Title: I Was a Teenage Soldier-For-Hire (And Other Tales of the Colonies)

Summary: Due to a small error in judgment while closing the Sunnydale hellmouth, Faith is still kicking around five hundred years later (well, sort of). Things aren't exactly going well. The watcher's council has long since disbanded, the slayers scattered across earth and space, and since there hasn't been a supernatural threat in more than a century, Faith's been reduced to taking body-guarding gigs. Her latest job is protecting some rich L4 heir called Quatre Winner. How hard could it be?

Warnings: Language implying naughtiness, hints at yaoi, and a few liberties are taken with the GW timeline.

Author's Notes:

I never would have thought I'd write this, but I'm going to pick up this story again. As one can clearly see by the date started, it's been quite a while since I've written, and I have no idea where this was supposed to be headed, so I've decided to pull an edit on the whole thing and remix it into something I can get a story out of… and hopefully correct some glaring errors on the way. If anyone is especially fond of the old version, and didn't have it downloaded, leave a request and your email in a review and I'll send them to you.

So, for the four or so people who care enough to have been continually harassing me, thanks (see, reviews and endless pleading really work!), and here goes:

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Gundam Wing belong to a bunch of people who aren't me. Buffy belongs to Joss Whedon, the god of all snappy banter, and Mutant Enemy. GW probably belongs to a bunch of people whose names I can't pronounce and am too lazy too look up at the moment. Perhaps I will next chapter. I like to live dangerously.

a ruler denotes scene change

Italics denote thoughts

Chapter One: The Butterfly Effect

The problem really started the way most true catastrophes do: with an idle comment from a friend on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Cordelia had phoned Willow during the summer Buffy was dead because she was worried about Angel, and while she was working on the whole 'tact' concept, she still hadn't quite mastered it in practice. She sipped her latte and wondered about the reason Angel was so worried, rather than just angsting. Did he think Buffy's soul had ended up in the same hell dimension he had, when he'd been sucked through a mystical portal?

Cordy's thoughts had only flickered by the subject briefly, just long enough for the words to come out of her mouth, but they stuck in Willow's brain.

Those words spun in Willow's mind for weeks, haunting her days and entering her dreams with images of Buffy trapped in a hell dimension. Finally, one day in late summer, she couldn't take it anymore, and began to plan.

She knew it was a risk. She knew it was stupid, but Buffy was her best friend. She would unbalance the scales of the world if it meant saving Buffy.

The resurrection managed tip the balance just enough for the First to slither it's way fully our dimension. It didn't make its presence known immediately, preferring instead to gather its strength, and wait, watching for weaknesses in the witch that had opened the door.

While the colonies were still in their planning stages, the elite classes of Earth fought for a place on the waiting lists.

This was, of course, before the war, the plagues, the energy crisis, and the economic collapse that stalled production halfway into their completion.

The colonies were designed as a kind of paradise, where the weather would always be perfect, the landscape beautiful, and the architecture equal parts efficient and comfortable.

As usual, things did not go according to plan.

The room was dark, but that didn't bother Heero: his world had narrowed to the lit screen of his laptop.

"Mission... Accepted." He murmured as he carefully closed his laptop, and tucked his gun into the holster at the small of his back. He frowned slightly as he did so, the position of the holster was perhaps the least practical, for all that the action-vids might have you believe, but with his jacket on it was definitely the least likely to be noticed.

…And in a high school, one definitely did not want their gun to be noticed.

He scanned his room quickly; making sure everything was in place before setting off in search of his partner.

The final battle of Sunnydale had been the stuff legends are made of. All epic struggle, loss, and confessions of love, it should have been a song of heroes and heroines sung throughout the ages.

But instead, it was never written. The mourning period was long, but eventually the Slayers regrouped, the watchers reorganized, and the last versions of the battle on the hellmouth were finally put away on the shelves of the new council building's library.

After a few years, the volumes describing the struggle were taken out less and less. Dust began to gather on the pages, and memories slowly began to fade as the Slayers immersed themselves in new threats.

So, when Amanda Version 2.0 showed up fourteen years later, bearing a duffel bag, a confused expression on her face, and brand-new slayer abilities, only Dawn and Rona recognized the girl.

