Disclaimer/Note: I do not own Gundam Wing, or any of the characters in this story (unless otherwise stated). Zero-zero/Maru Rei, 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 Nine — Plan Nothing

The break room had not changed much since the last time Heero had been in the facilities. It was still done in a harsh, monochromatic style: white tile floor and black coffee-maker resting on the pristine countertop that stretched from one end of the far wall to the other. There was a table in the middle of the room—long, like the one in the conference room—but it was also done in black, destroying the illusion that it had been made with real wood. To one side of the room, the side he currently had his back to, was a dark couch, pressed up against the wall with a matching chair beside it. But it was that dark table at which Heero was sitting, looking down at an ashtray he had found earlier as he worked his way through his fourth cigarette. Trowa was leaning against a set of cabinets, tossing his cell phone from hand to hand as he and Wufei conversed in low tones, the latter toying idly with a teabag.

"This sucks. I mean, really and truly sucks," it was Duo—again—loudly complaining for what seemed like the millionth time in the past four minutes. "Can somebody tell me why the hell we have to leave so that the 'grown-ups' can talk by themselves? This is so stupid. It's stupid and prejudice, that's what it is. Like they think that just 'cause we're not a bunch of crazy old farts we're not good enough to help out!" The American slammed his hand down on the tabletop, and Heero watched the ash crumble as the light tremor ran through the imitation wood.

"Well, we're still fucking useful, damn it! Just because the war's over doesn't mean you get to hold out on us, ya damn cranky bastards!"

"Enough, Duo!" Heero finally snapped around his smoke. He removed the cigarette from his mouth, holding it loosely between fore- and middle finger, thumb tapping the butt-end impatiently. "Will you just shut up already?"

"Hey, I don't hear any of you guys rushing to fill the silence right now."

"What's wrong, Duo; dead air threatening to trigger your shellshock?"

"Why you sonofa—"

"Duo, Heero!" Wufei raised his hands in exasperation, starting to play mediator between the two. He set the teabag down on the countertop next to a mug he had been preparing to fill with hot water, black eyes narrowing sharply as he scolded them. "We did not come here so that you two could start bickering. We have more important things to be worried about right now."

"What, you mean like what we're going to do if G is telling the truth?" Heero looked up through the twisting haze of his cigarette. He shifted his attention back down so that he was watching the smoke instead of his fellow pilots. "Even if we know what's going on and who's destroying those colonies, it's not like there's a whole lot we can do about it."

"Hey. . ." Duo licked his lips as though they had suddenly gone dry, standing and starting to pace along his side of the table. "There are still plenty of things we can d—"

"Like what, Duo?" came the terse response, Wing's pilot also rising from his seat. "It's not like we can just waltz out there and find him. And even if we could find that little shit, what are we going to do, hmn? Our Gundams were all destroyed, remember? We blew them up for the sake of peace and humanity."

"Bitter much, soldier-boy?"

"Is that the best you can come up with? Give me a break," he brushed his bangs out of eyes with his free hand, taking another drag of his cancer-stick.

"Oh not you too, Heero. . ." Wufei groaned, picking his coffee mug up off the counter. "You guys need to just knock it off—"

"Stay out of this, Wufei," Duo warned him, glaring death and daggers at the young man across from him.

"Hey—"

"Shut up!" they yelled, voices blending together slightly. Heero took a long drag from his cigarette, finishing it off and flicking the ash to the floor. The four of them were silent, tension rising, building and spilling out along the subtle currents like waves, ripples of near-tangible heat. Hands inched towards their weapon, and the American knew that if these words came to blows, at least two of those guns would be on him. His situation had gone from calm complaint to hellishly dangerous at a surprising speed.

Trowa was the first to move. A few buttons pressed on his cell phone, and it began to ring, the tone high-pitched, some arrangement of notes that seemed vaguely familiar to Duo. He hummed the tune along with it, oblivious to them all. The Asians took one look at each other, Wufei offering a shrug and apologetic smile as Heero sat back down. Duo laughed, folding his hands behind his head, fingers laced on the back of his neck.

"Scorpions, Trowa? I knew you liked classics, but I thought that meant Beethoven, or something," he commented, forcing that playful quality into his voice, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. Wufei went back to making his tea, taking deep calming breaths as he did so.

