The Three of Us…We're Family…

Three orphans with problems too confusing for them to understand are adopted into the same home. And through telling their secrets, they form a bond stronger than friendship. But can they open up to others who want to care? ShinnxStellar AuelxMeyrin

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Seed Destiny.

Note: This story is an AU and also will soon contain some material that is not suggested to young readers with impressionable minds. Also, the first three chapters are to introduce the characters and their pasts and backgrounds.

Chapter 1 Auel

I sat against the stone, my arms wrapped around my legs with my forehead pressed against my knees. My eyes were sore from crying, but all I wanted to do was cry more. My hair fell over my ears, creating an annoying sensation. But instead of doing anything, I just let it sit there. I didn't want to move my arms from their positions. I believed if I moved I would break the thin shred of reality that I clung to desperately. It was all I had now.

Sighing, I closed my eyes and tried to catch my breath. It was cold. I don't remember it being cold outside when I ran out here. I guess I didn't notice the thick, freezing cold rain pouring down from the heavily clouded sky either when I was running from it. I get lost when I run, I become oblivious to everything else. Probably because I like the emptiness of the world running brings me.

When I run…I feel as though I'm racing against the wind. And no matter how hard the wind blows, I still outrun it. But I love the feeling of pureness when I run. Running to match the pounding of my heart; the harder my heart beats, the harder my sneakers hit the pavement. The faster my heart beats, the faster my legs take me. My absolute favorite thing about running is this White Out effect.

The White Out effect makes me feel as though I'm flying over the grass, or pavement, or whatever I'm running on. I really don't care. But when I run for a little while, the corners of my vision begin to whiten. And pretty soon all I see is the path ahead of me and white. It's not an uncomfortable sight; I'm not bothered by it. Whatever it is, it takes me away to a place where I don't think. Where I don't hear, feel, taste, or think. I love the feeling of nothingness, it makes me feel whole. I have no idea how that works, but it does. And then, when I reopen my eyes, I'm in reality, but in a new place than when the White Out effect started.

That's how I found myself here again. At the grave…the grave of my mother. She died only a year ago, but it's felt like an eternity and a half. I never really know why I come here when I run away and the White Out effect takes over, but I'm drawn here.

I lifted my head and hit it softly against the hard, smooth surface of the tombstone. I felt a fresh layer of tears sting my eyes and I felt a chill rush through my body. I shook my head softly and felt freezing cold snowflakes fall from my head, yet still stuck in my hair. I moved a hand up to brush some away, but as my fingers grazed my light blue locks, I couldn't help but remember. Remember how my mother used to stroke my hair ever so softly.

That one memory brought more, and it burned my heart like the flames of a white hot sun. I remembered how she would gaze at me when I played or read my books. That look of pride and bliss, I still remembered how good it made me feel that I put that look on her face. But of all my memories of her, my favorites are the ones when she cheered me on.

My mother was the one who got me into running. She let me come with her on her runs around the neighborhood. She'd always go slowly for me, but then I started racing her. She let me win most of the time, but then, when I'd gotten a bit older and over the stage where I thought I was best at everything I did, she began to get faster. I just always thought she had gotten faster, but boy had I been wrong.

When I turned nine, my mother took me to my school's running track. She asked me to try and jog one lap without stopping or sprinting. I tried my best to listen, and it was agonizing when I was so close to the finish line where my mother stood staring at her watch and I couldn't sprint over there to show her how fast I was.

But it was worth it when I got there to where she awaited me with that proud smile on her face.

"Very good Auel, you listened to me very well," she'd said.

When she told me how fast I'd been, I couldn't help but feel a little boastful of myself. I'd jogged a quarter of a mile in two minutes and three seconds. I asked my mother if I could try running a quarter mile, but she shook her head and told me to try and jog another quarter mile. I'd just sighed and listened to what she had told me.

We did that for a few days, but as the days blew by, she let me go farther, but only jog quickly at most. She never let me run.

I didn't know why till a month later, when she brought me to the track with her with a professional looking stopwatch in her hand.

I still remember that day clearly.

My mother told me to stretch my legs and even did the stretches with me. Then she took me to the track starting line. I thought she wanted me to jog a mile, but she surprised me by handing me the stopwatch and asking me to time her. My mother then leaned down at the starting line like a professional track runner, and jumped forward when I shouted 'GO!'

