Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or any of its affiliates/owners. If I did, I would be lucky. ^_^

I was outnumbered, and it was suicidal, but I knew it. I knew it going into this mission. I was taking out as many of them as I could without going down, but I was calmly waiting to join Meiran. I had a number of injuries, ranging from light to almost fatal, and I could feel the sting of cuts on my face, and the wetness of blood dripping between my eyes and down my cheeks. The pain was great, but bearable. At least, it was until my safety belt broke free of its clasp, allowing me to be thrown about the space of my cockpit. I was getting dizzy, so I stopped fighting, waiting for the mobile suits to finish me off. Before the darkness claimed me completely, though, I could have sworn I heard the roar of another Gundam.

*--*

I saw a bunch of flashes and gunfire about a mile north of the safehouse I was staying in. Of course, nothing is safe, now. It's the year A.C. 197: the reign of peace hadn't lasted. The 'war to end wars' had allowed for about nine months of peace.

But back to the present. I got into my Gundam, and as I got closer, I saw another Gundam-a Gundam! -fighting a hoard of mobile suits. When I could see everything clearly, the Gundam faltered, stopped, and then tumbled headfirst into the ground. There had only been about fifty suits left. I finished them off, but it took a while, and I did not leave unscathed. A cut on my upper arm was the worst, though.

I then landed my Gundam and quickly exited it. I climbed up first the leg and then the torso of the other Gundam, and manually opened the hatch. I gasped at what I saw.

Blood was everywhere. It covered the top, bottom, sides, and screens of the cockpit. Not that that mattered, of course, because the screens were shattered: the shards had mutilated the boy inside. His shirt had been torn, and pieces of glass were imbedded in his bare chest, along with everything else above his waist, all the way up to where his face met black hair glistening with sweat.

His safety belt had been torn free of its holster, and he was now lying face-up, but sideways, on his seat. I checked for a pulse: it was there, but thready. Silently, I prayed he would last until I could get him to the safehouse. It was a long way.

*--*