". . .The Winds of Change. It's one of my favorites."

"Izzat so? Huh, who'd-a thunk it, right?"

There was another long pause, Trowa taking that time to turn his cell phone back off. When he finally looked there was a question apparent in those once-green eyes. "Why did you call us all here, Duo? Was it G's idea, some new plan or plot of his? Why not enlighten us."

"Yeah, considering you've just fucked over my one day off."

"Glad I've managed to accomplish at least one of my goals."

"Eat shit and die, Maxwell."

"Stop baiting each other," Trowa's command was cold, detached with military precision. He began tossing the phone between his hands again. "Answer the question, Duo."

He was quiet for a long moment, the silence interrupted only by the sound of boiling water being poured. Duo put on his best grin, eyes going over Trowa quickly in search of a weapon. "You know why; I told you all when I called. I wanna find the terrorists, and I want to stop them."

"How?" it was Wufei's turn to rejoin the conversation, and he did so with more than just a liberal amount of suspicion.

"The Preventers." This was met by groans from the two Asians, and Heero threw the cigarette filter that he was still holding onto the table in disgust.

"That's it? That's your master plan?"

Duo's smile fell, his hands following suit to allow him to gesture broadly. "Look, no one else is doing or going to do anything about this. It was the best that I could come up with on such short notice."

"You're still a Preventer, Duo? I thought that you went back to the junkyard."

"Yeah, well. . .that's my day job, okay?"

"Aren't they being convicted of coercion and trying to spread anarchy throughout the colonies right now? I seem to remember there being talk of communists in the higher branches of the organization, as well," Trowa noted boredly, glancing down at his phone as if it were much more interesting.

"Well, I'll tell Noin and Hilde that you think they're terrorists, Trowa," came the jeer, one rough hand finding its way to Duo's hip, where it rested with a thumb through the belt loop of his jeans. "They're considered terrorists because they have weapons and they use them, but that's not what's really going on. The Preventers are the ESUN's scapegoat: if something goes down or gets out, it's always the Preventers' fault. You have no idea how many members have been disavowed and later sniped to keep everything quiet."

"Let me get this straight," Heero leaned back in his seat, fingers drumming the imitation wood of the table. "The ESUN created the Preventer-program to eliminate the threat of other groups who still had weapons, and then turned around to cover their collective asses by instigating questions about whether or not the Preventers were also terrorists because they were well-equipped, and now. . .what, you want us to join back up with them to help take out some nutcase in a walking nuke?"

". . .I hate how you put it, but essentially. . .yeah."

"Fuckin' great," another scowl of disgust, sarcasm dripping from his every word, and Heero pushed himself away from the table. "Yeah, that sounds exactly like the way I want to be labeled for the rest of my life."

"You know, I don't remember you cursing this much, or really talking, during the war. Guess people really do change in peace, huh?"

The gun was in his hand before any of them quite knew what was happening, the safety off and Duo found himself looking down the business end from across the table. Heero was shaking violently, his breath coming in too fast, ragged like he might hyperventilate any second now. Trowa pulled his gun as well, targeted Heero and waited. A moment later, and Heavyarms's pilot felt cold metal at the base of his neck, mentally chiding himself for the mistake. He had forgotten about Wufei. How could he forget about Wufei?

"I'm a civilian, Duo. I'm not a soldier, I'm not a pilot, I don't do espionage, and I sure as hell don't do this war conspiracy bullshit anymore, but I will kill you if provoked—so help me God—now just shut up and sit down. You've got no room and no right to criticize the man I've become."

Duo raised his empty hands slowly, palms forward in show of surrender. "A'ight. I hear ya, Heero. You're right, I'm wrong," he spoke slowly, the way a person might try to talk to a rabid animal, cautiously. "So. . .how about you just put that thing away before you do something you're gonna—"

"Going to what, Duo? Regret?" he spat the word out like it was something vile, his hand still unsteady. "You think I'd regret killing you? Do you think I've gone soft, is that it?!"

"That's not what I said, okay?"

"Can't we just talk this out like adults?" it was Wufei, trying to bring some semblance of reason or sanity back into the room. His attempt failed and Heero gripped his own wrist with his free hand, arm ramrod straight and trembling.

"Fuck this shit."

He pulled the trigger.