A/N: My god, this thing's terribly old. This reflects my writing style as it was when I first watched Gundam Wing, back in the bygone era when it was only available through bootleg VHS tapes subtitled by otakus. So yes, this fic is a product of the mid 90's, when I was still a sap freak and wasn't too focused on that marvelous thing I now entirely rely on – plot. This fic, in my humble opinion, is stupendously craptastic and should die. However I've had others read it and say they wanted me to continue it. Thus, the second chapter was produced. I let it burble and die once more, then I started posting at fanfiction . net, so I decided 'What the heck?' and gritted my teeth, motivating myself to plaster this humiliatingly terrible fic's beginnings up for everyone to guffaw at it.

Yes, this is actually mine, though I don't like to claim it. I'd rather claim my tripe. (holds her aching head)

If I get enough reviews, I might actually finish it. Yes, you all can be afraid. (Want to read something high quality instead? Might I suggest 'Fractured' if you're into X/TB? Or maybe 'Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness' and it's prelude piece, 'Once'? Or even 'Fall of Nobility'! Or give up on me, go to my homepage, and read Ava's 'For the Love of Cats' (posted only there, as she refuses to release it to anyone else) – I love tormenting her with the fact that people still read that thing.)

Disclaimer: I in no way own Gundam Wing (or this fic). Don't sue; I'm simply an E5 in the USN (and this fic was started when I was a college student, not long removed from high school. Ack), therefore I have no money. Ha.

-BEGIN FIC-

-Heero Yuy-

"Return to base."

The screen flickered slightly, obscuring the visage of the person displayed across it who peered at me with his goggled eyes and clacked his three fingered robotic hand as his smile widened.

"Ninmu ryuoukai."

Those words escaped my mouth without my realization of thinking them, pouring forth from my lips automatically as they had been conditioned to do over the years I had been under Doctor J's supervision.

It didn't matter. What's another mission?

The only thing was that this particular mission was setting me on edge, creating in me the most odd sensation of a black empty pit developing in the midst of my stomach. Such of course was impossible, but such was what the sensation could best be described as. As that dark fluttering hole – worry? – formed within me, I let my lips fall into the frown they desired to form. There was no viable reason to return to base. A temporary cease-fire had been called. We had nothing to do. Better to leave us upon the Earth awaiting the next move of our enemies and being prepared for such.

Instead, those who were responsible for directing our movements and creating the foundation of our missions in our private war against OZ wanted us to return to base.

Duo was saying something behind me. Ranting and raving, by the tone of his voice. I attempted to tune it out as to ponder the reasons our superiors may have developed for this rather uncalled for maneuver.

I couldn't help but listen after awhile. The baka's voice had a way of always weaseling its way into my head.

"Damn it, this is fucking weird, you know? I mean, come on! Sending us back home. Back home! Shouldn't they just leave us here? What if OZ decides to get off its dead ass and start smashing the old Earth Sphere again? And there we'll be, sitting in space eating ramen and burgers, millions of miles away from our Gundams, sipping Coke instead of being where the action is. We were sent here to destroy the fuckers! So why the hell are we letting a little thing like a fake as hell cease-fire order stand in our way? Go back to base! Duo, if you disobey this order, I'm going to find you, drag you back by your hair and have you flogged before I lock you back into that semblance of an ordinary family life that I created for you! I'm a piss ass with the worst hairdo and the biggest nose on this side of the galaxy! Nyeah!"

Apparently I was not the only one among us who was wondering over these strange orders.

"Indeed," was the only snorted reply that came from the Chinese pilot that was seated at the table behind me.

"This makes no sense at all. It'll put us at a tactical disadvantage," muttered Trowa quietly. I could see his reflection in the darkened monitor screen of my laptop. He was scratching his chin, his eyes downcast as if he were staring at the floor.

"Hn."

"Ah, and the great conversationalist adds his two cents!"

I found myself glowering at Duo, who simply grinned in that manic fashion he always sported.

"Perhaps…."

Turning my eyes to Quatre, I narrowed my gaze. The Arab had been far too quiet, apparently having been delving into his own thoughts on the situation and attempting to figure out whatever rational thought our superiors had in giving us such orders.

"What are your thoughts, Quatre?"

"Two explanations. First, removing us from the Earth removes a tangible target from the sites of both the Earth Sphere Alliance and OZ, thus preventing the formation of any conflict between them. Such also protects us by simply removing us from the situation instead of leaving us to our own devises in the task of hiding ourselves from the public and militant eyes of Earth during this rather odd situation."

I nodded solemnly. Quatre always seemed to be able to come up with a viable explanation to even the most vague of circumstances, orders and events. The other pilots may not have ever been able to find any value in his skills, but I at least could see merit in having him upon our haphazardly constructed 'team.' He was quite a valuable asset.

"Second, they probably want us to relax and enjoy life for awhile to raise moral and improve our fighting spirits."

