WHEN IT'S ALL SAID AND DONE

Part II

….Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…forgive our trespasses as we forgive those who've trespassed against us, give us this day our daily bread…our daily bread…

It's a prayer I've said a million times in my life time, Sunday mornings and Wednesday afternoons, and it isn't until this moment that I realize why we must forgive others, because forgiveness is a two way street. Only by offering pardon can we even begin to hope to gain absolution ourselves…


His earliest memory of her comes from an unremarkable summer afternoon along the beaches of California. Back when he was young his family lived in San Francisco for a while, and every Sunday afternoon his mum Rachel would take him to the local park by the beach.

As a kid he wasn't much for monkey bars and swings, but he did like the water and the fresh salty air of ocean side grounds. When Pete came with him, they'd go swimming together and build sand castles. Mostly Rachel was the one who took him, and she didn't like the sand or the waters much, which begs the question why she insisted them moving from Orb to one of the sandiest places in the continental U.S. Daxien never gave it much thought before, but if he really tried to remember, he'd recall his mum sitting on the same bench every weekend watching him with those sad and pensive eyes as he splashed and frolicked in the shallow sea.

She must've known this, Daxien now comprehends, things her husband did not know until much later, or maybe not at all. His mum must've known the truth about this parentage, because there was always something extra in her gaze when she looked at him, a depth and desperation his dad never had. If she knew, then the truth was bottled inside her for all those years, and she never let it show except for those Sunday afternoons when she would sit alone and lament the bittersweet emotions she harbored towards her son.

Her son…he'll always be her son. Rachel will always be 'Mum', the woman who kissed his nose and tucked him in, who baked him gingerbread cookies when she was not on call in the ER, whose hair smelled of fresh linens and strong soap. Oh, how she held him, loved him, cherished him.

Mum, Mummy, but not Mother. Daxien has never once referred to Rachel as his mother, not to her, not in his mind, not even when he's recollecting tales of her years after her passing. It isn't a conscious decision, just something that came to be. This small detail, minutes ago, wouldn't have meant a thing, but now… everything just falls into place. Seems like it was meant to be…

Daxien sighs. He hates how fate has a way of 'rubbing it in'; in the small crevices and minutiae it leaves proof that you can't change what is written in its books. Rachel was never his mother, and could never be his mother, because biologically speaking, that title belongs to someone else entirely…

She twisted her hands.

Rachel, Rachel, what are you doing…? Why do you always run? Can't you just fight back for once?

Fight back? What's the good in that? I can't hold off the beasts, and they'll get to him… take him away.

"Gwah! Gwah!" Daxien flapped his arms and ran into a group of seagulls, "Look mummy, I'm a bird! I can fly!" The seagulls leaped into flight, startled by the sudden intruder. They circled the boy's head, gawking resentfully at the fact that he was stepping on the breadcrumb feast they were dinning on. Deciding nothing can be salvaged from the boy's oblivious stomping, the seagull flew away from the nuisance of a boy, hoping he wouldn't follow, but he did anyway, like always. After all, the boy had a curiosity huge enough to kill a million cats, and a stubbornness persistent enough to wear a hole through the earth.

"Now, don't be naughty, Daxie," Rachel looked up from her book to scold her son halfheartedly for disturbing the poor creatures. She could never be mad at him, her baby. Beautiful. Innocent. Perfect. Daxien was her little prince –

Like a vice, the thought choked her blossoming smile in its cradle, and she felt the sudden urge to puke.

Daxien was not just her little prince; he was a little prince, in every goddamn sense of the word! One day, she'd wake up, and he'd be snatched from her arms and be placed within the iron grip of the queen, and Rachel would never see her little boy again. The queen would want her son back, her cold silent glare from the window that first day told Rachel as much.

So Rachel ran, because that was what she was good at. Deep down, she knew that the people – the very rich and powerful people – who gave her Daxien, did not treat this as an adoption, but a loan, a loan which they had every intention to collect the dividend and the interest.

