To make things clear from here on out, Quatre was reborn as Quatre Micheal Adams, and Heero was reborn as Ookami Heero. Quatre was named after his uncle, who died the day before he was born. Heero was named after the great pacifist leader (again). Quatre is from the L1 colony cluster, Heero is from Earth.

Quatre Micheal Adams, known to his friends as 'Q,' sighed heavily, staring out the window next to him.

"Bored, Q?" The student next to him, a pretty senior named Milfey, asked, bopping Quatre with her notebook. "Or do you really find space that interesting?"

"Bored." Quatre replied, sighing again. "I mean, sure, Earth is an exciting place to go these days, but the trip there is only barely worth it. I wish I'd thought to bring my sketch pad."

"Yeah, then you'd finally be able to do that picture you promised me." Milfey laughed, settling back into her seat. "Y'know, the one of that guy you've been dreaming about?"

"Dreams, my ass." Quatre snorted. "Those are nightmares, considering everything that happens in them. And will you quit that?"

Milfey obediently stopped fiddling with Quatre's hair, but not without a fight. "But it's so pretty!" She complained. "It just about the only mess of truly copper-colored hair I've ever seen, and it's got blonde highlights, like your mom's hair!"

"You're obsessed with hair." Quatre muttered. "Besides, we need to get our stuff together. We're almost there."

The privileged students of Winner Private Academy filed quietly through the gates of the spaceport to the shuttles. Most were half-asleep as the climbed into their assigned rides. Quatre and Milfey parted ways at shuttle C. Milfey's shuttle was F, and hadn't arrived yet.

Plopping down in one of the cushioned seats, Quatre pulled out his sketchpad, a graphite stick, and a soft white eraser and set to work drawing.

Just like my weird self to start dreaming about a war right before we learn about the real one. He thought to himself. There's got to be something seriously wrong with my brain to come up with stuff like this.

Looking down, he realized he'd been drawing a scene from his most recent nightmare. The view was from a cockpit of some sort, looking out at the remnants of a battle in space. Pieces of ships and mobile suits were scattered all over the place, and a mobile suit with a scythe and bat wings floated off to one side, the cockpit open and empty.

Whatever happened to the dreams of flying? He wondered as the shuttle moved smoothly into the docking area at the hotel where he and his classmates would be staying. Why do I of all people have to start dreaming about battles?

Ookami Heero wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of one dirty forearm, leaning against the low stone wall he was supposed to be tearing down.

"Hey, Ookami!" Heero's foreman yelled, waving to get his attention. "We've got another batch of students coming through! For God's sake, don't threaten any of these!"

"He was askin' for it!" Heero yelled back, lifting his sledgehammer and swinging it at the wall. "If he'd a kept his hands to himself, I would've left him alone!"

"Well, these are from Winner Private Academy, and I'd really rather not have the best lawyers in known space suing us, okay?"

"Alright! I get the point! Sheesh." Heero continued to grumble to himself as the students walked past him, heading for the giant museum on the other side of the tunnel. Most stared at him, probably wondering how old he was. Heero hated how young he looked. At fourteen, he could still pass for ten, if he kept his muscles covered.

"What the-" One of the students had pushed another off the walkway, right in the path of a steam roller.

Even if the driver saw the kid, they'd never be able to stop in time. Momentum would keep the machine going until long after the kid had been crushed.

"Fuck!" Heero cursed.

He vaulted the low wall and shoved his way past students, his eyes never leaving the giant steam roller. He jumped down next to the student, who hadn't moved an inch, grabbed him, and hauled him out of the way just as the steam roller passed by.

"Hey, kid, you all right?" He asked as the other students crowded around him and his burden. "Answer me, kid."

The only answer he got was a weak groan.

Heero spotted the pusher, and his eyes took on what his coworkers affectionately called his 'Glare of Death.' "You." He snapped, pointing at the boy. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing, pushing people around in a dangerous place like this? If this kid had died, you'd be held responsible! You really want something like that hanging over your head for the rest of your life?"

"I...I didn't..." The boy stammered, obviously unused to being held accountable for his actions.

"Ookami, what's going on?" The foreman demanded, working his way through the crowd. "What's up with that Olympic sprint of yours?"

"I think the kid needs a doctor." Heero said, ignoring his boss for the moment. "Someone wanna give me this kid's name?"

"Quatre." A girl with short brown hair supplied. "Quatre Adams. And the idiot who pushed him is Jack Riversphere. Feel free to kick his ass."

"M-Milfey..." Quatre muttered, his eyes opening. "He cannot kick Jack's ass, as you so eloquently put it."

"Glad to see you're awake, kid." Heero said. "Think you can stand?"

"I hope so." Quatre replied grimly. "Because I'm the one who's going to kill Jack."

"H-hey, Q." Jack stammered, backing up a pace or two. "I-it was an accident, man! An accident! You know I'd never do that on purpose!"

