Part Two

Quinze came out to the roof of his space battleship Libra. It was an okay day, with lots of clouds in an already overcast sky. Not the greatest weather for freeing the colonies, warring with earth, and destroying the Gundams. At least in his not-so-great gray matter.
"I'll take the report," he said to his flunky.
"Sir, the winds changed, coming dead on from the east. You'd think it was straight out of Japan."
"Report, don't cloud it with opinions," Quinze said irritably. He opened his mouth for a long tirade, wishing Milliardo-san was here.
"Sir!" the flunky shouted before he could start. "Bit of something or other taking place of the port bow!"
Mildly interested, Quinze looked over the safety rail. Below him were dozens, maybe hundreds of soldiers, ranging from the Alliance, Oz, the Trieze faction, his own White Fang, and other, more appropriate militaries from the 1910 era. All were in single file leading all the way up to the Chang house, a known Gundam stronghold.
"That's it!" he cheered happily. "Destroy those Gundam menaces! Blow them up good!" He looked to his nameless flunky. "Get Libra's main cannon online. This calls for celebration!"

Trowa and Quatre looked out the window of their bedroom, looking horridly and ghastly looking crew below them.
"I don't understand," Quatre said. "Their not what we advertised for at all."
"I don't think Wu Fei took our song to heart," Trowa stated simply. He leaned out the window to see how far down the line went. It easily cleared the park, where he saw one black clad, braided youth jumping up and down trying to get attention.
"Oi!" The green-eyed youth could barely hear him. "Where's Image? I'm not ready for the next scene yet!"
As if to answer his faint plea, the now familiar "wall of wind" made it's appearance. If appearance is the appropriate word for it. Several of the soldiers opened their umbrellas. Which was kind of pointless in a windstorm. Said umbrellas promptly broke as the gusts became stronger and more forceful.
"Is it a hurricane?" Quatre asked. The two boys also felt the wind, though from their perch it felt more like a stiff breeze.
"Look," Trowa stated, pointing down to the street. The soldiers of various militaries were, albeit slowly, being blown away. Literally. Several men went flying up into the air, whirling and twirling about. Not a word was uttered by them, for the simple reason that certain authoress' are too lazy to type in the "Aahs" and "Eeps". A few of the soldiers held onto the fence, trying to stay for the interview. Though why they would want the job after the now obvious health hazards were pointed out was anyone's guess. Finally, the last of the men were cleared away, and the wall of wind slowed down to a small breeze.
"Trowa, look!" the small Arabian stated, his finger pointing up to the sky.
Floating down from the aforementioned sky was a boy, no older than the pair at the window, holding an umbrella and carrying an odd looking bag. He had dark brown hair, now wild due to his friend the wind. His eyes were a piercing cobalt. It looked as if all he was wearing was an overcoat, but Trowa notice biker shorts underneath.
Down he floated, aimed for their house, apparently, as he made a minor change in flight path and raised himself over their gate. The boy landed perfectly on the front step, greeted only by the dog, which seemed to have nothing better to do. The boy almost negligently rang the doorbell, waiting perfectly poised at the door.
"Wow," said Quatre.
"Maybe it's me," said Trowa. "But I think he looks even worse than the other applicants."

Downstairs, unbeknownst to anything that was happening, Wu Fei and Sally Po were at the table having breakfast.
"Shall I bring in the nannies, sir?" Relena asked, proud that she hadn't said anything offensive for a full five minutes.
"I said eight o'clock, and it will be eight o'clock," Wu Fei stipulated. He pulled out a pocket watch. "See, eight seconds to go. Go, Yon, San, Ni, Ichi-"
**BOOOM**
Sally, Catherine, and Relena dived for their posts, grabbing all the delicate china as it fell.
"It is NOW eight o'clock," Wu Fei said, oblivious to all the work the women were doing to keep the house to his order. He casually walked over to a mirror and straightened his tie. He was clad in a black business suit appropriate for the time, complete with red carnation. But he took the liberty having them made of Chinese silks instead of the heavier wool. "You may show them in, one at a time," he said, confidant that he'd fixed whatever was out of place before hand.