Incidentally, after the tears and joyful cries were over, Dawn was also the first person to realize something had gone seriously wrong.

Duo Maxwell wasn't particularly hard to find. Usually you just needed to follow the outraged screaming. Today was no exception.

Following the raging battle cry of: "Injustice, Maxwell! Prepare to die for the dishonor you have given!" Heero found Duo barreling down the hallway that led to their dorm rooms, with Wufei in hot pursuit. Duo looked absurdly pleased with himself for someone being chased with a sword.

"Heero! Help!" Duo yelped as Wufei got a little too close with one of his slashes. Duo ducked another jab and dove behind Heero. Wufei was too fast, however, and he managed to catch the other boy by his braid, yanking Duo off his feet. Soon, Wufei was kneeling on Duo's back, the loudmouth's long braid in one hand, his sword in the other. Duo had latched onto one of Heero's legs, and was trying to wrestle his hair out of Wufei's grasp (without getting it cut off). Wufei's hair, on the other hand, was a brilliant shade of pink.

The corner of Heero's mouth twitched upwards. Once. "Hn." he observed. He pulled Wufei off Duo. "Leave it for later. We have a new mission."

"This was a bad idea." Faith muttered between clenched teeth as she rubbed at her temples and studied the photo clipped onto the thick file in her hands. She hated body guarding gigs, they usually involved a whole lot of waiting, followed by two minutes of action, followed by tedious cleanup (and on one memorable occasion, a week in Shanghai after literally standing between a sorcerer and his intended kidnapping victim. Dispatching the sorcerer had taken twenty minutes, getting back to L2 from China with no Mandarin, no money and a limited repertoire of hand-gestures that weren't obscene took the next six days). Faith generally preferred to be the event a body was guarded from.

She made an exception when Milo asked her to take this job as a favor to some shady friends of his. Actually, all of Milo's friends were pretty shady, but when he'd replied that she herself was a shady friend, she really hadn't been able to argue.

The kid wasn't bad looking, at least (Even if he looked about twelve in the photo). She really hoped it was an old photo. The notes said she'd be infiltrating his school, and while she could still pull off high school in this go-round, middle school would be quite a stretch. Yeah, she thought, a middle school uniform stretching across my… The plane hit another patch of turbulence and her stomach was left in the place previously occupied by her throat as the plane lurched around in the air like a drunken albatross. Yeah. Definitely a bad idea.

"I can't believe this. I swear to God, you'll do anything that J sets as a mission..." Duo grumbled.

"Will you shut up?" Heero interrupted.

"No." Duo replied, rolling his eyes, "Incessant chatter is part my charm."

Heero valiantly suppressed his urge to threaten Duo, at least until his mission was completed.

"Flight 1045 from L1 is de-boarding now at terminal C13."

All thoughts of Duo's fate once they returned to the dorms were lost as Heero's mind centered in on completing his mission. "That's her flight. Let's go."

"Some mission this is." Duo complained loudly, again. "Pick up J's daughter at the airport!"

Faith hated airports.

She hated planes (the thrill of the mile high club wore off a long time ago). She hated sitting still, hated the smell of recycled air, the 'snack' product they tried to pass off as actual food, and the crap movies she inevitably ended up watching because she always forgot to bring something to do, but most of all, she hated airports. The chaotic mess of hostile people messed with her ability to assess threats, and the sheer amount of happy people embracing each other made her feel vaguely nauseated.

She couldn't fathom how she had come to this.

Actually, no. Faith knew full well what had happened. She was there, after all, but what she couldn't figure out is why this had happened to HER.

The slayer dreams had been the first hint that things worked a little differently for slayers as far as mortality went (besides the enhanced strength, senses, and death before finishing puberty thing, obviously).

There were theories about the dreams, back when there WAS only one, before they found the loophole in Red and B's theory. Every Slayer had Slayer dreams. That was a given, a concrete fact. The frequency and amount of dreams each Slayer experienced varied with the threat each girl faced, and the length of time she survived. Aside from the prophetic dreams, the dreams would also replay battles of past Slayers, sometimes as a warning, sometimes as training.

