Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.


"Everything is funny as long as it is happening to Somebody Else."

Will Rogers, Illiterate Digest (1924), "Warning to Jokers: lay off the prince"
US humorist & showman (1879 - 1935)


Chapter 4: We're all pretty bizarre, but some are better at hiding it


On this Monday morning, Dearka's chin had successfully integrated itself into the wood of his table. This was very strange, considering that Dearka had never let Mondays prevent him from partying the night before and coming in to work a bit high from the weekend. Granted, he seemed as though he was reading some file, but his head was heavy on the table and his eyes were skimming over the surface the way pond scum drifted aimlessly.

"Was the meeting with that client so bad?" At his table, Athrun checked that his partner was not attracting cobwebs. He considered the meeting that Dearka had with a potential client— that had gone on from ten in the morning to about now. Surely that had been a good sign? "The lady that came in—,"

Dearka sighed, still not turning around to face Athrun. No matter how tiny his exhalation, the exasperation was significant. "Ms. Louissier, or Stellar, as she kept referring to herself, is definitely not a client that we need. She wanted to sue this random fellow for not rescuing her after she fell from a cliff into the sea."

"What on earth was she doing there?" Athrun was incredulous, having long decided that salt and sand was not his cup of tea. While Athrun was arguably athletic even if not a gym-nut like Dearka, he had never visited the man-made beaches and seas of Heliopolis.

"She was dancing." Dearka had not yet detached his chin from the table, but his voice was clearly derisive. "Apparently, this fellow who watched her drop in there and struggle was an Olympic-standard swimmer. I knew it was a no-go for negligent omission right from the start, and I told her so."

"So she couldn't swim, eh?" Athrun twirled a pen absent-mindedly.

"Yeah," Dearka muttered, "She said she was screaming and struggling in the water the whole time. Inhaled quite a bit."

"But she was at a cliffside." Athrun tried not to laugh at Stellar Louissier's plight. "Dancing." He lobbed the pen aside and gave in to his urge, despite the potential unkindness of his amusement. "It reeks so much of contributory negligence that I don't think that any damages awarded would suffice to even pay her legal fees."

"I know." Dearka planted his palms on the table with his elbows sticking into the air. With what seemed like a gargantuan effort, he pushed himself to sit upright. Massaging his neck, he yawned, swiveling in his chair to face Athrun. "But no matter how I tried to explain it, she didn't get it."

"What doesn't she get?" Athrun asked, frankly bewildered. "It's quite obvious that the fellow could possibly burn in hell for not helping some poor girl who speaks and presumably screamed in third person, but that he can't be sued."

"That's right." Dearka sighed, flipping through the file now. "That won't happen; not even in a place like Heliopolis where you might sue for anything these days." He settled on a page. "Like that private nuisance case you almost ended up taking on."

Athrun turned back to his own table, feeling extremely guilty. When Dearka had come in to work today, Athrun had smoothly reached to a drawer, dumped in some thick ring files. And before Dearka had even sat down or noticed anything, Athrun had locked the entire drawer. The steadiness that he had accomplished all of this with had stunned and horrified Athrun, even as he congratulated himself on making it on time.

Thankfully, Dearka hadn't and wasn't looking at him. Hoping to distract himself and Dearka, he asked, "So what finally got her out of your hair?"

"I think the clincher was when I told her that there isn't a legal duty even for Superman to save the world." Dearka's smile, or perhaps smirk, was in his voice.

Athrun grinned lopsidedly. "It sure explains why heroes are so rare. Having said that, I suspect you scarred the poor girl even more. You're supposed to be patient with clients, Dearka. You ripped her to shreds, didn't you?"

"I was being patient!" Dearka looked up and growled, defending himself with the added emphasis of his fist on his piled table. "But she didn't get it even after I explained it for the third time! I am being patient!"

"I have a healthy dose of skepticism even as you state your claims." Athrun began gathering his things, preparing to head a few streets down to serve some documents and then to get lunch. He laughed again, thinking about how unlucky Stellar Louissier was to get someone as unabashedly unsympathetic as Dearka.

"Heck, she spoke in third-person throughout! Speaking in third-person is the first sign of madness." Dearka grumbled. "Trying to sue a complete stranger for his omission to jump in the water is the second." He shook his head and roughly ran his fingers through his would-be carefully tousled hair—a sure sign that he was having a bad day.

He noticed Athrun staring, caught himself mussing his own hair, and then looked unhappily at his offending hand. Now, Dearka confessed. "Yeah, maybe I'm being such a grumpy bear because my weekend didn't go so hot. I suppose you could say it was bullcrap, actually; I've even lost my appetite for lunch." He slumped back onto the table, looking depressed.

Athrun got up with his things, weaving his way over to Dearka's table. Although the morning meeting had perhaps been taxing, Dearka was usually the sort who never cared much about anything enough to get sullen like this. He peered at Dearka.

"Weren't you gallivanting out there with some girl?" Athrun asked curiously, setting down his mug dangerously close to where Dearka's nose was.

Dearka continued doing his best imitation of a table cloth, slumping his weight down onto the table. "Like I said, it was bull. Over and out now." He raised only his eyes to Athrun, since he seemed to lack the energy to raise his head at all. His chin was smushed against the table, and he sighed pathetically. "Did yours go better?"

"Well, it wasn't all fun and carousels, but it wasn't bullcrap." Athrun took a step away from Dearka's desk, smiling. "Accomplished some things."

As far as Athrun was concerned, getting Cagalli Yula to accept his help had been the same as building a pagoda in two days. Granted, he'd spent his Sunday digging up case after case and looking at the statutory provisions, but that had been rather interesting too.

"Referring to Dullindal's case?"

"Amongst other things." Athrun nodded, fighting the stab of guilt even as Dearka's innocuous question lingered in the air.

Even while working on Dullindal's case this morning, he had been thinking of so many other things. For one, he had been plagued with thoughts of the brief conversation that he'd had with Cagalli on the phone yesterday.

Although he would have preferred otherwise, Athrun hadn't gotten much of a word with Cagalli after the boat ride, seeing that the concert had started and they had watched as part of a proper audience in complete silence. On that Saturday evening, she'd been introduced to Lacus when they'd had a bit of time to mingle and talk, and from what Athrun could see, the two had hit it off. Athrun hadn't been able to stay around in that circle for long, seeing as he'd been whisked off by some other friends who'd spotted him.

