Basics:

I do not own Gundam Seed or its sequel, Gundam Seed Destiny.

Theme: an escape

Title: Flashes of Light

Summary: A songstress finds her way to his arms.

The long passage of cool liquid soothed the spell of dryness on her barren throat. Even the harmonic tunes emanating from the unlikely orchestra playing on the stage couldn't help her feel any better.

As glasses toppled about, cheers from the onlooking crowd echoed. With his skillful hands and obviously God-given talent, this bartender easily caught the awe and admiration of almost all.

If the noise could only help her regain lost strength and if only her silly excuse of self-pity would leave her, then, she'd probably not be in this kind of place - - a place where drunkards loom around.

"You allright?" a voice spoke up, that baritone coming from a rugged-looking man probably the same age as hers if not younger. He had a tattoo on his wrist, one which looked like an ensemble of feathers. It seemed he finished his session with the others for he found her solitude figure a worthy companion with him appearing as the proper counselor of sorts.

Bartenders. Typical.

Meekly, she nodded her head as she raised the long cloth-like material to her shoulder. Its color the same to that of an old hoary tree with its design sporting a hood which fell smoothly on her shoulders. Her hair of long flowing pink were tied to a low pony-tail as the golden clip she wore emanated a glistening effect upon contact with the paled yellow light.

"You don't look like it." drying a glass with a pure white cloth, he commented as he faced her with a very unlikely expression.

Loud cheers again echoed from not far. A group of men seemed to enjoy their game of poker which would more than the most likely grab the attention of all that hounded the place…completely making the rowdy area possess twice the same status quo it always had.

Shifting her gaze back on the odd man, the latter then raised both hands and managed to show a quick smile.

"Do I?" however, rather sullen and weak, her voice carried a different tone as the matter at hand was instantly recalled.

Her eyes never left the glass her hand kept a firm hold on to - - her fingers cool with its touch. As soon as its ice created a slight clicking sound, dark liquid poured forth followed by the bruising smell of liquor.

She looked up at him who still held the bottle of unrequited wine in his grasp. Her cerulean eyes were clouded with confusion and doubt.

"On the house." was what he said as he turned and walked to another anticipating customer, once more, leaving her in her peace.

She took the same glass by its tip with her fingers circling its smoothened edges. Then, she held a complete hold on it as she raised the same in eye level while slowly stirring its content. Amusement painted in her eyes as the wine formed abrupt waves at each turn.

Though at this point, she had her share of quite more than enough liquor, and obviously feeling awkward not to mention unstable, still, she had the strength to lift it up to her mouth and drink in one gulp.

Dropping the glass, the music died down little by little. Her eyes…her vision blurred. Slowly, and in a brisk manner, her hearing started to fail.

Circles…all were in circles as her vision shifted from one object to another. A haze threatened.

She turned as her foot touched the ground. She did so, until she felt her weight pull her down. Her head roughly touching the shiny coating of the table as her eyes turned to a close.

Voices echoed forth continuously in her ear…continuously until everything ceased.

-

Flashes of light came in almost all directions. However in disarray, they all had one thing in common – all were focused on her, all in search for her face.

Everyone looked on as soon as she stepped out of the door. Her eyes were sore from the sudden unexpected light. Even her casual clothing made it difficult to maneuver away from the unruly crowd which hurdled around her. Momentarily, she was blinded by those coming from their camera no matter how thick the frames she wore.

Many faces were there, but none she knew of. Hounding her like dogs, they've been on her trail and on contact with her every move.

She would not and could possibly not put blame on any of them for she was a star. Someone whose name was well-known and spoken in each household. Her face graced the covers of the most prominent and widely circulated magazines. Her crystal voice melted even those hearts of the heartless of thieves. Even her songs were used to stimulate and regain the peace that once embraced the whole of humanity.

Yet they were unforgiving.

In the limelight and all the fame, her humble beginnings slowly faded into oblivion as she turned in each possible direction. The glasses she wore no matter how thick could not hide her stray blue eyes.

Their voices lingered throughout…voices with words she could not understand. One thing she knew was true, she was tired - - tired from all these.

And as her helpless figure was unabashedly attacked, flaunted with the numerous hype of attention, a hand grabbed hers from behind. Her eyes darted towards the one person who had the courage to hold her and before she knew it, she was pulled from what she thought an unescapable pit.

