[Author's Note: Even though it isn't a songfic, I did have Bette Middler's "From a Distance" in mind when I wrote this.]

Within the reaches of space five angels sat on a dimly glowing star, its heat just enough to be cozy, its light just enough to see by. Two played chess, one polished a sword, another was braiding his hair, and the fifth was sitting on the edge of the star, his white-robed legs hanging down the side. This one tilted his blond-haired head as he gazed at the blue-green planet splotched with clouds that lay below them.
"I don't understand Earth," he announced in a soft tenor.
"Whatcha mean?" the braided angel asked, shifting violet eyes toward the blond.
"Why they act the way they do," he replied, meaning the earthlings.
"They act in several ways," the sword-wielding angel said dryly. He sheathed the weapon at his hip then crossed his arms, turning toward the blond to hear what he figured would be an interesting commentary. The two chess players, one with a cascade of light brown hair over one eye, the other with unruly darker brown hair shadowing pensive gray-blue eyes, paid no heed to any of it.
The blond folded his wings delicately against his back. "Things they fight about. The way one neighbor hates another. It's...unsettling. People like peace, right? In peaceful times people can accomplish constructive things."
The braided angel chuckled darkly. "Maybe they don't want to be constructive."
The blond gave a brief forlorn glance at the comment, then continued, "Oh, take right now for instance. Some down there like to think of the wonders of a new millennium, while others can't seem to see beyond the anger of well-aged decades. Why can't they see the good that will come from peace?"
Without looking up, nor with any feeling, the green-eyed chessplayer said, "Some conflicts were meant to be."
The blond bowed his head. "Wish we could do something about it," he said sulkily.
Also with little emotion, the other chessplayer remarked cryptically,"We will be reborn sometime."
The blond shifted his attention back to the little planet, his gaze picking out individual clouds and oceans and land masses. It was a beautiful sight...although some spots seemed to be turning dull. His visage crumpled into a pensive expression as he leaned his elbows on his knees and he murmured, "Why so much hate..?"
"It's human nature. It won't change," again spoke the blue-eyed chessplayer.
The braided angel glanced over at him. "You don't have much faith in them, do you?"
"No," was the empty reply.
"I agree," said the ebony-haired swordsman. "They've had several millenia to try."
The blond frowned, eyes still on the planet. "I know that. But I don't understand why more of them haven't realized..." His voice trailed off. The more he thought about it, the more his heart yearned to teach the earthings peace -- but also, the more his heart received the pain of those in anguish. Tears stung his eyes and he had to stop talking for a moment to steady himself.
The green-eyed angel gave voice again. "You can't change what refuses to do so."
The violet-eyed angel twirled the end of his braid thoughtfully. "It can't be entirely impossible. There's always a way to do everything, after all."
"If only enough people believe in the path," the swordsman put in with a sage nod.
The blond's wings drooped, which the others noticed but wisely did not comment on. Almost subconsciously he brought them closer around him as if to hold himself in comfort. He spoke thoughts aloud, softly. "Do they truly want the coldness of anger and hate to continue? What purpose does that truly serve? It is no comfort to a lost child. Don't they wonder what legacy they leave? What lessons they teach?"
"Don't you ever stop asking questions?" inquired the angel who had already established himself as a pessimist, not looking up from his game.
The blond swung a frown toward him. "You're too harsh."
"You're too kind."
No more than the drowsy smoldering of the star disturbed the silence as the other three angels abstained from commenting, although the swordsman and the braided one traded glances. The blond warred with himself to come up with a reasonable response, while the pessimist calmly claimed his opponent's second rook. Finally the blond went back to gazing at the Earth. How long...How long must those who are in pain wait for peace to come to each heart?

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(c) 2000-2004 Autumn Loweck. This work may not be copied, distributed, or reprinted without the author's permission. Even though they aren't named, the characters of Heero, Duo, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei belong to the creators of the GundamWing series, Sotsu Agency, Sunrise, Bandai, and whoever else in Japan involved in this most cool anime.