Rachel recalled something from her freshman biology class in university, about a type of butterfly who would trick the work ants into thinking that the butterfly pupas were ant eggs. Once the pupae hatched, the worker ant would work, feed and care for the caterpillar as its own larvae. But that wasn't enough. Soon as the caterpillar began to demand more food and nutrients, it would mimic the signals created by the ant queen, essentially hypnotizing the worker ants to think it as their queen. The poor confused worker ants in some extreme cases would even kill their actual queen and their own larva to feed the needs of this parasitic caterpillar, until the day the caterpillar grew strong enough to leave and become a butterfly itself, leaving the ant colony as nothing but an empty shell.

Daxien is this parasitic caterpillar, left in her care by his beautiful, majestic butterfly mother. And she, Rachel, is the stupid, hard working ant who gave her all for something that never even belonged to her.

"Mummy! Look! Look!"

Rachel shook her head. No, my Daxien isn't a caterpillar. I might be that stupid ant, and she might be the butterfly, but my Daxien isn't a manipulative, soul-sucking caterpillar. Caterpillars never confuse the ants as its mother, but Daxien calls me mummy. I'm his mummy. Me. And that's never going to change. Never.

In this case, the little ant got smart, got brave, and she kidnapped the caterpillar and dragged it across the world, hoping to get away from the butterfly, but she forgot one very important thing. Butterfly had wings, it could fly, faster and more efficiently than any ant could crawl, and in the end, she still found them.

Rachel stood up from her seat, stretching her back and calling to her son, "Daxien! Baby, it's time to go home!" However, he was nowhere in her immediate line of vision. Rachel's heart skipped a beat, "Daxien? Dax? Buddy, where are you?"

Oh dear god, he was just here a minute ago. The young mother grasped her head in her hands. Her mind was racing three hundred kilometers per hours, thinking of the worst scenarios. What if the ocean gulped up her baby? The waves were unusually strong that day…What if a felon took him, but no…she hasn't seen anyone in the park today.

"Daxien!" Rachel cried, tears already pooling in her eyes, "Dax –"

And there he was.

To the far east of the beach, up where the sand gave away to grass, he was standing in front of a kneeling woman, her blonde hair catching the sun and matching his own. Suddenly, a very different kind of fear pressed down on Rachel's chest. Her nightmare came true.

"Dax!" She ran to him.

"I'm here, mum!" The boy came as she beckoned, and she pulled him against her with one tug when he was within an arm's reach. A little too roughly, if she thought it about it, but the boy didn't seem to notice, and she was just glad to have him in her arms again.

"Mummy," He grinned back at her toothily; his skinny sandy arms wrapped around her legs, his green eyes bright with mischief and mirth.

Like she said, she couldn't even be mad at him when he looked at her like that, "Baby, where did you go? You scared me to death!"

Dax turned his head towards his new friend and Rachel reluctantly looked up and met the eyes of the woman she never wanted to see.

"Hello Rachel," Cagalli smiled calmly.

"What do you want with us?" Rachel blurted out the first thing that came to mind. She tightened her grip on Daxien.

Cagalli paid her no attention. Instead, she knelt down in front of the boy, "Dax, buddy, here's five dollars, why don't you get yourself an ice cream cone over there."

Dax regarded his new friend wearily. His mummy didn't seem to like her, but she didn't seem like a bad person. Besides…all his young coordinator brain was capable of processing was how much he wanted that ice cream. Daxien looked up hopefully at his mum, "May I?"

Not knowing what else to say, Rachel nodded wordlessly. Squealing, Dax thanked the lady and sprinted to the ice cream parlor.

Cagalli stood up then, face to face with her child's adoptive mother. Goodness, thought Rachel, she is so tall. And scary. Rachel added as an afterthought.

By instinct, the young woman took a step back, as if caught between the dilemma of bracing herself to fight or fleeing for her life.

Brushing the sand off her sleeve, Cagalli appeared nonchalant, "Don't worry, I'm not here to fight with you. I just wanted to see my son. I miss him."

My son. She said it so casually that Rachel wanted to pull at her perfect blonde hair and scream He's MINE! But she didn't.

Instead, she opted for a more civil approach, "How did you find us?"

The queen tilted her head to the side, puzzled that she could even ask such a thing, "You don't think I'd let my child go without keeping tabs on him, did you? You moved, disappeared without a trace, and didn't even think to tell me –"

"I-I didn't know who to tell –" Lying to the face of an aged politician like the queen who had eyes that could penetrate her soul, was a feeble and pathetic attempt, Rachel realized.