By the time he'd managed to get back to Kira, Cagalli had already left, and Athrun had been surprised to finding himself rather irritated about it. It was becoming apparent that she was the sort of person who mysteriously appeared and disappeared. Of course, Kira had offered consolation as she'd left word with him that she would contact Athrun soon.

Kira had been just as amazed as Athrun. "Did she fall and hit her head during the boat ride?"

Athrun wasn't too sure himself. In the larger scheme of things, Athrun wasn't even sure of himself. He'd never felt this distracted or conflicted before, but working on Cagalli Yula's case over the weekend hadn't him feel particularly guilty either. Rather, he'd felt almost liberated.

On the other hand, there were more mysteries that he was trying to grapple with. As far as he knew, he had always been the one to end conversations first—professional or not. Besides, men were never the ones hanging by the phone and hoping for it to ring. He'd kept his cell on him constantly even in his house yesterday, although that was arguably a cell's function anyway. At some point, he'd even imagined it to be buzzing when it had been absolutely stationary.

Dearka was studying him, clearly puzzled by how deep in thought Athrun was. "Is the case for Dullindal and the surgeons going well?"

"Yes." Athrun lied through his teeth in more than one respect. "But I'm working on it still. It's not an easy case."

"I'll give you that." Dearka agreed. He ruffled his hair again. "Arguably some bad facts."

"But at least I had a nice weekend." Athrun mused semi-consciously. Cagalli had finally called in the evening to check when she could collect the file that he'd prepared. Instead, he'd convinced her to meet this evening to discuss the extra information that he'd found. It had mostly been his hinting and probing until she'd finally and reluctantly agreed to dinner with him. Also, Cagalli had agreed that he would eventually have to visit her place so he could see its surroundings and experience the alleged noise pollution, although that had taken the better bit of his persuasion and more than five minutes.

"Get this right," Cagalli had told him forcefully before ending the conversation, "I'm going to work towards proving my case too. I don't see why I should place so much trust in you or delegate my own responsibilities just because you're helping me."

He'd protested, but she'd insisted, just as how she'd protested while he'd insisted about meeting to discuss the case. Well, what did it matter anyway?

A smile crept its way onto his face. "Some things went well."

"I thought so." Dearka was looking envious, despite Athrun's vague answer. "Care to spend a few minutes of your lunch break elaborating on your nice weekend?"

Thinking of his Saturday evening and all that he'd managed to accomplish, Athrun continued smiling blankly, a bit distracted even as he headed out of the place. "It's not really anything to talk about."

"Just be honest about it." Dearka watched him bitterly. "You got laid, didn't you?"


On his way down, Athrun had somehow run into Lunmaria Hawke as he was about to close the lift doors. Truth be told, he'd always tried to avoid getting into lifts with people that he'd feel compelled to talk to— lift conversations were particularly awkward ones, and Athrun had always had bad experiences with those. This time though, he hadn't been fast enough to close the doors and pretend that he hadn't noticed her at all.

Besides, she was yelling across the building lobby. She must have seen him leaving for lunch.

"Athrun! Athrun! Hold it please!"

He'd seen her in the morning when he'd dropped a note asking her to replenish some stationery and to check some documents he'd finished over the weekend. Now, she scooted into the lift, impeccably put-together with her mini-skirt, fresh-faced and obviously well-rested over the weekend. He wondered how long all of that would last when she started working properly.

"Thanks, Athrun!" She chirped, giving him a little salute. He smiled back indulgently at her. Generally, Dearka had insisted that they all get along on first-name basis for office-camaraderie, and she'd applied Dearka's instructions to Athrun as well. Personally, Athrun didn't really care what she called him so long as she did her work well and finished it on time.

As a semi-permanent staff of this firm, Lunamaria had very recently graduated from school and hadn't passed the bar yet. Meanwhile, she was working here to get a bit-of-work experience, and the partners had hired her and Vino to do the usual photostatting, note-taking, filing, making coffee, managing schedules, editing memorandums, updating files, helping with research, calling for taxis, and all the tiny, irritating things like that.

Normally, he would have been perfectly content to ride up and down the twenty-eighth floors in solitary silence, but she didn't seem satisfied with that.

"So," She said cheerfully, "How was your weekend?"

"Well…" Why was it that everybody cared, and why did Athrun himself care so much as well? He nearly split his mouth trying not to smile while fighting that irrepressible grin at the same time. Evening would come soon, and he'd be out of this office and headed to Marle's for dinner. "My weekend went fine."

As far as honesty was concerned, it had been brilliant. Now, Lunamaria was looking expectantly at him. Out of politeness, he asked, "And how did yours go?"

But Lunamaria mistook her employer's courtesy as actual interest. "Oh it was fantastic!" She began yammering on about a movie that she'd watched and some dinner that someone had treated her to as this posh and supposedly super seafood place. At some point, she glanced at him, laughing once in a reassuring way that instead, really disturbed him. "Oh, but he and I are not really going out."

"Oh." He said mildly, not quite listening. If Athrun's state of mind had to be defined, it was definitely on screensaver mode. True to form, he nodded as if he was listening. "Is that so?"

"Oh, Athrun," She chuckled, her eyes sparkling, "How many times would you like me to say it?" She looked at him eagerly. "Like I said, it's not like we're going out." She began talking about something else immediately, as if that would pique his interest more.

He looked at her, wondering if it was illegal to be so energetic on Mondays. Indeed, Lunamaria Hawke, the twenty-four year old secretary-cum-clerk who probably never had a boyfriend that lasted more than three weeks, was very, very spunky.

Even now, Athrun wondered if she had actually managed to talk the hind leg off a donkey. She had probably sprung out of bed, bushy-tailed and bright-eyed, put on her make-up and a nice dress, and heard birds singing outside her window throughout the whole process. While Lunamaria was about his age if slightly younger, she was definitely more energetic and bubbly than Athrun had ever been at five. It wasn't that he disliked how talkative or outgoing she was—it rather amused him. It was just that he never knew what to say to her, despite being just a few years her senior – when he'd been about to graduate, she'd just entered law school back in the Plants.