The wildest explanation for the fact that each girl only dreamed the experiences of certain slayers, usually girls who were more or less similar to the dreamer in both skills and personality was that there were a finite number of slayer personalities, cycling through life and death endlessly until the last of the demons were erased.

Who could have guessed it was right?

As far as Faith can tell, it was after Red's spell that the system started to really fall apart, and that massive round of slayers got, well… stuck, for lack of a better explanation.

Duo tapped his fingers impatiently on his thighs, the very picture of teenage ennui. He glanced at Heero holding the sign bearing the girl's name, Miranda Price.

How can he stay so still? Duo wondered. It's like he's a robot or something. He was briefly amused by images of Heero as an escaped bang-bot from the upscale brothels, the only places who bothered with android tech anymore besides the mobile suits. Nah, the brothels are the only place they bother making them look remotely human, and even they aren't that good. Duo stopped fidgeting a moment longer, distracted by thoughts of brothels. Besides, as pretty as he is, they would have made him a little more approachable. The type of people who go to the 'bots don't usually like to have the crap scared out of them…

Thoroughly entertained by his own mind, he didn't even notice the pretty young woman approaching them, bag in tow. She smiled at them a little tentatively and extended her hand, "Hello, I'm Miranda." She said with the soft lilt that identified L1 natives (apart from Heero, the robot who, when he did speak, spoke like a textbook with limbs), and extended her hand toward Heero.

Heero stared at her hand for a moment, glanced up at her face, then back at her hand, trying to decide if common courtesy was required in the completion of the mission. After about a minute Miranda's smile began to falter, and Heero evidently decided to dispense with courtesy, and muttered a quick, "This way," before he turned neatly on his heel to walk toward the car.

She let her hand drop, and looked a little bewildered. Duo grinned. "Don't worry, he's ALWAYS like this. I'm Duo and he's Heero."

"Miranda," She replied. She raised her hand again, looking a little uncertain. He grabbed he hand and kissed it instead, adding a courtly bow to make up for Heero's lack of manners.

"Hurry up." Heero called back to them over his shoulder, already striding purposefully toward the exit. Duo rolled his eyes, and Miranda giggled as they followed Heero out toward the car.

"Miss Faith Ellis?" The driver holding a sign with her name on in asked doubtfully, sizing her up when she stopped in front of him offering him her luggage. Doubt was always expected: for a business populated mostly by the 200 pound male set, she was awfully tiny. It didn't help that in a loose jacket, worn jeans, ratty canvas sneakers and a plain white tee, she didn't look like anything, let alone a deadly bodyguard. With her dark brown hair raked back from her face in a messy ponytail and her eyes hidden behind sunglasses, she looked young.

She was infiltrating a high school, though, so that was the entire point. So what if she actually was seventeen this 'round?

By the time the colonies were proposed, the watcher's council had become more of a liaison between the slayers and the human world than anything else. Some valued members of the council were still used for specialized skills and bureaucracy, but even after fifty years of watcher training, what could the council really offer the slayers who had been doing their jobs for well over three centuries?

In the decade or so before colonization, there had been a sudden upswing in demon activity, to the point that some demons were actually beginning to become a threat to humans again for the first time since the century-long mop up they'd done after the hellmouth had closed.

This had turned out to be the last gasp of the demons, and after the first wave had been wiped out, the next never appeared. From then on, the sole purpose of the Slayers seemed to be protecting the planet from human threats, rogue sorcerers and the like. During the sudden increase in activity, the watchers panicked. It had been decades since they had really needed to become involved in the day-to-day activities of the slayers, and even longer since they were directly in the line of fire from the supernatural world, so, when the councils of earth proposed building the colonies, the watchers threw their full support behind the project.

Five brand new worlds without demons, worlds where humanity would be safe.

She finished reading her mission brief in the car.

Name: Quatre Rebarba Winner

Height: 5'7

Weight: 160 lbs.