"See, people like you make my life hard." Cagalli moved in closer, gripping Rachel by her arm. Her smile was dry and thin, "But I'm not too worried because most people who make my life hard have a tendency to disappear. Tell me Rachel, how difficult do you think it'll be for me to erase you and your husband from this planet? Or better yet, take Daxien away."

"You can't…you can't!" Rachel trembled with fear and rage. "I love Daxien, you can't take him away!"

"Rachel, Rachel, Rachel, what you don't recognize is that is that you are an unremarkable, barren, easily replaceable woman." The queen clucked her tongue, and spoke in a calm, casual tone, but her words had an edge, and it hurt Rachel more deeply than knives.

"Please," Rachel whimpered pitifully, as she tried to yank her arm from the queen's claws. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again!"

"For your sake, I certainly hope you won't." Cagalli released her, and pulled back to face the sea. Suddenly she started to chuckle, "You know, if you hadn't pulled this little stunt of moving across continent, I dare say you'd never have to see me again for the rest of your life. When I gave up Daxien, I wanted the best for him, and I had no intention of interfering with your family as long as he is safe. So I hope you understand the best way to keep Daxien is to keep me – ah, how shall I put it – in the loop, if you will."

The queen turned back to Rachel and patted her shoulder, "Now don't look so glum, smile for Daxien."

"Mummy!" Daxien came skipping back, ice cream cone in hand. The two adults shook themselves from the tension that held them together, and turned with smiling faces to the little boy.

"Well, what do you have there, big guy," Cagalli ruffled his hair.

"Chocolate sundae," His cheeky little grin made her heart melt.

"Hey Dax, wanna give your Mummy a bite of the sundae, I have something to give you." The queen crouched down again in front of the boy. "Remember to share, right?"

"Mmkay, but Mummy doesn't like chocolate sundae, she only likes vanilla." Daxien challenged.

"Sure she does, don't you Rachel? Chocolate sundaes are your favourite." Cagalli looked up expectantly. Rachel let out a shaky 'yeah' and accepted the sundae her son offered politely.

From her pocket, Cagalli drew out something small and shiny. It was a tiny red rock, attached to a platinum chain, "Do you know what this is, Dax?"

"It's a Haumea stone; people in Orb wear it a lot."

Cagalli smiled tenderly and brushed the sand from the boy's cheeks, "Do you know what it does?"

"Yes ma'am, it's said to ward off evil, gnarly creatures, or at least, that's what it's supposed to do," Dax scrunched up his little nose, a gesture which resembled Athrun so remarkably that Cagalli almost wept, " but I think it's just superstition."

The blonde laughed, "Aren't you a smart boy?" She appeared so pleased and proud, "but in your case, Dax, I think it's true."

"What's true?" He tilted his head sideways, and frowned adorably in confusion.

Cagalli placed the necklace over his neck, "I think the Haumea stone is the representation of protection. This stone used to be mine, and I'd like to think I have some guardian up there nudging me in the right direction. Now it's yours. So whenever you're scared, just remember, angels are watching over you."

Then, hesitantly, Cagalli pulled Daxien close and planted a soft kiss once against the crown of his head and then against his forehead. Her heart beat frantically. She was afraid he'd reject her, find her affection awkward, but he didn't. Little Daxien just melted into her, and put his arms around neck. Cagalli was so glad that for now he was just a child, who didn't know that hugging a complete stranger was weird and dangerous, who only probably liked her because she was seemingly nice and bought him ice cream, and that it was warm and cozy to be hugged and kissed. She clung to the brief moment, wishing it'd last a little longer, or better yet, wishing she'd never have to let go.

But she had to let go.

Pulling back regretfully and with no small amount of tears in her eyes, she said, "Goodbye, Daxien."

To the woman she simultaneously resented and was grateful towards, she offered a smile of amelioration "Goodbye Rachel."

Then the queen turned on her heels and left. Above the hill was a blue haired man standing there waiting for her, donned in dark slacks and an un-tucked dress shirt. The queen walked past him and they shared a short exchange before the queen continued onwards and the man remained where he was, just standing there and gazing down.

Rachel immediately recognized him. Who didn't those days? That was Athrun Zala; she didn't think there was a person alive in the world who didn't know him. He watched Daxien with such sorrow and longing that it instantly made sense to her. He was Daxien's biological father. Daxien's green eyes…

So the rumors were true, Rachel thought, oh my god I'm raising the love child of Cagalli Yula Attha and Athrun Zala!