"So," She said in lieu of his silence and polite smile. "How is Miss Clyne?"

"She's fine." He answered without giving much thought to it. His mind was preoccupied with many other things, and Lacus Clyne wasn't quite the focus. Undoubtedly, Athrun still had her to thank for that invitation on Saturday, but the Saturday evening itself had preoccupied his mind for the rest of the weekend.

"Hmm." Lunamaria tapped her fingernails against some files that she was holding. Clearly, she thought that his silence and vague distractedness was strange, since she didn't realize that he was deep in thought about other things. "That didn't sound very enthusiastic. I thought you'd be more emotive about Lacus Clyne."

He raised a brow, vaguely amused. "Emotive?"

"She's your fiancée!" Luna laughed again at her employer. "I should think so!"

Now, Athrun decided to clarify the situation, although it would take the better part of his discretion and careful wording. For one, he wasn't sure what was happening between Kira and Lacus, since they definitely weren't seeing each other in public. But more importantly, he didn't want Luna to think that Lacus was some kind of tart if Lacus decided to be seen with another person in public. "Er—maybe I should say this. Actually, we're in a cooling-off period now." He shrugged. "One of those things."

"Really?" Her eyes widened. Even that bit of would-be somber news seemed to make her perk up. He stared at her.

All too late, Athrun remembered what Dearka had cautioned.

The problem was that a month after she'd been employed, Dearka had found a picture of Athrun sitting at his desk and working. It had been stuck between some file that Lunamaria had been handling. While nobody had said anything about it, Lunamaria had realized this later and tried to claim the photograph back from Dearka. She'd explained how it had just been some test-shot of a camera that she was playing around with. Of course, when Dearka had informed Athrun of this much later, he'd also mentioned how red-faced and flustered Luna had been.

Dearka had been rather succinct about the explanations for Lunamaria's strange behavior. "Bloody hell, Athrun, she's got a massive crush on you. That photograph's proof of it!"

While Athrun had tried to laugh it off, he'd grown still slightly wary of Lunamaria. It wasn't that she was unattractive or that it was unflattering to have her hanging around like a voyeur. She was definitely pretty in a sporty sort of way, and she was confident, quite competent, and rather fun to be around with. In his mind however, he just wasn't interested in anything except his career, and Luna was better off as part of the office background. She was just too energetic and too cheerful for her own good.

The lift stopped on the twentieth floor. Someone got in, and Athrun was glad, thinking that he'd have some peace and quiet while he planned how to build up and present his findings to Cagalli.

But Lunamaria did not seem to be deterred. She chattered on, mentioning even her sister or something or the other to that extent, all the way until the sixteenth floor when the person got out. By the tenth, Athrun had found himself feeling slightly uncomfortable.

The lift was going down way too slowly, in his opinion. Athrun was rather eager to be left alone so he could turn the brief conversation that he'd had with Cagalli Yula over in his mind and in far more peace. He was planning to walk three streets to drop documents with the Heliopolis office that did the serving of summons and things like that, and it would give him ample time to think of the evening approaching. He hoped that Lunamaria wasn't planning on tagging along.

"Do you want to get lunch together?" Her smile was very bright. Athrun could almost see red flags waving.

"Fifth floor."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." He hadn't realized that he'd been mumbling to himself.

"We could try that new café that Dearka was talking about." Luna looked hopeful. "You're going to serve some documents right? The café is kinda near—,"

Athrun pretended to consider this. The lift was approaching the ground floor now. "Er— sorry, I've got a meeting with someone at—," He paused, thinking quickly. "The precinct police headquarters." He tried not to look like he was lying too obviously. "It's in a completely different direction from the café you're mentioning. You should go with Vino and Dearka—they probably haven't left for lunch just yet."

She seemed to deflate. In any case, her smile dampened quite visibly. "Oh, I see…"

"Sorry," He said apologetically, not feeling very sorry at all.

"Nah," Luna told him. "Some other time."

"Sure." He said, making sure he sounded non-committal.

By the time they got to the ground floor, Athrun was quite glad that the lift-ride was over.


And so it was that Athrun paid a visit to an old friend after depositing the documents, all in a bid to avoid Lunamaria.

It had become a kind of blessing, particularly because Athrun had wondered about certain things over the weekend with few answers that he could find. Come to think of it, the precinct police headquarters was the best way to start.

Over a lunch that was a meal in the loosest sense of the word, Athrun eased the information that he'd wanted out from Miguel Aiman.

Blonde, trim, ambitious and confident to the point of coming off as cocky, Miguel was equally admired and hated within the Heliopolis crime control division. Strictly speaking, Miguel wasn't a prosecutor as much as a policeman, but the higher-ups in the police force always ended up doing the prosecuting when the crimes were the minor, almost negligible ones.

The precinct's police headquarters had a canteen that reminded Athrun of a boot camp. Men and women seemed incredibly sober and drab in this place, and the spinning overhead fans made the whole atmosphere rather dingy. Perhaps it was part of a scheme to make the workers here have short lunch breaks, because nobody came here or stayed long if they hadn't already left for greener pastures.

All in all, Miguel seemed rather used to the entire backdrop and had refused Athrun's offer to head elsewhere for lunch. Athrun's private guess was that Miguel was a sadist and liked to make people suffer the way Miguel did where work-lunch options were concerned.

"So," The district police chief said calmly when they'd settled down with their trays, "It's rare of you to have time for lunch—let alone with your old buddy."

"It's only a few streets down from my office—I walked here." Athrun pointed out. This was true. "Besides, lunch here, as you said when I offered to buy you a meal, is dirt cheap.

"Tastes like dirt too." Miguel said cheerfully. "If distance and price were the only considerations, you'd be used to lunches like these. So how'd you get the time to see your old buddy anyway?"

"If you must have the truth, my client cancelled our lunch meeting over the weekend." Dullindal was busy over some concert planning that he was still engaged with, and Athrun had had to reschedule the second effort at settlement with Mia Campbell.

"It comes to a point where you're married to your work and your client's your bloody girlfriend." Miguel leaned back, surveying Athrun lazily.

Truthfully, Miguel was very good-looking with his sharp features and blonde hair. In his uniform, he gave force to the common notion that girls went wild over men in uniforms. "And in the light of the obvious, I'm your second choice, eh?"

