Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ When the Heart Overrules... ❯ Setting the Stage ( Chapter 1 )

When the Heart Overrules...

By Tygerlilee

**sorry about the horrible formating...I'm not sure what went wrong and I am trying to fix my story so that you do not go blind when you read it. I hope what I have done has fixed it, but I won't know until it's up.

Chapter One

Setting the Stage

*Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing =( so please don't sue!

/ denotes thought

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Colony L-2 -- North Side

"RAHN, RAHN, RAHN!!!" rang the alarm. A mildly sun-tanned hand snaked out from under the covers and pounded the sleep button. Then it slithered back into its cotton cocoon.

Dark eyes peeked at the clock from under their protective cover. Suddenly the covers shot up. /Crap, crap! I should have been up thirty-minutes ago! / Heero realized.

He jumped out of bed and skidded down the hall in his socks to the kitchen. Duo was already up and eating cereal when Heero's arrival caught his attention. He tried to smother a snicker at the sight of Heero sliding around the kitchen in his socks and sweat pants, not to mention the bags under the eyes and his usually unruly hair even more messy.

"Pull another all-nighter Heero?" Duo asked cheerfully.

"That was the night before last," he mumbled through a bagel. "I got two hours last night."

"Good grief!! Why in the heck do you do this to yourself? One of these days you're going to kill over!!" Duo warned him.

"Let me worry about myself. If I needed someone else to, I'd talk to Trowa or Quatre," Heero told Duo.

Suddenly Hilde flew into the room, already covered in grease from the morning's work. "Duo, hurry up! We've got a pretty big customer out there and he won't 'discuss business with anyone but the head-man!' You can finish your food later," she panted him, clutching her ribs.

"But it will be all soggy and gross!" he whined. Hilde tut-tutted and yanked him out of his chair.

Heero sighed and finished scarfing down his bagel. Heero was now living on L-2 with Duo and Hilde, and it could be rather hectic and noisy at times. But they were doing him a huge favor--the cost of living out here was huge. The apartments all cost at least five hundred a month, and that was for a really cheap-o one. Duo and Hilde's salvage business was doing great, so they had been able to fix up the old warehouse next to the base of their operations and turn it into a comfortable little house with room to spare.

Workaholic-Heero was hardly ever around anyway. He worked at the office sixty hours a week, at least.

And at the moment, work was the only thing on his mind, but for a different reason than usual.

/I'm late! They're going to kill me! / Heero silently panicked.

He threw on some clothes and shoes, grabbed his briefcase, and sprinted out the door. /I'll finish getting ready on the bus/ he decided.

Heero dashed down the street just in time for the local city bus and jumped up the stairs. He paid his fare and found a back seat. He quickly laced up his shoes and combed his hair while shaving with an electric battery-powered razor.

Several people gave the handsome young man funny looks, but he didn't seem to notice as he shuffled papers around in his case. He was obviously very preoccupied at this moment.

The bus rolled to a stop down the street from a fifteen-story building with large airfields encompassing it. The Japanese man dashed off the bus and sped-walked down the street, skillfully dodging his fellow pedestrians.

Heero swiped his ID card by a small shelter at the only gate of a tall chain-linked fence, and continued to the main building.

Inside the sky-touching building, a calm, clean, well-kept lobby skillfully hid the hectic business actively taking place behind many closed doors. Heero sprinted to the nearest elevator, just catching it and punched to button for floor number eleven.

/Come on, hurry up! / he urged the elevator as it stopped at every floor along its ascent.

Finally, it reached floor eleven and Heero strode down the crowded hallway. "Hey, Yuy," barked a harsh voice from behind.

"How is your morning, Bek?" Heero asked calmly.

"Hmm. I guess I'll never fool you," a tall, red headed young man answered. "Hey, you ready for your dissertation?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Heero told him.

"Yeah, but you're a nervous wreck."

"No I'm not."

"Oh yah? Well how come you missed a spot," Bek said as he pointed to Heero's chin. Heero quickly felt the area in question and smoothly changed coarse to the bathroom.

