And Scars Fade
Sitting here in limbo
Waiting for the dice to roll
Sitting here in limbo
Got some time to search my soul...
(THREE DOG NIGHT)
one:
Dearka hadn't thought he'd ever have cause to compare the ZAFT and Earth Alliance prison cells, but now he'd experienced the latter, and, less than twenty-four hours after GENESIS' destruction, found himself stuck in the former. Now he could safely say that the two held little that was not the same. So far, all he'd found to differentiate them was a noticeable lack of cute (albeit possibly homicidal) girls to serve as his jailers.
Well. Even if there were any, the chances of his seducing his way to freedom were pretty much nil. If there was one thing Coordinators really were superior to Naturals at, it was in the choosing and training of soldiers who actually acted like soldiers. And such people were not likely to allow a potential traitor out of his restraints unless ordered to by the higher-ups.
Heh. 'Traitor.' It was such an ugly word, but he supposed that he deserved it in their eyes. Someone who had been set free to return to his own people, and yet had run back to fight for those who had shot him down in the first place, all because of some strange...inexplicably right ideals he'd gotten into his head, beliefs that he'd done and continued to do the right thing in his circumstances...
In the end, at least he hadn't had to claim responsibility for belonging to the side that had initiated nuclear attacks on innocent civilians. Or even the side that had called upon the awesome, brutally terrifying force of GENESIS to reduce a chunk of the Moon to space dust, and uncountable lives in the process.
No. He just had to deal with punishment for having taken the middle road and being, well, relatively innocent, if that word could be applied to him at all.
The dark-skinned teenager rolled over, contemplating the slight dents and variations of gray that made up the ceiling. He'd had nothing else to do for hours now, counting all the little details around him until he knew he'd see the jail block in his deepest dreams; thinking of the world outside, and whether or not he'd see it again. The military came down hard on those it viewed as turncoats and deserters, but with the confusion that had ensued after that last fateful battle in space, he had equal chances of being lost in the paperwork shuffle and let off easy, or being lost in the paperwork shuffle and stewing here until he rolled over and died from boredom.
He wondered vaguely what had happened to everyone else. Maybe they were all right and safe somewhere, in their homes. It was a bit much to ask for – he'd seen the remnants of too many ships and mobile weapons to stay optimistic, but the Archangel had survived, and no doubt Lacus Clyne's Eternal as well. So he could hope that some of them had made it out all right.
Click. Hssssss. The door at the far end slid open, spilling a shaft of brighter light into the corridor. Dearka pretended to ignore it, though he shifted back onto his side, curiosity sharpening as shadows stretched and darkened in the strip of light– two people were there, and it didn't sound like either were prisoners (he'd given hell when they'd dragged him down here, and there'd been plenty of yelling. Not many people chose to go quietly.)
He vaguely recognized the voice of one of his regular guards, the dark-haired, vaguely Asian one who he'd kicked in the gut thrice. Dearka had seen a bright red pimple on his chin when he'd last brought the tray of tasteless 'prison rations' and nicknamed him accordingly.
Pimple moved forward into his field of vision, nodding and whispering to the man? woman? behind him, who answered in mild, if practically inaudible tones.
"You have a visitor, Elsman," Pimple remarked, before nodding once more and turning away. "Five minutes."
And then who should walk in, but one Athrun Zala: fit as a fiddle, normally dressed, and apparently unfettered and free. The blonde nearly choked on his own spit. Who-how-what the BLOODY HELL--???
"Good to see you too," the other soldier remarked sarcastically, folding his arms and meeting the violet glare from behind the bars with one of his own, as if to say, 'get over it, man!' "And before you ask – no, they're not going to let you go yet." He must have noticed the slight slump of Dearka's shoulders as he heard this, because he quickly added, "But there's a good chance they will."
"Oh?" The tanned pilot couldn't help but look skeptical.
"Look, Dearka," Athrun told him frankly, aware that there were cameras hidden within cells – probably sound filters too, for that matter. He'd have to word things carefully, and quickly. Five minutes was ridiculously short, even though only the string-pulling of the Joule family had managed to get him down here for any length of time. "Let's just say I'm not inside a cell like yours now, because ZAFT still needs good soldiers to protect the people." He was telling the truth...the beginning of peace negotiations between the two sides had not stopped the attacks of Blue Cosmos forces on Coordinator innocents. It was an ill time for the military, who was charged with stopping them, even though their own ranks had been decimated to almost nothing. "We earned the red uniforms we wore for a reason, and that will work in your favor."
"Not in front of a judge it won't." Dearka shifted mulishly, sitting up on his bunk so he wouldn't have to confront his...peer? coworker? dare he call him friend? facing sideways. "I already told you what happened!"
"But you didn't tell anyone else." Things could be reworded; events could be twisted. There were no witnesses who would provide an obstacle. "And it wasn't as though we turned completely against our own—"
"Dammit, Athrun, we fought our former commander!" His expression bordered on cold anger now. "We fought ZAFT ships, not just the Earth Alliance. We fought ZAFT mobile suits. I ended up shooting at Yzak, Athrun. Yzak." And strange that that one fact disturbed him more than all the rest, strange that the sting had gone a little bit deeper when the silver-haired hothead had opened his mouth to brand him the enemy.
"Yzak is one of the people working to get you out of here."
Silence. A long one.
"How is he?" Dearka burst out at last. He would have flung his arms up for emphasis, but for the metal cuffs that constrained them behind his back. "You owe me that much, Athrun!"
"He, um, asked me to give you a message, actually." Athrun tapped his chin in thought, a small smile forming on his lips. Dearka looked about ready to explode before he spoke again. "Or rather, he cursed about it for awhile, then he said, 'Tell that bastard not to get his sorry ass busted before I pull it out of jail and do the job properly.' Something along those lines."
"Thoughtful. Very thoughtful." The blonde smirked slightly, anger replaced by thoughtfulness. "Thanks for the news – now I have something to sit and look forward to."
"You do that." Athrun turned slightly towards the door as it hissed open once again, Pimple's shadow beckoning with an elongated finger. "I'll see you soon."
"Athrun? Do me a favor, okay?"
He received an inquiring look.
"Tell him I said, 'likewise.'"
Authoress-ramble: This particular bunny hit me so hard at the dinner table that I sat there for about five minutes with spaghetti hanging out of my mouth before Mom asked me to kindly mind my manners. Eheheheh. This one will hopefully be completely finished within the week (two if I decide to be lazy about it) because I'm technically computer-banned (not in school though, MWAH) and therefore wrote the entire outline in my notebook. This was the boring introductory portion – hell, how much action do you get in a prison, anyway? The rest will be better. Promise!
Anyhoo, this is set between the final episode of SEED and the OVA, taking into account that it would have been at least a few weeks for everything to get cleaned up enough to get to the state of things seen by that time. Not necessarily AU either, considering the dirty politics littering the show, and Murrue's statement that "the punishment for deserters is death." I'll fill in the Yzak/Dearka romantic stuff soon, though be warned, this is not going to be too long a fic. My attention span won't handle it.
Reviews inflate the ego and give luffly inspiration! -points down at pretty blue button-