"Mummy, who is that man?" Dax tugged on his mother's coat tail, but by the time Rachel looked back up, Athrun Zala was gone.

"Mummy…"

"Yes, dear."

"I think that lady was very nice. Strange, but nice."

Rachel didn't want to say what came out of her mouth next, but she couldn't help it, "Maybe it's because you don't know her yet, Dax. If you know her, maybe you'll change your mind. Now come on, Daddy is waiting at home for us. He's making you barbeque chicken tonight."

"Daddy…"

"Daddy."

Daxien hears a voice calling to him. He recognizes the voice; it is one of his favourite in the world.

"Daddy."

Saoirse [SEER-sha] peeks shyly from behind heavy oak doors, half of her body hidden in fear. But fear of what? Her own father? 6 years of living in a sheltered family and community being loved and cherished should give her no reason to be afraid of anything other than the proverbial boogieman under her bed. Saoirse, without fail, is made of 50% undiluted innocence, 30% wild curiosity, and 20% blunt honesty. Yet, her frown puts a dent between her brows, and she's pouting with all the might she has in her little body. Confusion and alarm is etched onto her baby face as clearly as shock and distress are on her father's.

In twenty years, she'll probably recall back to this moment as the first time she ever saw her father cry.

Daxien gazes are his little girl through tear-blurred vision. He's always wondered why neither of his parents' features – his adoptive parents' features as he forcefully corrected himself – seeped into her genes. Saoirse is mostly considered a Joule child, with her pale colouring and fair complexion, like her maternal grandfather. Now, everything makes sense. He can hear it in her laughter, feel it in her smile, and see it in the stance she holds herself. Saoirse's messy silver French braids can be passed off as pale blonde, and her eyes are sincere and golden, and it has never looked more appropriate than this moment. Daxien almost laughs at the obviousness of it all. If the gods poured Cagalli and Yzak's essence into a palette and painted a child, surely Saoirse will be it, odd yet perfectly reasonable.

A hand appears behind Saoirse and cradles her head against someone's jeans. The child looks up and sees her mother standing behind her, "Momma, what's wrong with Daddy?"

Sky, what's going on? What happened to Dax? Daxien hears Lex's voice in the corridor.

Don't worry Lex, everything is fine. I promise. As a renowned cabinet member of PLANTS' ministry of Space Development and Security, Skylar Joule is excellent at her specialty, and right now her husband has no doubt that she is doing what she does best – damage control.

Why, what did Aunt Cagalli say to you?

You'll find out soon enough. Now is not the time. Take Saoirse; she can't be here for this. I need to speak to Daxien alone. Skylar pads Saoirse's cheeks "Go with Uncle Lex, sweetheart. He'll take you to your grandmother. She's been waiting to see you all her life."

Skylar, what are you talking about? Mom and Dad are not here yet.

But Skylar doesn't reward her brother with a response. She simple hangs her head and sighs. Take Saoirse to the queen, Lex. Please. Take her to the queen.

The Joules always were a smart bunch of brats, and suddenly Lex understands. Well I'm be damned.

Alexander. Brother. Please, just go.

"Is this why she wanted to speak to you alone?" His tone is bitter.

"Yes." Skylar rubs tiny circles on her pregnant abdomen, "She wanted to say hi to the baby. Her grandson."

Dax runs a hand down his face, "All these years….how long have you known?" He feels so tired, so tired, like years of his life is taken from him. In a way, he guesses it has.

Skylar flinches under her husband's broken stare. The betrayal she sees jabs at her conscience. "Since Saoirse was born, but I've had my suspicions. It wasn't until they came to visit me at the hospital… together … that I confronted them with the question."

"And you didn't think to tell me! I deserved to know! This is MY heritage! How could YOU of all people keep this from me, Skylar? How?" Dax bellows. Papers fly hazardously as he bolts up from his seat. His face is strained and devoid of all colours. Livid. Skylar can only think to describe him as livid.

"Because…because…" Skylar looks away, her reasons and logic lost in the moment. He is her husband, her best friend. Why did she keep this from him? It is a question whose answer has kept her lips sealed for six years, and she has held strong under the constant pressure even when sometimes she thinks for sure she will crack. Skylar knows how to practice discretion well, but this – this is not a simple matter of discretion. So why? Why? Why?