"Let's just say that I had a craving for overly-cooked pasta." Athrun said drolly, twirling a few strands with a plastic fork. "How's work coming along?"

"Oh, the same old stuff." Miguel took a swig of his drink, tapping his fingers against the can. "A few cases now and then but it's usually quite minor." He waved at some passing colleagues and refocused on Athrun. "Nothing much for me to prosecute in this district except the old geezers who don't pay their parking fines."

Heliopolis reputedly had one of the lowest crime rates in the galactic system, but that was not to say that daylight robberies didn't occur. Athrun could give a first-hand account of that, even if he couldn't say that he had nabbed the right person.

"That's good to know." Athrun told Miguel. He stirred his bowl of what was supposed to be minestrone soup. "Speaking of car fines, Miguel, I need to ask you about something."

"Ah, we get to the real purpose of the visit now." Miguel checked his watch. "That took all of three minutes of lunch to get you started."

"Guilty as charged." Athrun grinned, drank some of the soup and stopped smiling immediately. He reached for his glass and settled for the plain water instead. Surely, they couldn't poison plain water.

"Same policy of confidentiality here, of course. As the chief, I can only tell you what's already floating out there on some obscure gossip magazine—somewhere." Miguel was calmly drinking his soup, clearly used to and perhaps even accepting of the canteen's standards. "And come to think of it," He raised a brow. "Doesn't Elsman & Reid shun criminal cases?"

"Of course." Athrun responded. "Since we started making profits, we stopped dealing with criminal defense. I'm quoting Dearka on this- these days, we don't do much pro bono."

"Figures," Miguel snorted. "Now you deal with corporate cases, which have the real criminals." He poked at his food absent-mindedly. "So ask away and if I can tell you without putting my ass out there for firing, I will."

"Thanks," Athrun said gratefully. "I wanted to ask you about Yuuna Roma Seiran. The tycoon's son—Unato Seiran's his dad. "

"Hmm." Miguel tapped his chin. He frowned a bit. "Why do you need to know anything about Seiran junior again?"

Athrun shrugged. The truth was that Athrun had been curious about what he'd somehow seen without meaning to, and he'd searched for information on the man that Cagalli Yula had seemed so antagonistic towards. He hadn't had to search hard, although the information that he'd gotten was rather general and even superficial. "Nothing in particular, really. I was just reading some magazine—,"

"You mean the Coppernicus Tattler?" Miguel laughed. His eyes widened in mirth. "Come to think of it, weren't you featured in the Heliopolis one? I haven't congratulated you yet!"

Athrun flinched, thinking about the search results he'd drawn up when he'd tried to look for information about one of the invited guests on that Saturday evening. Somehow, when he'd searched for information about Yuuna Roma Seiran, he'd ended up seeing his name in the general search results as well.

"Aha! I know what this is all about now!" Miguel faced him triumphantly. "You're checking out the competition from the different galactic sectors! He was an Eligible Bachelor too!" Miguel was crowing now. "Come to think of it, he made it to the final list of Most Eligible Bachelors across all Galactic sectors but you didn't! Jealous, Athrun?"

"I'm not!" Athrun protested vehemently. "And why do you know so much about all this rubbish?"

"Well unlike you, I'm honest about having an interest in all this gossipy stuff. So stop denying it," Miguel laughed. "Just admit that you're envious, and I'll tell you what I know about him."

Athrun took in a deep breath, trying to be patient. "I'm not."

"You are."

"I am not." His protest was almost violent now.

"My lunch break is almost over." Miguel sang.

"Alright, alright, I'm envious." Athrun said flatly and without much humour.

"Of what?" Miguel was laughing. "Be specific, Athrun!"

Athrun gritted his teeth. "I'm envious that he made it to the final selection list in that bloody manhunt and that I didn't. I'm drooling with envy, and I want to dig up his criminal record because I want to prove that those editors were ignorant about his past and therefore gave him a spot in that final list while leaving me out."

"See?" Miguel of course, was still grinning like an irrepressible schoolboy. "It's not so hard to admit it, you know. I'll tell you what I know about him, because you were so open about being a wuss."

"So glad to hear that my increase in blood pressure is justified." Athrun said wryly. He stirred his soup moodily.

Miguel smirked, sighing contentedly. "Well, alright, as you probably know, he was arrested last year. Drink-driving. And it was here in Heliopolis, in this precinct. He could pay the bail, so it wasn't a big problem."

"Then why the overnight detention?" Athrun had read that somewhere and that had struck him as being odd. There was usually none of this when it concerned drink-driving, unless some accident or injury had been caused. Yuuna Roma Seiran hadn't caused any.

Miguel traced invisible letters on the table top. "Well, between you and me, he was an absolute bastard about the whole arrest." He leaned back, folding his arms. "He kept yelling on and on about how his father would be really pissed to know that we'd handcuffed his only and beloved son." He shrugged. "But we weren't the idiots who offered cold hard cash to the police when asked to pull over."

"So it wasn't just drink driving, it was a bigger offence of trying to bribe the police." Athrun breathed. "Stupid git."

"Rich boys tend to be like that." Miguel concluded. His eyes, however, twinkled. "What's there not to know already? He's some business tycoon's son, right?"

"Unato Seiran." Athrun nodded. "Based in Coppernicus."

"That's right. Seiran senior's a business mogul and the owner of an entire media empire." Miguel looked at Athrun. "The last I recall of Seiran junior's rants last year, he was going to take over— he has taken over, actually. Now Seiran junior's the managing director of the group. Last year when we arrested him, he threatened that the police's treatment of him would be all over the news."

"Well, it was hushed up." Athrun pointed out. "Barely much information on the overnight detention's justification, actually. I didn't dig out anything much except his one-time drink-driving experience."

Miguel rolled his eyes, looking a bit disgruntled. "You have your lot to blame for that, Mr. Lawyer. He wasn't actually convicted for bribery of the police. His defense counsel got him off the hook, arguing that he was already drunk at that time and that he didn't know what he was saying was attempted bribery of the police."

"Ah." Athrun understood what had happened immediately.

