Being Athrun Zala
Author: pratz
Disclaimer: Yadate-sensei's, Tomino-sensei's, Sunrise's all the way...
I'm alive, don't worry. Now I'm back, in flesh and blood.
All thanks to Fledgling, who said the most brilliant of things even when I didn't realize it myself and gave this mental case of a person the bonking when it's needed. Mind you, people, Fledgling said you can see a person best when you see how he treats those closest to him about this Athrun. I've no word to say against that, not when it's left unsaid in this chapter. Isn't she genius?
A note in grammar department: I massacre the English with the regular use of Mr/Mrs/Ms along with –san. It's just that when the characters are in a hierarchical relationship (e.g. boss/subordinate, executive/guard), they use Mr/Mrs/Ms because for me they sound more formal than –san. As for –san, I can't just imagine if Lacus, for example, call people merely by their name, and oh yes, it's one of a few Japanese quirks I love too much to part with. And to some extent, Athrun and Kira are as polite as her, aren't they? Fledgling and I think that it's kinda disappointing that the English had no such thing. Oh well. Just so you know...
For your information, the continuation of Being Athrun Zala will not surpass chapter 15. This is final. And I put some changes on all previous chapters. Please do read.
Do read and later tell me what you think. Criticism is good, encouragement is good, and above all, your feedback is simply keeping me alive.
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Chapter 7
H-4 Before the World Peace Conference
Athrun was long used to being independent. He had lost his mother at early age, and he entered ZAFT Military Academy not too long after said loss—a loss he was never able to recover from. Ever since then, he always thought that he did not need anyone to look after him. Even so, his quiet nature tended to make people want to look after him, and one of the people close enough to him to do the so-called baby-sitting was his secretary, William Herbert Young.
His secretary beamed at him as Athrun entered. "Should I unplug the phone for the whole day or send again Mark-san's unidentified virus to the callers?"
Athrun groaned. "Neither, Will. I need the phone, and Mark's busy."
Young snorted. "Spoilsport." He reached for a black planner on his desk. "As of now, you have—let's see—thirty calls and twelve buckets of flowers, which I've asked the janitor to get rid of because I know you won't want to see them. Oh, and," Young flipped a page before continuing, "Meyrin-san called twenty minutes ago."
"Did she leave a message?"
Young's grin widened evilly. "Just this: 'Nice shorts, Alex. Have you been working out?'
Athrun wanted nothing more at that moment than to slam Young's black planner to his secretary's head. "Anything else?"
"Heinrich also left a message."
Most of the officers in the National Domestic Security Affair Office knew about Young's preference, and so did Athrun. Nowadays, Young was dating Erica Simmons's deputy in the Scientific Research and Manufacturing Office, Heinrich Ottmar Walter. For someone who was nicknamed WHY by the press, Athrun thought that it was a miracle that Young dated a man whose initials were HOW. Fate does play a big part in your life, eh, Will? he once commented.
It's fate indeed that makes people meet one another, boss, Young had replied.
It was too bad that Athrun had stopped believing in fate ever since it messed with his life.
"He said you make him so glad that he's gay."
"One more word about it, Will, and I will personally kick you out of this office."
Young laughed heartily, seizing a copy of the newest Extravaganza from the pile of documents on his desk. "Just accept it, boss. You're a priceless prey for every pair of hungry eyes. It's time to show some skin... and more skin, if possible. And no, you don't have the heart to fire me. Who's going to remind you to take a break, to eat, to sleep or to tell Meyrin-san to accompany darling Dietmar after school when you're unable to do it yourself? Who's going to see to you and your crazy schedule? No one but me. You love me too much to fire me."
Athrun tried his best not to roll his eyes in sarcasm. There was something in Young's tone and choice of words that irritated him. "Pampering me, you mean." Yet deep inside, he knew that Young's claim was justified. Young had been nothing but loyal to him these last five years, and Athrun would not want to waste his time to look for a better secretary.
Done with teasing, Young flipped one more page in his planner. "A press conference for the WPC is due to happen in an hour in the Royal Palace. Colonel Hathaway will be there, and so will ZAFT's Colonel Jule. At ten o'clock, a briefing with PLANT's Ms. Clyne. At twelve, you'll see Colonel Hathaway again. And finally, at three, you're summoned to go to Her Excellency's office. Oh, and Stars has requested a short interview with you—if you have time of course. Should I say yes?" Then Young noticed Athrun's glare. "Well, I guess it's a no."
Athrun resorted to head for his office, but Young's call made him pause his steps. Once again grinning madly, Young waved the Extravaganza with his picture on the front page. "You'd better not forget this," his secretary said cheerfully.
Exasperated, Athrun finally gave in and rolled his eyes.