God, if that isn't a question she asks herself everyday.

She was close to hyperventilating. She could feel it. Pacing back and forth, she fanned herself, and willed her breathing to return to normal. Giving her conditions, she really shouldn't be stressed. Her surgery was last week and coordinators heal fast, but still. Her OB/GYN would not be pleased with her. Oh geez – she clutched her side, where the C-section wound was still very fresh. Saoirse had been a difficult baby.

Her head felt dense, and everything was fuzzy. The queen's frantic voice telling her to lie down was nothing but mumbles in her ears. Her mind was on Daxien; she needed to see him. She could not live another minute with this revelation pressed down on her chest.

God, she couldn't breathe…couldn't breathe…

The earth spun beneath her feet so quickly, yet the people around her moved so slowly.

Skylar lurched for something to grasp onto, but there was nothing as she hit the ground.

When she came to, after an unknown amount of time that could've been seconds or hours, she was back on the bed, with an IV in her arm and someone's soothing hand through her hair.

"Mom..." She called out. Blonde hair swayed in her blurry vision. "Aunt Cagalli, what happened to me? Dax…"

"Shhh, Sky, it's alright. Your mother went with Dax to get you some fresh clothes from home." The queen pacified, "You need to rest, and we'll talk later."

"Aunt Cagalli, wait." Skylar held onto the other woman's arm, "Why? Why won't you tell him? Doesn't he deserve to know?"

Cagalli turned to her partner in crime, but Athrun remained unresponsive. His attention was solely concentrated on the yellow bundle in his arms as he faithfully watched over his new granddaughter. From the way he cooed softly at the sleeping enfant, Skylar recognized a man in love.

Sighing, the older woman smiled sadly, "As long as his father and I are still in political power, Daxien is not safe. He is a good, reputable doctor, and he has a life of his own, independent of us. Of course in the end we'll tell him, but for his safety and yours and Saoirse's, this lie has to continue till the end. Please, Skylar, please understand."

"She just wanted to protect you. Us," Skylar stands before Daxien, telling him the only thing she knows for sure. No more secrets, she thinks, it's time to come clean. "She doesn't expect you to understand, but they did what they thought was best for you, and in turn, I did the same."

Please forgive me. Her tone implies clemency.

Daxien slumps finally against the desk, feeling utterly drained. His hands look unfamiliar, and he does not feel like himself. The hollowness that's always been there but was ignored and insignificant is all he can register now. Everything is different, and he is different.

Daxien runs a hand over his face tiredly. "I don't know what to think anymore."

His wife grasps both of his hand in hers. Blue eyes as clear as water beg him to stop this self-deprecation.

"You are still you. Just because you have a new last name, does not make you different." Skylar leans her forehead against her husband's and brought his knuckles to her tender lips. "I love you. At least that much will never change."

"All these years, I worked as her physician when she was my mother all along. She could've raised me, given a home when the Hambrecht's died, but she didn't. Why didn't she?" Daxien looked up accusingly at Skylar, as if she had done him some terrible wrongs, "why did she leave me in an orphanage? Why did he?"

"They were protecting you –" Skylar shakes her head and frowns. The nerve of the man to criticize the queen! Oh she loves him, but Daxien can be such a stubborn, incorrigible asshead!

"They are ashamed me! Of their bastard!" Daxien pulled away. His wide, pupils blown, face ashen. He whips about, turning and coiling in despair and neurosis. His whole body seem to exude self-disgust and acrimony. "I was the little hiccup in their otherwise perfect political career! An accident. An unloved, unwanted, bastard!"

"No!" Skylar belts, and serves a mean backhand at her husband. She watches him stumble, shocked at his wife's unyielding blow. Her heartstring yanks painfully but she does not help him. "Don't you dare say such a thing, Dax! Don't you dare! Your mother is one of the bravest, kindest mothers I've ever known. I will not let you suggest anything less."

"Good mother? Good mother? Skylar you know my mother better I do! I am her son! She has been anything but a mother to me! She abandoned me! Her and my father both!" Daxien cries out, doubling over in pain that is not merely physical.

