Disclaimer: Hm, let me think about this ... ah, NO!
Well the sequel to 'Box'. Ms Amalfi's thoughts when the box of Athrun's belongings arrives. Hope ya enjoy!
Don't tell me you're Sorry
The box was so small, like Nicol's had been. And the uniform she'd never wanted to see again took up most of the space inside. Deep red and black, with a small space for white on the boots. It was such an ugly uniform. She hated it. She hated everything about it. But she couldn't find it in her heart to damage it, just like she hadn't damaged Nicol's. Instead, she lifted the soft folds of blood coloured material out and placed it on the sofa. It lay there, unnoticed for the rest of the night.
All of Athrun's belongings were simple, something most civilians wouldn't really think about. The one set of civilian clothes, including the green turtle neck jumper she'd given him last christmas(1), a pen, a couple of sheets of paper and the small toolkit with several blueprints shoved inside. Nothing much. Everyday items, things people wouldn't think about. But the last links a soldier had to their former lives and the people outside the army.
She choked back a sob. It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair that she should lose him too! The jacket felt light in her hands, the material soft. She burried her face in it, letting the darkness hide the tears falling.
She'd never thought it would have ended this way. She'd always thought that her son's sacrifice would buy more time than this. Why was one life given up so early, only worth two years for another? Why couldn't Athrun have lived at least long enough to finish the song he promised he'd play? Why couldn't he at least have lived long enough to learn how to truly smile again?
Why couldn't she see Athrun and Nicol walk in through that door. For Athrun to listen quitely to Nicol playing, an impressed silence filling the room, and then for Nicol to watch Athrun fiddle with the broken radio and for it to burst into life.
She wished she could see Athrun's fingers, so nimble and graceful when playing with the tiniest pieces of metal or the smallest micro-chip, fumble clumsily across the keys of a piano.
"I never did have a talent for music, I'm sorry I can't play his song any better."
He had been a verse away from the end then. And he'd looked so ashamed when he hit a wrong note. And then he'd say he was sorry. He had always said sorry. He seemed to think he had to apologise to her for existing. It was always the first and last thing he ever said. And she'd never managed to convince him otherwise.
She sighed and lifted her face out of the folds of the jacket. A letter was lying at the very bottom of the box, bearing the ZAFT seal. Just like Nicol's, only very different. With shaking hands she lifted the heavy envelope out of the box, and then tore it to shreds, the tears coming harder with every vicious rip. Words like 'sorry', 'traitor', 'dangerous' and 'spy' flew past her as ZAFT's last testement to what she knew was a war hero was scattered to the four winds. And she wished more than anything that it was the remains of the ZAFT high council lying littered at her feet. The remains of the man that had ordered the death of a child because his usefulness had run out. Because she knew Athrun was no traitor. She knew he'd never betray them like that.
She had proof in his next to last letter, written just as he'd rejoined ZAFT. The words of confusion shot through with certainty that he was doing the right thing. It was proof to her, but it would never stand up.
Her son had died a hero, Athrun had died a traitor.
She hated ZAFT, she realised. She hated the top dogs who ran ZAFT. Not the one who'd carried out the order, not the ones who'd sent the box. The ones who ran the show. The ones up here in the PLANTs who gave the orders and then sat back and watched the show.
She hated them.
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The days had passed like years for about half a month after the box had arrived. Athrun's things had been packed away by her husband about a week after they'd arrived. He had put them in the same press as Nicol's things, though on the shelf below. She had moved them to sit next to Nicol's things that night. She'd also hung up the blueprints next to the sheets of music in the piano room. Her husband hadn't liked that, and had tried to talk her out of it. She had yelled at him for a good half hour before breaking down in his arms.
He'd let her do what she wanted with the items after that. And now, a month afterwards, she'd finally manged stop dwelling on the past. Nicol's failed sacrifice had moved to its place in her mind, her heart had finally moved once again beyond the picture of the explosion that had killed her son but saved one of her greatest ... friends. And Athrun had taken his place beside Nicol, the pain of the memory of his sad smile and ever present apology fading to a dull ache. The tears had stopped coming, and she'd finally managed to move away.
The war ended, the brutal stalemate finally leading once more to a very shaky peace. But once again, she found herself not caring, peace wasn't going to bring anyone back to her. She tried to smile and feel happy for the young soldiers that had made it home. It just wouldn't come. A rush of bitterness always came from the depths of her heart when she knew no-one she cared about was coming home from the battlefield.
And she hated herself for feeling that way.
She sighed, picked up her bag and made to go to the front door. She had shopping to do. She had places to go, people to see. Mr and Ms Hawke were expecting her for lunch. They were planning to introduce her to their daughter, Lunamaria, and then go to see the graves(2). She had felt no anger at Athrun when she'd found out about the other girl, the younger Hawke sister, that had gone with him. She had only felt a creeping disappointment, that she'd quickly smothered.
She swept a hand across her eyes to catch any rebellious tears before they fell, and pulled the door open. She stood there for what seemed like hours, any words she could or should have spoken caught in her throat and refused to move either way. The other person didn't move either, he stood with his arm raised comically, hand fisted ready to knock. Her eyes misted over when she found her voice and managed to croke out one word.
"Athrun?"
He nodded and then muttered the two words that had become his usual greeting.
"I'm sorry."
She snapped and flung herself at him and burst into tears on his chest.
"Don't tell me you're sorry! Don't say that word to me again! Don't you say that word to me again!"
She found herself repeating the same sentance over and over, and felt his arms wrap around her, his hands clinging to her as though she were his mother.
"I'm sorry."
Well, whatcha think? Good, bad? Oh, and here's a couple of things explained.
1: The green jumper Athrun has on at the start of Destiny is the one I'm referring to. I don't know where he actually got it, it just seemed right that Ms Amalfi should give him some sort of christmas present and it was handy.
2: Luna ain't gotten around to telling her parents yet, and Meyrin is going to meet them with Athrun after he's talked to Ms Amalfi while Luna explains everything to her parents. Hope ya enjoyed and drop a review on the way out?