She allowed herself to be led to a place she did not know of as her feet rushed in the same manner as the other. No direction, no known refuge. And in through the cool night, her hand felt a sign of assurance, a warmth from the grip he had on its smooth features.

His hair strayed…with the wind carrying its locks. Her heart, she was certain, throbbed faster as she felt chills crawl up her spine.

Amidst the bleak atmosphere, she felt the breeze whisper in her ears the freedom she longed for deep within.

Reaching an old husky tree, they stopped their escape and remained there desperately catching their breaths. He then turned and looked at her whose hand still remained in firm hold of his. His eyes were caring. His eyes – those purple ones – emphatically stared down at her.

Her lips parted as her voice clearly echoed through the dark.

-

"Miss? Miss?"

The same smell from before – one which was recently known to her senses hovered around. That voice – it was familiar. Her eyes slowly opened and were welcomed with the sleepy illumination of yellow light. It was subtle and warm.

Add to that the curious stares of a man.

"Too heavy for you I suppose?"

Her eyes shifted to the glass that almost fell.

"I guess." Taking a hold at that part of her head which ached the most, she answered with the smell of whisky in her breath.

"I think you've had enough for the night."

The man then left while she remained seated on the stool. The band on the stage played calming, melodic tunes. The once uncontrollable crowd was gone. What's left was the lingering view of isolation.

Placing a hand on the table for support, she stood up as she wore her glasses. She then staggered about towards the exit, finding the corner edges of the room's furnishing as her shoulder.

"You don't want to go that way."

Turning her head to the side, she looked on at a mild-looking bartender. His voice carried that of concern and informing.

"Paparazzi's stationed outside. I can tell, this isn't the first time celebrities came here."

Shifting her body to face the door once more, she faked a smile and for one last time looked at the man while keeping a hold on the knob.

"Then, it would be one story…"

The knob was turned and the door opened.

Flashes of light came her way. Voices filled the once silent atmosphere. Black cameras were raised – all focused on her drunk figure. Good, she thought, this would surely make it to the headlines of the major broadsheets the next morning, not minding the angry reprimands she's about to get from her manager or anyone else who supposedly claimed "cared" for her.

The unwelcoming light shot through. Her view could never have been more blurry and hazed. The unfathomable truth was no matter what she does at this point, the press got what they wanted – a much unexpected turn on her reputation. It would sell oodles of copies for certain.

As questions were thrown at her, questions which sounded more like syllables to her senses when uttered, someone took her hand from behind. The commotion caused by such an action rid her of the glasses she wore.

The next thing she knew, she was being dragged out of the corner she found herself in.

His hand was warm and it held hers firmly. Relentlessly, she ran along the woods with his back reflected on her eyes. All these seemed like a memory…a dream?

Finding her energy gone from her weary legs, she suddenly stopped and leaned against a trunk. By now they have ran quite a distance. Panting, the other looked worriedly at her. Her eyes remained on him who slowly turned and stood beside her.

The moment his other hand touched her cheek, she knew it was real. Taking in a deep breath, he cupped her body with both arms. Both hers remained close to her heart as she felt herself being lifted from the ground where she once stood.

Their eyes met…purple and blue.

Then, shifting his gaze on the road, he walked forward, with her in his arms. He held her in such a delicate manner as if she was fragile.

In a tranquil voice, fairly audible enough for him to hear, she whispered.

"I knew you'd come."

Before her eyes turned to a close, the last thing she saw was feathers...black ink artistically forming that of feathers.

A smile painted her lips.

fin

Possible question: What the heck happened?

Answer: Lacus got drank and was ambushed by the press one evening outside a bar. A guy helped her out and escaped with her towards the woods.

Possible question: Do they know each other?

Answer: Of course, no. They're strangers but if knowing would mean seeing, well, Lacus knows him…they already met in her, uh, dream when she passed out. And definitely he knows her - - who doesn't know Lacus Clyne?

Possible question: Don't you think it was mean that the bartender just gave her another glass when he knew she was already drunk?

Answer: Honestly, I agree.

Possible question: Why did she allow him to carry her? And to where?

Answer: She's too weak to argue, don't you think? And as to where, I have no idea. Come to think of it, I should ask, where did you think he was taking her?

Possible question: Is this really how it ended?

Answer: Let me think…yes. Don't sulk too much, it's a one-shot and there are plenty more of those from where it came from.

Possible question: Last one, who is the man who carried her then, who escaped with her?

Answer: The bartender…should I be more specific? You know his name anyway.

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