[ A/N: translation of Fang Zhi= to prevent, to guard against, to take precautions. ( Source) ]

A.C. 216, January 10th
Quatre Winner gazed across his desk at the haggard-looking man sitting awkwardly in an oak armchair with green cushions. The man was not sloppily dressed, though. Quatre admitted that he looked more professional in a black suit than the head of the Winner Corps appeared, himself, just then. Quatre had left his navy blue suit jacket and tie on the coat rack. Yet still he could not get over the wear on his visitor's face. They were both thirty-six years old, but the years had not been kind to Dimitri Reaves. He looked more like he was sixty-six. His once unruly dark brown hair was more gray than anything else, and was now tamed by a close-cropped haircut. His light gray eyes looked very tired. Quatre thought he should offer the man a place to sleep rather than a cup of coffee.
He waved his secretary in anyway, and she placed a steaming mug in front of each of them. He nodded in thanks and she took her leave. He ignored the drink for the moment, shifting his elbows on the desktop and trying not to tap his fingers against the opposite hand out of nervousness. He hadn't seen Dimitri in twenty years. He bowed his head to acknowledge a respectful silence, then he cleared his throat. "How...may I help you this morning, Mr. Reaves?"
The Russian man raised his eyebrows, apparently surprised by the lack of preamble. He even chuckled, a bit of a rusty sound.
Quatre drew himself up in his seat. "I guess you expected me to ask where you've been."
Dimitri chuckled again. "How have you been feeling lately, Mr. Winner?"
Quatre blinked, unsettled more by the avoidance of his question than by the summarily aged timbre of Dimitri's voice. He had to think for a moment about whether or not to lie. "I've had better days," he admitted.
Dimitri nodded, then relaxed against the chair as he picked up the coffee mug in one hand. Quatre remained as he was -- wary, even. "I won't bother you for details, Mr. Winner, so as for what you can help me with..." He took a long sip from the mug. "...I'd like to have a job here. Perhaps in the construction or machinery division. I still have my mechanics skills, even though I haven't touched a mobile suit in twenty years." He gave a genuine smile.
Quatre was taken aback. He flattened his hands on the desk and lowered his voice. "We are not producing mobile suits here, Mr. Reaves."
"I know that," the other man chirped. "I'm just saying..." He let the thought trail off, shrugging.
Quatre's expression darkened. To be honest, he hadn't been sure how he would handle this meeting when he found out just who had shown up on his office doorstep. Now he was getting a bad feeling in his gut. He hadn't taken such feelings to heart in years, but all the same, he wondered if he should be heeding it now. Dimitri had, after all, attempted to kill him at one time. And so, he repeated quietly, "Dimitri...where have you been? What happened to Alexis?"
Fury erupted across the Russian's face with more speed than a tornado. The hatred that sprang up in his eyes had Quatre bolting out of his seat, immediately taking on a defensive stance. It was a reflex, yes, but one that had saved the head of the Winner Corps on more occasions than he liked. Dimitri stiffened, realizing how he must look. He hastily lowered his head and raised his arms up, hands open, in apology. "The trail of blood ended at an airlock. I didn't see a body or any proof that she had made an escape out of the airlock. I left headquarters and..." He lifted his head, eyes hardening. "...I haven't found her yet."
Quatre rested his hands on the desk, yet not willing to sit down right away.
"So..." Dimitri spoke again, more tentative this time. "About the job..."
He looked up to receive a square glance from blue eyes he had ever known to be compassionate, but at the moment their gaze told of the weight of responsibility. "No openings in the Preventers?" The question sounded mild, yet Quatre asked it while turning away, moving to the filing cabinet adjacent the desk.
Dimitri shook his head, as much in reply as in exasperation. "I want a normal life, Quatre. I can't solve the problems of the universe anymore. It's already time for the next generation to step in, and the Preventers may not be needed much longer."
"I disagree. There will always be a need for someone to protect our peace."
"How is your son, by the way?"
Quatre rocked back on his heels, the employment form he had taken from a drawer slipping loosely in his grasp. He twisted his head to stare at the Russian, disapproval clear in his face. "I hope that wasn't meant to start some discussion about Gundam pilot legacies. I tired of those five years ago."
Again Dimitri raised his hands in surrender. "A simple question. Quatre, I'm not here to cause you trouble. I know things have changed over the years, but I'd still like to think we're allies. Even if there isn't a war...interspatial or personal...there are still smaller, every day battles..." He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his prematurely gray hair.
Quatre regarded him in silence for a moment, then spoke softly, "Twenty years, Dimitri..."
Troubled eyes met his gaze. "Some days I wake up and it feels like it all just happened yesterday. I know you've had a business to run and a child to raise, but I know you can't have forgott--"
"Dimitri," Quatre interrupted softly but firmly, "She wasn't the only one still being used that year. Several attempts on my life were made in One-Nine-Six alone. It's something I still worry about, and worry for my son, as well. But it is the responsibility I chose when I stepped into that cockpit, one that all of us as gundam pilots chose. That's something I hope you haven't forgotten."
"The time for gundams has passed." There was an edge of finality in Dimitri's voice. He and Quatre locked gazes and silently agreed to drop the subject.
Quatre placed the papers he had taken from the filing cabinet onto the desk then slid them toward the Russian man. "I'll see what I can do for you, Mr. Reaves."
A brief smile crossed Dimitri's face. "Thank you, Mr. Winner. Say hello to Stephen for me." He stood, bowed at the waist, then turned toward the door. Halfway across the room, he stopped. "Oh, one other question, if you don't mind." Quatre met his gaze again. "Do you know if you have a Nicolas Stine in your employ?" He tried to sound as casual as possible.
Quatre didn't bat an eye. He was now well aware that everything the Russian asked or said was more than simple random curiosity. "Not in this colony, but I can check the database...May I first ask why you want to know?"
"He's an...old friend. I think he can also help me." He bowed again then made his way out of the office.
Quatre sat down, turning on the computer to send a quick message to his secretary about Dimitri's application. He thought for a moment, then called up the Winner Corps' employee database. There was no Nicolas Stine in the current or past records. He leaned back in his chair, wondering if this was an 'old friend' involved in White Fang, or from something farther back.