"Yes sir," Relena said, going to the door. Opening it, she said, "You may come in, one at a time."
"Shimatta!" The maid looked up to see who had said this. In front of here was a youth with a gun pointed to her forehead.
"Heero?" she asked surprised. "Heero! Heeeeeeerooooo!!!!!" Glomping him despite the gun, Relena became incoherent as she shouted platitudes into his coat, refusing to let go.
"Ch'kuso," the now despondent Heero muttered. Trying rather futile to unclasp her from his neck, he waddled into the door, hoping someone else would close it. "Hey!" he yelled in a louder voice. "Someone get this maid off me!"
"Maid? Maid?!" Relena raised her head, coming eye level to the blue-eyed boy. "Why, it's me, Relena! Don't you recognize me, Heero? Oh, I thank the fates that you come to take me away from this horrible place! I don't think I could've stood another minute in this madhouse! Wu Fei and Sally Po are so mean to me! I'm forced to look over those two brats Quatre and Trowa and to top it all off, Cathy is the cook!"
At that moment, right on cue, 'Cathy' came in, frying pan in hand. She promptly bonked Relena on the head.
"No one but Trowa calls me Cathy," she said in a dangerous voice as the maid lay crumpled at her feet. She looked to the applicant.
"The master's in the drawing room. Follow me."
Heero did so and came face to face with Wu Fei. He took a deep breath.
"You are the father of Quatre and Trowa Chang?"
The Chinese youth blinked. "What?"
Heero rolled his eyes. "I said you are the father of Quatre and Trowa Chang."
"Unfortunately, yes. Do you have any references?"
"No," Heero said flatly, indicating that the subject was not to be discussed. He opened his heavy metal bag and pulled out a slightly crisp piece of paper. "The qualifications," he stated, reading through the paper. While doing so a frown creased his face.
"Yes?" Wu Fei asked, expecting Heero to say something.
"Cheery disposition, kind, sweet, never cross or cruel, rosy cheeks…" He looked up. "I don't even come close to fitting these qualifications!"
Wu Fei blinked. "They why the hell did you apply for the job?"
Heero looked up to the ceiling. "Because someone threatened to give the entire cast a ride in my Gundam."
"Itai," the Chinese youth said, wincing in sympathy. "That's harsh. Who made the threat?"
"The twins," he answered tersely.
Wu Fei remembered the two girls from a few nights ago. "I think we've met. Who are they?"
"Mirror and Image, respectively. New fic writers."
"I see. Any good?"
"If this fic is any indication? Solidly mediocre."
Wu Fei took that with a grain of salt. "Style?"
"A little angsty, lots of sugar, and always a happy ending. Or at least happy considering who they write about."
"Yaoi or non?"
"Neither. They write in such a way that it's up to reader interpretation. They do support it though. They're very much 3+4."
"I feel sorry for them," Wu Fei said sincerely, looking up to the ceiling where the nursery would be. "Right," he said, getting down to business. "If you want the job I'll give it to you."
Heero nodded. "Mission accepted. I'll go meet them now." The bag carrying youth exited the drawing room and nonchalantly stepped over the still-unconscious Relena, hopping onto the railing. Acting for the entire world like it was normal, he slid up the banister. He stopped on the landing, right in front of the gaping Quatre and the narrow eyed Trowa.
"Pick you jaw up Quatre," he said sternly. "You'll get used to it. Follow me." He then continued up the banister, the two boys trailing behind on the stairs.

Wu Fei didn't hear any of this of course, and drank a cup of cherry. All in all, the nanny he had just hired was everything he had advertised for. This was probably going to end up very well. Now if only his job at the Preventers could get some new leadership…
Sally came in, interrupting his thoughts.
"Ohaiyo, dear," she said amiably. Looking around, she seemed surprised that there was no one else in the room. "Wu Fei, weren't you supposed to be interviewing nannies?"
"I was. I did. I'm done."
"That was fast."