Hair: Blond

Eyes: Blue

Age: 17

Standard Operating Procedure: You are to observe and protect Mr. Winner in the three month period until he graduates from Peacecraft Academy. You may associate with him but do not, in any circumstances, let Mr. Winner know of your mission. We believe Mr. Winner has been targeted by a militia group for an unknown purpose. In order to facilitate the secretive nature of your position, there is another, undisclosed bodyguard in rotating shifts. Your duty concerns primarily the shifts assigned on the following timetable, however, you may be called into action through your beeper at any time. You will post reports to both ourselves and the other guard through the e-mail accounts we have set up.

-Rashid

Faith shook her head in disgust at the brief. What, did they think she was a total amateur? At the amount they were paying her, she hoped not. Of course you don't reveal yourself to the target! She scoffed. They change their routines when they know someone's watching, the group out to get them notices, and plans around a bodyguard. Faith wasn't so worried about the group planning to take her out, in fact, she was rather looking forward to them trying, but she was more concerned with the time this extra planning would take. She would be infiltrating a high school, after all, not a five-star resort. She wanted to get the job done, get paid, and get the hell out of dodge (possibly to a five-star resort. The payoff for this job really was quite scandalous).

As she finished memorizing, then destroying the message, the driver pulled up outside a large building with the words "Peacecraft academy" displayed prominently on the front. Faith shook her head in disgust. "School. Ugh. At MY age." The driver regarded her curiously, but, not wanting to earn another death glare, wisely kept his mouth shut.

No one really understood why, halfway through the completion of the colonies, several high-powered members of parliament, and many of the primary financial backers for the project suddenly withdrew their support.

In their years of relative inactivity, the watcher's council had switched its focus from having the power and resources to put down the demon threat, to just having power and resources. In their view, now that the demon threat had subsided, there was longer a need for the colonies, and there was no need to spend any more money on them.

This would have been a terrible setback for the project, but only that, a setback, if the market hadn't crashed a month later. For ten years, the colonies orbited Earth, half-finished and abandoned.

Eventually, enough money was scraped together to finish the colonies to the barest extent. For the few peaceful or otherwise neutral demons left on earth, now faced with a horde of battle-ready and bored slayers, decided they would take their chances with cheap life-support systems and promptly signed up to colonize the new projects.

Faith wasn't in a terribly good mood.

For once, she'd let Milo arrange for her enrollment and cover by posing as her father. She had arrived at the school, and found out that she had been placed temporarily in the boy's dorm. The administration seemed rather confused as to how she had been accepted as a boarding student when there were no vacant beds in the female wing of the dorm. They offered her a choice of either a cot in a supply closet, or a bed in the boy's wing. Faith had been mildly annoyed, but at least she knew what Milo had been grinning about when she told him she'd take the job. Rooming in the boy's side didn't really bother her, but being stuck in a high school dorm did. One o'clock curfew? Faith was bordering on cranky, and that was before she'd even met her roommate, who would doubtlessly be less than thrilled with her.

When Faith first arrived at the room, she thought the registrar's office must have made a mistake. The room was spotless, and absolutely devoid of personal touches. Only a gleaming laptop on of the desks, and some school uniforms hanging in the closet gave any indication that someone actually lived there.

Great. She was living with a neat freak.

This job was going all sorts of wrong already, and it hadn't even officially started yet. Luckily, she'd done the important research herself, and was ready to let off a little steam at the nearest dance floor after she finish unpacking. She'd distributed her weapons around the room, and was in the midst of shoving her clothes into her dresser, when a boy yanked opened the door to the room.

He froze the moment he saw Faith, hands twitching slightly towards his waist as if he was restraining himself from reaching for something. She cocked an eyebrow in response, but was careful not to move. The sudden, complete stillness as he assessed the situation screamed military training, but this wasn't a cadet school.

Interesting.

Faith moved carefully, breaking the stalemate, stepping back from the dresser drawer. She'd been waging the Great Battle of the Undersized Underwear Drawer (the drawer being small, rather than with her small drawers, which could, admittedly be a battle in itself though of a quite different nature), and had been losing miserably despite slayer strength. She lifted her hands in mock surrender, a rather nice black satin bra dangling from one hand, and plain white panties from the other.

It wasn't quite a white flag, but what the hell, it was worth a shot. "I surrender." She said dryly, waving the panties jauntily. "You caught me. I was stealing my own underwear."