Once he was out on the street, Dimitri neatly folded the papers Quatre had given him and tucked them into his jacket's inner pocket. He would fill them out, but for now he had other things to do. He glanced up at the higher level of the building, guessing at where Quatre's office was by counting the windows. The view must be nice from up there, he thought wistfully. He didn't envy it, though. He had seen his fair share of the underside of many colonies, and numbered the topside buildings among the facade of survival in space. The environments of the space colonies were a fine achievement and all, but there was still a life beyond them.
I'm going back to the Earth when this is over, he decided as he crossed the street to a convenience store. His hand closed on a silent comm device in his pocket, his thumb brushing a raised piece of plastic. There was a certain place on Earth that he was overdue to visit.

A.C. 215, October 23rd
"My name is...Heero Yuy." No matter how many times he spoke those same words, something about it didn't come across right. It always irked him, too.
"Serina Ziedelkov," the gray-eyed woman seated across from him replied with a heavy Russian accent. Her straight indigo hair disappeared into the furry hood of her dark red coat. Heero was wearing a green sky jacket and matching pants, and while warm it also allowed free movement. The woman before him was obviously dressed for show and not comfort. Despite the heat given off by the fireplace in the corner of the pub, she had kept the coat buttoned up to the neckline.
Heero had unzipped his jacket more than ten minutes ago, and had partaken in the local choice of ale and simple cuisine. The woman had approached him first, although he had been expecting a contact. With a quick, subtle glance over her, he summed up the situation: her appearance was completely false, but she just might tell the truth.
They ordered drinks even though Heero already had a mug beside his nearly-empty plate. The woman sat down and daintily crossed her legs, settling herself before glancing over at him with demure eyes. He kept his expression blank. The waiter returned with their wine, placing a glass in front of each of them. Serina nodded to him in thanks, then curled the fingers of her left hand around the glass's stem. "A toast, Mr. Yuy?" She raised the glass, tilting it toward him. He offered a small smile and humored her by clinking his glass against hers. However, as he drew the cup to his lips, she continued. "A toast. Happy twentieth anniversary, Heero Yuy."
He only pretended to drink, watching her instead. Oblivious to his attention, she took a refined sip. They put down their glasses at the same time. "Nearly twenty years of peace. I hope it is to continue. That is why I wanted to meet with you." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "My brother was in the war. He knew of a secret cache of mobile suits. It was in a very small place, but I think it is best to make double sure it was taken care of." Heero nodded, dismissing the way she tripped over English phrasing.
"There were not many battles there. There is no major military base nearby, and there is much snow. Oh, not that it makes much difference to you, you fought in the arctic weather, did you not?" She flashed a smile. He nodded again, not planning to offer a comment. "You did many great deeds during the Eve Wars. I admire that." She sat back, clasping her hands together. Heero saw for the first time that she had kept a glove on her right hand.
Hiding something else? he wondered.
"I have not been to the place myself, but my brother left the coordinates. I can make arrangements for you. Would you like to schedule another meeting?"
"Can you do it today?"
For a second she seemed astonished, but then she smiled. "Certainly, Mr. Yuy. Shall we meet here again in two hours?"
He nodded.
"Very well. I hope this is another successful mission, Mr. Yuy." She stood and curtsied, then wove her way around the other tables toward the exit.
Heero reached across the table to pick up the single paper bill she had rather deftly set aside. It would cover the drinks they hadn't finished.