Wu Fei looked at the ceiling, now knowing who his adversaries were. Mirror and Image. "I didn't really have a choice in the matter." He looked back to Sally. "But I think he'll do quiet nicely."
"You're confident," Sally stated. "Well then, why not tell Relena to dismiss the others."
"Right. Relena?" Relena stirred on the floor, looking up and bewildered.
"Heero?" she muttered.
"Stop that," Wu Fei said irritably. "Dismiss the other nannies. The position has been filled."
"Others?? You mean you didn't accept my Heero!"
"Relena," Sally said sternly.
"Oh. Um. Right." Relena went to the door and opened it to see nothing but a dog. It was the same dog with the same vest, only more words were added. "This could be you if you go after Heero…" Relena paled.
"The…the position.. has bee..f-f-illed," she said to the dog.
Sally kneeled down next to the chair Wu Fei was sitting in. "I think you did very well," she said. "I like the fact you did it all so swiftly. I would have interviewed everyone."
Wu Fei leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Let's see what else you like."

That wasn't supposed to get into the final cut. . .

"We're sorry about the mess," Quatre apologized. He, Trowa, and the new nanny stood in the nursery-their room. And, incidentally, the term 'mess' was an understatement. The two twin sized beds had been left unmade, the sheets almost falling off. Clothes of all sorts were strewn everywhere, the bed, the floor, in small piles, off in corners. And that was not all of it. This was a nursery after all. And in it were nursery type things. There was a dollhouse where all of the furniture lay on the floor before it. The tea table, Quatre's personal favorite, had toppled over at some point (but not to worry. The fine china was still intact). The rocking horse also was not in the proper position. Other things were strewn about as well. Trowa's guns, for starters. They in themselves were harmless. The green eyed youth made it a point never to have them loaded inside the house. But the ammo cases lay out in plain sight, strewn as it was along with everything else; and the instruments used to clean them would hardly be considered to be in order.
"Gomen nasai," the small Arab said again.
The nanny looked around, examining the previously described surroundings. He then shrugged.
"It's no problem," he said simply. Quatre and Trowa blinked. "I've lived in places even messier. I don't expect you to keep yourselves overly neat on my account."
"Oh," said Quatre, uncertain exactly what to say.
Trowa took over at that point. "This will be your room," he said, pointing to a slightly separate part of the nursery. "You have a pleasant view of the park from here."
The nanny walked over to see. Quatre noticed the metal bag in his hands.
"That's a funny sort of bag," he commented.
"It's a gundanium bag," the blue-eyed nanny replied.
"Oh, you mean it carries Gundams?"
"That too, but it's made of gundanium." The nanny placed it onto a table and looked out the window to inspect Trowa's claim of the view. Looking out the window he did receive a good view of the park. He turned from the window and looked around his new room. "I've been in worse," he stated.
The cobalt-eyed nanny went to his gundanium bag and opened it.
"First things first," he said. "If I'm gonna live here, I'm gonna personalize it." He looked up. "Did I just say that?" he asked, bewildered as to why he would want to personalize anything. But the boys simply looked on. "Anyway," he continued. The nanny pulled out of the comparatively small bag a large, tall hat stand. After placing it he took off his overcoat, revealing a green tank top and black biker shorts.
As he did so, the two "children" went right to the bag, looking into its heavy metal contents. Trowa even went so far as to stick his head in. He pulled back to show only a look of confusion.
"There's nothing in there," he stated softly.
"How did he do it?" Quatre asked.
The nanny walked over, ignoring their awed faced as he pulled out another impossibility-a plant. The blue-eyed boy wasn't sure why a plant was needed to "personalize" his room, but he kept his mouth shut as he placed it on a bureau. He stood for a moment, examining his room.
"I need a few more mirrors," he said flatly. He again reached into the bag and pulled out several large, decorative mirrors and placed them on various spots on the wall.
"Why so many?" Quatre asked.
"So I can see who's behind me at all times," the nanny answered. He reached back into the bag. "Now where is it?" he muttered to himself. He pulled out several items from the gundanium bag, a rifle, a six-shooter, a semi automatic, and automatic, a rocket launcher, even a bazooka.
