This is so not my fandom, but.

Clouds and Lions, by torch. Trowa.

The fire crackled and hissed. The air smelled of rain, and Trowa guessed that the branches Catherine had gathered in the woods were damp. He looked across the spitting flames at the other pilot, whose features were perfectly still under the leaping dance of firelight. Wufei sat like a statue, eyes sightlessly fixed on the coffee mug in his hands.

Trowa picked up one of the bowls of soup from the tray Catherine had brought, tried a spoonful and burned his tongue. He took the other bowl and held it out to Wufei, and kept holding it out until the other boy finally reacted and took it. Wufei spooned some soup into his mouth and his brows snapped together in a sudden frown--he'd probably burned his tongue, too. Despite that, he went on eating for a while, then abruptly dropped the spoon into the soup with a splash and glared at Trowa. "I'm weak," he said bitterly. "I'm not worthy to continue this fight."

The coffee was bitter; it tasted as though it had been brewed several hours ago and then reheated. "Why didn't you just shoot him?" Trowa asked.

Wufei's brows drew even lower. "That would have been dishonorable."

By the North Sea, by Sabina. Ohhh.

For a long moment, they simply watch each other across the water. The look on Maxwell's face is strange: naked almost, like someone who forgets to smile in the same way as he forgets his house keys -- or someone who's been caught so utterly off guard that he no longer remembers what he is defending against. Yuy must say something then, for Maxwell turns his head away sharply. His lips move, but I can no longer make out his expression. Negation, perhaps, or fatigue: the hour is late.

I feel it when his eyes close. the air changes, and the sea itself.

After Colony, by Natalie Baan. (Read to the last line. Shiver).

We watched the home world die then, its plants choked out by lack of light, its animals starving and freezing in the deadly cold, its last human inhabitants, any who might have withstood the fire and the falling sky, surely unable to survive for long...we'll never know how many people we didn't find. And we continue to witness it still as all that death, both fast and slow, is sealed beneath the implacable creep of glaciers. Our history is preserved for us, changeless and inescapable.

You were right in this at least: human beings will make no more wars.