I watched her shift into a running position, and fly down the track. It was only a few minutes before she'd completed four laps and stopped at the finish line the same time I clicked down the switch on the stopwatch. When I looked down at the time, I couldn't believe my eyes.

My mother walked over to me with a smile on her face. She smiled a bit embarrassedly when she saw the time and when I began to grow ecstatic over it. Not even the fastest boy in my gym class could compete with my mother's time. What surprised me most was when my mother told me to go up to the starting line. She told me she wanted to see me run. Not a quarter of a mile, or half, or even three quarters! She wanted me to run a whole mile! But then I felt a strange feeling inside of me when I heard her next orders.

"I want you to beat my time, if only by a second." she had said. I still remember those moments as if I were watching them now.

Of course, I knew I wouldn't beat that time, but I wanted to try, to make her smile. I heard her shout, 'Go!' and I ran. I was so excited! She was finally letting me run, not jog, run! My fastest too. But around the middle of the second lap, I had a little difficulty catching my breath, and by the third lap, my chest hurt when I heaved it up and down to get air to my lungs.

I'm amazed I finished all four laps at all, but either way, when I walked over to my mother to get my time, I saw a smile. Not her proud smile, a new smile. A smile that seemed to show she was greatly anticipating something. She told me I did a good job, and showed me my time. But when I saw how much more time I had taken than my mother, I kind of felt deflated. But then she laughed and told me not to worry.

Then she began to tell me what I'd done wrong. She told me I needed to pace myself, and breathe through my nose and out my mouth. There were also many other things she told me, and things she said she'd tell me when I was even better. I was kind of disappointed, but eager at the same time. I always did enjoy being with my mother. I was so attached to her, she was my best friend. Maybe that's why it broke my heart so badly, when she died. Maybe that's why it still hurts so much.

But after the running, my mother spent a lot of time with me just running leisurely or training me to become better. I never spent any time with my father. I can't say I even remember him being at the dinner table every night. He was like a stranger, and I always felt awkward around him. I can't say I remember my father spending time with my mother either. And soon I began to hate him. For one thing he yelled at my mother for taking me outside every day when it was nice out to run.

"Running is fun now, but you can't let him drop his studies!" he'd shouted.

My mother had stayed calm through half the argument. But when he began to say how foolish it was to run, my mother became angry. She even slapped my father across the face before storming out of the room. I followed quickly after her, but not until I'd given a glare to my father.

After that, my mother seemed to become more determined to make a great runner out of me, and we spent much more time together. We didn't talk about silly things anymore, but occasionally we'd just sit on the grass with our water bottles and we'd talk about anything, and everything. That was how she told me about her love of running. It started in Junior High on her track team. She said she felt so, perfectly placed, when her legs flew down the track. She told me many deep things, some of which I didn't understand then but do now, and some things I still don't get. But I listened so attentively when she spoke to me.

When she got into High School, she immediately joined the track team. She ran in many races and tournaments, always bringing home medals and ribbons. But she never neglected her studies. She always maintained her A's, and went to all her practices. That didn't leave her much time to be with friends or family even. And because she never really spent much time with her family, and they didn't make any attempts to talk to her because they were always busy with their work, she never found out about the arranged marriage.

She came home from a track meet one day, and her parents were sitting with another couple and a young man at least five years older than her.

My grandmother told her that the family was the Neider family, and the young man was Yuusuke Neider, her future husband. My mother didn't tell me much of what happened after that, but she did tell me how upset she'd felt, and how sullen she was at her wedding because she had to miss a very important track meet that day.

But over time she began to accept my father, and I guess around that time I was born. If anything though, I still don't accept what my grandparents did. But after that, my mother seemed to become more distant about her past, and only focused on me.

I really did like the attention my mother gave me, I never felt lonely. She was always nice and encouraging, she was the best. There was always a warm, kind feeling around her, something telling me I could go to her for anything. It was almost as though my mother and I were connected in a way that we had a special bond. I really don't care about explaining that though, all I know is that I loved her and she loved me back as much as a mother could.

It had never crossed my mind that I might ever go through a time I wouldn't have my mother by my side. The other kids at school would make fun of me whenever we had to do a project on a friend or role model and while they used their own friends or celebrities, I would always talk about my mother. But I didn't care, I didn't need them, I just needed my mother.