Not even a hint of a smile.

He did, however, open and close his mouth a few times soundlessly, and his hands were clenched into fists so tight his knuckles were turning white. She could tell he really wanted to just shoot her, and figure it out later.

Faith got that reaction a lot.

She, however, was emphatically not in the mood to deal with him after the day she had. She leveled her best glare at him, the one that made vamps tremble and demons run in the other direction. He didn't flinch, and instead was shooting a pretty decent stinkeye right back at her. It wasn't quite up to the level of: "I am a Slayer. Fear my kicky boots," but she had to give him points for trying. They stood there for a few minutes, trying to stare each other down, letting the other know they weren't the least impressed with each other, at least until Faith got bored. She may have the experiences of dozens of lifetimes, but she was still physically seventeen in this one. Virtual immortality hadn't increased her patience at all.

There are some people who have old souls, who are calm and serene, with wisdom far beyond their years. Faith was convinced that not only was her soul a perpetual screw-up, but it never managed to age much past seventeen anyway. She was aware of it, but didn't really see it as a terrible fault. Who really wanted to get much older than seventeen anyway? After seventeen this entire adult responsibility thing kicked in, and with her slayer heritage, Faith had had enough responsibility for a lifetime. Several lifetimes. In fact, she was certain that in another go-round or two, she will have used up all the responsibility she could ever have been expected to shoulder and could wait for the sun to burn out, turn into a black hole, and suck the galaxy into it while sipping mai-tais on a beach somewhere.

It was a nice thought.

And yet, he was still glaring.

"I live here now." She offered, as if it really explained anything. "Someone got the last girl's dorm before I got here. I said I didn't mind." She really didn't. She'd roomed with Spike on L4 for a few decades, back in the early years of the colonies before they discovered craxium ore on a few of the asteroids. With an energy crisis on the colonies in full swing, before the environmental generators stabilized, there was no reliable AC source, so nonsexual nudity around their apartment was a common occurrence.

"I mind." Heero replied.

"Well, I didn't ask you, did I?" She shrugged.

"They can't do this." Heero looked mildly panicked. Faith didn't know him well enough yet to realize how rare this was.

"Apparently they can. Get used to it." She started to turn back to finish unpacking, as he took a step towards her.

"This conversation isn't over." He hissed between clenched teeth.

She stopped, mid turn, and stared at him. Did this…boy think he could intimidate her? A slow, wide grin slowly spread across her face.

It wasn't a nice smile, and it stopped the Heero's next words in his throat. She looked…predatory. The strange, dangerous grin remained on her face for a heartbeat or two, just long enough that Heero was convinced that he hadn't imagined it, before transforming into something almost amused, and a little condescending, which roused his anger all over again. He was about to come up with a scathing response (he wasn't sure what it was, but he was certain it would be scathing), when she effectively ended the conversation with a little shrug before whipping off her top.

Faith rolled her eyes and shimmied out of her jeans. Heero was staring resolutely at the open door of the bathroom, frozen to the spot in utter shock, rather than the curious stillness he'd had a few minutes earlier that seemed to be about to burst into violence. Now in underwear, she strolled up to him, stopping with her eyes a few inches away from his nose. She raised a long, pale leg and watched his nostrils flare slightly, and a faint flush started to creep up his neck. He was the verge of something. Quite possibly her murder.

Oh yeah. Winding him up is going to be fun. She snaked her leg behind him and kicked the door closed, then sauntered back to her side of the room. She rummaged through her bag, looking for something black. The bar, a dance club and lounge called area 51 was about twenty minutes away from the school. It wasn't the closest bar, but unlike the top forty crapholes, and the local pool hall, it might play music she could actually stomach. Thursdays, from her research, were supposed to be darkwave night. "I'm Faith, by the way." she said, snapping her tight tank down over her ribs.

Heero caught flashes of skin in the mirror of the bathroom. His training ensured that he never completely take his eyes off a potential threat… even if they were naked.

…And she was. A potential threat, that is, though she was very nearly naked as well.

