Concession

by Enolu

Maybe Athrun knows. Or maybe he doesn't notice the marks on her neck and shoulder. He doesn't seem to care. It's just as well.

In the midst of the fuss and joy of seeing the baby, he guesses that Cagalli's not been to her twin's home in the Plants for a long time.

She looks at everything like it's new, and to be fair, a lot of it probably is. But she's also unfamiliar with where things are, and which room leads to another, and he wonders if she's really as isolated as he'd guessed.

Her bodyguards aren't required right now - Kira and Lacus' home may not seem so, but it is guarded quite well too. They're all in positions that might be unpopular with factions of people, and they've each faced more assassination attempts than he's bothered to count. Athrun's glad that they're doing quite alright - mostly.

The baby looks like every other baby - more or less. The baby bawls and it gurgles, and he has a mop of fine taupe-brown hair, an uncanny mix of his parents' colours. But Athrun loves the child in a strangely-involved way, because of who the parents are. The child's his godson, after all.

Kira looks quite tired, and his hair is dreadful - notably messier than usual. But he's smiling and as happy as anyone can see. He encourages Cagalli hold the month-old baby, and she's as awkward as enthusiastic, but takes to it soon enough.

Lacus coos at how the baby likes his aunt, but Cagalli actually looks relieved when Kira takes over. Then Kira cradles his son, the old mechanical bird perched on his shoulder. Athrun is embarrassed to see his simplistic, childish creation, but his friend and his godson are apparently enamoured with it. The haros, thankfully, have been stored - they were apparently too noisy and kept waking the baby.

The newly-installed toys spinning over the cradle, Kira talks to them about family life with that cautious, quiet manner that the wars brought in him. He says, "We've had to change lots of diapers."

"He's very good about it." Lacus chimes, from where she lies in bed. Somehow, she manages to be utterly charming, and retain her girlish air - all this despite her pregnancy weight gain, swollen legs, and her shockingly-bobbed hair. That beloved, young pop idol has become a respected leader of the Plants and a mother. Still, she confides that she won't tender her name for re-election next year, so that she can concentrate on raising her boy.

Kira sighs a little as their son grabs at his shirt. "This child is really energetic."

"Well, your one true calling is cleaning up messes." Cagalli jokes, and they all laugh. It's almost like it was just yesterday, when they were so young and learning how to live all over again.

Kira and Lacus' house in the suburbs of Aprilius is done in white and sandy wood tones, with navy and cream carpets and curtains. Everything is warm, polished and cosy, and there's a small garden with a sweeping wisteria tree. It reminds him of the old Clyne house, which Lacus recently sold to the Plants heritage and cultural board. That old house is apparently going to be refurbished as a war memorial museum, complete with a "Lacus' Rose Garden" section.

When Cagalli teases her about contributing the next spot for teenage social media influencers to flounce about in, Lacus giggles and insists that she had nothing to do with the old Clyne estate's refurbishment.

"I sold it because I was ready to move on and take the money. It's expensive to have another house in the Plants."

"The taxes for a second property are way too high." Kira chimes in. "There's already a shortage of space in the Plants for residential properties, but maybe the new extensions of Aprilius and Julius will help."

"Not soon enough to ease the taxes though." Cagalli points out, and Lacus nods.

Athrun thinks it's incongruous that Lacus is talking about taxes and money - it would have seemed so gouche coming from somebody as sheltered as she had once been. But things and people change. She's no longer the Lacus that their fathers arranged for him to marry, and he's already learned that there's so much to living through a war and never having your family ever again.

It's still somewhat strange to him that they're here right now, talking about autumnal flu and housing and when the child will start speaking and walking. They could have died so easily during the wars. He looks at the new life that his friends have built around them, and he's thankful that they're all here.

X

Later, when Lacus is feeding the child and Kira is in the kitchen getting them more drinks, he and Cagalli wait in the living room.

He finds himself somewhat hungry and craving something - lunch was hours ago. He has two stacks of reports to review when he returns to the office, but there's nothing to do but wait now.

The talkativeness that she'd displayed suddenly falls into silence, as if she's taking a breather from being so sociable to everyone earlier.

But his ex-fiancée's never been the kind to sit still if she could help it - she walks around the room, looking at everything but him. She never used to look like herself on screen or in the reports.

It seems like she's grown more used to whoever she wants to be to the public in that sphere. Here in her twin's home, turning back to fiddle with some photos, wearing her fleece sweater and jeans, she looks less like the lead emir, and more like Cagalli as he remembers.

They'd already exchanged their greetings when they met in the living room hours ago, smiling like they were in public, everything a bit too courteous, and it seems they've got little else to say.

He's thankful that he already took his medication. Maybe it's a placebo, because the nightmares still come, but it generally makes him feel less nervous. Whatever it is, the Orb military's doctors have certified that he's fit for his job with the ongoing treatment.

Anyway, everything is insistently domestic here. That said, he feels like he should continue to stand at attention, or make himself scarce. There's nowhere else to go without being rude or abrupt though.

She isn't wearing any ring, or any jewelry for that matter. None that he can see, at least. They'd broken off contact at least two years ago, and if he thinks back, it had started small, like a watercolour painting fading off. He'd been on the Minerva, and she in Orb.

Their messages and communication had been scarce, what with their growing duties and the military secrets that they were sworn to keep silent. Their affection apparently hadn't been sufficient either. He'd been too caught up with the new war to really speak with her, and she'd taken things into her own hands without first speaking with him. Maybe they'd both been too experienced with wars and too inexperienced at life. Too young. Too dumb.

She's busying herself with nothing, obviously not looking at him. He occupies himself with staring at the painting on the other wall. It's because Kira and Lacus aren't around, he realises. That's apparently her position on how they should be. He's fine with that - he really is.

The antique grandfather clock ticks on, and everything's taking so long, it's like Kira's coffee and tea need to be plucked from some faraway field before those get brewed. He wonders if he still loves her. Part of him will always love her for the fact that he's alive today. He wonders why the hell he's here, like this. He wonders if Kira's being deliberate about making the slowest beverages in the galaxy.

"You've been well, I hope?" he ventures to say at last. To be fair, it's not a loaded question. He already knows that she's done objectively well, but it's really all that he wants for her.

She looks at him when he speaks, a bit startled. Then she smiles. It's guarded, because apparently, they're strangers. "Yes, I think so. You?"

"The same, really." He wonders if he should say that he's a permanent resident of Orb. Maybe he should tell her that he's enlisted and has been there for nearly half a year - as Lacus had gently suggested that he say. He wonders if he's presumed that Cagalli already knows that. "Busy. You must be as well."

"I suppose."

She doesn't seem to want to say much to him. He's a bit disappointed that she doesn't - that they don't seem to know each other that well, or talk the way they'd used to. Apparently, after all this time, he still cares about what she thinks.