"We only got the lizard's tail." Miguel sighed. "I prosecuted him successfully for drink driving, but when it went to the Heliopolis High Court for the more serious offence, the successful prosecution of drink driving became the strongest case for the defense lawyer. And let's face it—the fine slapped on him for drink-driving was peanuts by his standards."

Athrun looked sympathetically at Miguel. "Tough."

"C'est la vie." Miguel concluded with a wide smile. He looked back at Athrun irreverently. "Now, our lunch breaks end in five minutes, so be a good boy and finish your soup."

Athrun tried to return his friend's grin.


Evening had not crawled in slower than it could possibly have.

As a quarter to seven passed, Athrun stood in queue with his umbrella, waiting outside the restaurant for her. It struck him that he'd never been so courteous to any other client before as to leave work fifteen minutes earlier and then stand in line for a seat in some posh place.

Why had he gone to so much trouble, he wondered, when she wasn't even paying him for his time or efforts? Politeness was definitely part of the game, no matter how nasty or demanding the client got, but then he was slowly coming to terms with how curious he was about her.

Someone interrupted his thoughts by shoving him forward. "Excuse me," He said with great dignity, moving a step up the line and closer to Marle's.

There was clearly a great demand for the food at Marle's, never mind that the famed place had reputably shitty service from snotty, holier-than-thou waiters and maitre'ds. The girl at the desk had told him quite fearlessly that having a reservation at seven meant coming in only when the big hand was at the seven and the small hand was at the twelve.

The people waiting in line all had reservations, and yet there wasn't space to keep them lining up within the restaurants even. They formed part of a long row spilling out onto the pavement outside.

Here he was, Athrun reflected, hanging around like some abandoned dog in a line of patiently waiting animals, trying not to get wet with the slight drizzle that was threatening to get heavier. There were people at the head of the queue going in, and they all seemed highly glad to be getting shelter from the rain.

When would she get here? He took out his cell, noting that she'd hidden her number to prevent tracing. Personally, Athrun could understand her desire for privacy, but he dealt with it by using one cell for work, another for personal usage, and another as a spare.

The rain had built up into a bit of a shower now, and shuffling slightly, Athrun wondered when the big hand would get to seven and the small hand would get to twelve. But something was hurtling along the road, moving past the line to come and stand by him.

And Cagalli looked at him, clutching her coat over her head like a tarpaulin, and a bit startled, he watched as she halted before him and shook herself like a dog clearing its fur of water. Her hair was shaggy despite how she'd put out her coat as a shelter, and she was wearing male clothes- no doubt about that. Pants and a blazer and the kind of clothes that Athrun expected himself to wear.

Some formally-dressed female diners gave her strange looks as they stood in line with their umbrellas, managing to look dainty and well put together still. But she ignored all of them, focusing on Athrun who stepped nearer and shared his umbrella with her.

They were both getting wet now, although it was a slight improvement from her earlier situation. Standing so close to her, Athrun could detect the scent of oranges and maybe even strawberries on her. As she pushed her wet hair behind her ear, he saw that she was wearing tiny earrings that glinted on her flesh. In the shade of the umbrella, eyes were intensely-gold, probably because of the dim lights that emanated from the restaurant's interior.

"Sorry about this," She said in a rush. Her voice was husky, and he wondered if he would catch her cold.

"It's fine," Athrun told her, marveling at how abrupt their meetings so far had always been. "You're just on time, actually—the reservation's at seven and we'll be called in at any minute now so that you can dry off—,"

"No, I mean that we have to get out of here." She dropped her voice.

He would have reeled back, except that they were in a huddled spot, waiting for their turn to be called in. Granted, he'd only been waiting for ten minutes, but they were scheduled to be called about right now. "What?"

"Please." Her tone was desperate. "I'll explain later."

He looked around at people going in, not understanding, but her urgent tone struck him as being very pleading at the same time. Her hand was on her satchel and she looked pale. She shivered, looking miserable with how soaked she was, and as deftly as he could, Athrun peeled off his jacket while balancing his umbrella with one hand, offering his coat to her.

"You'd better take this first." He told her.

Giving him a wan little smile, she accepted. "Thanks."

"Let's go back to the office instead." Athrun decided, stepping out of the queue and nodding at the grateful couple behind him. "If we're lucky, Vino hasn't left yet, and even if he has, I have a set of spare keys." He looked at her, not sure why the wafting smells from Marle's wasn't tempting her the way it was for him. "Aren't you hungry?"

"No." She shook her head numbly, and as if afraid that he would turn back to the queue, stepped out from under the umbrella and began to stride forward, not caring that she was getting drenched all over again.

"Hey!"

Athrun began hurrying after her, muttering a curse attributed to his bafflement under his breath.


About an hour later, they were mostly dry.

"So you don't carry umbrellas with you?" He asked amusedly when she came to the pantry in a spare suit that he would normally have reserved for court days.

She coughed her embarrassment. "Lucky day, I guess."

"I'll say." Athrun grinned. "Normally, I wouldn't have that spare suit."

As it was, the central heating had been shut off by the management of the building, and Athrun was warming his hands while cooking. She had come to the pantry, somehow aware that the fire that he'd started over the stove was the only way of finding some warmth here. They looked a sorry state—the both of them. Athrun had rolled up his damp sleeves after he'd dried himself as best as possible with a clean gym towel he'd found from Dearka's desk. Cagalli, being quite soaked in her original clothes, had taken up his offer of wearing his spare suit.

Cagalli moved a bit closer, warming her hands and laughing quietly at how funny it all seemed. "Like we got flushed up and were left stranded."

"Well, we won't last more than a few hours," Athrun smiled back. "Seeing that we've used nearly all our rations." He smiled wavered a little as he considered how the building's security guard had stared beadily at the two of them going in when nearly everyone had left already. "Er—actually, should I drive you back?"

She looked confused for a second, then chuckled. "Oh, come now, I didn't come to this part of town to be driven straight home without a file or dinner. As for you, you can't possibly be that paranoid about what the security guard thinks we're up to!"

Athrun smiled weakly, thinking of the leer that the old geezer had shot him. "Sure."

"Besides," Cagalli said absent-mindedly, "You've made me hungry."