He'd never really noticed how different underwear looks when there's a live female occupying it. She moved with a honed precision and grace that suggested martial arts, and combined with her well-toned muscle she was probably a formidable opponent hand-to-hand. So he continued to watch her out of the corner of his eye.

A threat. She could be a threat.

He took a deep breath, and fact began to click together in his mind, like a giant constructor set. She shows up on the same day we hear from J, who I haven't heard from in months. She manages to be assigned to my room even though it is clearly against school policy. She shows up the day after we discover a splinter faction of OZ setting up camp in the village twenty minutes away. He noted this carefully in the back of his mind. He was tempted to kill her straight off when he realized she'd spent time alone with his laptop, and could have tampered with his data, but he decided to instead keep close surveillance. He would check his computer as soon as she left, and if she hadn't breached the firewall around the dangerous recon and mission debriefs, he would try to use her to lead him to her employer. He had better keep a close watch on her.

She didn't look all that deadly as she hopped a little, pulling up her tight black leather pants, cursing. She laced on bright red opera-length gloves and smeared on some black eye-grease and red lipstick. Hey, you don't need to mess with the classics.

"…You would be?" She said, as she finished dressing for her evening out. Heero didn't reply, still staring at the bathroom with ferocious concentration.

"Heero Yuy." he managed to grind out.

She waited, tapping her foot on the ground, for him to welcome her to the school, or at least further acknowledge her presence. When he did neither, she brushed past him and sailed out the door.

Duo waited impatiently for the second time that day, this time with no images of sexual deviancy to keep him distracted. No, instead he was off to inspire some acts of sexual deviancy at the latest little hole near the school with delusions of adequacy.

Okay… Thoughts of sexual deviancy, at least. One a.m. bed check played merry havoc with one's sex life.

He admired himself in the mirror for the fiftieth time. Damn, I'm was pretty, he thought. Duo had many qualities, but blindness and false modesty were not among them.

He wore tight black pants that were practically painted on, a white tank and an artistically tattered black mesh shirt over it. His hair was braided in a more complicated pattern that made him look just a little more androgynous than he typically liked for school, but along with liberal application of eyeliner, it looked intentional, and more than a little alluring.

"Come ON Quatre! Make like a bakery and more those sweet buns!" Duo banged on the bathroom door.

"I'm not coming out. Why couldn't you bring someone else?" Quatre called back through the door.

"Trowa's got homework, Wufei isn't coming out of his room until the pink comes out, and Heero's already threatened to kill me twice today. I don't really feel like going for three. You were too nice to say no." Duo's voice took on a wheedling tone, "C'mon, Quatre, please? I'm dying to get out of here, even only for a few hours!"

"I said I'd go to the club," Quatre peeked his head out the door, "But not wearing this."

"Hey! Lemme see!" Duo managed to grab the edge of the door, and wrestled the handle out of Quatre's grasp, forcing his way into the bathroom. Quatre stood there protesting and fidgeting as Duo slowly dragged his gaze up and down the length of Quatre's body. The dark pants and tee-shirt with and interesting vampire bat silkscreen print on it would have been perfectly acceptable, fitting in with the darkwave theme of the night, if the tee wasn't so tight that every outline of Quatre's abs were visible, and the pants weren't so low-riding that a good two inches of lower abdomen and hipbone was exposed.

Duo wolf whistled.

"I am not wearing this."

"But you look hot." Duo whined.

"I don't care." Quatre crossed his arms.

"Please? There's a dress code to get in, and I really don't want to go alone!" Duo pleaded.

"What is it? Morbid slut?"

Duo paused to consider it for long enough that Quatre got worried.

Unable to come up with an adequate justification, Duo released his not-so-secret weapon: the puppy dog eyes.

"No."

Puppy dog eyes.

"Quit it."

Puppy dog eyes.

Quatre caved. "Fine. Let's go before I lose ALL humility."

Duo cheered, "You won't regret this Quatre! We'll be the hottest two guys there! We'll get all the chicks! Let's go!"

"Three."

Duo whipped around, and his braid hit Quatre in the face.

"Ow!"

"What?"