The truth is, she's still as beautiful as he remembers. Face to face, he remembers why he was drawn to those golden eyes and hair - why he sometimes thought of her when others were available and beside him. That lively, boyish stance and directness had belied the secrets of her mind and body - he'd once been privy to those.

She's wearing a scent that he doesn't recall. It's citrusy and quite a bit like pine. He understands, with a searing embarrassment, that he might be standing too close to her. He steps away. He goes to sit.

She lifts her hand to tug at the ends of her hair, a gesture that he suddenly recognises, especially when she keeps her hair long and up to her chest these days. Some nights, when he'd managed to sneak from the North Wing to the East Wing of the Atha house, they'd curved into each other, two halves of a whole.

He'd enjoyed their sex - flustered and fumbling as it had often been when they'd been so covert about their relationship in Orb, and they'd been surrounded by so many others. Most of it was lust, but he remembers the intimacy and comfort, more than anything else. Some nights, right after the last battle and in the weeks that he'd returned to the Plants, he'd awoken to find another next to him and wondered if she was with someone else.

He has no business being involved in her life now. Likewise, he's decided to move forward. But the memories make him uneasy. He hadn't really wanted to get involved with a person as giving and trusting as Lunamaria's younger sister, but he just had, for a while. It had been easy not to think too much, when someone had been willing to comfort and was accessible.

Meyrin had been so upset when he sat her down and admitted what he had. She'd asked what more she could do, but it had never been something in her power. They aren't speaking anymore. He wishes that everything wasn't so messed up, but it's what it is.

Cagalli starts to pace, lifting and examining things. She mumbles something under her breath, and he can't catch it. Then she turns and catches him staring at her touching the crystal ornament on the living room's side table.

She looks right at him for that split-second, eyes so wide. He remembers how she used to get embarrassed and shy when they were intimate - how it made him unsure and nervous too, because he realised that she could be so fragile.

"Milk? Sugar?" Kira calls. It startles them both, and she drops her gaze. She recovers fast though.

"Black tea." She hollers.

"Black coffee," he calls. "Please."

The media presents stories with perspectives that he's never considered - after all, he was right next to her for a long time, and caught in the fray. Everything seems to have changed now.

Well, not everything.

She takes the seat opposite him. "The tea's for you. You know that, right?"

"The coffee's yours."

She smiles at him, and it's a grimace.

"I'm glad that you're well." Everything is in a tumble now. He doesn't know why he tries. "I - I haven't heard from you in so long."

She flushes and opens her mouth to say something. But Lacus comes down the stairs with Leon, saying something about the room being stuffy. Then Kira finally brings out the tea and coffee, and says something about the garden and the almond blossoms.

The rest of the visit is pleasant, and overall uneventful.

X

Just to prove that she can, she goes out with Etienne Rutherford once, a second time, and then again.

It's easy to go on outings with him, because it looks like official business when they sit in a carefully-selected restaurant, the other diners too much of celebrities themselves to care. Their and the other patrons' bodyguards had been stationed outside each private room on both occasions - the restaurants that they've dined at are just as renowned for privacy as the menu.

The outings have been enjoyable. Etienne Rutherford is a great conversationalist and good-looking enough with his dark auburn hair and indigo eyes, she'll give him that. He's extremely tall, powerfully-built, and athletic. He fills out a suit well, and although it's his older brother who wears the emir's official maroon suit, there is a gravitas to Etienne that she notices.

He also seems to want something from her. That much, she's come to accept. He was the one who reached out to her - he's found ways over the past few months to drop her compliments, delivered so matter-of-factly that nobody would have protested. He'd sent a bouquet of silk flowers to her house, with a handwritten note telling her that he made sure those would last the security checks. Of course, he had her attention.

On their second outing, a few weeks after her twenty-first birthday, he'd gifted her a rather practical, but beautifully-made umbrella. It folds into itself with a touch of a button and fits like a lipstick tube, into her palm.

"Didn't the Rutherford House already send a gift?" she'd said.

He'd grinned, quite cheeky. "My grand-uncle and brother sent those. I didn't choose it. It was probably something grand and useless, no?"

She'd laughed, because it was true.

"I'm guessing that you're the type to wander around by yourself - I wanted to give you this separately. But if you don't like it, tell me and I'll try again."

"No, it's kind of you, and I'd like to keep it." She'd been amused, then surprised and pleased to find that he was correct, and the gift proved useful.

Over these past few months, he's made it sufficiently clear that he's interested. Coming two years after little social interaction, it's frankly quite flattering.

Of course, Mina learns about Etienne's overtures. Etienne doesn't keep it secret, even if he's not improper - he walks, not shy to be seen with Cagalli during the breaks between Parliament sessions, their guards trailing at a respectful distance. Mina, however, takes a rather cynical view to it, and expressed as much during their most recent weekly catch-ups at her villa.

"You're attractive enough, surely. The other thing is that if he gets into your good books - amongst other things - he'd be in a better position to rise than his older brother. He hasn't seemed to be at the forefront of the Rutherford house in the past, but who's to say what a person's really thinking?" Mina had studied her with a little smile that didn't reach those sharp eyes. "It'd be nice to have the Rutherford house voting for you too, no?"

"I suppose." Cagalli had replied. "I'm not decided about him though."

"Darius Rutherford made it clear he leans in favour of the referendum being held sooner." Mina reminds her. "Just remember how much he trusts his grand-nephews though."

It's true. Cagalli doesn't tell need to Mina that being seen with Etienne would be advantageous to her as well.

"What do you think about him though?" Mina had probed.

"Lord Darius?"

"Not that stubborn old fool, I mean Etienne."

She'd shrugged. She had leaned back into the long chair, feigning nonchalance. "Nice enough so far. He provides good companionship."

"He's a divorcee though." Mina had said, like Cagalli had even considered spending her life with Etienne Rutherford. "Some iron-clad prenuptial agreement was in place, I think - his ex-wife isn't even in Orb these days. No children, if I recall correctly."

"I don't think so. I'm not sure of the details."

"Maybe you should dig deeper." Mina had told her. "I shouldn't have to say this, but the public would probably like you better if you got together with an Orb noble, considering your personal circumstances."

Cagalli already knows. The memories of the favourable public opinion following the announcement of her engagement to Yuna Roma Seiran are still fresh and rankling in her mind. Some things have changed though - that, or her efforts have been in vain.

When she meets Etienne for the sixth time - removed from the context of their Emir duties - he tells her that he wants to pursue her.

"In case that wasn't already clear." he'd said.

"I didn't think you were doing anything else." She'd told him.

He'd laughed. "Good."

Etienne is the kind of man who's so driven, even the world seems to move a little faster when he walks. He's intelligent, and can be quarrelsome, stubborn, prideful, and dogged - a relentless person in parliament house and the boardroom. He's independent and needs her as much as she needs him - which is to say, not at all. He can be ruthless too - one doesn't run a media empire by being simple. And as Mina had remarked, he's almost her male equivalent, "except with the kind of ego and privilege that men can always count on".