Both boys paled visibly, and Quatre sweat dropped. "Ano," he said cautiously; not about to get a boy with so much firepower angry. "What are you looking for?"
"A tape measure," the nanny replied. He stomped his foot in frustration and stuck his head into the bag, much the same way Trowa had done earlier. Some choice words filtered out before an "Ah-ha!" escaped the nanny's lips. He came up with the desired tape measure in hand.
"Okay," the blue-eyed boy said. "We'll start with Trowa." He held one end with his foot and lifted the measure up to the top of the green-eyed boy's head. Once done, he looked at the yellow tape.
"I thought so," he said. " 'Extremely quiet and suspicious'."
Trowa flushed. He opened his mouth several times as if to say something, but nothing came out. Quatre, meanwhile, was giggling hysterically.
"That's him to a tea!" he sputtered, unable to control himself. Trowa merely turned a deeper shade of red. The youth again tried to speak, and again nothing came out.
The dark haired nanny rolled his eyes. "Stop opening your mouth it you're not gonna say anything." He turned to the young blond. "You're next Quatre." Repeating the same motion as earlier, the nanny examined the tape. " 'Loves tea and family dearly'."
It was Quatre's turned to flush in surprise as Trowa merely gave a faint smile of amusement. The brown haired boy looked to his new nanny. "And how do you measure up?" he asked softly.
The nanny rolled his eyes. "Fine, hold this." He handed Trowa the end of the tape measure as he lifted it to his head. The green-eyed youth obediently pulled the end to the floor. The blue-eyed nanny looked at his measurement.
"As I expected. Heero Yuy, Practically Perfect in Every Way."
The two boys blinked. "Heero Yuy?" Quatre asked. "Is that your name?"
"It sounds like the name of a great pacifist," Trowa added thoughtfully.
Heero again rolled his eyes. "That opinion will change very quickly. And yes that's my name." He took a deep breath. "Let's begin."
"Begin? Begin what?"
"Our latest mission. Code named 'Well Begun is Half Done'."
"And what does that mean when decoded?" Trowa asked shrewdly.
"Otherwise entitled 'Let's Clean Up the Nursery'."
"D'oh!" mumbled Quatre glumly. Heero pulled an apron out of the gundanium bag. He pondered it for a moment, debating whether to put it on. Scowling, he tossed it onto his bed. No one would catch him in an apron. Well, maybe one person, but he wasn't here. Heero walked into the nursery and pulled out a gun, absently polishing it.
Trowa came up to him. "You said that you did not expect us to keep the room overly clean. In our minds it's just fine."
Heero smiled. "Nice try. But if you thought it was clean, Quatre wouldn't've called it a mess. Besides, I don't think either Wu Fei or Sally Po would accept this as clean. And I'm not about to have them send in Relena to clean it."
"Point taken," Trowa said softly. "Cathy-oneesan doesn't like her very much."
"Neither do I." Heero pulled out a clip and loaded his gun. "Let's begin."
Quatre looked up from his spot on the bed. "It is a game isn't it Heero? Or at least a mission?"
Heero cocked his head. "I guess that depends on your point of view. You see," he said, suddenly feeling the urge to rhyme. "In every mission that must be done, there is an element of gun." He held up said gun and pointed it to the ceiling. "You find the gun and bang!" **BANG!!**
"The mission's a game. And every task you undertake becomes a piece of cake. A lark, a spree-" Heero stopped himself before he broke out into song. He looked up to the ceiling. "I refuse to sing!" he shouted. "You're not making me!"
Mirror popped up. "Oh yes we are. You do remember what we said about your Gundam, riiiight? Oh, and by cast, did we mention that by cast we meant not the cast of this fic, but the entire cast of Gundam Wing? All the way down to the little no name soldiers that die needlessly."
Heero paled visibly as Mirror disappeared, giggling as she did so. The two boys looked at each other, not sure what to say, let alone do.
"It's very clear to see," Heero sang. Or, more accurately, he whispered in the lowest voice and subsequently the quietest voice he could manage while talking to a beat.