"You can calm down a bit man. The delegates called to say that they'll be late. Not much. Only half-an-hour--but still, that gives you more time," Bek tried to comfort.

"Are you sure?" Heero asked as he perfected his hurried shaving job.

"Positive. Come on and I'll help you set up your slides," Bek promised. "You know, you'll be fine."

Heero nodded in agreement.

"You do not agree with me!! Come on, I've known you since college. I can see it in your eyes! You don't think that you've prepared enough. Of course, whenever that happens you just BS it all and pass with flying colors. I don't get it. When I BS it, I get screwed, but no one ever figures you out!" Bek whined as they strode into a large stair step-style conference room. They quickly made their way to the front, where a podium and computer awaited them. Heero loaded a disk into the drive and clicked a few buttons while Bek fiddled with some wires and extension cords.

"You think I should tape these up, or will you promise not to trip yourself up in 'um?" He asked.

"Stretch them tight and coil them into a corner," Heero instructed.

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Marseille, France, Earth

Relena unlocked her hotel room, dropped her bags, and, exhausted, flopped onto the bed. /What a DAY! First that wretched early-morning flight, then the meeting schedules all changed and I couldn't check in! The delegates were total unyielding PIGS and lunch was horrible. Then that darn airplane crash distracted everyone from the main objective! /

/Then, when I finally GOT to the stupid hotel, they gave my room to someone else because I hadn't shown at check-in time! Not to mention, I can't speak a word of French through everything except 'oui' and 'non' and 'Je suis blonde'. Cold, hungry, tired, and swollen ankle! And then I find this place, / her thoughts paused long enough to actually view her room.

/I guess it's not so bad, / she admitted. /It's not dirty, but this bed is rock hard. Then again, every other typical hotel room's is, so what am I supposed to expect? The plaster is cracking a little, and that bathroom smells like...stale cigarette smoke! But I'll live. It's dry, it's warm, and it's private. /

Relena reached for the TV remote on the nightstand and flicked through several channels until she reached an English news station. /I need a life/ she thought, realizing that the news was the only thing that she ever watched. "No casualties have been confirmed at this point, but the hospitals are literally teaming with the injured.

"However, the prima donna builders of this NT-67 have openly admitted that they have no idea what caused this accident and will be," click. /Ugg. Never mind. I think I'll order some room service if this place has any/ Relena thought to herself.

I didn't.

/I guess I'll just be extra hungry in the morning/ she decided and flicked off the lamp.

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Marseille Regional Airport

"You actually admitted to the press that we're clueless," an overweight fifty-year old balding man screamed. "I cannot believe that I work with such morons!! You know what the guys at the top are gonna do?"

None of the five underlings, each with a varying degree of worry or fright on their faces, dared to answer. No one ever did when he was like this.

"I'll tell you what the top guys are gonna do! They're gonna fry some major airline engineer..."

"M'sieur Devon, you have two visitors," a secretary interrupted at the doorway.

"Who?" M. Devon demanded.

"M'sieur Mathieu, sir, and a M'sieur D'Adamo.'"

"Thank you," M. Devon forced out. "Show them in," he told her.

"I'll finish with you all later, but for now, get working A.S.A.P.," he yelled at all of those in his company.

"Yes sir," they all replied and rushed out of the room.

M. Devon began to pace back and forth behind his desk, his hands in his pockets, as he waited for his boss and the other unknown visitor. A door knob clicked and he turned to meet a white-haired man with more than a few wrinkles, some of which did a very good job of impersonating laugh lines, and a young man in his late twenties with light brown hair and ambitious eager hazel eyes. "Sir, I have already taken care of that little press matter," M. Devon began.

"That's very reassuring M. Devon. I'm sure you did a very fine job of it too, but that's not why I'm here," M. Mathieu told him. M. Devon seemed to perk up a bit at this new information from his superior.

"The SSI offered to assist us in clearing up this little matter," he informed M. Devon.