But Cagalli's observed that Etienne is also generous, open-hearted, and caring to his subordinates. He treats her well, and he doesn't demand that she spend time being concerned over him - he's more or less in her position, and he already knows that her commitment is to Orb. She finds, with some surprise, that she genuinely enjoys his company. He sends her an invitation to his mother's house over a weekend, and the afternoon proves enjoyable enough - his mother has always insisted on staying out of politics, and she treats Cagalli with very little additional decorum. It's refreshing.

She doesn't tell Mina any more during her next visit, but she decides there and then that a distraction like Etienne can be a good thing.

X

He'd considered renewing all the old ambitions and hopes of being a material science researcher. He'd been studying and had hoped to teach in a university - before Junius Seven, Zaft and the wars. Now that everything has quietened, he could try.

But he feels like he doesn't belong anywhere except the military now. The thing is, he returned to Orb because he felt like he'd lost something there. Apart from being in space on the Plants, Orb remains one of the few places where it's safe for a Coordinator to be.

She's bound here, and it's clear that she intends to live and die in Orb. She'd told him as much. He'd seen the determination and resolution in her face when she'd held his hand from where he'd laid in bed on the Archangel, before they'd parted again.

He didn't come back here to convince her that they're feasible. It was just that there's nothing more in the Plants for him. Nor does he presume that she'd come running into his arms just because he's in Orb - that she loves him the way she might have before - that she would open her heart and mind and life to him again.

It still doesn't stop him from wondering if she would.

He sees her passing through a hallway in Morgenroete the next month, surrounded with the usual security and her assistants and Mina Sahaku. She looks frustrated, and her discussion seems to be heated.

She doesn't see him because she's distracted speaking to one of the generals. She just doesn't see him.

He wants to ask her so many things - he wants to ask her how she really is, and really care about her. Once, what seems like a long time ago, she had been his confidante and lover - his center. She's a friend, at the very least.

He wants to be a friend. He wants them to be the way they were, even if they'll never be together the way that they used to be. They used to get along so well - she could tell him everything and he never tired of listening and seeing her - they ought to stay close friends. They could share so much of their fears and hopes with each other, and they'd made each other laugh and smile too. Even if they can't be lovers, there's no real reason why they can't be friends.

Yet, he somehow doesn't have the decency to not wonder if she's still sensitive around her neck and whether she would still insist on having the lights turned off completely if he undressed her. He's completely aware that real friends aren't supposed to think about these things.

But he does. He toys with these half-formed ideas, of touching her and stripping them of everything. She's obviously changed, but the old memories are like smoke clinging onto his clothes.

It's all so instinctive, he doesn't even find it in him to truly feel guilty, thinking about her and her neck and waist and breasts like that. He tells himself it's normal - that it's okay that he thinks so often of her now, or in the silence of his days, or like yesterday, when he satisfied himself. It's not.

"Captain Zala." his assigned-mechanic says.

"Sorry." He turns back and focuses on the data board before him. "As I was saying, I don't think the prototype is secure enough for launch if we don't adjust the initial set of tubing. The hydrogen blasters are good though."

The last time that he'd held her, he hadn't cared that everyone on the Archangel could see them. The rest of it had been the Second War, and while he'd been in space, she'd fought for Orb, in her own way.

It's been more than a year since then, and she's been fighting ever since. Maybe she's been fighting for too long. He doesn't expect anyone, least of all her, to prioritise the fact that there wasn't really closure in what became of them. Some of his friends have become parents. Some have found places where they belong. Some have died. Given the grand scheme of things, that doesn't matter next to the lives of those depending on her leadership and his efforts.

All there's left now is the somewhat-insincere exchanges of people who have become strangers. He's okay with that. He tells himself that every day, when he thinks about her and why he let her go, and why it would be wrong to try to get her back.

X

It's nearly ten-thirty, and she's only just found time to work out on the treadmill installed in one of the old refurbished storerooms that she'd remodeled for her personal space. Because nobody's around to hear her, she mutters oaths when the high intensity intervals start and stop.

She'd had to tie her hair, which had been all over her neck - it's been getting so long, but she hasn't had time for a trim. She has far more on her mind.

Mina's probably right. The upcoming referendum on whether Orb's special economic zones should receive post-War independence is too much and too soon. Nobody's ready for it. But if she did recommend that this be delayed for another three years, there's a high chance that the citizens of the special economic zones could protest openly.

The visors and the three-dimensional graphics are turned on around her head and ears, so that it's like she's running in some tropical forest. It's almost real. The automaton is recording her heartbeat levels. It's muggy in here - this simulated climate. She pulls and flings off her sweatshirt, adjusting her running top angrily, still running and gasping.

Roland Rutherford seems amiable enough these days, especially since his younger brother's been consorting with her. Not that her being closer to Etienne will change how their elderly grand-uncle is a prickly and close-minded fellow, who basically resents the Atha House, including her late father and his parents. Etienne's promised her that he'll try to make things less tense, and maybe dinner won't be so irritating tomorrow. Maybe it'll be fine, looking at their fine silverware and crystal, and pretending that it's not all about business and getting support to delay the referendum.

Etienne's not a friend either. He's something a bit different, that much she'll admit. She has to, since he sends her elaborate bouquets of flowers that force her security team to do extra work, and he looks at her with a kind of appreciation that makes her almost unsure.

He's easy to become enamoured with, and he makes it really easy for her to expect him to be around. But even if she wouldn't be averse to being intimate with him, he'd certainly be no friend. They lead such isolated, strange lives with the way that emirs are distant from the typical ways that people have, and he has more to gain from her than she from him.

She doesn't truly trust any of the Rutherfords, emirs or not. She can't, not really. They aren't friends.

As it is, she recognises that she hasn't really made any new friends the way she did since she turned seventeen. It used to be easy enough, getting close to others in the deserts or on those battleships when one could be alive one minute and dead the next day. It's in her nature to be open and direct, but maybe those times are truly over.

Even Mina Sahaku isn't a friend. Mina is a mentor and almost parental-figure at times perhaps, but the woman is far too dangerous and savvy for Cagalli to treat as the kind of friend that she would have made once upon a time. It took so much to convince Mina to mentor her - it would take far less for Mina to walk away and retreat into her comfortable life, away from politics.

The friends from her past before the Wars seem to have disappeared. So many others are gone too - Juri, Mayura, Asagi, Sahib, and Amed are dead. Those that remain are distant, because she has so little time for them. Even Kisaka recognised that he had little he could do for her - he understood that he was better off retiring and looking after his health.