"Three." Heero repeated. "My new roommate." he said in a flat tone, but with a slight sneer, "Is suspicious. I found weapons that do not belong to me in our room. This club..." his tone got even more flat, as if he were steeling himself to continue, "Seems to be the place to begin surveillance, so I will accompany you."

Duo grinned. "They're not going to let you in like that you know. There's a dress code."

Heero frowned. "I am wearing black." He stated as if the fact that his shorts and tee were black could erase the fact that they were baggy, wrinkled, and a little threadbare.

Quatre looked a little confused. "Heero, isn't that your P.E. outfit?"

Heero nodded.

Duo threw up his hands in mock exasperation before dragging Heero over to his closet, tossing a sly wink at Quatre over Heero's shoulder.

Quatre shuddered, he knew that look on Duo's face. Good things never happened when Duo wore that look.

By the time Oz was formed, the watcher's council was all but unrecognizable from its original state. It had taken a while, for the council to realize the population of the colonies was about fifteen percent demon, because the demons, for the most part, had survived the last wave of attack through brains, and were smart enough not to call attention to themselves.

The official line for Oz was that they intended to restore the colonies to the utopia they were originally supposed to be. The plan was to fix and replace all the faulty systems and restore the pseudo-planets to their original plans. This idea had universal support from the public of both earth, and the colonies themselves, that is, until oz made it clear that before they started any of this work on the colonies, they would need to clean out all the rabble first.

Understandably, the rabble didn't take too kindly to genocide, and fought back. Thus began the Gundam wars. This doesn't matter anymore, no one, except a few crazy militants; even remember what oz was supposed to be fighting for in the first place.

It was a little unbelievable, a little ridiculous even, giant robots fighting a war in space, but it happened. Faith knows this. She was there when it started.

At first she thought the pilots of the Gundams must have been slayers, but after a few years she ruled it out. Maybe they're demon partbloods, or maybe they're something else, but watching vids of their battles, five gleaming machines ripping through the screaming metal around them with ease, she knew they couldn't be normal.

"Do you have a death wish, Maxwell?"

"Oh come on Heero! It's just eyeliner!"

"…"

"The dye washes out!"

"…"

"It's just a nipple ring!"

The hammer of Heero's gun made a loud 'clicking' noise as it was pulled back. Quatre rushed into the bathroom, and pulled both of them out the door.

Quatre couldn't figure out how Duo managed to time emerging from the tunnel with a break in the music, and spotlights focusing where they were standing, but if anyone knew how to make a dramatic entrance…

The strobe lights were flashing as the boys entered the club. They immediately felt most of the female attention shift to them, and some of the male too. Duo grinned and basked in the attention, Quatre blushed and tried to hide behind Heero, Heero ignored them all and scanned the club for his roommate. Duo bounced along to the dance floor, dragging Quatre with him, leaving Heero at the bar.

"Ah! My masterpiece!" Duo thought as he glanced back at Heero. It had been a real battle to get Heero into decent clothing but, in the end, it was well worth it. Duo sighed; rippling abdominals and black leather are such a good combination. However, as pretty as Heero was, Duo knew better than trying to get between the man and his mission, so he wandered around the floor, scanning the club for pretty people that looked interesting, and more importantly, interested.

About halfway across the dance floor a pair of blonde girls sidled up to Quatre, staring at him like they were starving and he was a particularly delicious meal. Quatre looked slightly confused as they maneuvered him between them and began to dance. Duo grinned, welcome to the real world Quatre, he thought and he finished scanning the club. The WAS a hot redhead who'd been giving him the eye... he began to make his way over to her but was interrupted by a fight.

A catfight.

With two very drunk girls.

Over Heero.

Oh, this is just priceless.

Each girl had one of Heero's arms in one hand, and her opponent's hair in the other.

"I saw him first bitch!" one shouted.

"He likes me better you cheap whore!" the other screamed back.

Heero looked torn between utter confusion and killing both of them.

Duo was settled in at the bar to watch a good long catfight to the death, or more probably, unconsciousness. A voice from behind his shoulder interrupted Duo as he attempted to burn the entire scene into his mind. It wasn't the most entertaining situation he'd ever seen, but it had to be somewhere in the top ten.

"Your friend?" It questioned.