But, I soon found out that putting all of my hopes, dreams, and wishes into one person was the worst decision I ever made. It was my last day of middle school, and I'd run home instead of take the bus. I was that excited to tell my mother about my day. But when I opened the door to my house, I heard silence for a few moments, and then I heard a loud sound I'd only heard in movies and some video games I'd played. The sound of a gun shot. It came from the kitchen, followed by a loud, choked out scream.

I knew it was my mother, and without thinking, I rushed towards the kitchen doorway. But I wish just I never had to see anything like that ever in my life.

Blood was pooling on the white tiles of the kitchen floor. I watched the dark red substance grow larger with wide eyes. My hands were trembling, and as I slowly raised my eyes to see the fallen form of my mother lying on the tiles. Her pale hand was clutching her thigh where the blood was pouring out. Her face was contorted in pain. I'd never seen her like this. It scared me out of a heartbeat or three.

I reluctantly raised my eyes higher, to see who now stood over my mother, the black metal gun in his hands, pointing it at my mother's back. It was my father.

"F-father?" I asked so I quietly, I didn't think he heard me.

My mother gasped in pain as she looked my way, the look of terror, pain, and horror etched on her face and shown in her eyes. But those emotions seemed to disappear when she saw me, standing in the doorway with a look of pure terror and shock written on my face.

"Auel…" she whispered through her lips, her voice sad and pained.

And then, my vision blanked, everything turned white. I heard a gun shot, the beginning and quick silence to a final scream, and I finally heard the two thumps as my back pack and mother hit the floor. Then, all I can recall is running, running so fast through white, that I couldn't see anything. I think I tripped over something and hit my head, passing out immediately, because when I regained control of my vision and senses, I was sitting in an opened ambulance with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

Looking around as though in a daze, I remember seeing two cop cars, their red and blue lights flashing, parked in my driveway. I recall someone trying to talk to me, and then a man in a black uniform tried to get me to tell him what I saw, but all I could say when I parted my lips was my mother's name.

The next three days passed by in a daze for me. Our neighbors took me in till the police could get the legal work done concerning me. I wasn't given the exact details, except that my father killed my mother and was going to jail, and that I had no relatives that were willing to take me in. Apparently my mother's sister was too busy traveling in Europe to be a guardian, and my grandparents didn't want anything to do with me from either side. My mother's brother was considered, but he was soon discarded when my appointed attorney discovered he had a criminal record.

So pretty much I was screwed-over.

Having people try to sugar-coat the fact by saying I'd be going into foster care because my family couldn't take care of me was worse than being told flat out no one wanted me. If anything, it was like they were telling you both at once in the worst way possible.

But I never said anything to them except 'Yes' 'No' 'I don't know' and the occasional 'Maybe' Otherwise, I spent my time staring at the wall or out the window.

It was the day the social work came to 'take me away' as some kids refer to it, that I broke out of my trance and ran. I think she tried to follow me, but I was too fast. Eventually, the White Out effect blocked my vision and my directions went on autopilot. It was later when I regained my vision that I realized I'd run to the cemetery where my mother had been buried.

That was when I found her grave and sat beside it, pulling my legs to my chest and wrapping my arms around my knees. I guess zoned out then, because when I came back to my senses, the rain wasn't hitting me anymore, and there was a jacket around my shoulders.

Looking up, I saw Ms. Clyne, the social worker, standing over me with an umbrella in her hands. She must have placed her jacket around me only a little while ago, there was still a lot of warmth beneath the thick black fabric.

She made no move to speak to me; her eyes were on the grave. I could see mixed emotions in her eyes, and I think I almost saw tears welling up. But with a blink of an eye, they were gone. She replaced her sad look for one of encouragement, and kneeled down in front of me.

I matched her gaze with my own lost gaze, and felt as though a hand of warmth was sitting on my shoulder. I glanced to see my shoulder, and there was Ms. Clyne's hand.

Our gazes met again and the pink haired woman offered me her other hand, her blue eyes locked with my own. We didn't have to exchange words, the woman stood back up and held the umbrella over us.

I turned to face the grave, and let my fingers travel over my mother's name. I tried to picture her in my mind, standing next to me, and I looked up into the sky. I whispered a silent prayer and good-bye before I stood. I turned to face Ms. Clyne, but my eyes widened when I saw my mother behind me, not the woman who'd offered me her jacket. But with a blink, she was gone and it was the pink haired woman before me. She held her hand out, and a hopeful look was on her face.