Unwillingly, she thinks of Shinn. He has no real interest in her success or failure as Orb's lead emir. He, Lacus, Kisaka, and a handful of others whom she's maintained contact with other the war, are reminders of what things were before stepping up to her position. So she had been drawn to his vulnerability, and she slept with him. But she has to get by, so now she runs even harder, and she tells herself that's okay too. They're still talking, which means that everything's fine.

The forest zone that she's in is apparently quite rugged - the slope that she's on only gets steeper, and she's properly sweating her guts out. She pushes herself a little more.

Athrun isn't just an old friend. He's Athrun, and it's bloody awkward, that's what it is. He seemed more or less cordial when they'd met at Kira and Lacus' new home. But he's probably diffident to her - given all that's happened. She had thought to mostly ignore him, save for when they meet to see Leon and Leon's parents. And yet, Athrun's apparently proving to be a presence that she can't help but notice.

Like last week. She saw him at the table adjacent to the ambassador of the Plants. He'd looked tired and wan, and maybe he'd been sick recently. Still, he'd been dressed so smartly and formally, it almost didn't show.

But she remembers the way he disguises his weariness. He's good at hiding his discomfort - maybe even his illness. He's always been the type to keep a stiff upper lip and go on about his business, as if he doesn't need others to care for him. He's that sort.

It occurs to her that she shouldn't remember so many things, but she does.

It's just as well that he doesn't seem to treat her as they used to be. By the time he'd received her message about her engagement to an Orb noble, their paths had already diverged. The last that they'd really spoken, he'd been a bloodied mess and plugged to some drip, and she'd seized power in Orb. They'd spoken at length then, about what they had to do to end the Second War. Well, she'd done most of the talking - as usual. He'd just listened, then said he understood why she'd done what she had. She'd apologised - she'd asked forgiveness, for all the things that he'd blamed her for - as he had. Not that it had really mattered anymore.

It's better this way.

Tomorrow, she decides, she'll stick to the usual track-field graphics. She remembers that she has to read through the notes that her aides have prepared, before bed. There's no time for revision tomorrow.

She ducks under a simulated branch, cursing openly. These graphics make her feel far too much like the wars haven't ended. It's so unnecessary.

X

They continue to meet when Kira and Lacus invite them to see Leon. The almond blossoms that Kira's so enthusiastic about have started opening, and the garden is dotted with the purple of wisteria petals.

After finding out that they'd invited Athrun too, she had tried to decline the dinner and the inevitable night at her brother's house. But it seemed rude to skip out when Lacus had sounded so enthusiastic over the call.

"I want to speak with you," Lacus had insisted. "I need a woman to speak to - Kira's wonderful, but he's not a woman. He doesn't get how miserable it is to hear a baby crying and express milk. And my weight gain, Cagalli, I'm so swollen and bloated! I'm being vain here, but honestly, I look like a cow."

"That's not true, Lacus. You're beautiful."

"You're just saying that to comfort me now."

"No, I'm not dishonest like that. You know, I hear when you breastfeed, you shed weight really quickly. Anyway, let's do it - we can take our time catching up, and it's good to get away from Kira and Leon once in a while."

And so she'd caught the shuttle to the Plants and hauled herself over for a Saturday dinner, knowing fully well that she would be unlikely to catch the last shuttle, and that it wouldn't be in her to get her bodyguards to arrange a private one.

She arrives in the late afternoon, and that strange nervousness occurs again when she sees that Athrun is around. It's mostly in her mind though - he and Kira keep away, and Lacus and her do have that catch-up that they'd promised to have without the child or men interfering.

Lacus does seem more cheerful after pouring her heart and eyes out, and they eventually end up laughing and giggling. Cagalli buffs and paints her nails a pretty shade of peach, and Lacus teases her about how feminine she's becoming. They sit in the garden, chatting about everything, and Lacus even finds the energy to cut sprigs of flowers to put in a vase, in the guestroom that Cagalli will sleep in.

Later for dinner, Kira sets up a table in the garden. While Lacus checks on the food that Kira had prepared, she and Athrun help to bring out the things and lay the table. They do so without saying a word to each other, although he does smile at her when she looks up and catches his eye.

When it's all ready, Lacus sets Leon's cradle in the evening shade. The food is comforting and tastes of home - Cagalli is surprised at how good Kira's cooking has become, but Lacus chuckles and says that Kira takes surprisingly well to domestic chores. They talk about the toys that people have given Leon, and how much Lacus misses catching concerts because of her confinement. Then as Athrun is assuring her about how water amusement parks have child-safety features, Leon starts fussing, and Lacus moves off to feed the child. Of course, Kira goes to help her.

Then just as Cagalli had feared, she's alone with Athrun.

For a good ten minutes, she tries to eat without looking at him.

But then he asks how she spends her weekends these days, and against her better judgment, she tells him that she caught some new movies recently.

She doesn't mention that she saw those with Etienne, who'd of course, had easily arranged private screenings at his house so that they could avoid the hassle of incognito outings.

"Did you like those?"

"'Rolling on' was good, the other was a bit too slow."

She doesn't need to tell him that Etienne had been tickled by her cackling during some funny scene. They'd ended up hitting each other with cushions during the slower scenes, collapsing on top of each other like kids, and then kissing.

"Did you catch those too?"

He tells her that he hasn't caught movies recently - but he's apparently addicted to a new televised series on Pacific fishermen who use ancient methods to fish, and even swim with sharks.

She has to smile - it's exactly what she remembers he'd be fascinated by. She says so, before she realises what she's saying.

He laughs. "I installed this set box recently, so I can watch a lot of random nonsense at home."

"Only recently?"

"The renovations were only completed a month ago." he explains. "They were more troublesome than I expected."

"What? Why?"

At some point, he tells her where he's living in Orb, and mentions something funny about his supervisor. Quite forgetting that she didn't want to mention anything that involved them being in a common space, she remarks how amazing the latest technological developments are, with the launching time being halved. He tells her that those are still rather risky, and they're going to test the system in a new launch pad zone soon.

It makes her clam up, because she knows exactly how risky it is. But then he senses her discomfort and changes the topic. He says that he's been reading about South Africa, and that he'd like to see giraffes outside zoos.

"Will you go there for your annual leave?"

"I'd like to, but I'm too disorganised to plan right now." he confesses. "I've been too caught up with work and renovations. You?"

She tells him that she'll be travelling to Chile the following week for a conference.

"I'm dreading it." she declares. "Too damn hot, this time of the year."

"You used to love travelling."

"Work ruins everything." They laugh.

This is just a catch-up, she reminds herself. The kind that old friends fall back into even though they've not kept up for ages. It's the kind of catch-up where they joke about the French premier's recent beard situation. It's not the kind of catch-up that should involve her thinking about how his eyes crinkle when he laughs, or how carefully he's speaks when they discuss anything related to work, or the way that his Adam's apple bobs.

They're past that, she reminds herself sternly. They've eased into this "once-engaged, close friends forever, kinda" mode in front of her family and their friends. She's not sure she's supposed to feel this drawn to him after all this time.