A.C. 216, January 11th
Quatre rubbed at his tired eyes, yawning before blinking once more at the computer screen. He had been attempting to read some memos for a conference scheduled the following week, but his thoughts kept going back to the sudden reappearance of Dimitri. He had to wonder what the man might be up to, after just walking in like that and asking for a job. If he had as much of an understanding of Dimitri as he thought he did, then the Russian had another goal in mind other than employment, although it might be that the only way to reach that goal was through a connection to the Winner Corporation. Quatre pondered it having to do with having Winner resources within easy reach, or something else. Then there was the specific mention of mobile suits...perhaps it had been a hint of some kind..?
He worried about reading too much into it. He did have Dimitri's application on the desk before him, his secretary saying it had arrived promptly that morning. He flicked through the pages, his eyes settling on the one titled Employment History. Dimitri had listed his time as a Preventer, with his reason for leaving being a "private family issue." After that he claimed to have moved to the Ukraine, where he worked in farm machinery repair. Quatre sighed, hoping it would all check out true with his security investigation team. He would send the papers along to them in the morning.
He turned back to the computer, ready to shut it down, then he noticed a message option in the bottom corner was flashing for attention. He couldn't recall if it was the urgent type of flashing so he clicked on it.
His eyes automatically scanned the contents before he could notice that the actual address in the To: field was not his but Stephen's. By then it was too late.

Dear Saint Winner,

Only one more coat of paint to go! I'm excited, but I'm sure you're even more so! Three and a half years of hard work and we're almost done. You should be so proud. Without your discovery and drive for the project, this masterpiece MS XXXG-01St wouldn't exist! Now we just need to hope the venue is appropriate, LOL.
Sincerely,
Serina

Quatre sat up straight, reading over the message again. This can't mean what I think it does! That number looks like a... He didn't know what upset him more, the fact that Stephen had neglected to tell him about both this 'project' and this Serina person -- or the conclusion he had drawn from the number. Feeling unsettled, he thought for a few moments about what to do next.
The comm box on his desk buzzed. "Mr. Winner, there is a client in the lobby who says she urgently needs to speak with you."
Quatre sighed and hit the reply button. "All right, send her up, Allie. Then lock up for the night. I can't deal with anything else after this."
"As you say, sir." The buzz faded to silence. He sighed again, wondering who would need to see him so badly at eight at night. He preferred to go home. Yes, home, and ask Stephen what--
A sudden pain tore through his heart.
A weak cry escaped his lips. Not again! I thought this was over with! He clutched his chest, bowing his head and hoping the episode would pass. But it continued to linger in the region of his heart, and it felt not altogether physical. His eyes widened. Could this be..? He hadn't felt this pain in twenty-one years. My...spaceheart... But...
He glanced toward the dark window, a memory surfacing of a failed ploy and a defeat on a cold battlefield. His heart twisted again. He wheezed, "H-Heero..." Then he toppled out of his chair.
The time-release virus in the message ate itself out of the system, disappearing from the computer wthout a trace. Footsteps clicked in the hall, entering the doorway and remaining there for several moments. Silence reigned.

