Sense- Me here. Kinda forget doing author's notes in the prologue. Thanks for the reviews. I'm a sadistic bastard, so if I don't get enough reviews I will not continue. Or rather, I will continue, but I won't post it. I do this to satisfy my own sadistic needs. Posting was only an idea out of the blue.

Oh yeah, I'm getting all the terrified vibes. XD I'm just kidding .

In response to the reviews, yes, of course I will torture Kira. Torturing young, pretty boys is my hobby.

Continue reading.

As if he had just realized Athrun, Kira smiled a little, a mixture of relief and longing, yet the pain still lingers in his features. "Athrun.." Then realization struck him, hard. "Why am I here?! Where's Fraga?!" The sudden movements made him flinch in pain, and he clutched his stomach again.

"Kira.." began Athrun, pointing his gun to Kira, sadness painted on his features "We captured you"

The click of the gun was clearly audible in the ghastly silence.

"Don't move" Athrun instructed firmly, making his voice loud and clear, making sure his comrades below heard him. "Please" he added silently. Holding a thumbs-up, he motioned his men to come up. They shot disgusted looks at Kira, and pointed their rifles to him.

"Don't shoot" said Athrun, "Lieutenant Kreuze ordered capture. We need him alive"

Fighting unconsciousness, Kira adverted his gaze down. The pain distracted his emotions. He kept quiet, not moving, shallow breaths escaped his mouth every too often. His hands on the rod were numb; cold. Nothing mattered in the condition. Nothing but the distracting pain.

A small voice spoke inside Kira, his remaining performing part; almost welcomed the pain. That small voice reasoned with him, torturing him mentally with all too-true facts. He failed as a protector. It was only a matter of time until some ZAFT army caught Archangel and kills his friends, his only reason of fighting the battle in the first place. Though unspoken, he knew all too well that without him, Archangel was no match against any ZAFT army. They were Naturals. An inferior race. Unfortunately, that inferior race is important to him.

Sudden pain caught his attention. Looking up, he realized that Athrun was carefully tugging the rod stuck in him. By the looks of it, he had been working on it for a while now. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Glancing around, he found two men clad in clean white lab coats was hovering over him. Paramedics.

Through clenched teeth, Kira cried out as the rod gave away, showing a deep hole. His eyes were hazy, he noted, and all he sees were blurry. No more strength left in him, none at all, as if they had drained with his blood. His body literally fell, held only by a startled Athrun.

Nothing mattered.

Nothing at all.

I failed.

And I'm dying.

A horrible, slow death.

And I deserve it.

Because...

I failed...

Them... and

...myself...

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Time passed cruelly slow, as if God was taking his revenge on him. He was awake, he was aware of that. He could register what happened around him, but he can take no actions. He heard voices, but his brain did not bother translating the words. He saw blurred images, but he failed to recognize them. Kira have not the strength to do anything. To keep his heart beating took all he had. An eternity passed.

His surroundings were dim and smelled damp. Faint flickers of light opened his eyelids a bit, alerting him. A figure entered the room, though somewhat reluctantly. He wore the same clean white lab coat, identifying his presence as a doctor or paramedic.

'I must be getting better', thought Kira, as the man inserted a needle into his left arm and forced the content inside him, not caring at all if it was indeed painful for him. 'I can feel my fingers again'. He wiggled his fingers, and his toes. It hurt terribly to move. It hurt terribly.

Just about then does Kira feel the drug given to him. Painkillers. Soothing, lovely painkillers. For the first time, Kira observed the room he was held captive. Given the light, it showed an earth-toned room. A side held bars.

Nothing adorned the walls, save the multiple nails that act like hooks for coats. Kira realized the bed he was on. It was like the one he saw in the 2000-ish CD, the one where he studied surgery. It is feels very much like the thin mattress in the doctor's office. Moving his left leg, he also found out that the bed is small, barely enough to suffice his body. The little space made him uncomfortable. It means that it was not his bed, and this was not a nightmare.

His heart sank. Not a nightmare. It was not a nightmare. There was no way he could escape from this fate.

He heard soft clinkers of iron. Iron shackles. There are iron shackles fixed on his ankles, preventing him from further movements. His hands on his side were shackled, too, by the same cold material. He shuddered involuntarily.

The doctor still beside him seemed to take notice of his awakening. Scribbling fast, he injected another needle inside Kira. He bustled out, hurriedly, and a moment later he came back, bringing some half-dozen more doctors behind him. They brought machines, he noticed. Kira felt his light cotton shirt tugged fiercely, and the frustrated blow one of the doctors delivered to him. He flinched when a knife was used to rip the material away, so dangerously close to his veins.

His upper body was left naked, and immediately hands groped him, taking off the numerous bandages on his chest. It was replaced by a tangle of wires, set to measure his brain waves, his heartbeat, the whole of him pried apart by technology.

"Amazing!" one said, "What a miraculous recovery!"

That's too bad.

"His brain waves appear normal" commented another.

Please, wipe off my memories.

"His heartbeat is steady" said another, "It's higher than usual, but that must be the drugs"

Please, let me die.

"Attach the stabilizer" instructed one.

Because living hurt more.

They left him alone to the tormenting thoughts.

Lieutenant Kreuze strolled aimlessly in his room, after taking his drugs. The matter was interesting. His plan had not included the capture of Strike. Destroy, yes. Not capture. But now, what are they supposed to do with a prisoner? A skilled Gundam pilot, no less.

After hearing the confessions from Athrun of his relations with the Gundam pilot, he understood the younger boy's emotions. He put no blame on Athrun's actions. He had proved to be an excellent soldier, always obeying commands and never questioned authority. There was no need to doubt his loyalty.

'Kira Yamato' he whispered silently. Sitting down unceremoniously, he stared at his monitor. Images of Kira Yamato popped up, displaying his progress by day. In the first ten days, he did not do as much as to blink. By the fifteenth, his wounds were nothing but scars. By the eighteenth, his broken limbs had set straight.

'He must have been specially engineered' thought Kreuze. 'There is no other explanation. His capabilities exceed even that of a normal Coordinator'.

Another pop-up showed his statistics. He has not received any training of any kind. He was a normal civilian before the war. To think that he has become a threat to the ZAFT army was nothing to be taken lightly of. It was as if his limits were none.

Providing that, it was almost a stupid idea to hold him to get information. He might know a little about Archangel, but his information is nothing they haven't had already.

What if he changes sides?

Kreuze smirked.

Athrun Zara, here's a mission for you.

Athrun have not the heart to visit Kira again. It pained him, looking at the lifeless form of Kira, making his heart tightened painfully. Each time he came, the same scene greeted him. He had pushed his conscience far away, the one that accuses him of the situation, the one that blames him on Kira's condition.

But the damage has been done. There was nothing he could do to reverse time.

However, Athrun knew that he was the only person that Kira could ever depend on. That is, if he wakes up again. Whenever he had the time, Athrun would bring himself to the prisoner's cell, and just sat beside Kira, as if keeping him company. At times, he would brush his friend's hair, or fluffed his pillow. At times, he would simply stare at Kira's face, expecting those amethyst eyes to flutter open. At times, he would cry, apologizing again and again.

Today, though, a different scenario greeted him. The paramedics bustled hurriedly in and out of Kira's room, looking excited and in the same time, afraid. He stopped one to satisfy his curiosity, and the answer made his heart lurch.

His answer as he took of, snatching some papers and clutching a few labeled bottles was,

"He woke up! He's trashing around, so we're having him drugged!"

Sense- I'm still figuring who should rape Kira: Yzak or Kreuze. Or maybe someone else. I'll count the polls.