To Bunch–o-Nuts- Yes, having the other pilots wandering around does make it interesting. But you have to remember, the only people that we know for a fact died are Heero, Quatre, and Relena. There's no reason for the other ones to not be around.

To Romie- Oy. I totally forgot about that part… now I'm going to have to rationalize it… Okay. Wufei and Trowa got together, leaving Quatre to Heero. They both knew it wasn't really love, but they stayed together anyway, until Quatre died. Trowa met Emily at the funeral and immediately fell in love. Wufei let him go and moved in with Duo, since he didn't have anywhere better to go. Now Duo and Wufei are roommates – not lovers – and Trowa is married to a Winner woman. Wow… that was easier than I thought it would be!

"What?" Duo exclaimed, bolting upright and colliding with Wufei's elbow.

"Dammit, Maxwell-" Wufei started, rubbing his abused joint.

"Later, Wufei," Trowa interrupted quietly. "I swear, the kid our nephew was talking to looked almost exactly like Heero when we first met him."

"But… But that doesn't make any sense!" Duo protested. "Heero's dead!"

"That's what I thought. And here's the really weird part – his name's Heero."

"What was that all about?" Heero asked curiously, arching one eyebrow at Quatre.

"I'm not sure…" Quatre answered, glancing worriedly at the staircase. "Uncle Trowa never acts like this. He's usually so calm."

"Well, he definitely wasn't calm just now. Look, Quatre, I have to get to work now, and I won't be home until 2100, my time. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay." Quatre said with a sincere smile. "Bye."

The two boys hung up, and Quatre immediately headed for his uncle's room, intent on making sure the man was really okay.

"Uncle Trowa?" He called, knocking on the bedroom door. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," Came the faint reply, and he eased the door open, poking his head inside.

"Did you talk to Uncle Duo already?" Quatre asked, seeing that Trowa wasn't on the phone.

"Yes, I did." Trowa said with one of his odd half-smiles he reserved for Quatre and Quatre alone. "I'm sorry about the way I acted in front of your friend. I was very surprised."

"Why?" Quatre asked, closing the door and running over to jump on the bed. "How did you know Heero's name?"

"It's a long story, Quatre, and Duo, Wufei, and I have decided it's one you need to know." The brunette turned so that he was leaning against the headboard and patted the mattress next to him. "Come and sit; I have something to show you."

Quatre obliged, settling down next to his uncle and leaning against the man, looking forward to whatever Trowa had to show him. When his uncles told him stories, they were always worth listening to. Especially Uncle Trowa's.

Trowa glanced down at his nephew, nestled against him and eagerly anticipating a good story, and began having second thoughts. Was it really such a good idea to tell him about the first Quatre? Could the boy handle it? Was it right to keep it from him?

But really, there was no backing out now, so Trowa reached into the top drawer of his nightstand and withdrew and old, battered photo album.

"Back when I was your age, I fought in a war, right?" He began, pausing for Quatre to confirm before continuing. "Although I fought primarily alone, there were four people I considered my teammates for much of the war." He flipped open the photo album to the first picture; Duo, posing in front of his scrapyard and grinning like a maniac. "Duo Maxwell," The next picture was of Wufei scowling at the camera over a book, glasses sliding down his nose, hair down, and a disembodied hand giving him bunny ears. "Chang Wufei," Next, Quatre Reberba Winner in a pair of swim trunks on a real, honest-to-goodness, beach in Old New York, smiling gently. "Quatre Winner, who you were named for," After a moment's hesitation, he flipped to what was probably the only picture of his last comrade taken with his consent. "And Heero Yuy."

"Heero!" Quatre gasped, almost snatching the album from his uncle. "But… but Heero's not old enough to have fought in the war!"

"It goes further than just age, Quatre." Trowa assured him, pulling an old newspaper printout from near the back of the album. "You see, the day before you were born, Quatre and Heero both died." He unfolded the sheet of paper, revealing two pictures and a small box that read photograph unavailable, followed by a short article.

"I know that woman!" Quatre exclaimed, pointing at the portrait of Relena Dorlian-Peacecraft at the top of the column. "She was in my dream!"

"She was what?"

"I had a nightmare once a few months ago. I was in a room with that woman, only I was about her age, and we were talking, and then she… she shot me…" The boy trailed off, looking up at Trowa with wide sea-green eyes. "I-is that what happened to my uncle Quatre?" He asked, his voice quavering a little.

"Yes."

Later that night, after seeing Quatre safely home, Trowa and Emily were sitting on the couch in the living room, reading together. Emily had planted herself firmly in her husband's lap and was holding the book, turning pages at his direction. She was concentrating for all she was worth, trying to decipher the French in front of her, when the phone rang, scaring her witless.

"Yipe!" She yiped, almost dropping the book. "Who could be calling at this hour? I swear, if it's another telemarketer, I'm flipping them off." She threatened, standing and stalking to the phone in the hall. "Hello?" She snapped, flipping the screen on.

"Hello."

"Oh, hey, Cutie! Quatre went home already. He'll be back tomorrow, if you want me to give him a message."

"I'm not calling for Quatre; I want to speak to his uncle. Trowa."

"Oh." Emily said, sounding slightly disappointed. "Trowa, honey, it's for you!"

"Who is it?" Trowa asked, pretending not to have recognized Heero's voice.

"It's Quatre's little friend. Did you know he made a friend? Why would he want to talk to you, though?"

"I might have an idea." Trowa said quietly. "Why don't you go get ready for bed? I should be up soon."

"Okay!" Emily said brightly, planting a fond kiss on her husband's cheek before making for the stairs and her nightly shower.

Trowa watched her go, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, before turning to the ghost on the screen. "I suppose you want to know how I knew your name?"

"Smart man." Heero said, sounding as if he meant it. "Care to explain?"

Trowa sighed and snagged a handy chair, seating himself. "You might want to sit down, kid; this could be a bit hard to swallow."

"You're all crazy." Heero stated flatly. "There's no way I can be the reincarnation of your war buddy. It's not possible."

"Give me one good reason why not." Quatre uncle's countered, definitely having the upper hand here.

"I…"

"Look, Quatre dreamt about something a while back that he couldn't possibly know about unless he really is the reincarnation of his uncle. The dreams he's been having, the pictures, the tidbit of information, it all fits. You're smart enough to see that, so how about letting go of your personal beliefs for the moment and looking at this objectively?"

If he could have, Heero would have gone through the phone and smacked the man. He was so damned rational about this whole thing, and it was pissing the teen off.

"Fine. Just suppose I am the reincarnation of this Heero Yuy. What about it?"

"Nothing, really; that's just how I knew your name. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. Have a good night, Heero."

Trowa hung up and the screen blacked on Heero's end, leaving him with the unshakable conviction that the entire world had gone crazy.

Short, yes, but at least it's something. Review, tell me what you think, I'll start on the next chapter, blah, blah, blah, you know the drill.