The moths fly in the blue grass and the air gets a bit cooler. The lanterns glow deep and cast golden threads on his cheek. She knows how it had felt, to run her fingers over his throat - those nights when she had huddled near and into her favourite corner of him. Kisaka must have known that 'Alex' would sometimes leave the west wing of the Orb mansion at night to sneak into the east wing and her room. Maybe she should have asked Kisaka about more, before he'd left to travel.

"Will you stay in the military?" She asks, when curiosity gets the best of her.

He looks sheepish. "I don't know, to be honest. But I think so. I don't have many other skills."

"That's not true! You could try something else, if you wanted."

He looks surprised, then smiles at her reaction. "Maybe. But being in the military and testing those probably suits me. It pays well too."

She rolls her eyes."Yes, because it's potentially life-threatening. I thought you inherited enough?"

He shrugs, completely unbothered by her candour. His eyes even twinkle as he says, "Never hurts to be industrious." Then he grows a bit more serious. "I'd like to become an instructor - or somebody who could develop a system where we might disarm threats without killing." He looks at her ruefully. "Well, that's all a bit distant. Right now, I'm just trying to find a rhythm and make it through each week."

"I'll drink to that." She pours some wine for them.

Maybe he's right that he can only go back to the military. He's always seemed a bit serious and aloof, she thinks, recalling how he seemed inherently suited to being a soldier or even a bodyguard. But he was always surprisingly warm and even humorous in that wry way, as she'd learned. Even now, she can see that he always tries to care about people. She doesn't know if things have changed too much.

He looks right at her when he's drinking. The leaves dapple them with shadows, and his eyes look turquoise in the evening. It makes her want to run and call for her bodyguards to fetch her on an unscheduled private charter, but she also wants to hang around so that she can look at him and his stupidly nice smile and face and hair and whatever else there is.

By the time Lacus and Kira return, the baby is asleep, and the stew is a bit too cold. Athrun tries getting up to reheat it, but nobody's hungry anymore. They just sit there in the soft light, enjoying the cricket song.

To accompany the cake that Cagalli gave, Lacus brings out the other bottle of wine that Athrun had brought. With much embarrassment, Cagalli realises that she and Athrun had finished most of the first bottle by themselves, but Lacus assures her that it's absolutely fine.

But it's not awkward like she'd feared. Together, they talk about Sai, Mirallia, Kuzzey, Dearka, Yzak and and whoever else who's left in their social circles - it's not really as bad as she'd feared.

"I've missed having wine." Lacus remarks at some point. She rests her head on Kira's shoulder, tasting and nodding blissfully. She hums so softly, and the world seems to grow that much calmer. "Good pick, Athrun."

"Lucky guess. I'm not so familiar with what you like."

Lacus beams. "Plenty of time to learn, now that I've popped."

"You know, when the mint plant is a little more cooperative, we should try that with the gin." Kira muses. "I have a test batch, but I think it came out a bit sweet."

"Hopefully, Leon won't be so demanding and disruptive during your next visit." Lacus tells them.

"Oh, he didn't disrupt." Athrun says smilingly.

"Yes, well, you weren't the one who had to stop eating and rock him to sleep. Did you both manage to have a good catch-up?" Kira asks. He puts his arm around Lacus, relaxing back, but his eyes are strangely watchful.

"Definitely." Cagalli says, and she downs the rest of her drink. She forces a laugh. "You thought we were going to sit around in awkward silence to wait for you to get back?"

Kira chuckles. "Of course not."

X

It shouldn't be a problem staying away. She's done that for so long now.

But when she finds him sitting in the living room and in the darkness at one-forty in the morning, quietly flicking through channels with the sound muted, she knows that she wants to go to him.

She should just go get and finish her water from the kitchen, and head back up to bed. She's still a bit light-headed from the second bottle of wine, in that pleasant, buzzy way - her throat felt dry enough for her to bother venturing downstairs like this. She should make a turn and go back to her room. But again, she's too curious to leave him alone.

She can imagine the blue light of the screen darting off his face. He should be in the other guest room, but he's here, sitting in silence.

She clears her throat and he turns and sees her.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Couldn't sleep." he confirms. He looks like a child, all embarrassed, and it makes her chuckle.

When she goes to sit next to him, he shifts away slightly to give her space. It's a cartoon channel that he'd paused at - this series is a popular one, with this astronaut family often getting into adventures and scrapes. It's not so funny though, without the sound, and knowing why she's here, and that she still wants him after all this time.

"What time's your shuttle?"

"Ten-thirty. I'm leaving at ten. You?"

"About there. Mine's eleven-fifteen."

"Right." She smiles at the astronaut mother character chasing the children around while shaking her fist, except that they're floating in zero gravity. "Too bad the visit's so short."

"It's not a bad way to spend the weekend." He murmurs, and he rubs his eyes briefly. "I'm glad we got to catch up."

She doesn't dare to look at him, but then she says, "Me too. I was hoping that we could still be friends."

Her voice comes out smaller than she'd imagined. It even cracks. The television continues to play with no sound, and she can see their reflections in the hologram screen. He has no expression.

"We'll always be." he says, after a long pause. "You'll always be a friend - to me."

She looks up at him, and he smiles that well-meaning, sweet, awful smile, beginning to say something. The light of the footage darts across his eyes and his lips form a word.

But then she reaches up to touch his cheek, and pulls him close to kiss him. There's nothing more that she wants him to explain.

He tastes of mint and gin, with something of the lemon that had floated its acidity in the drink. It's kind of wonderful and bitter, and it's terribly sweet, the way that he kisses her slowly, nicely, the way that he's always been considerate.

It's so familiar, but it's also so new - she can't help wanting to try this. His knees had knocked against hers when she'd pulled him to face her, and now he opens to her, lets her draw herself nearer to him, touches her hair and runs a hand gently through its length.

Everything is a little tingly and there's a vagueness to her thoughts. Maybe it's the drinks from dinner, but there's also this contact.

He slides his hand to her waist, finds the hem of the oversized flannel shirt that Lacus had lent her, and his fingers plays with a stray thread in the way that his tongue teases at hers. She's already lost when he slips his hands to find her bare skin, feels him take in a sharp breath, and then he finds her breasts and cups at them. She isn't wearing a brassiere - who the hell wears something uncomfortable like that to sleep anyway - and he whispers her name. His palm strokes at her flesh with a coolness that makes her flesh shiver and pebble.

She almost stops to think about it, but he deepens the kiss that she didn't think she'd craved so much. She wants to kiss him, and she does, hard, but his hands are on her skin now, and she's afraid of how quickly she could forgo her resolve. There were nights when she'd dreamed of taking him and being close to him like this.

