning and start enjoying the party!

"Master Quatre! I need to ask you something? We've run out of blue frosting!"

Quatre smiled and thought, But not just yet.

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A young lanky man stood scratching his head near the towering front gate to the Winner complex, just outside the large pool of lights. The lights were from the multitudes of camera crews, and they made sure that no big name got past the reporters without a picture or two and a statement about the biggest gala since the Truce Day two years ago. Sure, Earth and Space-wide peace isn't exactly a small deal, but neither is the two-hundredth anniversary of the founding of the colonies and the present basis of timekeeping. And not only that, but this was also a big occasion because one of the heroes of the Great Pacifist War was hosting it. The public hasn't seen much of the five Gundam pilots in a few years. Simply put, there wasn't much need for them anymore. B

The shadowed figure ran his fingers through his hair and seemed to find something that he wasn't quite used to yet. Shrugging his shoulders, he set out to the Winner home, but avoids the media at all costs.

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Quatre relaxed in his chair off to the side of the main hubbub of the party. He let out a small sigh and leaned back, trying to stretch out protesting muscles. He'd been standing all day, either preparing beforehand or mingling with the hundreds of officials and dignitaries. Besides dinner, this was the first time he'd sat down since nine that morning. It was about two at night now, and the fireworks at midnight had been as spectacular as planned, which gave the crowd quite a show. Many of the guests that weren't trying to sober up before bracing the cameras outside were by the banquet table grabbing the last few bites of top-notch desserts and pastries. The area immediately around him was relatively bare, except for a pair of dignitaries who weren't acting to dignified right now, (the champagne that had been served was the best quality,) and a tallish man with unusual blue eyes and a mop of short, dark hair. Quatre looked at the latter for a moment, and had a nagging feeling that he should know him. Though that shouldn't be surprising, he thought. I've met and talked to more people tonight than I have in my entire life. The champagne probably doesn't help my memory much either. Picking up a glass from a nearby table, he mused, though it is pretty good. I should have tried this befo… "Hey," the young man said, interrupting Quatre's thoughts. Somehow he had managed to cross the twenty-foot distance of bare room without making a sound. "You've finally tried some real alcoholic champagne. I told you ya should have tried it long ago, for a real celebration."

No… Quatre stared again at the man's face, and looked dumbfounded at the blu…no, violet eyes. He then looked unbelievingly at the short hair, the short, san-braid hair, yet it was short chestnut hair… "D-Duo?" he stammered.

Duo gave his trademarked carefree grin, raised up his own champagne glass in a small salute, and threw his other arm around Quatre's shoulder. "Man, I should had hung out with you a long time ago, if I knew you could throw a party like this!"

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Author's Note: Ok, ok, ok. Duo lovers, please don't yell at me, I am one of you! REALLY! I'm obsessed with Shinigami, but I decided for my intro fic to do something a little different. And this is gonna be a short fic too, (I only plan on two parts,) so in any other fic I write the God of Death will have his luscious locks restored to him. But the main point I want to say is please don't say anything specific about the end of this part in the reviews: some people like to read reviews before they read the fic, and I just don't want that little tidbit known at the beginning. You can yell at me though if ya wanna! I can take critiques. Ok, I'm done babbling. I'll write the next part soon!

-Ladyscythe-