"The Shenton Spacelines Incorporated?" he asked. The white-haired man nodded. "Why would they wish to help us? They build and operate space shuttles, not airplanes."

"Because, the SSI is expanding to air craft, and the company that we bought the NT-67 may go under because of all the recent accidents in their planes. Obviously, the SSI thinks that THEY will and WE will need a new company to buy from. They obviously hope to be it.

"They have been in the shuttle business a very long time and have an excellent track record, but that must not be enough for them. They have already come out with a line of airplanes, which are currently in use. I checked them out. They are all designed and built by the same guy, something Yuy. Thus far, none have experienced any hold ups, but I predict that in time-well, we'll see."

"So we aren't taking the help," M. Devon stated rather than asked.

"Well, if it were up to me, no. But it's not. The big kahunna upstairs says we need all the help we can get and they do have a good reputation. They're going to send some guy down tomorrow."

"Did they say who?"

"Nah, we haven't been given any names yet. It just better not be that engineer. I don't like the feel of his work," M. Mathieu said glumly.

"What do you mean 'feel'?" M. Devon asked.

"It's too good."

"I thought you said that it will break down."

"I said 'we'll see'. I'm hoping it does, because otherwise, SSI might just have a monopoly over the air AND space transport systems. But from what I've seen, this stuff's good, too good. And the guy's only twenty-two."

"WHAT!! You said they'd started a line and he'd designed them all!! That's impossible for a twenty-two year-old college rookie!!" M. Devon exclaimed.

"I know. We did a superficial background check, and it doesn't make any sense. Colony native, no family, no elementary schooling. The only high school he had was a couple weeks here and there on earth. He took the G.E.D. at seventeen and about fifty AP's, entered college as a senior and finished up as a mechanical engineer, specialized in air and spacecraft. Then he got some Physics Ph.D. in two years and has been working at SSI ever since. The kid's got to be cheating somewhere. No one is that smart. You have to actually take classes to learn this stuff, and a Ph.D., in ANY subject, is totally unheard of."

"I see why you're nervous. Why did they take the chance to hire him in the first place?" M. Devon wondered aloud.

"I don't know, they must have had their reasons," M. Mathieu sighed.

"Well, surely they wouldn't lose him for that long if he's so good. This investigation is going to take weeks!!"

"Yes, it will. WHICH is why I'm hoping that he's not going to be sent. Be ready though, and work hard."

"Yes sir! I will," M. Devon swore.

"Also, this is M. Dominique D'Adamo. He's the representative from Norbert and Tiring Aircraft, as well as one of the engineers who built the original model. Hopefully, he'll be able to help clear up this investigation. They said that he's the best they've got and the sooner this is over, the better, especially with all this publicity." The two men gripped hands and nodded. "Well, I'll leave you here Dominique," and with that, M. Mathieu tuned and left.

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Colony L-2, Eastside SSI HQ

Heero had finished the dissertation and explanation of his newest model two hours ago and was now straitening up his office. "Well, Mr. Yuy, it seems that you've pulled off yet another master piece," an older woman broke the silence of Heero's office.

Heero looked up through his thick bangs to his boss and savior, Mrs. Abigail Freemond. She was an elegant woman in her mid-forties who had taken a chance on an intelligent young man with a shaky background--and was not sorry. Heero was a model employee and the best engineer/designer to come through her watchful gaze.

"Thank you ma'am," he answered in his usual no-nonsense manner.

"You managed to completely sell yourself to the Norton Industries. They want five."

Heero looked up in surprise, and it took some doing to surprise him. "FIVE?" he said incredulously.

Mrs. Freemond smiled and nodded vigorously. Heero looked back down at the file in his hand and quickly recovered himself /No company ever buys five aircraft of the same make at one time! /

"However, you won't be able to get started on them," she told him. Heero looked up at her, a question obviously forming on his lips. "There was a plane crash down on earth. Pretty serious, much more serious then they're letting the press know. At one point, the plane went through ten G's and the pilot and all crew temporarily blacked out. Luckily, the autopilot was in good condition. We still don't know how many died," she informed him. "Most airline pilots are not trained to withstand over six, and even only a few spaceline pilots can do ten." She added solemnly.