Already, the smell of the instant pasta that Athrun had sneaked from Vino's table was heavy in the air. Vino had left, and in the interest of survival, Athrun had taken those without his permission. Given how hungry Athrun was, it smelt as good as the roasts from the restaurant that they'd left without getting anything from.

She tiptoed a bit nearer now, barefoot. Her shoes had been left somewhere near Athrun's desk, creating a huge wet stain in the carpet, but as Athrun had assured her, he really didn't mind.

The look of fear had gone from her eyes, but he could not forget it. There had definitely been a shadow of it even as she'd entered the building and taken a lift up with him to the office. While that had given way to curiosity, there was no doubt in his mind that she'd definitely had some bad experiences that she was so far keeping mum about.

Now, Cagalli began sniffing inquisitively at the sleeve of the shirt that she was now wearing. "I never thought that I'd be wearing a solicitor's clothes. It feels…" She paused. "Like any other shirt."

He laughed. "Now you know that we're normal humans too."

"Well, I could always argue that it's the clothes that are normal, not the wearers." She retorted, rolling up the too-long sleeves as she had for his pants. She seemed to be swimming in those clothes, no matter how much she tried to adapt their sizes to her rather compact frame. Yet, there was a self-assuredness about her that reminded him of a guerilla fighter, and she definitely looked less bedraggled after having blown dry her hair. It hung loose nearly touching her shoulders, and she wandered around the pantry peering at the various mugs and things in it.

"Should I help?" Cagalli asked hesitantly. Her voice, he realized, was naturally like this, like she'd caught a bit of a cold.

"It's just instant pasta," He told her, his mouth twitching, noting how unsure she'd sounded. If he hadn't guessed wrongly, Athrun sensed that she wasn't too good in the kitchen. "Even I can handle that."

She laughed, coming nearer to him to peer over his shoulder at the boiling pot. "I can see that." He could smell her shampoo again, because the scent of strawberries and other citrus fruits had become stronger after she'd dried her hair. Unaware of his thoughts, Cagalli mumbled, "This smell so nice."

All too soon, they realized their proximity and she ducked away, looking somewhat unnerved.

"This isn't as nice as what Marle's might have had. Why did you settle for plain pasta?" Athrun stirred into the pot, looking back at Cagalli. She didn't answer, although a strange expression came into her face—it was a strained one.

"Well." He gestured to the cooking pasta, sensing her discomfort. "This isn't all that bad either." Idiotically, he scurried towards the pantry's mini-fridge and dug for more things. He popped up, holding two eggs. "Look!" He resumed rifling the fridge, looking for something besides the beer cans that Dearka had stashed. "I know this looks like a mess, but trust me, Vino has a sweet tooth and always puts chocolate in this fridge—,"

She interrupted him, coming to him and putting her hand on his arm. "Athrun—,"

The use of his name and the contact made him jerk upright to face her, his hands still in the air with one egg in each one. Her voice was soft and tentative, and he could see how small her hands were.

It occurred that something was thumping very loudly.

"At Marle's—," Her eyes were skirted away from his as she moved away, as if she'd sensed how uncomfortable she was making him. "I saw someone that I wanted to avoid inside that restaurant." Her laugh was a shaky one. "Figures— it's a posh place." Her eyes caught onto his, and somehow, she had begun stammering. "I didn't know it was that kind of place. I owe you a bit of an explanation, seeing that you were waiting in the rain to get in."

"Hold it." Athrun cut in. He was still holding the eggs stupidly. "Were you avoiding Yuuna Roma Seiran?" He shook his head, completely mortified. A part of it stemmed from his failure to have noticed. "He was there just now?"

And Cagalli bowed her head, her fringe falling into her eyes now. "I—," She stammered in a manner that suggested that she was racking her mind for words, "I guess I need to apologise for making you wait in a place and then decide that we would give up the reservation." She rubbed her arms unsurely. "I—,"

"If you don't mind me asking," Athrun put aside the eggs and said very carefully, "Why are you so afraid of him?"

Cagalli's eyes snapped up and she looked highly affronted and rather upset. "I'm not afraid of him!" She skirted her eyes away, an action that suggested that she was hiding something. "It's just that he's annoying."

"I see." Athrun turned back, trying to swallow his curiosity. "So does he bother you regularly?"

"No," She said uncomfortably. "He's just annoying."

"I see." He said, unable to say some things that were better off unuttered in Cagalli's presence.

Indeed, it was annoying. He was annoyed that she was hiding something like this, even though she had every right to and he had no right or reason to be more of a nosey-parker than he'd already been. He began fetching a bowl and beginning to crack the eggs, flicking his wrist methodically as the cumulative result of many past failed attempts.

She watched as he threw away the shells, and Cagalli definitely sounded upset when she finally spoke again. "I bet you think that I'm bizarre."

He stared at her. She stood before him, scarlet with what was perhaps embarrassment. Bizarre, Athrun considered, was hardly the word for his friend's twin. Granted, her hair was tousled in unruly waves of gold hay and uncombed. He could see that she was shivering from the cold of the office, and his clothes were too large and therefore made her look shabby.

But in that moment, Athrun knew, in the deepest of defiant, denial-prone hearts, that he somehow found her attractive. It made no sense whatsoever. The girls he tended to be around with were either like Lacus or completely chicks that stuck around for a good romp and then vanished after that.

"You, bizarre?" He considered the firm's fridge. It was perpetually filled with Dearka's beer and very little else. There was Vino's huge pin-up poster of all sorts of pop-idols, including Lacus Clyne's image. Even in the approaching winter, Luna had an endless collection of the minutest mini-skirts that Dearka, let alone Athrun, had ever seen. Athrun, for one, routinely visited a café that he never, ever bought anything from. Heck, there was his personal, growing obsession with a case that could possibly be vexatious. Above all, he was here, cooking for a girl that he'd thought to be a boy and enjoying every minute of it.

Looking at her, Athrun told her as much as he could of the truth. "All of us are bizarre, but some of us are better at hiding it."

Over the aglio oglio that he'd actually managed to whip up, his guest interrogated him.

"So when did this firm start?" Cagalli said curiously, sitting cross-legged across him on the pantry floor. The fire on the stove was still going on, since it was colder beyond the pantry. It was amusing that they were spending a dinner like this, but it was satisfying that both of them were getting along arguably fine even in a strange situation like this.