He fondles her, then scrunches up the flannel to bring his mouth on her, one nub at a time, rolling his lips and tongue on her. It's everything that she'd imagine, but maybe more - he's earnest, like she'd remembered, but there's something about his eyes and touch that's more teasing, more flirtatious than when they were little more than children. Her arousal is sharpened, because they're here like this, and somebody could just walk down and see her with her shirt bunched up like this.

But everything is going so quickly, and before she can say something, his teeth brush against her, and the bloom of pleasure is interspersed with those nips of discomfort. It's so familiar, but it's also so, so different, because he's more decisive and demanding now, and so is she.

She slides her hands beneath his cotton shirt - Kira probably lent it to him - and feels the ridges of his abdomen, lets him shift her palm down to the narrowness of his hips, then the hardness between his thighs. Once, she had taken him in her mouth, and she remembers how he'd buckled and gasped her name at the end - how his fingers had been tangled in her hair, and how he'd tasted. In the two years when he'd been with her, hiding as 'Alex', they'd had so little time together, like this.

She can feel his warmth and she strokes at him, feeling him groan softly, wondering if he would let her put her mouth on him, maybe risk someone coming down and seeing them at the couch, her kneeling with her head buried between his thighs. She can remember what it had felt like - the ridges of him, the tension of his body, the adrenaline, and all the fleetingness of their pleasure.

But they're all together different from whoever they'd been. It's a strange realisation, but it's exactly that. When he breaks the kiss, she gasps for air, and it's like she's been submerged and pulled out of the water, completely awake now. It's frightening.

"May I?" His voice is so ragged, she doesn't recognise the half of it. She should say no, but she doesn't want to - she just kisses him again, and he breaks it, smiling at her. It's wonderful, she realises, and she feels something well up in her. She smiles back, too caught up in that emotion, hugging him like she'd wanted to for so long, because she's missed him more than he'll ever know. He kisses her cheek and trails his lips and teeth down her neck and to a shoulder, pulls open a button, then another, to touch her. His breathing is frayed, ghosting over her skin.

She's keening, pressing her face into his hair now because it's so, so good and she wants him so badly. She almost forgets herself when he brings a hand to her thighs to feel her wetness, and he slips a finger to rub at her slit. It's definitely familiar, except that he's far bolder than what she remembered. Except that she's re-discovering him, and this isn't as casual as she needs it to be. Except that this shouldn't happen.

She shifts away, and moves his hands away from her. He just lets go completely, and she half-wishes he didn't, but she's the one who knows better.

The astronaut mother character has finally caught one of the children, and begins wagging her finger with that comical, exaggerated rage. The astronaut child grins like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, then presents the astronaut mother a rather nonplussed space cat, which glares at them both and spikes itself into a giant furball. The other children float by, looking somewhat repentant.

"Let's not." she's quite steady when she says this, and she's stupidly proud of herself for it. She shifts away.

"Sorry." He doesn't look at her. "I shouldn't have."

"It's fine. It wasn't you. It's just - just, let's not." She almost says something dumb, like "let's just be friends", but they already are. They're supposed to be. She settles for, "I don't want you like that."

"Alright." he says, and he's so expressionless. "We won't do anything."

"This - this isn't the time. Or place." They really should turn off the television. She fumbles about for the control. There isn't a time or place. She doesn't know why she tries to justify anything. She shouldn't need to. But she does. He nods once, like he even understands what she's really afraid of.

Then he says, looking right at her,"I'd like to see you again."

He watches her, still at the distance that he'd moved back to. There's still that tension in his jaw, like he's biting back something he wants to say. It's her undoing.

"We can't be the way we were." she says, in a rush. She can't bring herself to look at him, but he lifts her face, hand on her cheek.

He studies her for that moment. Then he says, so intently, "I want to make love to you. Will you let me?"

It's nothing like what she remembered of him - that formalness that he hid behind; the way that he used to be hesitant and how he'd never demanded from her - not even an apology. She should say she doesn't want to, or ignore how he's laid his cards on the table. She doesn't know if she'll feel horrid if they sleep together, and that's just it. She shouldn't tell him how much she would like to let him.

"No." she says. "I don't know. We can't."

Something in the dark, gleaming forest eyes of his dim. But he's so calm, it's so unfair.

"I understand." He lets go of her cheek, and he somehow smiles comfortingly.

But he doesn't understand. There's no way that he could.

She allows herself just a moment more, then she tears herself away, stifling a sob that nearly wells up her throat. She shifts away and neatens her appearance, like it fucking matters when she's just going to go upstairs and try not to cry herself to sleep.

"You should get some sleep." His voice is very quiet.

She avoids his gaze. "I should. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

X

But at six in the morning, she's awake again, and she curses her internal clock. She's too used to waking at this time. She lies in bed, trying to fall asleep again, but she thinks of him and how he'd kissed her. Her head is much clearer now, but that's exactly the part that sucks. At some point, she gets frustrated and gets out of bed - it's not like her to waste time thinking. She brushes her teeth, showers, changes into her day clothes, packs her few things, and then lies in bed again.

Maybe it's seven or something close to that - she doesn't know, but the sun is starting to shine through the curtains when she hears a soft knock and sits up in bed.

"Who's that?"

"It's Athrun. May I come in?"

She doesn't know what to say, only pulls the covers up higher. "Sure."

He slips in so quietly, the door barely opens before shutting again. She offers him a smile that she doesn't really feel, but he only looks at her solemnly. He's still in those sleep clothes, and it makes her look weird that she's dressed and raring to go.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Couldn't sleep." she confirms. They exchange rueful smiles.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be awake."

"I already was - don't worry. Sit down?"

"Thanks." He does, at the edge of the bed, keepinga clear distance. It's familiar again - there were days when he'd tucked her in, and when she woke, he'd be sitting in a chair, having fallen asleep while watching over her. But she already can sense that he's retreated into that formalness - he's not here to joke with her the way they'd shared those moments over dinner yesterday.

He says, "About last night."

"Morning, technically." She colours, and hates herself for it. She looks at him defiantly. "What about?"

"You said we can't go back to being who we were."

"Yes, we can't."

"But it doesn't change some things."

"What about that?" She stares back at him. She can feel her pulse beating fast, but she's trained enough to ignore those kinds of fight or flight symptoms.

"We're still friends." he says, a bit stiffly. "I want to be there for you - if you need."

"Thank you." She doesn't know how to begin explaining that she's been trying, for slightly more than two years, to make him irrelevant to her. "I - I would like that."

He looks at her, that guarded look still on his face. "I guess I should apologise. For what I said before. It was inappropriate."

She should brush it off, and they should go help make breakfast or something, before they say bye to Kira and Lacus, and catch their shuttles. It's been sufficiently awkward, and they should continue to chart their separate paths. She shouldn't get involved with him anymore. She begins to say something to that effect, but then she sees something in his expression give way, and that's her undoing.

