Disclaimer/Note: I do not own GundamWing, or any of the characters in this story (unless otherwise stated). Zero-zero, for example, belongs to me. I do not own the series' creator, mech designer, or PHYSALIS, and I'm not making any money off this story. This story was written solely for entertainment purposes, and no copyright infringement was intended. Please, do not sue. All original concepts in this story are original (duh) and belong to me, or have had all rights handed over to me. Do not steal. This story is AC (Alternate Continuity), takes place (for the most part) almost five years after Endless Waltz, and contains: violence, language, angst, flashbacks, acts of terrorism and subsequent political brouhaha, religious references, twisted senses of morality, and an obnoxious timeline.

Better Than Nothing:
Chapter Seven — Do Nothing

". . .It's been a long time, Heero," Wufei said, offering his hand to the other pilot. They clasped each other's arm above the wrist and Heero seemed to relax almost immediately at the gesture. Wufei looked him over once—took in the traces of heavy alcohol and cigarette smoke on his breath—before releasing him, frowning. "You look terrible. Is everything all right?"

"Well, it was. But then I got called here. Where's everyone else?"

"Duo's inside, talking to Professor G, I think," he paused for a moment, dark brows slightly furrowed as he looked past Heero to the snow covered field stretching out behind them. "Trowa dropped me a line earlier; said he'd be running a little late for the meeting, but not to worry about it. He was very evasive about the whole thing."

"Hn. I'm not surprised. Who else came?" Heero was reaching into the pocket of his work shirt, pulling a cigarette out and holding it between his teeth. He began searching for his lighter. Wufei shrugged.

"The usuals, I suppose. Doctor S just arrived a little while ago, and Master O and I came earlier. Instructor H is here, but. . ."

"But what?"

Wufei shook his head, leaning back against the railing and crossing his arms over his chest. "He's of no use. Last I saw, he was going over some documents in one of the old facilities almost manically. The man looks broken, Heero."

"Do you know what's wrong with him?"

"I was assuming that the other scientists knew, but that doesn't really seem to be the case. Master O and Doctor S are just as lost as we are. I think that Doctor J and Professor G are withholding some valuable information on what's going on."

"And it's only given out on a need-to-know basis, right?"

"Mm-hmn, and we don't need to know, according to them." Heero finally found his lighter, shielded the small flame with his free hand as he lit up. He took a long drag of the cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly through his nose as he turned, following Wufei's gaze. "Which is interesting, considering that they were the ones who called us to this little 'meeting'. . ."

"I thought it was Duo's idea. And is Quatre coming? You didn't mention him before."

"Hm? Oh," Wufei gave him a confused look, like the question had startled him. "I have no idea. Probably not; we couldn't get a hold of him. No surprise there, either."

"What do you mean? Was he too busy to come? I know he has his business to take care of but still—"

"What are you talking about, Heero?" the Asians stared at each other for a long moment, both questioning and waiting for the other to answer. Wufei was the first to comply. "Didn't you know? Quatre's been missing for nearly a month now. No one's seen him since he went to X-17603; it's been all over the news lately."

Heero's face went blank, his mind quickly following suit, and he looked down at the frosted pavement. He held the cigarette delicately between fore- and middle finger. "I had no idea. . .X-17603? That's in the L4 cluster, isn't it?"

"That's right. They've threatening to leave the UAN for a while, and so Quatre was sent there for negotiations. Didn't you hear about it?"

"I vaguely remember that. I try not to pay attention to what other colonies are doing," Heero shrugged, dropping the cigarette and grinding it out with his heel. "I figure I've got enough to worry about with any outside interference."

"Times really do change people."

"Hn."

Wufei tilted his head upward, squinting into the artificial light of the blue-grey sky. ". . .Rumor had it that X-17603 still had weapons left over from the Eve Wars; that they'd been stockpiling for years. Some even said that they were planning biochemical warfare on the other colonies if the UAN didn't give them what they wanted."

"Well, it's a good thing that some idiot went and blew them up last week then, now isn't it?"

"Does cynicism make you feel better?"

". . .Yeah, a little. Let's head in; we might as well get this over with."

A man's voice, low and not quite second-bass, could be heard throughout the hangar, reverberating and bouncing back from the metal. Quatre looked up for the sound, removing the welder's mask he wore and pressing one hand up under sweat-soaked bangs. The owner of the voice was hanging above him, suspended in the air by a series of pulleys and gurneys. He, too, was welding, cascades of sparks drifting down like hellish snowflakes. Quatre smiled and flicked the mask back into place.

"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord," the man sang out in heavily accented English, the hymn vibrant and alive with energy. "He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored. He hath loos'd the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword. . .!"

"Maru! Hey, Maru!" Quatre shouted up, stepping away from the foot of the Gundam they were working on. The blue flames of the torch went out at the beginning of the 'Glory's, the older man responding with an irritable 'what now?' to which Quatre only smiled. "Let's take a break, Maru; we've been at it all morning."

"Alright. . ." he sounded unhappy with the decision, but slid down the ropes all the same. They left the tools there on the floor, leather gloves and welding aprons creating a crumpled pile beside the metal. As they walked out of the hangar, Quatre casting a final glance back at the Gundam. Dull colors, tan and light brown, muted yellow and so much white. The reminders of the desert brought a smile to his face again. Sandrock. . .

"So," Zero-zero began, now going by the name 'Maru Rei' simply because it sounded less like the designation it stood for. He was toying with a set of keys in one hand, the other trailing along the hallway wall. The keys belonged to Quatre, went to a car that they were using for the duration of their stay on X-19987 in the L6 cluster near Saturn. "Have you given any thought to my suggestion?"

"You mean about putting in a new generator?"

"Mn. I could get another for him, if you're both all right with it."

"I don't know. . ." Quatre said, looking off somewhere to his left as they stepped out of the building and into the light. A little girl was walking across the street, holding her mother's hand. He stood there, watching them with an odd look on his face, wondering in that idle way if the child would be saved. Blinking, he shook himself out of his brief reverie, turning back to his companion. "I don't think that it's really necessary, Maru; Sandrock doesn't need it, and I'm a little worried about whether or not adding something like that would change him."

"Understandable. I won't press you on it."

"Thank you."

". . .Do you have your list done yet?" Maru asked, trying to mask the childish eager from his voice and failing miserably. They headed down the street, turning to the right at the corner and continuing toward a small coffee vendor just ahead. Quatre shook his head not quite ruefully.

"I haven't exactly had a lot of time for it, you know. B-but," he added quickly upon seeing the dark glare and trigger-twitch in Maru's hand. "I'll get it done. Don't worry."

"Good," Maru's voice was that harsh whisper again, like when they first met but without the gun. "We'll be finished with repairs in two days. You'd better be done by then, too. Because if you can't find the innocents here, then I'll just kill them all and let God sort it out in the end."

He grinned after that, slinging an arm around the pale Arab's shoulder, leaning heavily to that side. "So let's get some caffeine and commit mass genocide in the morning. Whaddya say, eh, Quatre?"

It took him a moment to catch the joke, to hear the deep laugh that followed. For a minute there, he had forgotten just how dangerous his new friend was. For just one second, he had forgotten how utterly insane this whole mess was. But he knew better now, and he realized that a part of him really did not care. It was almost frightening; standing next to Maru and coming to that shocking revelation. His companion did not care who died anymore, and that kind of apathy was rubbing off on him. Quatre sighed, closing his eyes. They were playing pretend, reenacting the Crusades with a science-fiction twist and six year-old leader. It did not bode well.

". . .Yeah, Maru; I know. Let's kill 'em all."