"Since four years ago." He said told her. "Fifty-fifty from my partner and me."

She mused about this, clearly in thought from the way her eyes flitted elsewhere.

Funny you should ask," He said pointedly, "I thought you wanted nothing to do with solicitors?"

Cagalli shrugged, a pink blush forming below her cheeks. Once again, he noticed how easily she tended to show what she was feeling or thinking. "I'm hiring you, so I might as well know a little more. Know thy enemy."

"Know thyself." Athrun pointed out.

"Whatever." She looked a bit miffed that he'd picked out a part of the phrase that was relevant too.

"I charge by the hour you know," Athrun said lightly. "You sure you don't want to weasel legal advice over dinner?"

"Hey!"She protested, before she realized he was joking. Taking it well, she laughed and shook her head, folding her hands under her chin to survey him. "I suppose your firm hit the ground running though." Cagalli considered. "It's pretty well-known, considering that it's a relative newcomer."

Athrun shrugged. "Lots of luck and hard work."

"But the cases Elsman & Reid takes on all so high-profile," Cagalli insisted, behind forward a little, feeling interested despite her reserves.

"Only because they were expected to fail but succeeded." Athrun told her cynically, offering her more aglio oglio from the main bowl. She accepted eagerly, although her expression was a bit confused.

"Why'd you take those on, if you were sure they'd fail?" She paused, feeling suddenly guilty for assuming that he'd be like all the other solicitors. "Or do you believe in justice?"

Athrun stared at her, the bowl in his hands, her eyes staring wide and suddenly trustingly at him. But his lips quirked and he set it down, shaking his head. "Is there anyone who believes in justice these days? Even if there are damages awarded in say a case of mental trauma, how's that going to make up for the unpleasant experiences?" He shrugged, returning to his food. "We took those cases because we didn't have a choice then—we had to make this firm viable. Having said that, everyone needs some ideals—even lawyers. You'd go mad trying to sue or defend without some of those."

She fell silent, looking at how steadily he said this. "That sounds almost contradictory. So how do you know who's right in the end, if you might have been on either side of the claim?"

"That's why there are so many duties imposed on the lawyer." Athrun considered. "But at the end of the day, it's mostly up to the judges to decide what seems more unfair and to avoid it. And even then, it's mostly perception when you're at a crossroads, when both the plaintiff and defendant seem to be equally gray or equally white. But of course, the judges love it when the plaintiff and defendant are both equally in the wrong and don't deserve legal recourse." He smirked, thinking of Dearka's frequent mimics of various judges. "We all get an early lunch."

"So it's all up to the judge." Cagalli did not seem to find the ironic humour that he found, but shook her head. Her voice was a bit quieter and she seemed to be withdrawing. "Maybe that's why—,"

She looked away, and then took in a deep breath and ate a small bite of her food. Unlike Athrun, she'd been intent on the questions rather than the food itself, and now he watched expectantly. Thankfully, a smile spread onto her face, and he nearly laughed aloud in relief.

"You're a good cook, you know?" Cagalli said blissfully, her fork near her lips. "You're talented. How did you get this good?"

He tried to scoff it off but ended up grinning. The pasta steamed, still hot and very fragrant from what he'd whipped up. From the looks of it, Cagalli was rather taken with the recipe Athrun had created from trial-and-error and constant refining of something Dearka had pulled out from the Heliopolis Women's Weekly in the hopes of impressing his then-girlfriend. Of course, Dearka had given up and had paid Athrun to learn the recipe and deliver the food to Dearka's place. Over time, Dearka had given up on the girl too, leaving Athrun with a hard-earned skill. Obviously, Cagalli was gaining from the skill Athrun had picked up.

"It's so good." She mumbled, digging in happily.

"You're giving me too much praise. It's one of the few decent dishes I can manage." Athrun replied wryly. "And we're lucky we found the food that Vino stashed away."

He nearly laughed aloud at the thought of him dining with his new non-paying client—a bit of a contradiction in itself, coupled with the food he'd had to cook for both of them. Everytime Dearka and he had met with a client over a meal, the client was the one paying for it. But now Athrun thought with a grin, he was the one who'd prepared everything.

Meanwhile, Cagalli had taken the file that he'd brought to her, and she flipped through it briefly, eating and reading at the same time. The ease and carefree manner that she did this with made him wonder if she often had to eat her meals while on the move. Her eyes were moving fast, and then she set it down, shaking her head once.

"It's unsatisfactory?" Athrun asked, his heart sinking.

"How could that be? You've done so much ground work already. But tell me honestly." She said, looking straight at him. "You must think that I have a weak case."

"I can't lie about that." Athrun admitted. "This is a city after all. People have to live somewhere, don't they? People have to have commercial space at a certain point. Something's got to give."

"At the risk of sounding like a hippie, "Cagalli said steadily, "Why does it have to be that forest?"

"Well, why not?" He countered. "It's just a forest to the builders and the people who want money from the building. Maybe it's just a piece of land that's not worth looking after or conserving. Wait." He paused. "I think I can try this. If I get information that there are species of animals in there that are economically viable or should be preserved, then I might have a stronger case."

"Don't leave me out!" She said indignantly. "You mean, we!"

"What?"

"You need my help too, don't you?" She demanded, jabbing a fork in the general direction of the to-be-building. "You need me to let you into this place so you can find the relevant information you're going to use as support for your claim!"

"Not really." Athrun said truthfully. He considered the equipment for measuring sound that he could borrow from Kira. There was also a useful contact that came in the form of another friend, Rusty McKenzie, who worked with the Heliopolis urban planning council. "Just being downstairs would be good enough to measure the noise you're making a claim against."

"I want to help too!" Cagalli said violently, her eyes widening earnestly. She had left aside her food now, and she leaned forward, her voice demanding.

Athrun stared at her in surprise. "Help with what?"

"Getting the information that I need to prove my claim!" She said exasperatedly.

"I can take care of that." He assured her, but it had the opposite effect of what he'd intended.

"You see?" Cagalli cried. "This is precisely what I was afraid of by agreeing to hire you solicitors! I want to be involved because this is my place and this is my case! Or at very best, if I hire solicitors, then aren't we a team? Why do I have to be thrown out like I'm some silly client you only find when you need the money for your efforts?"