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Aside from Cagalli, Lacus was one of the few women that Athrun was comfortable with. It had nothing to do with the fact that they had known each other long, even before he met Cagalli; it was just that Lacus had the natural charm to make people comfortable. If Uzumi was charismatic and Cagalli was inspiring, Lacus was both. Though she was one step later than Cagalli in entering the world of practical politics, she had more to handle due to limited support in the PLANT Supreme Council.
Athrun blinked. What the hell am I thinking? he scolded himself. It's not the time for comparison. They are both precious to me.
"Athrun."
He turned to meet Lacus's eyes. Giving her a soft kiss on her left cheek, Athrun pulled back just to find her smiling at him. Her smile did not change at all, the gentleness in her eyes present like always.
"Welcome, Lacus."
"I thought you would be at the airport beforehand."
"I've only just returned on time." He shrugged. Lacus already knew about what happened in Neo Equator from Shinn, her adjutant, who was now standing not too far behind her.
"I see." She did not have to say anything else to let him know that she understood.
"Shall we?" Athrun offered an arm, and she linked hers with his. They walked together, Shinn following behind. A black PLANT's official limousine would bring them to the Athha Mansion, where Cagalli had been waiting for the briefing he had scheduled. Shinn sat in the front, while Athrun followed Lacus and sat in front of her. The doors closed, and the engine began to run.
"So," Lacus began, just when Athrun began to think that they would spend the fifteen-minute ride in silence, "could you tell me why my adjutant seems less lively this morning?"
"I bet he lost excitement after parting with Dr. Livingstone," Athrun said dryly.
"Pardon me?"
"Never mind." He waved a hand, leaning onto his seat. "I'm glad you're here, Lacus."
Lacus touched one of his shoulders gently. "I heard about the incident in Neo Equator, Athrun. I'm glad to see you're alright." Her face twisted in a genuine expression of worry and concern. "I never thought it's you yourself who had to go to execute the rescue mission."
He realized what Lacus was talking about. "It's my responsibility, Lacus. And I can't accompany you for too long today. It sounds lame, I know, but with me, it's always work, work and work."
Sighing, Lacus lips curled into a somewhat sad yet still concerned smile. "It's a regret you can't stay any longer."
"I'll pay you a visit next time." He smiled to lighten her up. "I'm planning to take a break next month, and hopefully we can visit you."
"We?"
"Dmitri and I."
Lacus smiled knowingly. There was always a first time for everything, and it was a great surprise, at first, when Athrun volunteered himself to take care of the late Captain Talia Gladys's only son soon after Orb and PLANT signed the Peace Treaty five years ago. Even Shinn, the most skeptical of them all, simply accepted Dearka's challenge to bet on Athrun's prospect to live together with another human being—a child at that, nevertheless.
Dearka, however, had lost the bet by 3,000 dollars by now, and until today Athrun never felt the need to act contrite for Dearka's loss.
A touch of sadness grazed her smile. "You look tired, Athrun. And older."
He shrugged again. "Can't help it."
Again she smiled, the wistful understanding in her smile making Athrun wanted to slap himself for bringing it up.
"I've also heard the news about the memorandum of understanding between Orb and Neo Eurasia." Lacus delicately changed the direction of the conversation, and for that Athrun was grateful. "Mr. Feyedorov seems a little bit too much to handle, doesn't he?"
The old Lacus would never talk about people behind their back, but time, as well as wars, changed people. Even Lacus was not immune to that. Feyedorov was a politician, one of the most prominent public figures in Earth's politic world today, and that was reason enough for Lacus to keep an eye on him. It was better to be attentive than to let another Gilbert Dullindal appear. Experience had taught them more than they wanted to know, Athrun knew.
"Cagalli will know what to do with Feyedorov." Athrun tried to brush it aside, but he could not help the bitterness in his voice—and he could not outsmart Lacus.
"Athrun." She reached to clasp one of his hands in hers. "Please don't—" She stopped, looking not really wanting to say what she had planned to say. "It... pains me to see you suffer. Kira said you haven't been yourself lately."
He knew what she meant. It was not that she was prying. Lacus and Kira were among the ones he would confide his life to, and if Kira shared his thoughts about him with her, he understood. It was just that he felt like a spoiled child to have so many people looking after him. Young was right. With the way he paid little to no attention to his own well-being, he would only call for worry. Twenty-three years, but it seemed that he still knew very little about himself. There was pampering, and there was caring. He should know better.
No wonder that even Cagalli always looked a bit strained when it came to him.
Athrun let a smile, though thin, appear on his lips. He clasped Lacus's hands back. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you so much."
Smiling, Lacus pulled him into a hug. He now understood why nobody, Coordinator or Natural, could live alone. He missed the warmth and the closeness of having another person, of having anyone; this simple contentment of knowing that he was not alone.
The walk from Lacus's hotel room to the lobby twelve floors downstairs was quiet. Some of her staff turned to look at him when he passed them, perhaps wondering why his face was somewhat familiar to them. It doesn't matter, he thought. The man they all think they know is no longer here.