A.C. 216, January 4th
Li Chang waited patiently outside of his mother's office, standing against the wall in a stiff manner. He gave quiet greetings to whoever walked past. He wasn't trying to be rude, merely not feeling very social at the moment. It had been a slow morning at Preventer's headquarters and he would have liked to go home early, do his schoolwork for the day, then work more on a painting he had been trying to finish for the last three days.
An older agent exited the office and gave Li a slight wave. "She'll see you now." He smiled and went on his way. Li exhaled and trudged through the doorway, closing it behind him.
Sally looked up from some papers and smiled with motherly affection. "Hey, kid, how was your morning?"
"I want to go home," Li replied bluntly.
Sally's eyebrows shot upward. "Well, not just yet. I have something to show you."
Li tilted his head to the side a little, intrigued by her tone. "Does this have anything to do with dad's surly mood?"
She smirked. "Perceptive of you. Yes, it does. But I think inside your father understands why I've done this." She got up and walked to the door. "Follow me and remember that whatever you see is to be kept secret until further notice."
Indubitably intrigued now, Li nodded and fell in at her side as they left the office and took a right turn, heading for the elevators. Sally made sure they were in an empty one, and once the doors closed she took a key from inside her jacket. She opened the panel below the floor selection buttons, then opened a second panel within that, inserting the key in the last of three slots. She hit the number five button followed by the one labeled sub-basement. Li glanced up as the floor level indicator dinged. It was going up instead of down. The motion of the elevator told otherwise.
He cast a curious glance at his mother. "Let me guess...hidden levels in the base."
"Classified among the top agents, for good reason."
Li felt a thrill inside at being acknowledged as a worthy Preventer. He didn't plan on making a career of the job, but he had valued the learning experience beyond regular school, and he would be proud to be counted among the elite. He only hoped this wasn't because his parents were the top agents in the organization.
The elevator came to a halt. Li took a deep breath and watched Sally for any cues. She stood relaxed, but a faint twitch of sternness across her face told of anxiety she couldn't quite suppress. The doors opened and she exited. A hallway the same as any other in the base stretched to either side of the elevator. She went left and unlocked the second door across the way. She beckoned when he did not immediately follow.
He didn't want to raise his voice above a murmur as he asked, "Could you tell me something of this before I actually see it, in case I...I'm not worthy of it?"
Sally turned to him, surprise on her face. "I wouldn't be bringing you here if I didn't think you could handle it!" She then pushed ahead through an adjacent door to a descending stairwell. Li took to them without further comment. The stairs emptied out into yet another hallway, this one ending in a set of double doors. Sally waited for him before typing a code into the pinpad lock. The doors slid open. Li staggered backward.
"This is the Fangzhi."
The doors were the entrance to a mobile suit disassembly bay, except it had apparently been converted to assemble one. The white-limbed, green-armored mobile suit within was slightly shorter than the space Taurus the Preventers had previously used. Its head was like an ancient helmet, its dark optics like a pair of eyes below the rim of the blue crest. A slightly curved, double prong crowned the head. A pole of unpainted metal crossed behind it. The left hand had an extra feature folded back, two prongs piercing the air midway down it.
Li was pale.
Sally gently placed a hand on his arm. "It is a gundam. I want you to pilot it. You've had the training for the general use. You just need to practice with this specific model."
He turned to her, aghast. "But why?! They were all supposed to be destroyed! And how can I ever use this? There aren't supposed to be any mobile suits left! No wonder father has been so uptight! Mother, how could this thing exist?"
She hadn't quite expected that type of reaction, nor the condemning tone at the end. She gave him credit for being so well-versed in history, though. "It's needed."
Li did not relent. "Where did it come from? How long has it been here? Could one still have been left from the Eve Wars?!" He didn't wait for her to answer as he stalked toward the suit, eyes roaming over the style of its armor. "It's similar to Shenlong and Altron..." He then turned back to her, horror and comprehension dawning on his face. "It's new. What-? Why?!"
Sally clucked her tongue. "You are so much like your father." She sighed, scratching at her hair for a moment. "I began building it last year. When we first met, your father inspired in me an affinity with the gundams. I knew I could believe in these machines and their pilots. Even when One-Nine-Six ended and all mobile suits were to be dismantled, I wondered if one day they might be needed again. It was a difficult decision, but I went ahead and had a new gundam designed and fabricated."
He clenched his fists. Sally cringed, recalling Wufei's reaction when he had learned of the Fangzhi. But Li merely looked to the side, confusion replacing his anger. "It -- it isn't right. Not when we decommissioned our own Taurus suits five years ago." He looked at her, his eyes softening. "This is what you were trying to tell me about last summer. I never did understand. Mom...I..." His voice became small. "I don't think I can do this."
Sally went over and hugged him. "I'm not asking you to be like your father. That would be insane." She tried to chuckle to lighten the mood. "I was more hoping you would do this as a favor to me. Your father and I can't just take this thing and disappear from our Preventer duties. But you can. You can leave here and go to school full-time, and just keep an eye out for the day when a gundam is needed again. I'm not saying I want to fling you out into danger. But I trust you to have a brave and noble heart."
She gently lifted his chin to look into his eyes. "I know you have the soul of an artist, and I'm proud of you no matter what you do. You have proven yourself brave in the time you've spent here, too. Whatever happens won't be like the Eve Wars, but something could happen. We need to be prepared. It could still be for nothing, and peace could last for another hundred years and more."
Li nodded, stepping out of her embrace. He looked at the Gundam Fangzhi again. To take precautions...a preventer suit, indeed.