"I'm not throwing you out." Athrun tried to say. "It's just that I don't really need your help much." He looked around, trying to find support for his claim. "I could manage diner without your help, right?"

"Oho," She crowed viciously, "You want a Nobel Prize for cooking pasta?"

"If there were one for making do with the most random of ingredients, I'd have gotten it already." He told her with a straight face. "And what's this about you suddenly wanting to be involved in the research and case-findings? What's next? You want to be part of the litigation process?"

"At least the fact finding," Cagalli told him stubbornly. "You can just take it that I'm working on a very tight budget and I'm not going to have you solicitors digging around and taking your time to find what you need and charging me by the hours you spend dawdling around. You just tell me what evidence you need, and I'll go get it."

He raised his eyebrows, considering her suggestion. "And this is your idea of a team?"

"Yes." Cagalli said firmly. "It makes sense, it's more efficient this way. I'm not paying you, so the least I could do is to help out. There's no 'I' in team!"

"There's 'm' and 'e'," He said wryly, twirling pasta around his fork. "I'm sure you've heard of this before."

"Stop twisting things," She said impatiently. "You're such a solicitor!"

"Why, thank you." Athrun said pleasantly, grinning at her flushed face. "Always liked to be appreciated for my work. Why do you dislike solicitors by the way?"

He might as well have dropped a bomb on her.

Her face paled suddenly and she looked down. "I don't dislike them— I loathe them."

There was an awkwardness between them that became incredibly apparent.

"Look," Athrun said, trying to cover up for the obviously painful silence that had now fallen over like a great big smothering blanket. "I'm just trying to make sure I do my job. It's not fair if we make you get involved in things clients never want to be involved in and collect the same paycheck. It's not like you're jobless and have nothing better to do! You're obviously a very busy person with a busy job-," He blinked, realizing she had never passed him any card. "-by the way, what do you work as?"

She muttered something, still eating at an incredible pace, as if he would suddenly demand that she not eat his food because he didn't share food with enemies.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that," Athrun said politely.

"I'm an assistant editor," She muttered again, still shoveling at a magnificent pace. "I work on one of Orb's teams for Dawn's Carriage."

He stared for what must have been the eightieth time that day. "The haute couture magazine?"

Lunamaria Hawke often left around glossy after glossy on her table, and Athrun had often caught sight of beautiful people dressed in fabulous clothing on the covers. Cagalli Yula was turning out to be even more diverse and intriguing than he'd given her credit for. Orb was a huge corporate entity that controlled quite a few mega publications. She gave a tiny, unsure nod, like she hadn't been keen to let anyone know that.

"That's the fashion magazine that almost every female and about half the male population subscribed to," He muttered. "That's the magazine that made jersey popular again."

Her head jerked up in astonishment. "How'd you know that?"

"My secretary said so." He trailed off. While Athrun wasn't the authority on fashion, Lunamaria definitely was. For every designer that Dawn's Carriage had spotted and featured, he or she had gone on to become highly sought-after or household names. Even the already established couturiers prostrated themselves to get featured in the magazine. It seemed that the fashion industry treated it like a bible.

For the fashion-skeptical Athrun though, the only thing that mattered to him about Orb was that its worth was reputedly valued in billions. One of its main cash cows was definitely that fashion publication.

His stare must have gotten to Cagalli, for she looked up, appearing highly hesitant.

"Yeah, I don't look like it." She cut to the chase, preventing him from tiptoeing around the general idea of what she'd put out. "I'm not the glamorous Amazon, model-thin kind like so many of the other editors and people who work on that magazine." She shrugged without any trace of a grudge. She looked almost pleased, in fact. "I've been told that loads of times."

He looked at her, biting back what he had almost said in time, muting it to something of less obvious admiration. "I've heard that Orb is filled with slave-drivers. No wonder you're so tied down with work."

Cagalli laughed. "No more than you. What do you plan to do about my case?"

"Well," Athrun considered carefully. "I need facts to support and build arguments that I'll use in court, so I'll probably get my equipment here on another day- with your permission of course," He added hastily, and she nodded, looking rather hesitant. "—and then we'll measure the frequencies and record it for a week or so."

"A week?" Cagalli looked taken aback. "But the scaffolding's nearly done, and the basics could go up within three months!"

"A week will really support our case." He persuaded her. "In the meantime, I'll be doing research on past leading cases of land-related claims to see whether we can find a precedent. In theory, land-related torts tend to be near-strict liability, but it's difficult to say with this one because the authorities are really supportive of it. Imagine yourself in court—you wouldn't want to take the stand without anything to say."

He had said this offhandedly, but she turned pale. There was that little jolt that ran through her, and he saw as she visibly fought back a shudder.

Unsure, Athrun said, "Are you alright?"

She forced a smile painfully on her face, rubbing her arms. "Yes, I can see what you mean. If this is only the third week they are at work and the sound can be proven to be so unacceptable and above the average the guidelines set, then surely an injunction is necessary because the noise can only get worse."

"Right," He commented, still noting how she was sounding forced and even upset. He wondered what to make of it.

"In addition to what you're proposing," Cagalli said readily. "I want to help. I'll do some fact finding about the building myself."

"No!"

The warning bells went off in his head. As far as Cagalli Yula was concerned, she was not going to come near him with a ten-foot pole, let alone let him represent her in court if she found out who Athrun Reid's father was.

She stared at him, obviously taken back at the abruptness of his spluttered protest. "Why not?"

"Because," He paused lamely. "That would be bothering a client."

She raised a brow in definite imitation of him. "You're doing this pro bono. I might as well get involved."

He looked at her, wondering if he should still dissuade her from it. As it was, there was a stubbornness to her general ways, and he was sure she'd turn nasty if he continued to argue with her. For now, he wanted to continue eating his meal in peace and enjoying the way she sometimes spoke to herself, unaware that he was observing her.

It struck Athrun that truthfully, he found her easily flustered and very amusing to tease and barb. She was intelligent, funny and attractive, and beyond the professional stance where all prospective clients were concerned, he knew that he wanted to work with her. Of course, that was all, he quickly assured himself. There was nothing else to it.

So he shrugged and nodded, although he wondered if he would come to regret this. "As you say then. Team."