Disclaimer: The world is mine, but Gundam Wing is not. It is not mine at all, much as I might wish it is.

A.N.: I have learned my lesson. I will no longer say that I'll have a chapter done by a certain time. Since I spent all last week on only school eating and sleeping, I can't say when that will happen again. So. I'll do what I can. Hope people like how this is developing. Thanks. Oh, one other thing, I hope there aren't too many grammer mistakes, ut my bus is coming and I have to run. Enjoy reading. (I hope, hope, hope!)

Woodcutter.

Kasi-kun.

Chapter 6 – Trowa.

Now, when you grew up around people with darker hair and darker eyes, and are having a nice dream where you are at home and nothing wrong has ever happened. Well, nothing more than squabbles with siblings, and a few minor bruises when you make your Papa angry, I can tell you that it is a very disconcerting thing to open your eyes and stare into pale blue eyes while your whole body aches. Though ache ready is then understatement of the century.

When I did come into awareness my inane thought count became hopelessly balanced in the stupid thoughts favor, and I promptly gave up counting. This time the though consisted of 'Blue, pretty.' How embarrassing. Forever, but it got worse, because my mouth betrayed me, and those two horrible words spilled from my lips.

Laughter followed. The blue eyes vanished from my sight, and slightly hysterical laughter rolled over me.

"He thinks he will be fine!" Zechs gasped out between howls, and I managed to twist my head so I could see who he was talking about. Then I realized that I wasn't in the slave pens, and I had no idea where I was.

"Where?"

"Response logged, a report will be made." I had never heard such a monotone voice. I'm good at making myself sound emotionless, but this voice was uncanny. Soft footfalls moved away from me on the other side from Zechs and a door opened then closed, all before I could manage to turn my head before I could see who it was.

Frustrated I heaved my head back around to my friend. "Where?" I demanded this time. Forever, but I was not amused.

"He is not sure, Trowa." I wished that the blonde would learn to say 'I', and 'me', hearing him saying 'he about himself was getting confusing. "It is a far place from the slave pens. We have traveled very far, but new owners kept him drugged. He is sorry he doesn't know more."

"Far? Are you sure?" My eyes by this time had taken in my surroundings. Walls made of a kind of huge blocks, and a couple guttering torches set in the wall. I lay on a stone bench of sorts, the only bit of comfort being a bit of moldy straw to break the cold of the stone; the typical dungeon, straight out of a story book. Amazing. Forever but I wished I was anywhere but there. Scratch that, anywhere but there and the slave pen; in other words, at home, in my mountains. How much longer would I have to run to get to them now?

My musing was interrupted by the opening of the heavy iron door of the cell. Into the dank room trudged a very strange looking set of old men. I would describe them to you but I hate them now, for what they did to us, especially for what they did to... but I get ahead of myself. I'm sorry, onward. I won't describe them to you, I will leave it to your imagination. I learned in the first few moments that they were in our cell, that these men were powerful sorcerers who experimented with magic. They were my new masters, they informed me, since they had saved me from death at the auction arena. Forever, but I was not impressed!

"Forever," I had heaved myself to a sitting position when I learned this information. "You burn me, kill who knows how many people in the process, drag me across who knows how much distance, and then expect me to be grateful? You're all mad! Insane. You would be thrown off the mountain if you lived in Timber country!" I was breathing heavily. Obviously whoever had healed my burns hadn't done a good job of restoring my vitality.

One of the old men, who had the biggest nose I'd ever seen, sniggered quietly. "You're wrong, child."

Zechs seemed to have vanished into the shadows, his knees were pulled up to his chest, his arms curled around them, his blue eyes were like saucers, filled with fear. I was too stupid to fear them yet. "What do you mean? You must have! And given me a bad healing, to boot."

More laughter came from different separate men, and behind one of them I caught a glimpse of a slender boy a bit shorter than me. His lack of shirt proclaimed him male, I couldn't see him well enough to know his age or anything else about him beyond that. "Listen, child. That fire was all yours. We had nothing to do with it, except we happened to be in the area when it was happening. You haven't needed healing because the fire didn't burn you in the first place."

I was stumped. Stopped in my tracks, in my mind Duo's voice rang 'Your eyes are doing that glowy thing again'. Is this what it meant? These men had to be lying to me. I couldn't call fire. They were lying. I opened my mouth to say so, when the old man who had spoken to me first, spoke again.

"Can you tell me what a night of power is?" I shook my head, and then realized that Big Nose was looking beyond me at Zechs. "Come forward, Lad, answer me."

Zechs looked mutinous, but crawled forward, almost as if he was being dragged. Forever but it looked weird. "Night's of power is the slang name used in tales for a night when waves of magic flow over the land. They are very rare. Babies conceived on such nights are usually extremely powerful and," He choked for a moment, sitting back on his heels glaring at the oldsters, then continued "and those babies are rarely considered of the same species are their parents."

"Thank you." The man standing in front of the shadowed boy gave Zechs a malevolent smile, and the blonde cringed back to the floor, his hand coming up to touch his throat and a small sliver necklace that I hadn't seen before. "Do you understand, Timber-ape?" He looked at me. Uneasy in the extreme now, I shook my head. What did that information have to do with me? "Blue-eyes. Tell the Timber-ape when the last night of power was. And when you are born."

Zechs shook. The necklace glimmered, then with a choked cry the blonde rasped, "The last night of power was on Yestme-ja-mas, he's two hundred and fifty seven years old."

Big Nose turned to me, "Yestme-ja-mas. Yestme, the equinox in the land that Blue–eyes comes from, it is six days before the equinox in your mountains. Ja-mas, means sixteen years ago."

I felt the blood drain from my face. Sixteen years ago? Sixteen years ago, thirteen days before the autumn equinox my mother had gone missing in an early storm. She had been lost for ten days, and nine months later I had been born. My father was her new husband when it happened and he, it is whispered, was beside himself frantic when she was gone. When she got back Mama remembered nothing, but the healers had proclaimed her clean, then when I was born the whispers returned. What had happened while she was gone? All my life I had done my best to ignore the stories.

The evil old man waved the boy behind him into the torches light, "This is Heero. He was conceived on, as Blue-eyes said, Yestme-ja-mas."

He was blue eyes, but a deep blue like the evening shy, not like Zechs' which were like the ice on mountain tops, his face was a blank mask, his hair thick enough to be unruly, and unwilling to stay where it was combed. He didn't even blink when Master Evil spoke about him. A chill raced up my spine, was he even human? Then was Zechs had said sank in, he was over two hundred years old. Yet, he only looked to be about twenty-two or twenty-three. I turned to stare at him. He grimaced, and then mouthed, 'Even he, with years of experience, does stupid things and he gets caught sometimes.' I flopped to my back, and stared at the shadows of the ceiling, two hundred and fifty some-odd years?

"So, I'm going to live forever?"

"Oh, no, just a very long time, child. Like us. We'll be one big happy family."

"You're all liars." Ever heard of denial? I had it. I know it seems as incredible to you reading this story, as it did to me then, but it was true. I was one of the children of the nights of Power. Just like the mask-faced Heero. The only question is, how did it happen? I didn't learn that for a while longer, it was when I found that out that I truly began believing that I would never again be only a simply human boy working for his family in the Timber stands.

I was crushed. I don't think that it's possible for anyone to take such massive changes in their life, especially ones that occurred so quickly, without some time to grieve, and sulk about it. Forever, but I got the time I needed in that horrible little cell, after Zechs was dragged out by Heero, and I was left alone to ponder for weeks.

Oh, and I learned to hate gruel. Ugh!

Tbc.