I eyed her hand as though it would bite me, but then hesitantly reached out to grasp it. The smile on her lips was so gentle and warm, I felt as though my mother was smiling at me again. She then began leading me back to where her car was waiting to take us to wherever we were going.

When we reached it, Ms. Clyne opened the backseat door for me and I stepped in. The door shut behind me, and Ms. Clyne got in on the driver's side. Soon enough were on the road, driving away from my old home, my old neighborhood, my old life. I think Ms. Clyne was trying to talk to me, but I don't think I could have found my voice, or the words, to talk to her.

She seemed to understand though and stopped trying to have a conversation with me. Instead, she reached into a glove compartment during a red light and pulled out a fabric CD case. She handed it to me and asked me to choose whichever one I wanted.

I didn't really care, but while flipping through the plastic pages, I saw on CD I recognized. My mother had the same one, and she liked listening to it. The band was an old one she'd liked as a kid, and she had nearly all of their CDs. But this album was her favorite, which was easy to see by all the scratches on the back of her disk. I liked it as well, even though it was a girl band.

I handed that one to Ms. Clyne, along with the case, and she took them back quickly and popped in the disk. She asked me if there was a certain track I liked, and I told her track two. Those were the only words we exchanged the whole ride.

I was watching the surroundings outside through the window, but I guess I must have been thinking about something else, because one moment we were flying through the highway, and now we were slowly driving through an old neighborhood.

By old though, I don't mean crumbling houses and dying lawns. It was old fashioned. Every house was about bigger than my old home, and they were all Victorian style homes. Some were similar, and some were completely different. All the lawns were well taken care of and spacious, many had either one or two huge trees in the front yard, or had smaller ones that had recently been planted. It looked like one of those picture perfect neighborhoods they showed in magazines.

I didn't know why we were here, Ms. Clyne had said were going to be taking a train to get to the city where my foster home supposedly was, so what were we doing there?

Ms. Clyne told me to wait in the car; she had to go take care of something. I watched her with curious eyes as she walked up to a house next to another house that had a FOR SALE sign in the front yard. I watched her walk up the pathway towards the house and ring the doorbell. An elderly looking woman answered, and I guess they were talking about something important because the cheery smile on the woman's face dropped into a serious frown.

She nodded to Ms. Clyne and turned back into the house. A few minutes later, a girl about my age appeared in the doorway with a suitcase in her hands. Ms. Clyne talked to her, and then to the woman. The woman turned to the girl and embraced her loosely. The girl made no effort to hug her back.

Ms. Clyne put her hand on the girl's shoulder, and led her back to the car. I was confused and curious as to why Ms. Clyne was bringing the girl back towards the car, and I was even more surprised when Ms. Clyne took her suitcase and opened the trunk of the car to put it in with mine. The pink haired woman then opened the back seat door and said,

"Auel, I'd like you to meet Stellar. Stellar, this is Auel," the young woman introduced us before Stellar got in and sat in the seat next to me.

Ms. Clyne smiled and closed the door behind her before getting back in the car.

I couldn't help but stare at the girl sitting next to me. Her hair came down to her shoulders and was a soft looking blonde. Her eyes, which had yet to glance over at me, were a bright magenta color, but they had a dazed look. I recognized that look, in her mind, she was someplace else.

Looking down at her clothing, I saw she was wearing a white and blue dress that hugged her figure snugly. The dress skirt came just barely to her mid-thigh, and the front of it was ruffled and colored a light blue. She also wore knee high, white boots.

I noticed something glimmer on her wrist and when I glanced down, I saw a thin silver chain wrapped around her wrist. There were small, flat triangular charms hanging from the links. In the center of each charm was a small circle of a gem. I looked away and out the window when I felt her gaze drift over to me.

I noticed we were already back on a road leading to the highway. Ms. Clyne began to replay the CD since no one was talking. Maybe, I should have turned to the girl, Stellar, and started talking to her. Or maybe if she tried to talk to me, I might try to talk to her? Probably I'd just ignore her till she stopped trying. I let my gaze return to the window and stared out at the other cars on the highway.

I think I did a pretty good job on this, nothing too awful or too nice. Though I guess it passed through your minds that Auel's mother might molest him or something…Or maybe that's just me? I dunno, I just hope you enjoyed the first chapter to the new story. Okay, next up is Stellar!