Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. I don't own gundam seed.
Warnings: None...yet:)
I wrote this fic just for an outlet of the ideas in my head that won't go in my other story. I don't know if I'll continue or not. I will give cookies to reviewers though :D
The Change of Grief
Athrun didn't know when it all changed. When suddenly that father that would support him and urge him on turned his back and became distant. When suddenly whenever he tried to speak, he would be silenced. When suddenly whenever he tried to show his affection, he would be pushed away. Maybe it was because he wasn't good enough. Maybe it was because of the war. It could have been several of many things, but deep down Athrun suspected there was a deeper reason behind it. His eyes, his face, his soft blue hair, they all reminded his father of her.
Patrick Zala had never really been a loving father, but he had never been cruel. Not like he was now. He didn't like it when Athrun expressed interest in things like building machines or taking long walks. He wanted his son to focus on more "important" matters, like gun fighting, strategy, and politics. Whenever Athrun did those kinds of things, he was practically showered with praise. He had to sneak out of the house to do things like fiddle with spare wires and play with his friend, Kira. Every time he was caught doing such things, his father would come down in a rage, shouting until the windows were at a breaking point. "How can you focus on such trivial things? You may be young, but that is no excuse! You are here to uphold the Zala name! Nothing else! You can't go around and do things as you please! You must follow our wishes! Both your mother's, and mine!"
Often after his father had been in such a mood, Athrun would retreat to his bedroom, trying to see the good in what his father wanted. He really just wanted to relax for a change without having to worry about angering anybody. He could only really do it around Kira, and his mother. His mother was every thing his father was not. Kind, loving, understanding, and above all, gentle. But she was never around for too long. Once Athrun had reached the age of five, Patrick had convinced his wife that Athrun should come to his office more often, to experience the role that he would soon be taking up. Everyday after-school, Athrun would be picked up by his father and taken to the workplace. All he would hear were endless conversations about the economy, populations, hostile nations, and other complex matters. While other children were out playing, Athrun Zala was waiting in silence for his father to be done work.
But then, it all changed.
Nuclear weapons, fired straight at Junius Seven. Explosions and radiation. The Bloody Valentine tragedy took place, destroying millions of innocent lives. Among the piles of burnt ashes, there lay the grey remains of Lenore Zala.
When that benevolent face had disappeared, his father could no longer stand to look at him. He would avoid him on purpose, saying that he had too much work too do. His father couldn't look at that face. The face that reflected everything his wife had possessed. And worse, child-like innocence. At first, Athrun believed his father's words, sending himself out to grieve alone, respecting his father's wishes. But after many many months of the same excuses, Athrun realized that his father simply did not want to see him anymore. Desperate to make things right, to make his father happy again, Athrun did something that he never would have were the circumstances different.
Athrun walked into his father's office quietly, trying to be as respectful as possible. Bowing his head slightly, he shuffled over to the huge desk that dominated the room. His father looked up from the report he was staring at and threw a questioning look at his only son. "Yes Athrun?"
"Father, I..."
"Spit it out."
Athrun flinched at the harsh tone. He looked up to meet his father's piercing gaze.
"These events, I want to..."
Patrick glared at him. Athrun gulped.
"Well?"
"I want to...help."
Patrick's eyebrows rose, and he leaned forward in his chair, suddenly interested.
"What exactly do you mean by 'help', Athrun?"
"Umm... I just can't..."
"Can't what?"
Athrun's eyes clouded over.
"Stand by and watch."
His father turned in his chair, facing the other way. Athrun stared hopefully at the back of his head, praying for a pleased reaction from his father. After a few moments of tense silence, he turned back to his son. Athrun looked at him expectantly.
"Are you saying that you want to join the military?"
Athrun nodded stiffly.
"And fight?"
Again, another nod.
Patrick sighed. Athrun held his breath.
"Fine, I will allow it."
Athrun's heart sank. He was hoping for a more proud reaction. A more enthusiastic reaction. But it seemed that even his father's pleasure at seeing his son do the things he wanted him to do had died. Thanking his father formally, he left the room, going up to his bedroom. Staring blankly at the wall, Athrun made a ferverant silent vow. No matter what happened, no matter what he felt, he would make his father happy again.