Disclaimer: Okay everybody I don't own Gundam Wing, I just using the characters for my story, maybe abuse 'em a little and play with them and call them bad names......okay so. Please don't sue me, I have no money and no house, but I do have a cat......but you can't have the cat. Okay translation: Me, Gundam, Own, No...On with the story.

Apology: I just wanted to tell everyone of my reader sorry for disappearing for a long while, bad me. I had a lot of personal problems and life got in the way. Quite a few people have asked me to write another story so here. This story is about Midi Une and Trowa, because they are so damn interesting! And left out a lot! I'm still an H X R shipper but I started swaying towards T X M. Hope you like.

Review only if you want to. Flames will be put out by spit.



The golden-coated faucet that attached to the sink turned violently forcing the water to flow out immediately. The girl standing in front of the mirror took a moment to look around to make sure that there were no ...complications, the coast was clear. She took a moment to look through the spotted and cracked mirror of the ravaged nightclub bathroom to a reflection that stared back. One of a beautiful girl with golden wheat hair, which was more the color of a deep pink now, after, the ...altercation. Her face smeared with a dark red substance covering the beautiful bone structure as if a painter decided she was going to be the next Picasso Masterpiece. The young face looking infinitely older, the reflection frowned at her predicament. This was Midi; this is what she has become. At least that is what she kept telling herself, but the young girl knew if she dwelled upon it long enough her mind would collapse and the door to insanity would be left wide open. The door to the bathroom swung violently open, Midi instantly reached behind her trench coat and grabbed her .40 Smith and Wesson. The 32-ounce semi automatic's Polymer frame gripped tightly between fingers coated with blood. Everything was tensely quiet; the only sound in the room was the water running, and the gurgling of the sink pipes swallowing up the liquid.

Her gun hand relaxed when the drunken occupant revealed herself and stumbled across the floor, slipping once, then twice on the wax coated tiled floor. Midi stared coldly at the young girl not missing a movement, and analyzed the drunken fool. She dressed in pink stockings which had far too many tears, black soled Mary Janes, a sweater in need of a good washing and a tight black skirt with silver rhinestones giving off a reflective glare.

' Never be to sure, people can give off an aura of innocence but can be something completely different.'

That phrase has run through Midi's thought as far back as she could remember. She waited until she heard the young drunk promptly pass out in one of the grimy and dinghy stalls before turning back to her reflection in the mirror.

Midi slowly brought one hand up to her hair grabbing the rubber band that held her wheat strands in place, the other still in close proximity with the .40 semi. Her fingers slipped a few times as the blood was still not dry from her recent job, each slip being accompanied with a sound of displeasure. Finally the rubber band lamented and her waist length hair fell free. Midi grabbed the hair and maneuvered her head under the faucet as much as it would allow. Rubbing her hands vicariously through the long strands, her eyes seemed almost in a trance as she stared at the pinkish color swirling in a hypnotizing circle before finally disappearing down the porcelain sink.

The sound of police sirens above by the street broke her reverie and she quickly rung the remaining wetness from her hair. Holding still for a moment Midi tried to pinpoint where the blares of the offending hounds were. . ' Too close for comfort.' Thought Midi.

Stepping back she gave herself a once over. The black leather outfit was cut in various places, but miraculously her trench coat came out without any wear and tear from her altercation. Midi quickly buttoned up her coat, hiding the offending clothes that would give her away to suspicion. She took her .40, and slid it into the back belt of her pants. Hiding the piece with the curve of her back.

Letting out a shaky sigh and closing her eyes she asks herself the same question after every kill.

" How many more have to die before you find him, Midi?"

With that, she pushes the door open forcibly, it squeaks loudly with protest at the obtrusion. Leaving the nightclub bathroom with nothing behind, as if she wasn't there. The only witness passed out and delirious.

Okay this was the prologue; I don't know how long this is going to be. For all of you who will probably ask me " whom was she talking about at the end? " You'll just have to wait...I will give you a clue.... it's not the obvious.