Note: It's been a while since I last wrote any AC, and this was what ended up coming out after a straight-through fanfic writing period. Nevertheless, I'm not really all that pleased with it actually. It was origianlly intended to be a chaptered story, but seeing as how this didn't really turn out all that satisfactorily, it'll probably just be a one-shot. However, with a bit of cutting to the end of this, the originally planned chapter story may still go ahead, depending on how well received it is. We'll see. Concrit is greatly encouraged and appreciated, but no flaming.
I don't own Gundam Seed/Destiny. Warning: Character deaths. Enjoy:
He shuffled around a little, internally grimacing. These business formal holiday parties always made him slightly uncomfortable.
Mingle, he constantly had to remind himself, pasting a radiant smile upon his lips that felt fake no matter how he looked at it. It was the same every year; had been the same, now, for three years. Ever since… no, not tonight. He wasn't going to think about it, about her tonight.
Get over it, he scolded himself. She obviously has. But somehow, despite their cool mannerisms during their one brief interaction that had taken place all this time, he couldn't help but feel as though perhaps it was simply an act. That inside, she was just as lost without him as he was without her. That they still had a chance.
Finally, he told himself that after all this mingling, he had earned himself a reward, a little five minute respite. He plopped down on the couch, settling in with a crystal flute of bubbly champagne. Taking a delicate sip, he looked around.
The party was being held in Senator Yoshi's country house, located in a remote area about a quarter hour from the main city. The roads were quite brutal tonight, and were likely to become even more so as the night worn on, provided that the snow continued to fall the way that it did.
The cottage had a nice homey feeling, all warm and cozy with wood planked walls and soft beige plush carpeting. The furniture was all low slung and modern, yet had a casual feel.
He saw Senator Yoshi and his wife come into the room, talking to each other in abrupt undertones. "I thought I'd reminded you just this morning to get more champagne and some dining utensils on your way home," Mrs. Yoshi was saying.
Her husband raked a hand through his hair nervously, "I know, honey, I just--everything's been so hectic--and, it was--I ran into--"
"Yoshi!" he called from his position on the sofa. "What's wrong?"
A slight blush crept up the senator's face. "Oh, it's nothing. I just forgot to pick up some stuff and--"
"You know, I could run out and get them now, as a matter of fact," he said, jumping up off the couch. He held up a hand when he saw his friend open his mouth to protest. Leaning closer, he murmured, "Come on Yoshi, you know I don't mind. It's really no trouble--you'd be doing me a favour, really. Just between us, you know how I hate these parties, all pretence and no sincerity, what with all these politicians about."
Reluctantly, the senator agreed, and that was how he found himself outside, getting into his silver Cadillac a few minutes later, relishing the fresh, crisp December air. For a few seconds, he simply stood there, letting the coolness devour him from nose to toe, letting the flakes of snow float gently down to rest on his hair, his face, his tongue, his super expensive tailored suit. For a few seconds, he felt whole.
Then, the feeling passed and he got into his car and began pulling out, trying to drive carefully down the narrow country lane, now slippery with snow and ice.
"Oh, crap!" she muttered darkly, hobbling down the stairs while attempting to fasten a clip to hold her freshly waved hair in place. "Crap!" she muttered again, wondering why she had left getting ready to the last minute. She was definitely running late now. The fact that she was wearing a shimmery turquoise cocktail dress didn't help matters much. She hated dresses, but after years in politics, she was beginning to understand that sometimes, what the individual wanted, quite frankly, didn't matter.
That had been proven more than enough when she'd had to let him go.
Scowling, she wiped the thought from her mind and slipped into a strapped pair of amethyst encrusted silver heels.
In one fluid motion, she snatched up her purse, coat, and keys, locked the door behind her, and more or less dived into her black Volvo. As unusual as it may seem, she didn't particularly care for riding in limos other than when absolutely necessary.
Nevertheless, a brief chill reached her bare legs, and she silently cursed the stupid political party she was on her way--alright, her late way to.
She should really have left earlier, she mused to herself as the roads were becoming increasingly hard to navigate. Driving down the country lane was rather creepy, to be truthful; her headlights were the only source of light available, and it really was quite narrow: two parallel cars would be doable, but definitely not a comfortable fit.
The lane had a slippery patch in the middle, hidden under the snow, that spanned about fifteen feet. And just beyond that, was a sharp turn, hidden by the dense thicket of surrounding trees.
Perhaps it was destiny, perhaps it was a trick of fate, or perhaps some stronger force had intervened. It's impossible to know for sure the logistics why, but one thing was undeniable. It would shatter lives, disrupt order, and change a few people forever.
That night, on the silent country lane, while snowflakes fell peacefully, a silver Cadillac drove away from the senator's holiday party, while a black Volvo drove toward it. The Cadillac rounded the corner and hit the slippery patch at the exact same moment as the Volvo, and both drivers lost control of their cars, skidding towards each other in mute horror, neither able to swerve.
For one brief moment, each was illuminated in the other's headlights. For one brief moment, they saw each other. They saw each other, and for one brief moment, they knew, they pained, and they grieved; but most of all, they loved. For one single, solitary moment, all was calm and at peace as the only thing on each one's mind was the other's name.
Cagalli.
Athrun.
For one brief moment, the world stood still. Then there was a terrible noise as the two cars crunched and collided, and airbags deployed. But because of the angle at which they collided, and the narrow width of the country lane, the two cars flipped off the road, one to each side. A shallow honk issued forth from one of the cars, for a few seconds.
Then it was silent, and two spirits were rising, entwining, reuniting.
Together at last.
End Note: Dodges all the rotten tomatoes, toilet paper rolls, and other junk being thrown
So, just as a little brief teaser-esque tidbit, if [this story were to continue, it would involve amnesia, and car crash would have still happened, but everyone's still alive. Perhaps, perhaps not. And for those of you who are curious, don't worry, neither Reuni enfin nor Alias: Infiltration have been abandoned. Or Au Contraire, for that matter. Sorry for the long wait, but they're kind of... stuck, now, so to speak. Although I do have most of the next chapter of Reuni planned out and I know where the story line for the other two are going.
Issy