She's the one who finds herself drawing him nearer, by the scruff of his collar, and she's kissing him again and again with all her years of want. He doesn't fight her, but he doesn't give in either. She palms at his sweat pants, finds his growing erection, and touches him.

"You want this." she gasps between breaths. "You want this, right?"

Then he responds, as eager as she'd hoped. That's okay too - she's always been taking from him. This time, she's even less hesitant, because she knows what she must do. She bunches up the hem of his shirt, and in one quick movement, has it over his head.

His hair is so inky, it pools in her hands and over his white skin. This time, she knows she can't gate the tide that's him, or how they were always meant to find each other like this, like tributaries converging at the river mouth, after all this time and erosion. Then it occurs to her that she's risking people walking in on them yet again, and fighting a laugh, she breaks the kiss, kicks the covers off her, gets out of bed, and locks the doors.

He stands too, but the room is so small that when she turns, she's already in his arms, breathing against that familiar, sinewy chest, running her hands around his tapered waist and the wondrous, soft flesh casing the taut muscles underneath. He lifts her face to his again, looking so deeply into her, she has to close her eyes, for fear of him learning more. Then he kisses her so fiercely, she wonders if anyone will ever be like him.

When they break for air, he says, softly and dazed, "I thought you said I couldn't make love to you."

"I changed my mind. I want to fuck you." She steels her nerves with bravado, because she's determined to be in control this time. "You going to let me, or what?"

He barks his laughter, but his eyes are so gentle, she can't look at him fully. "What do you think?"

"You might as well get in the shower." she says, turning away to undo her already-rumpled blouse. "Go on."

X

The water is cool against her skin, and it provides her some respite while she's on her knees, his fingers pushing her drenched hair away from her cheek and neck as she strokes and pleasures his heavy arousal. He feels so hot and desperate, thick and strained even with her light touches, and he forces her up soon, has her hands braced on the wall.

The water rains down over them as he quenches himself at her neck and twists his fingers into her. When he touches and works that spot, she's limbless, a rag to be wrung out. Everything seems distant, because her pleasure crowds out any thought. Their fingers meet for a moment, when she trails her hand down his forearm to touch his knuckles, where his fingers are folded into her.

Then when she's done, he withdraws his fingers, adjusts himself and pushes, tears into her even though he goes slowly, so slowly. He's not even fully within her, but she looks down at the entry of him, and feels herself come undone with every bit more that he gives. She isn't even sure if it's the shower or her tears, but taking his tumescence hurts only slightly when the dazzling flashes of pleasure flood out the physical discomfort and emotion. He moves a little each time, until her vision is diamond bright and blurry and her heart and the sound of his voice and the water drowns her ears.

Then slowly, she feels like she's burning up, hands on the bathroom walls, scrabbling for purchase with him gripping at and thrusting hard behind her. He pushes so deeply now, almost fully within her, and brings her hips in rhythm with his, to meet him. He says something, near her ear, kissing the arch of her neck with those wet lips, but she can't hear in the pounding water. She concentrates on holding herself up and taking him, standing even though he's working her into a liquid, sopping mess. It feels delicious, having his throbbing body in hers, and his hair touching her neck as he bends in the tessallation of their forms. It's like she's been holding back for so long, every brush of him against her sets hives of pleasure boiling and trickling over her. In her haze, there's only him and his body, hooking and embedded in hers, and she's calling - crying out for him.

He pulls away when he comes, his voice muted by the shower. Even though it wouldn't make a difference, he flips her to face him, pushing her up on her back, up the wall, supporting her while spilling hard over her belly, then letting her slide down. He holds her face in his hands so gently, and he kisses her. He should let go then, but he still holds her against him, the water pouring down on them, cradling her against him like he doesn't know that they should only fuck. She feels him, the throbbing of the thick veins in his forearms and thighs, his beating heart, his seed washing over her flesh with the water, and he trembles in her arms, solid and real.

She knows that this wasn't supposed to happen, but it has, and it leaves her feeling somehow calmer and less wound up, even if she's sore in places she forgot existed. She doesn't let him dry her, just grabs a towel and tosses it to him, motioning impatiently.

By the time they're out of the shower and getting dressed near the bed, she's decided what to do.

"That was a one-off." she says, abruptly and after they've towelled down and she's done with her pants and buttoning her shirt. She's already had so much practice suffering inside, it doesn't hurt the way she had feared it might. She's long past the first cuts. "You know that."

He looks completely unperturbed. "I know. But I'd like to see you again - like this."

She forces a laugh. Once upon a time, they'd have never negotiated like this, but things have changed so much. "You mean you want to fuck around like this? As and when we feel like it?"

"Yes, if you want to."

"You sure?" She stares at him. "Well, you're always free to see other people."

He says nothing, just looks at her patiently like she should already know something. It makes her irrationally angry.

"Nothing will come of this, you understand? I'd be using you, get it?"

"I don't mind being used - whatever you call it." he says. His eyes are so unwavering and steady, she believes for that minute that he's capable of any feat. "I enjoyed that - but I don't like having you anything less than sober."

Her planner's built-in alarm rings from the bedside. Without another word, he turns it off. He passes it to her, and his face and body are without any of the wildness and desire that she'd seen just minutes ago. He seems like his usual self once more - the person who's equally capable of that fury, passion, and trained for hurting and killing is no more than the vapour against the window.

People like them will always have two lives, fooling themselves and others, she realises. That's okay too.

She moves to fetch her duffel bag, her things already packed.

"Come by my place next weekend." she says, after a pause. "I want to see you before I leave for Chile."

She doesn't know why she says it, but he smiles and steps closer. He kisses her on her cheek, like he's courting her. She looks at him mutely, wondering what she can say to make him wake up and see what this is. He kisses her again on her mouth, and it's so sweet and fleeting, because she already knows that this can't last.

Then he lets her leave to go down to the dining room first - she texts her bodyguards along the way down to confirm that she's on route to boarding the ten-thirty shuttle.

Kira and Lacus are already frying eggs and preparing the toast when she's down. She says good morning, and they insist she wait outside the kitchen. So she waits around, kisses the baby on his forehead as he lies in his cot, and he looks at her with those sleepy, blue eyes.

The dining room is soon filled with those amazing smells and she digs in, appetite sharpest that it's been in a long time - she's probably ravenous from sex. The baby was unusually good last night - they assure her that nobody woke up until a reasonable time this morning.

She doesn't ask if they'd looked into Athrun's room and found it empty. She doesn't want to think about how Kira had promised he would wake her up to catch the shuttle, and might have discovered that the door was locked. None of them act any differently when Athrun comes for breakfast a few minutes later, apologising about having overslept a bit.

X

Her problem is anything, but it's certainly not a lack of self-love. She's suffered through enough self-doubt, shame, and insecurity to have learned that she enjoys sex for its own sake as much as anyone can and often does. She's truthful about that, and accepts what it is. What tangles and obscures matters is something that she can't confront so easily.