"We can't hear you!" an anonymous voice said gaily.
"THAT A SPOONFULL OF GUNPOWER WILL MAKE YOU SELF DESTRUCT! MAKE YOU SELF DESTRU-UCT MAKE YOU SELF DESTRUCT! Are you happy now?!"
"Very. Carry on."
Several unrepeatable words escaped his mouth as Heero Yuy went to work. He cocked his gun with ease and took aim at a pile of clothes. Much to Trowa and Quatre's surprise, the clothes leapt of the floor, folded themselves, and went into an awaiting drawer. Heero then pointed his gun to one of the beds. It too obediently made itself, quilt and all. The blue-eyed nanny repeated the action to the other bed and that also made itself, with Quatre almost in it, as he had been sitting on it at the time. After disentangling himself from the sheets he scrambled out of Heero's gun path.
"How is he doing that? Why is he doing that??" he squeaked, not used to having guns pointed at him.
Heero saw the fear and smiled. A slightly insane laugh escaped his lips as he handed Trowa one of his guns.
"The trick is to take aim with every intention to fire. After everything has done what it's supposed to, there's not need to pull the trigger."
Trowa nodded, handing his gun to Quatre as he picked up another of his collection. "What if you have to fire?" he asked.
"Then aim at the ceiling," Heero replied. "That will really get attention." He looked around as he continued taking aim at various objects. "Speaking of attention, why hasn't anyone come in yet? I did fire initially."
Quatre gave a small grin. "It's been sound proofed for a while now. We don't like people listening in on us when we're alone." The petit Arab then took aim at a small pile of books. Nothing happened. He checked to make sure that it was loaded. It was. He took aim again. Nothing happened again.
Heero nodded. "Smart move," he said, referring to the soundproofing. He looked over to see Trowa taking aim at several objects with his pistol. Blocks went hastily to the toy box, the aforementioned dollhouse was suddenly refurnished, and the tea table was reset. "You've got the hang of it," he stated.
Trowa nodded. "Practice," he said simply. Quatre in the meantime was hard pressed to get the books to move for him.
"Am I doing something wrong?" he asked. Trowa walked over to him.
"You're not intending to fire."
"Of course not," Quatre said. "They move before I have to. Right?"
The green-eyed youth nodded. "But you have to be prepared to pull the trigger anyway. Like this." Trowa took aim at the books on the floor. They did nothing at first. "See, I don't intend to shoot. But watch this." Trowa looked back to the books with his cocked gun. They suddenly leapt up to a nearby shelf. "Just think about when you were in the Zero system."
"Hn. I think I get it." Determination restored, Quatre's face went hard as he pointed to a non-offending wagon. Said wagon spouted several sweadrops and even a few stray hairs as it raced to a closet. "I did it!" Quatre shouted, jumping up and down.
Trowa once again gave that faint smile. "I knew that you could."
"Are you done yet?" Heero asked annoyed. While they had been together, he'd put everything back in it's place. The nanny tossed them their hats and coats. "You requested outings in your advertisement. This is an outing. Our new mission: Going to the Park."
"You're very straight forward," Trowa observed as he put on an overcoat and hat. He glanced in a mirror and took off the hat, unhappy with how it looked. He had never been a hat person. Neither was Quatre, apparently, as he also disguarded his. The trio exited the nursery and casually sat on the banister as they slowly slid down.
When they reached the landing, Heero saw Relena dusting. Cursing, he pulled out his gun again. They cruised right past her, and the nanny noticed that the maid had an ice pack on her head. Serves her right.
They thankfully reached the bottom of the stairs in the foyer. He tapped his umbrella on the floor and the front door obediently opened.
"Heero? Is that you? Heeeeeeeerrooooooo!"
"K'so! Run!" He and the boys ran out the door, Trowa slamming it behind him. The three of them heard a resounding crash and a muffled "Itai….." but they continued racing down the block until they felt they were a safe distance.
"Now then," Heero said. "Let's go to the park.

Go to Part Three