But he could be just as idiotic and frustrating as Duo at times.

"Improve our fighting spirits?" I mouthed quietly, turning a curious eye to him.

The blond idiot was grinning like mad, nodding happily. His thoughts were most decidedly askew that morning.

"Whatever the reason, we have no choice but to comply," Wufei growled quietly, shaking his head. He had been disappointed by the cease-fire, calling it the 'Path of Cowards' and cursing OZ to whatever Hell whatever God they worshipped created for their type of scum. Apparently, his wishes ran the same course as my own – to obliterate OZ while we're here, regardless of their actions for or against the Earth, the colonies or us. To finish what we'd started.

Our meal that night was held in silence. Such was a rarity when Duo Maxwell was seated at the same table as the rest of us. His typical yammering was stilled by the odd orders though.

I'd always felt that such silence would have decidedly been a comfort to me, giving my ears their longed-for break from his constant chatter and banter. However, with the lack of that which I found annoyance upon a regular basis I was feeling the return of that odd emptiness within the pit of my stomach again.

I simply couldn't shake that odd feeling, no matter how hard I tried. Everything that was happening that evening only succeeded in deepening that bottomless abyss. Trowa frowned as he carried his suitcase downstairs. Wufei decided to forego his usual practice of his katas to pack, muttering about the orders being a direct interference with his mission and such displeasing his 'Nataku.' Quatre sorted through his belongings, vainly attempting to pack lightly, searching for his calling card which he planned to use to contact his servants and inform them of his impending, temporary return to the manor he called home. Duo silently shuffled about, mindlessly ambling around our hideaway instead of purposefully turning to the task of moving out.

Duo's silence was the most disturbing action of all.

My sleep that night was less than peaceful. It was plagued with strange images that left odd sensations within me. I've not experienced the events of dreaming often. I've never remembered what I had dreamed about. The fact that I had even the most slight of recollections of what my dream was that night about brought more darkness to that pit within me.

I could not describe what the weird sensations that ran through my body were. I shivered when I'd awakened, but it was not from cold. My room was always kept at a steady, temperate climate. I was sweating, but not from heat. As described before, the conditions of the atmosphere within my room would not allow that. My heart was pounding for some odd reason. I had not exerted myself recently – there was no reason for such.

This return to base was not a wise decision. I could feel that coursing through my veins. We needed to be here, upon Earth. OZ was up to something. As Duo would say, I was 'feeling it in my bones.'

However, there was no choice but to return to base. I'd already accepted the mission. Quatre had already explained viably why such a mission would be created for us. Our Gundams were in need of slight repair, as well. This would probably be accomplished while we were away.

I failed in my personal mission of finding that elusive darkness called 'sleep' that night.

Standing in the spaceport with my allies the next morning, I squinted my eyes to protect them from the glare of the sun as it reflected off the shining windows of the hanger lobby we were in. I was silently building that feeling called 'envy,' directed towards Duo and his sunglasses as he chatted easily in the morning hours, oblivious to the fact that our shuttle was running late and the sun was shining directly into our eyes through the large glass windows. He was always chipper in the morning, though.

I carefully suppressed a smile as he laughed, shoving the rest of a glazed doughnut into his mouth and swallowing without more than five total chewing bites.

Wufei was silently glowering out of the windows, his eyes as squinted as my own, grumbling under his breath. He was never cheerful in the morning. Of course, as he usually ran missions in the early evening hours, he was never awake at this time. Duo's chattering was annoying him just as much as the sun was.

I could easily relate with him as I chewed mindlessly on the stick of jerky I'd requisitioned for myself to substitute for breakfast while we waited for the shuttle to finish its preparations.

Glancing over, I found myself smirking slightly. Trowa was lounging in one of the lobby's rather uncomfortable chairs next to a snoring Quatre who managed to curl himself somehow into those tiny seats, both feet up off the floor and head upon the armrest. The Arab had been so busy packing the night before that he'd not gotten a wink of sleep. I knew this because my room flanked his and I'd listened to the sounds of him tromping about and cursing as items eluded his searches in a vain attempt to busy my mind with something as sleep escaped me. Trowa was cautiously resting his hand upon the blond boy's shoulder, attempting to not be noticed and to not wake him.

Turning my gaze back towards the runway, I sighed in quiet relief as the shuttle finally opened its doors and the ramp was shoved to its side. We would begin boarding soon. I'd be back on base within a few hours. The others would return to their homes. We'd 'relax' as Quatre put it. I'd finally have enough time to question Doctor J about his true purposes in cooperating with the other mad scientists behind our attacks and strategies and having us return to the colonies for this impromptu 'vacation.'

I was out of jerky.

Peanuts were waiting on the shuttle.

I nodded, before lifting my carry-on duffel bag with a grunt of "Ninmu ryuoukai."

Blah. It was actually continued by reader request…
On to chapter 2, when I post it.