X

On Thursday evening, it's drizzling with that irritatingly-fine rain. But it's cooling, and so instead of getting into the car to drive home, she dismisses her aides and bodyguards. She takes nothing but her coat and a small purse of her things.

She walks through the nearby central park of the business centre, holding the umbrella that Etienne gave her, considering what to do. Her solution is simple enough, and she eventually calls him. If he doesn't pick up, she thinks, she'll just dismiss it as a fool idea.

He answers almost immediately.

"What's up?"

"I want you now." She says. "I'm in the central park."

"I'll fetch you. My place?"

"Yours."

He doesn't need to be told twice. He fetches her himself - no bodyguards, no aides, just him and a car that she doesn't recognise. She figures that he uses a different one for work outside his parliament duties, but they don't say anything more after they greet each other and she gets into the car. He puts the car on auto-pilot, and he places a hand on hers, over her thigh.

He takes her by her hand and leads her into his home. It's a luxurious penthouse so high up that she thinks the clouds are much closer than normal. They divest themselves of their coats, and he pours them hot tea first, and then some rum, both of which she downs. He takes his, then loosens his tie - he'd been in the office when she'd called. He reaches for her and they kiss, on the same couch that they'd watched movies in front of. But it's different now.

He eventually stands, pulling her up with him. He leads her to his room and shuts the door, controls the light with a swipe of his hands over the projected panel, so that everything is less glaring. The windows are as long and wide as the doors, and it's raining even more heavily than when they'd arrived.

He gestures at her dress.

"Take it off." Etienne says.

His gaze is assessing, heated, but she's so sure these days that she doesn't show any weakness. She does it efficiently and without fanfare, but she reads the appreciation in his face all the same, especially when he comes to stand behind her to help her out of her undergarments.

"Look at you." he says admiringly. "You're stunning. I'm a lucky man."

He runs his hands over her, and he kisses her shoulder softly - softer than she'd imagined he would. But she turns to face him, and she breaks his kiss quickly enough.

"Your turn." she tells him. She smiles at him, and he chuckles.

"You're demanding even outside the parliament office, eh?" He kicks off his shoes quickly enough, then throws off his tie.

"I was curious if your swagger was overcompensation for something." She almost laughs at his startled expression - it makes him pause at the third button. "You know, I was thinking about you during the debates - during the second reading the other day."

His surprise changes to amusement. "You wanted me like this then?"

"No, not really." she says, not to be contrary, but he's piqued because he doesn't know the truth. She steps closer to help with him with a cufflink, ignoring his light, teasing, touches to her bent arms and neck. "It's hard to be aroused when people are discussing repealing sections of the Internal Security Act. I wanted to see when and if you'd try your luck though."

He looks at her fondly as she removes the second cufflink and drops it on the floor. "Would you have liked me to sooner?"

"I don't know. But when you didn't, I decided to call." She looks diffidently at him, taking a step back.

"I'm glad I held off."

"Why did you?"

"I didn't want to make you think I was only interested in your body."

She laughs, but a bit of it is bitter. "You're not getting extra support with the Rutherford House's decision either, if that's what you're after."

His face softens, and he lets her loosen his belt and slip it from its loops. "That's not what I'm after. You're what I'm after. What are you after?"

"For now, I'm hoping that you can satisfy me."

"I'll do my best." He resumes his undress, and she sinks into the edge of the bed, studying his body. He's muscled and as toned as she'd expected - there aren't scars or mottled remnants of wounds on him. He hadn't fought in the wars.

"Happy with the goods?"

She smiles at him. "Start moving, then I'll decide."

He laughs. "Turn around then."

She does, and gets on her fours. He kneels behind her, reaches to turn her face and kiss again, and she indulges, but keeps it brief. No need to do more than necessary. He's apparently not too concerned about kissing either - he gets the pillows under for her to rest her head and belly, bends her down and forward on the bed to lift her hips, and busies his hands and mouth in preparing her.

"God, you're amazing." he says, and his voice is rough. "Taking on the emir council like that. Gave me a hard-on, to be honest. I thought about this the other day - I wanted to do this to you there and then."

He withdraws his fingers and reaches under her to caress her breasts. She can feel the wetness of his fingers in streaks over the sides and around her nipples. When he slides his hand up, to her cheek and lips, she sucks at his fingers, tasting herself. She's capable of this, she tells herself. She isn't afraid.

At some point, he reaches away, get something at the bedside, opening a drawer. She sinks into the pillow, breathing deeply, and she can hear him slicking up and preparing himself.

"I suppose you aren't intimidated too easily." She shifts back, breathing deeply as he gets behind again, dips another finger in her and kisses, teasing at her folds, sliding his tongue up and down to build the sensation in her.

She says, "I wasn't sure if you were going to do this after the last debate on the referendum."

"I couldn't be more turned on. We were all fooled by that helpless act you had going on back then. Open up for me more, I'd like you to enjoy this."

She adjusts, not looking back at him. He sucks and licks at her, adds another finger in, knuckle by knuckle until she gasps and feels herself drip. Then she sinks into the pillows, feels him flip her on her back and opens for his kiss.

"You'd never let this get to the news, would you?" She asks.

"Absolutely not." To his credit, he's obviously good at this - he's in control and quite charming even when he's a bit testy, hard and frustrated. He continues stroking at her damp inner thighs. "We deserve privacy. We don't need the media involved. Apart from me owning most of it here in Orb, it should be clear that if I threw you under the bus, I'd be throwing myself under the bus. I'd like to have you again."

"You keep touching me like that." she says, "And you'll stand a good chance."

He's been hard for a while, rubbing and grinding between her cheeks and spine between eating her out, and despite his casual demeanour, she knows how desperate he is at this point. She glances back at him and shifts deeper into her original spot.

"Ready?" he says.

"Took you long enough." she tells him, and she bites back a cry when he grits his teeth and pushes into her.

X

Maybe Athrun knows. Or maybe he doesn't notice the marks on her neck and shoulder. He doesn't seem to care. It's just as well.

When it's over, and she's breathing steadily again, she pushes herself to sit up.

"You should get going."

"I should."

She watches him sit up and put on his shirt. He does it quickly, quietly. He knows the way out of this place - she'd shown him the shortcut to exit out of the side of the Orb estate all those years ago. The scanners and automated security will have no issue letting him out either.

He stands when he's ready, and looks down at her. He looks more or less fine, and the fine wrinkling of his shirt isn't too obvious. He'll be in his car soon, and nobody else will see him or know. This is their secret.

"Have a safe flight."

"Thanks." She smiles at him, and his eyes unmistakeably soften.

She doesn't stop it when he bends to kiss her. She wishes that he'd kissed her on the lips, not her forehead, but it's what it is. He's always like that.

"I'll see you soon." she says.

"See you."

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