Disclaimer: Gundam Wing doesn't belong to me. If it did, I wouldn't be as poor as I am now.

Some quick notes, Ralph is from Blind Target, Midii Une from Episode Zero. This is meant to take place after Trowa's past given in Endless Waltz. Any information here is as close to the original facts, but possibly adjusted to fit this story.

Going Away- Trowa

In another section of the L3 colony cluster, a teenage boy stood in an empty MS plant. The colony was old and deteriorating. It soon would be unable to support life at all, according to his old comrade Ralph; not that many people lived there now. That was a part of what made it the perfect place for the Barton Foundation to have it's main headquarters, and the production of one of their supreme weapons: a Gundam. Though only about thirteen, the boy had helped build this powerful machine, and almost knew more about it than any of them, as well as best suited to pilot it. And pilot it he would.

At that moment, however, his mind was not on Mobile Suits and Gundams, or the event of a few days before that granted him this honor. He stared out a small window into the void known as outer space. Though it was cold and barren, the boy felt his place was out there. It was just like him: empty. He had no name, no past and no future but his death. Though to most it would seem bleak, he accepted it and welcomed it. After all, what did he have to leave behind? No one would notice if he was gone, or would they care. He needed nothing and no one. The battlefield was the only place he felt whole, except for space.

I suppose we aren't so alike after all, he mused. He removed a cross from around his neck. And I don't know why God would even want to protect me. I'm nobody. You shouldn't have wasted your time, Midii. What does it matter to you if I live or die? He thought back to three years before, to the girl who he had almost believed to be his friend. In reality, they could not be more different. She had a life, a family. She had a place to return to. He had never possessed any of those things, so he couldn't miss him. Or at least, he believed he never did. The time up until he found himself in a mercenary's camp as a young child was a blank. He didn't know if he could possibly have had a family. Once in a while, something seemed familiar, like he'd seen it before. For example, that circus he passed with Midii Une, even though he told her it was nothing. But when he tried to remember, he came up with nothing. He soon gave up trying. A soldier didn't need distractions anyway. He was almost perfect, completely focused on his orders. He felt no ambition, or greed, or any need for revenge. He just did what he was told without question. Unlike someone he had known.

"I've been looking for you." A tall, odd-looking man by the name of Doktor S stepped into the building. The boy nodded at him in greeting. "Everything's been prepared. Are you ready?"

The engineer looked him over. He was so young, and yet he acted like someone older. The age would come in handy for this mission, but it still didn't seem right. This boy deserved to handle this machine, which Trowa Barton didn't, but it seemed that another person would be sacrificed because of this. True, it was one life for the lives of many, but it wasn't fair. What was the worse about it was that this child didn't care at all. He just accepted his orders and carried them out. Barton was an asshole, in his opinion, but at least he had one and plenty to say about it. This boy had nothing and eventually it would lead to his destruction.

"I'm ready," the boy answered. "But I do have a question."

Doktor S looked surprised at the statement, but a little relieved. Maybe the boy wasn't just following him blindly after all.

"If we're not carrying out the Barton Foundation's original plans for Operation Meteor, what's the point of still going on this mission? We had planned for me to do this weeks ago, look before this happened."

The scientist nodded. "Some of the details are the same. And the information you find could be vital for later missions. Trowa Barton wouldn't have been able to pull it off anyway. And, due to recent events, it's best you avoid this place for now with the Heavyarms. You are Trowa Barton now, but it won't be kept a secret for long. It's safer for you to lay low for the time being."

Trowa agreed. Judging from the time he spent with the deceased Trowa, the wrath of Dekim Barton wouldn't be pleasant when he found out his son had been killed just a few days before. Not that Trowa was afraid, but he would feel better if Barton didn't get his hands on the Gundam. According to Doktor S, the older Barton was rather eccentric and something of a lunatic. He could only imagine what the child was like, the little girl that would take over if the true Operation Meteor succeeded. It seemed sad, having a family like that, but he supposed it was better than not having a family at all.

He turned his attention back to the window and saw a civilian shuttle pass by. It appeared to share his destination: the Earth. Trowa had seen shuttles plenty of times before and they looked exactly the same as this one with ordinary people inside. But for some reason, he was curious to look and see them. Trowa's vision was better than normal, and he was able to see a mass of brownish hair in the window. Trowa felt an odd tingle in his head. It was the same feeling he got whenever he tried to remember something. But before he could figure out what, Doktor S interrupted his thoughts.

"Is there anything else you need to know?" he inquired. Trowa shook his head. The doctor pressed a control device in his hand. "Then be prepared to leave. Your flight is at 2100 hours." Trowa nodded. It was a nighttime flight, since the time at the camp was different from that in space. In normal time, he would be off at nine o'clock.

His attention now on the mission ahead, he forgot about the shuttle. But he had plenty of time to think about it later. He certainly would.

Greetings! How's everybody's summer? Well, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, let's get down to business. Finally, this chapter is finished. Pretty soon, this section will be done, and the real story will begin, only two more double chapters and a combined chapter to go. To get myself to post chapters faster, I've decided to do something new for me: previews. That way, I'll at least have something done and the people who like this will have something to read in the meantime. And the sooner I start, the sooner I finish. That's the theory anyway. But before that, I want some opinions. Though I didn't plan on it intentionally, should Midii Une have a cameo appearance in this fic? Or how about Chris and Ralph? Or do you have any other characters you have in mind that I should put in here? I'll try to incorporate as many suggestions as possible. Chao! And now, without further ado, coming to a computer near you:

Going Away- Quatre

Mr. Winner turned red with fury. "I don't care what they call them, fighting is fighting, no matter what age you are. I forbid you to get mixed up in that."

"I won't," his only son replied wearily. "Rashid is coming too, and so are Abdul, Auda, Ahmad, and a lot of others."

That's what I'm afraid of, his father thought to himself.

"They won't let anything happen to me. It's just like any other camp, it's perfectly safe."

"Than why do you have to go to this one, if there are so many others. Are you planning something foolish?"

Quatre thought his father somewhat resembled an eggplant, the way he was turning purple like that. "No," he lied. "I just want to see the Earth, and this is the only way I know of getting there. No other Earth camp would accept someone from the colonies," he reminded him. "Even one with your connections." That was the truth, not that it mattered to him one way or another. Whether his father liked it or not, he would go, even if it meant he had to run away.

His father sighed. "Fine, I give up. Go to your camp. But stay out of trouble."

"I will." Quatre crossed his fingers behind his back. Trouble was exactly what he was looking for.

Going Away- Dorothy

Dorothy stared at the photo for a long time. Then she crumpled it up and tossed it on the floor. She pulled out a suitcase from her closet and began throwing clothes in.

"Stupid Treize," she muttered. "It's all his fault." This never would have happened if her cousin hadn't opened his big mouth. He knew very well that she wouldn't want to go.