Skylar rights the knocked over chair, "Sit." She commands with stern eyes and curt attitude. Then she turns to gather up the mess her husband has created on the floor. "You say they abandoned you, never loved you, but have you not found it odd that even as orphaned boys you have never wanted for anything." She picks up the documents of trust funds and property claims, and almost snorts at the obscene about of wealthy the Attha-Zala power house has managed to cumulate for their love child.

"You said so yourself. You had the kindest caretakers in that orphanage until you were of age. Never once were you forced into adoption or a foster home." Skylar continues on. Glancing down at the paper she picked up, she swallowed an exasperated sigh. CE 92, good lord, these documents are old. Daxien couldn't have been more than a boy back then. Really how many bonds and stock market investments did a boy need? She shoved those paperworks up into the envelope as well.

"You were fed, clothed, sheltered, educated and loved. Those opportunities are not accidents! They were given to you! And this," Skylar shoves the package into her husband's chest, "this is all for you. Everything so meticulously planned, prepared, the thickest silver lining there could ever be! All for you. You, who has their utmost, undiluted love."

Skylar watches the man she loved struggle with himself. He knows she is right, even when he does not want to admit it, he knows she is right. Oh it's so much easier to be angry, to hate, and mercy is such a painful thing to give, as is forgiveness, which may indeed be the reason why people who possess the virtue of charity were often praised as saints.

Forgiveness heals; it cleanses the guilt in the perpetrator, and appeases the gaping wound in the victim. Anyone who's ever pulled out a splinter knows the pains of forgiveness. At first, there's the heavy reluctance to overcome, the fickle thought of just leaving the splinter there and hope that it miraculously vanishes on its own. Behind the reluctance, the thing that fuels it is the fear of the hurt, of the pain of physically removing the splinter. God, who like to prick themselves with a needle anyway? Yet, logic tells us that such an option is medically foolish, because a splinter will get infected, and cause even greater distress. So we grit out teeth and say to ourselves, okay let's get this over with. Unfortunately though, you are not always successful on your first try; splinter removing, like forgiving, is a process that takes patience and trials, and with each attempt to pick out the splinter, the wound burns rawer, as if you're making it worse. But suddenly, often catching us by surprise, the splinter comes out, and you are flooded with a vast amount of liberating relief. The pain, by then, is but a dull ache.

Skylar has seen first-hand what forgiveness can do, and she wills Daxien to have it, for the reason of saving him from a lifetime of hate and regret.

Blood pounding in her ears, face flushed and hands shaking, Skylar could not help the words pour from her lips as water bursts from the dam; all the things she's always wanted to tell her husband, all the secrets, thoughts, her feelings that she was asked to reserve – it all just came in torrents of pain and tears. "You think it didn't hurt them to have you torn from their arms? You think the queen didn't cry rivers of tears when you were plucked from her breasts as a baby? You think it didn't hurt them to know you're calling some other couple momma and daddy? You think it didn't hurt?"

Ashen cheeks glistens with salty dews, and trembling hands wipes at them listlessly, "Then why? Why?" His voice was hoarse.

"Your parents had countries sitting on their shoulders, and millions of lives to protect; it's a weight you can never imagine in your wildest dreams. To live with them, you, their son, would be lucky to live in mockery and judgement, and if you were not lucky, you would die at the hands of people who sought to destroy your parents."

Silence ensues. Skylar doesn't pressure her husband for a reply. She understands the turmoil in his head. He needs to figure things out for himself. This is his parentage after all. She has every confidence he will come to see the truth.

But the clock is ticking.

Suddenly, the couple hears frantic footsteps approaching. The door of the queen's office burst open and Jim practically stumbles into. "Dax! We need you right now! The queen-" Then one look at Daxien's pale, strained face and it all becomes clear to him. Years of suspicion solidified into the truth in his mind.

"Dear god," Jim gasps, "It really is true."

...

...

The hoard of nurses crowds around the queen, frantic as the peeping of the machine's urgent alarm. It sounds like death's call. The chairman is ushered aside as the nurses worked, and he stands there with Saoirse clutching onto his pant leg with her sweet young life. She doesn't realize how much strain she was putting onto her grandfather's bad leg, how tired and scared and helpless he felt in face life's greatest test. As she sniffles and whimpers mournfully, fat tears slipping past her long silver lashes, she doesn't know how much the older man wants to do just the same.