"The guys working on this are clueless from what we've gathered and they need a buyer, so..."

"SSI is going to bribe them for more business," Heero finished.

"You got it, and they want to send to best we have to impress them," she paused for a moment, then added, "You." Her voice indicated finality.

"Me? But what if they background check me?" Heero asked.

"Doesn't matter. You're so good that as long as you're straight from this point on and don't go into politics, you'll be fine," Mrs. Freemond smiled at Heero's protesting. "Oh, don't get your panties in a wad, Heero. We know you never did anything illegal. There are tons of lost records and orphans in the colonies because of all the past turmoil," she soothed. "Besides, if you make this work, there's a promotion for you."

"But what about this new deal. I'll need to get on that right away," Heero reminded her.

She just shook her head. "Pack you're bags. We booked your flight at eight tomorrow morning," and she left.

Heero sighed. His mind was a virtual tossed salad of emotions. He was excited about the buy, eager to prove himself in Marseille, and guilty for not telling his boss about himself.

/If only you knew, if only you knew/ Heero thought to himself. He felt a little guilty for not telling her the truth about his past. She had been very good to him, but he just couldn't risk it. Heero had planned on planting a fake ID, but SSI had already done a background check on him while he was in school. Most of the major industries hunted out the best people while they were still in school, and with his grades, he definitely qualified. But once they had done that, he couldn't go back and change anything without arising suspicions. So his patchy past was left intact and permanent.

Heero quickly put away several files and turned to his computer, one hand flying over the keys in his usual awkward sideways fashion. He clicked through several files until...

Flight 40057

Craft 845

Make NT-67

13 May AC 202

Liverpool England bound Cairo Egypt

Experienced turbulence at 0108 hours

Wind air speed 40 mph

Air pressure 1 ATM

Inspection 10 May AC 202

Plane condition clear

/They really are clueless, and with reason/ Heero thought. /Weather normal and the plane was fine before take off.../

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Author's notes: here ends the first chapter of my first attempt at a Heero Relena fic! Please read and review it so that you can tell me if it really stinks or if it's really good or if its just somewhere in between. THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE WHO REVIEW MY LAST SERIOUS FIC, "TROWA SMILED," I REALLY APPREICIATED IT =) !!!!

Oh! Explanations...HQ=Head Quarters

AP=Advanced Placement. You can take an AP test to get college credit and skip a class. You can take as many as you want to, but they are really hard (I've taken the Chemistry test). Heero took so many that he had enough credit to enter college under the status as a senior. He took mainly math and science. Heck, he spent his whole life around an assassin and a kooky engineer, how could he NOT have learned mechanics!!

GED=General Education Development Test. You can take it in place of high school and graduate either early, or if you didn't get to finish as a teenager, as an adult. There is no age requirement. I have some friends who graduated early this way; however, it doesn't look as good as a high school diploma on your transcript. Also, these are things that you can take in the U.S. I don't know about any other countries, so I could not use them.

M. =Monsieur

It usually takes at least four years to get a Ph.D., in the sciences anyway. I'm not sure about History, Art, and stuff like that.

*Note: when naming airplanes, the companies use their initials and start numbering at 1. Thus, the NT is from Norbert and Tiring, and the 67 means that it's the 67th airplane that they've designed. This implies that they are an old, well-established company because that's a lot of airplanes. Heero's planes would be S-1 and on up.

Marseille (pronounced Mar-say) is the second largest city in France (second to Paris), and it focuses fishing since it boarders the Mediterranean Sea. In this fic, it is many years later, and it has become a center for air transportation, not monstrous, but large.

Once again, my in-box gets very scary when its hungry, so please, please feed it. It LOVES attention, whether GOOD or BAD (PLEASE constructive criticism and advice!). Toodles for now, Tygerlilee =^,^=