It was a good voice; a little low, with an untraceable mix of accents, and just the right amount of husky in the mix. It was compelling enough that Duo tore himself away from the drama in front of him (Drunk girl #1 had just spit on drunk girl #2), and turned to face the voice. A voice which was well matched to its owner: a very beautiful chick.

"I guess you could say that." He responded, leaning back on the bar with both elbows, and grinning at the girl, "I'm as much Heero's friend as anyone else is."

She snorted, "He seems to give off that impression. Do you want to let him suffer, or go rescue him?"

Duo shrugged, "Well he doesn't have his gun so I don't think he'll kill anyone, but he'll be a pain in the ass to live with if he gets cranky."

"Kill anyone?" Faith raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Yeah," Duo responded, "Don't underestimate the violent tendencies of Heero Yuy."

"He's a real charmer, is he?"

"Yeah. We put up with him because he doesn't usually say much, and isn't too bad to look at."

The girl paused for a moment, and a little surprised, agreed, as if she hadn't noticed. "No, I guess he isn't. Huh."

That's odd. Duo thought, usually women noticed that Heero's looks before anything else. Well, he conceded, unless he was trying to kill them. Even then, his looks are still the first thing some of the dumber ones notice first. Like Relena.

However, a squeal from across the room reminded Duo that Heero wasn't exactly being inconspicuous at the moment.

"Faith." The girl held out her hand to him with a devious grin.

He shook her hand. "Duo Maxwell. Pleased to meetcha!" He exclaimed.

"So D, do you have anything in mind for the rescue? 'Cause I do." Her grin grew even wider as she and leaned over to whisper in Duo's ear.

"He'll kill me." Duo responded.

Faith grinned, "That's a chance I'm willing to take."

Heero, for once, had absolutely no idea what was going on. There were two intoxicated civilians alternately screaming at each other and trying to grope him. It was both annoying and a bit flattering at the same time, but irritating because he was not in control of the situation and he had no idea whatsoever as to WHERE these emotions were coming from. He was the perfect soldier. He didn't feel emotions. Also he didn't have his gun, Betsy, and that always made him cranky.

He scanned the room calmly for Duo or Quatre to come and rescue him, or at least tell him what to do. Instead he saw an increasingly familiar, and irritating, figure swinging her hips smugly as she sauntered toward him.

No, he sent mental daggers toward Faith. Do not come over here. Turn around, go away.

She either wasn't psychic, or she had ignored him.

"Heero! Where have you been? What ARE you doing here? I thought the doctors said it would be contagious for at least another week!"

The two girls paused in their fighting as the words penetrated their drunken haze. "Contagious?" one of them said.

"Very contagious." Faith said with the same expression the wolf gets right before it tears into the little fuzzy bunny. The girls let go of Heero and backed up a step. "Genital Herpes. Scorching. Doctor said he's never seen a worse case, poor dear." she added with a look of sympathy plastered over her face. The drunken gropers both looked disgusted and quickly took off toward the other end of the club… as had a few other club-goers.

Faith nodded as the crowds parted like the red sea she dragged Heero, still in a state of shock, towards the bar where Duo was standing. "Aren't you going to thank me?"

"I could have handled it." He grunted.

"Like hell you could have! The only other time I've seen you so terrified is when Relena actually succeeded in kissing you!" Duo added from behind Faith. It was creepy how he could just appear like that out of the shadows; perhaps 'Shinigami' wasn't just an odd nickname after all.

"You were in on this too." He glared at both of them, feeling strangely betrayed by Duo conspiring against him with Faith.

When Heero didn't continue, Duo picked up the thread of conversation, as usual. "You two know each other?" He asked, a little confused.

With the look of someone showing extreme grace under dire circumstances Heero gruffly replied. "Duo, this is my soon-to-be-ex-roommate, Faith."

End Part One.
So… what do you think of the edit?

whistles discreetly and points at the review button

In other news, I really need a beta. I'm looking for someone who can help with grammar and characterization, along with all the other beta-ing duties of kicking my butt to write when I'm falling behind on my chapter-a-month goal. If you're interested, please email me, or leave your email in a review.