Daxien pulls away from his queen mother – he tries to focus on the thought that she is his patient – and hangs his stethoscope over his neck. The nurses stare at him expectantly, and he gives them the signal to prepare for the end. "Get her comfortable."

Taking the vinyl gloves off his hands, he turns to the man who waits for some answers. He dreads facing him, because at this point, he doesn't know how to feel, how to act. Should he be the doctor or the son? Daxien stares at the weary figure of his man who somehow is his father, watches the fatigue slump of his trembling shoulders, the slight forward curve of his spine, his tight grip on his cane, and the desperate plea in his eyes, and he doesn't see a father. He doesn't even see a famous Chairman of PLANTS. Simply, he sees what any doctor is too accustomed to see, a family member who is lost and powerless and is absolutely not ready to let go of his loved one.

As a doctor, Daxien met many patients who in the terminal stage of their illness, has accepted their fate and is ready to let go and be reaped into the otherworld. It's a frequent phenomenon that towards the end, it is the patients who turn around to comfort the doctors. It's not your fault, doc, you did everything you could. It's a better place up there anyway right? But the families, god, they will never be ready. No matter how long their loved one had been ill, or how ill they were, the families will never be ready. Such is the pain of loss: the incapacity to even consider letting go, until their loved one is forcefully pulled from the earthly planes, away from their protecting arms.

Whatever anger Daxien harbores towards the Chariman, in that moment, is replaced by a doctor's instinct to comfort. He rushes to the Chairman's side, and place a hand on his shoulder, "I'll tell the nurses to leave." He says, "She needs to be with you right now."

"Daddy," Saoirse breaks away from her grandfather and clings to her father's white lab coat, "What's happening to grandmamma?"

Grandmamma.

Saoirse's big golden eyes stares tearfully back at him, and Daxien feels like he's going to choke. The full force of reality hit him like a pelt of hail. He feels suddenly foolish. His resentment, blame, anger, what's it matter now? His mother is dying.

"Daxien," Athrun reciprocates and grasps Daxien's hand in both of his, squeezing hard, "She needs to be with you right now. Forgive her. Please." Then the old man bows his head, hiding the tears and his shame, "We are so sorry, Daxien, for putting you through this. It's selfish I know. I know. Your mother and I, we- I'm sorry! But right now, son, please-"

But Daxien doesn't finish listening to Athrun's lament. He is by the queen's bed in a heartbeat. Son. He is their son. Her son.

"Ma."

...

...

Ma. Someone calls her. She hears him vaguely, as if through a blanket of foam. Ma.

Cagalli turns to the sound. Ma. Nobody has ever called her that. She was many things. Lil sis. Army Brat. Princess. Chief Representative. Your Grace. Madam. Queen. But 'Ma', there's only one person in the entire universe that can call her that.

"Daxien…" She opens her eyes, and he is there, all blond, atristocratic nose and green eyes. Her perfect son. "Sweet boy…I'm so sorry."

She swallows; her voice is like sand paper.

"No, no, Ma, please don't be sorry! I'm sorry! Sorry I was such a jerk! I should've listened to Skylar, I should've listened!" Daxien isn't making the slightest sense to her, but Cagalli is alright with that.

She reaches up and touches his face: her eyebrows, Athrun's cheekbones, Athrun eyes, Kira's nose, Lenore's lips, her chin. 30 years since she held him in her arms. He was tiny back then, a little bundle of everything she swore to love and protect, and eventually had to let go.

She has held him, literally and figuratively, in the palm of her hands for all these years. Stern, severe, and distant, she is not a mom and he is never her precious baby boy. The queen is a lioness, who through careful schemes and tactical ways allows social evolution to push and shove but ultimately welt and perfected her cub's capability to hunt, thrive and survive. And though he tumbles and falls, and scraps his knee and breaks his arm, she bares her teeth and holds back the real terror from him, with neither his knowledge nor acknowledgement. In the dappled background she stands behind him, the echo of her presence never once impeded his freedom to soar, but always ready to catch him when he falls.

Thank you Haumea, for returning my son to me. Cagalli prays with a smile. Her hand falls to Daxien's chest, and against his scrubs, she felt the stone. "Y-you, you still…still have it."

