Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam seed. Fan fiction, baby :P

This was a piece that I originally intended for Valentine's Day, but my computer died (again) so I was unable to type it, or otherwise post it. It's not really a love day type piece anyway. I played around a little more with symbolism this time round. The main symbol of the story is listed at the bottom, but you get bonus points if you catch the other symbols (some are really obscure, and others are more obvious). There are quite a few :)

This piece really came from my heart.

And in the Cathedral

He knelt on the solid stone floor. That's what you did in a church, or at least, that's what he saw people do. They knelt between the pews with their hands clasped, mouths moving in silent prayers for their loved ones. Light sprinkled down from beautiful stained glass windows, reconstructed perfectly after the Second War. Everything was dark wood on white walls, with hints of red and blue in carpets and drapes.

People came to churches because they had one of two things; faith, or problems.

Athrun Zala had problems.

Cagalli had been married here. Yesterday. To a natural with a handsome face and dark eyes, with good connections with several of earth's strongest political leaders.

And she had looked so happy.

And yet, he felt so miserable.

He felt selfish, to feel miserable.

He had sat in the front row, while cameramen cooed and ladies in pastel dresses threw flower petals. She had come up the isle in a short dress that she had designed herself this time. Low flat shoes clicked as she walked, and golden eyes behind a gold tinted veil had sparkled with happiness as she bounced up the aisle. Her face bore no make-up, and her veil was "scandalously" short, stopping just below tousled blonde locks that curled up just underneath her chin. Newscasters would later comment on the boldness of the Lioness's choices, all the while showing their approval of her tastefully dressed groom in a black suit with gold accents.

It had been hard, to sit through the ceremony, but he had done it. He just couldn't understand why he couldn't take the final step. Why he couldn't find it in his heart to feel happy for her. It shouldn't be so hard, to feel happy for a friend. What kind of person did that make him, if he couldn't be happy for her?

These emotions made him feel dirty; wrong on the inside.

Athrun lost himself, for a while, in these thoughts. Trying to convince himself to be happy. Trying to convince himself that it didn't matter who she married. Trying to convince himself that it wasn't that big of a deal.

He had little success.

Eventually, he became so immersed in these thoughts, that he did not realize the soft subtle weight settle down beside him, or the smell of white chrysanthemums as they were laid down on the pew beside him.

But a light tap on his shoulder, and he was staring into crystalline blue eyes.

Lacus.

"Hello Athrun."

"Lacus." He was surprised. "Aren't you busy running Plant right now?"

She smiled, curling long pink hair behind one ear delicately.

"I came here for the wedding, same as Kira." Her eyes darkened with concern. "And how are you?"

Oh, how to answer that question.

He looked away.

"I don't know."

Her hand feathered across his shoulder. He could practically feel her sympathy. Lacus was always good at listening, and even better at listening to things that were not said out loud.

Athrun sighed.

"Why can't I be happy for her Lacus?" He opted to gaze down the aisle, watching an elderly couple settle into the front row to pray together.

"Because you love her." She made it sound simple, but Athrun couldn't even begin to describe the whirlwind of emotion that the statement evoked within him.

"Then shouldn't I want her to be happy?"

Lacus sighed, letting her hand rest more firmly on his shoulder.

It's not that simple. When people love other people, all they really want is to be loved in return. It is very hard to love, and expect nothing."

Athrun watched as the couple knelt, hands locked together. A pang ran through his heart.

"Well, isn't that selfish?" He turned to meet blue eyes again. Lacus was looking at him intently.

"No," her voice was soft, "Just sad. Your heart, I think, has always beat with a passion. But sad that those things haven't given you much." Her lashes lowered to her flowers, watching a few petals fall to the ground. "The passions themselves, I don't think that they are selfish. It is hard to call a love selfish."

Athrun followed her gaze to the petals. "I suppose."

Soft silence fell over the church, only broken by the quiet murmurs of those kneeling and praying. A few more petals fell to the ground as Athrun watched.

"Lacus."

She shifted, as if a trance was broken.

"Yes Athrun?"

Athrun bit his lip. He didn't know how he could say what he was feeling.

"What should I do?"

Her gaze was flat, but warm.

"Only move forward, Athrun. Just remember that you are only yourself, and that you feel these things because you are yourself. And there will never be anything wrong with that."

He nodded.

"Thank you."

It was long after that when she left the cathedral. He was left staring at the dimming light of the stained glass reflections, and a small priest who quietly informed him that evening mass would soon begin. And as he turned to pick up his coat bunched up on the side of the pew, a single white chrysanthemum fell from the folds of fabric.

You are only yourself.

He left the flower lying on the pew, petals crinkled delicately under the rose light of the setting sun.

The word chrysanthemum originates from the greek words chrysos (gold) and anthos (flower). Chrysanthemums are often used to symbolize cheerfulness, optimism, rest, truth, long life, and joy. Specifically, a white chrysanthemum symbolizes truth and loyal love.