Heero, seeing that Quatre was indeed bent on killing the other boy, rolled his eyes and stepped between the two, sighing.

"First off, I don't think a person stupid enough to try killing someone in a place like this exists." He stated, glaring at Jack before switching his focus to Quatre. "And you won't be going anywhere but to a bed. From what I can tell, you cracked you head good, and you shouldn't even be standing right now. Got me?"

"Who are you?" Quatre asked, blinking violently. "And just how old are you?"

Heero had to close his eyes and count slowly backwards from ten to keep from punching the boy.

"My name is Heero. I'm fourteen. And you're coming with me. Boss, get the rest of these kids out of here and get ahold of this one's parents, will ya?"

"You're the medic." The foreman said, shrugging as he herded the other students towards their destination and began questioning Milfey about Quatre's parents.

Quatre sat heavily down on the small cot taking up one wall of the narrow room, grateful for its support. He didn't know if he could have walked another step without collapsing.

"You should feel a killer headache by now." The worker named Heero said softly, rummaging through one of the boxes on the floor. "My advice is to keep your eyes open until we know for sure if you've got a concussion or not."

"Okay..." Quatre replied faintly, leaning against the wall and watching the other boy. He said he was fourteen, but he sure as hell didn't act like it. "Thanks." He added, realizing he hadn't thanked Heero for saving him yet.

"Don't mention it." The brunette handed Quatre two pills and a small glass of water. "Swallow these quick; they'll help with your head, but they taste disgusting."

Quatre did as he was told, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste. Almost immediately, his pounding headache dwindled to nearly nothing.

"Lean forward." Heero instructed. "I can't check your head if you're leaning against the wall like that."

Quatre did as he was told, and sat absolutely still while Heero checked him over. "Do you live here?"

"Yup. Looks like you'll live. No sign of a concussion, anyway."

"Alone?"

"Who else can a poor orphan live with? Now don't ask so many questions. It's safe to lie down and get some sleep. I'll wake you up when someone comes to get you, okay?"

"Okay..." Quatre replied, more than willing to take Heero's advice.

Heero sat cross-legged on the carpet opposite the door to his little home, watching the door with half an eye. The other eye and a half were watching the kid in his bed, who reminded him of someone, and who also happened to have a very coppery mess of slightly wavy hair.

Heero had never seen hair that color before, and it intrigued him. So did the air about the boy. He had a kind, trusting quality, kind of like a puppy. But, also like a puppy, Heero got the feeling the shorter boy would rip your throat out if you messed with his friends.

What's that they say about cornered rabbits? He thought, smiling to himself. And if he's a rabbit, what does that make me? A Vegan wolf? He couldn't help but chuckle at the image of a grazing wolf that thought conjured up.

The boy started awake with a sort of choked off half-scream, breaking into Heero's thoughts. He scrambled to his feet and ran to the bed.

"You okay, kid?" He asked, irrationally concerned about him.

"Y-yeah..." Quatre said, not sounding okay in the least. "Just another nightmare, is all." He paused for a moment, then asked, "Did you bring my bag?"

"Yeah." Heero said, pointing at the dark blue shoulder bag near the door. "Why? Yo need medicine or something out of it?"

"No, nothing that important." Quatre said, shaking his head. "I just need to draw something real quick."

Heero stared at him for a moment, then shrugged and retrieved the bag, handing it to his guest, who pulled out a sketchpad, a graphite stick, and an eraser and fell to drawing.

After a minute or two, her put down his tools with a sigh. "Finished." He said, flipping the sketchbook around so Heero could see. For an instant, he thought it was him laid out in neat, even lines on the thick white paper.

Then he began to see the differences. First, there was the age. The picture was of a man in his teens that looked older, not a fourteen-year-old who looked years younger than he was. The man's hair was shorter than his, and he was dressed in spandex shorts and a loose tank top. He had one hand extended in front of him, holding something long and thin with a button on the visible end. His face was resigned and determined at the same time.

"He looks a lot like you." Quatre mused, staring intently at his artwork. "A little older, sure, but he could be your older brother." Then he sighed, shaking his head. "Stupid dreams." He muttered.

That clicked it. Take out the slight wave in his hair and make it pale blond, and Quatre became the boy Heero himself had dreamed of for nearly a year now.

"Hey, you okay?" Some of Heero's shock must have shown, because Quatre's face took on a worried, slightly wary look, and the smaller boy slid down on the floor next to Heero.

"Hell if I know." Heero commented. "Considering you're the boy from my dreams."

"Excuse me?"

"If your hair was straighter and blond, you'd be a dead ringer for someone I've been seeing every night for ten months or so."

"Well, that's certainly odd." Quatre said thoughtfully. "Maybe we knew each other in a past life or something."

Wow, Q-chan's so sharp! I can't wait until my muse comes back and I can write the next chapter!