"I never felt right without it." He clutches her hand and kisses it. Tears fell from his eyes unto her knuckles. "Is there anything you want me to do for you, Ma?"

"W-where is y-your father?" Cagalli gasps.

"I'm right here love," Athrun sits on Cagalli's other side, and holds her hand like their son.

"Forgive us, son, forgive us." Tears creeps through wrinkled skin, "We did…best…we could…take care…of….of…your f-father…"

"Ssh, Ma, it's okay. It's okay." Daxien soothes, "There is nothing to forgive." He doesn't lie. There really is nothing to forgive. How could he hate the two people who made him out of love, and loved him throughout the years, although in their unconventional ways. "Father and I are going to be alright, Ma. Don't you worry. Right, Father?"

It's the first time he addresses Athrun with such familial term, which overwhelmed Athrun so much that he only managed to nod.

"Daxien…" Cagalli calls him again. Her time is near, she could feel it. Mere seconds left. Death approaches. She could feel his inviting hand. "…love you…son…"

With that, Daxien crumbles into a fit of sobs and he buries his face into her stomach.

"Athrun…" The queen cracks her heavy lids open one last time to look at her son, and then the man who gave her everything. She smiles, and her eyes seem to glow like the light of heaven is shining from within. "On the other side then?"

"Of course." He promises.

Athrun leans down to kiss her once more. When his lips leave hers, so does her last breath.

"Kira, are you listening to me?"

Kira Yamato finds himself sitting in the garden of his Heliopolis cottage, idly stirring tea with a silver spoon. Why is he here again?

"Kira?"

Ah yes. Kira looks up at Cagalli, who is frowning at him. They always have tea together every second Wednesday of each month.

"Yes, Cagalli what were you saying?"

She rolls her eyes, and held her hand out to him. A handcrafted white-gold ring adorned with a quaint ruby surrounded by glistening diamonds is sitting on her left ring finger. "I finally made an honest man out of Athrun."

Kira chuckles and sips his tea, not surprised at all, "Well congrats sis. I'd say about time, but you were the one who insisted the day you will marry him is the day you die…"

Wait… Kira looks up. They received the phone call from Riley. H-he is supposed to be on a plane to Orb.

Cagalli was no longer chatty and playful. She sits there with a small sad smile and a youthfulness that is otherworldly. Her hair is blonde like sunlight, and her skin smooth and soft.

"That's right," Cagalli says, examining her ring with a pleased smile, "We made a deal, Athrun and I. And he pulled through. Good man."

Kira feels a hallowness settling in.

"I missed you, didn't I?" He asks, "You're dead."

"Depends on how you look at it." Cagalli tilts her head to the side. "My time is limited here. The calling is strong. I must go soon."

"To where?" Kira can't help but ask.

"God knows. To wherever the calling takes me." Cagalli squeezes his hand across the table, "It's all good, big bro. All good." Her touch is incorporeal, like a breeze caressing his skin.

"Big bro? Since when?"

"I did some digging," She sighs theatrically, and then shrugs, "You were born first. Crap on a cracker."

Kira let out a small chuckle. "I'll miss you Cagalli. You were the best sis I could ask for. I love you."

"Oh save me the weepy chickflick moment, Kira." Cagalli teases, "but I'll miss you too, and I love you more. Say bye to the our friends for me, won't you? And Lacus. God, I'll miss her."

"I will." Kira promises.

"Goodbye, Kira." She leans in, and presses a whisper of a kiss against his forehead. When he opens his eyes, the garden has disappeared, and so has she.

"Kira. Kira," Lacus shakes her husband, "Wake up. We're about to land."

Kira opens his eyes, and blinks a few times at Lacus. His reaches for her hand, and is relieved to find that he can hold it like he can a gun. This is real, Lacus is still here. He turns to the window of the shuttle and sees the docking port below. The sky melted with the sea and Orb is lovely from up above. Cagalli has chosen a good day to go. Kira pulls out his phone and sees a dozen messages from his kids. It isn't just a dream, then. He thinks.

"Kira, sweetheart, what's the matter?"

The old general turns to his wife and says with a mournful smile, "She's gone. Long live the queen."

The End


AN: Thank you all for reading. I know the second part took too long to be updated. I was reallly really busy the past few months! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are very welcomed like always!