It stared with unmoving plastic blue eyes. The kind that clicked shut when it was laid down. Short golden hair framed a painted face, the typical child's doll. Only this doll was covered in dirt, mud streaked across its little blue dress. Someone reached down and picked it up. A man, who tried to brush off some of the grime with a finger, but gave up after a second. He stared at the doll with its little click eyes and golden curls. This doll was the representation of peace and humanity. A peace and humanity that had been destroyed.

The doll was all that was left of a once-calm village that had been torn apart. Here they were, looking for survivors, and the closest thing that came to a human was this doll.

"What do you have there?" another man asked, coming up beside the first. He glanced at the doll in his acquaintance's hand.

"It's hard to imagine that while every living thing was killed, this one useless child's toy survives," the first murmured, still looking at it. He looked up at the ruins of the village before turning to the other. "Can't you hear this little girl's laughter as she played with this?"

A flicker of emotion, too fast to catch, flashed across the other's face. He took the doll from Duo. "Yes," he said. "I can." And with that, Heero Yuy, with a sort of compassion that no one had ever seen from him, walked a little ways, and laid the doll on a still-living patch of grass. He bowed his head for a second, crouched beside the toy, and so did Duo. When he got up, they both moved away from the doll. The useless child's toy, the only reminder that a living person had played with it. That there had once been peace where now was war.