Later, when the briefing with Cagalli and Lacus was finished, he suddenly felt ashamed. Lacus, despite her own problems and heavy load, was still trying to comfort him. Kira, despite having to fake his identity, still took the risk and stood beside him to take care of things. Even Yzak, the last person he would have thought to lend him a hand, did. And he did not want to start on Cagalli.
Always take things for granted, don't you? he said to himself. You really are a horrible, unbelievable joke, Athrun Zala.
It was just not fair.
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Much to Athrun's surprise, Kira was with Hathaway when he showed up at his superior's office. Kira's smile made him wonder if he should mention his and Lacus's conversation.
"Have a seat, Alex," Hathaway said. "Mark is here today to share something with us."
He raised both eyebrows at Kira. "And what is that?" Kira's smile only grew, but Athrun noticed the uneasiness behind his best friend's smile. "Oh, right. I'll just sit here and wait patiently."
"We'll be waiting for one more guest." Hathaway briefly glanced at his watch.
Athrun was going to ask who when a very familiar voice came from behind Hathaway's closed office door. As Hathaway called for the guest to come in, Athrun did not need to look to know who it was.
"Mark Siegfried," Yzak greeted flatly to acknowledge Kira, but he was eyeing Athrun already. "And Alex Dino."
Athrun groaned mentally. His last two meetings with Yzak did not end very smoothly, one of them involving him almost strangling Yzak in this very office. Hathaway must have known this, realizing that his subordinate was definitely not at ease with the silver-haired ZAFT colonel.
"Colonel Jule," Athrun replied stiffly.
"Let's get straight to business." Yzak ignored him and took a seat. Unfortunately, the only empty chair left was the one beside Athrun's, so Yzak had nowhere else to sit but there. He brought a small, silver-coloured metal case to Hathaway's desk.
"Wait," Athrun cut in, alarmed. The last time Yzak brought that type of case, he had terrorised the occupants in Hathaway's office, including Cagalli—and that could be counted as an insult to an official executive. Athrun had a bad forewarning about it this time. "If you're going to show us another mutilated human limb, I'll pass."
Yzak gave him a sharp look. "Then you should just close your eyes and cover your ears, because I definitely don't take any sick pleasure from bringing carcasses around."
"Gentlemen," Hathaway interposed. "Old friends should be able to sit together in peace, shouldn't they?"
Kira tried to hide a grin but failed, and that owned him a glare from Yzak. He coughed into his hand. "I think it's time to get back on track."
Instead of containing a bloody, mutilated hand, Yzak's case held a piece of parchment in a plastic pack. Dirtied and torn on every side, one sentence that Athrun had grown to really, really hate was written on it.
'A blue and normal world we will have.'
Kira looked away. Hathaway dropped his face into both palms, groaning. Despite looking the calmest, Athrun's grips on the arms of his chair tightened until his fingers hurt. He felt cold, the despair and anger he had always felt since Bloody Valentine tragedy returning with strength.
"It's written in blood." Kira's voice was uptight as he realized. "Again."
Yzak nodded. "From the method, we conclude it's another message from the same rats," he said. "It was sent to us a day before Ms. Clyne's departure from PLANT. Addressed to my office."
Athrun was silent. Whoever sent the message must have known much about Yzak, because it was not easy to send an anonymous letter to a high-ranked ZAFT officer. "The sender's address?" he asked.
Yzak turned to look him in the eyes. "Orb's Head Representative's office."
At that, Hathaway snapped his head up so abruptly that Athrun imagined his superior must have sprained a muscle or two in his neck.
But it was Kira who beat him to respond first. "It couldn't be."
"Worry not; we've verified it." Yzak closed his case. "It's a faux."
Yzak's words sounded far like they were coming from a space colony. The wheels in Athrun's brain were already running. Of course the letter would be inauthentic; Cagalli would never, ever propose such a letter. The biggest question was not who; it was how. If the letter could pass the front desk examination in Yzak's office—the ZAFT National Guard, it could only mean that the identification and records were genuine.
"As for my part," Kira said, "my team captured an illegal line trying to intervene with our communication line. We investigated it, and just this morning, we got him. Trust me, Alex, you don't want to know the source of the signal." Kira did not stop on account of Athrun's deepening frown. "He's in the Scientific Research Office, secured, but we're waiting to hand him to the National Security Office. I believe he's more for your department, not ours."
"Well," Hathaway said. "We've got ourselves a rat; it's now time for him for spit out the truth, and that will mean information." The old colonel stood. "Looks like our rats have may have an access through a secret tunnel to the Head Representative's office."
Athrun did not need Hathaway's deduction to confirm his biggest fear.
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They left Hathaway and Yzak as the two of them had to discuss the protocols for the World Peace Conference, and Athrun decided that he had learned enough information for today. It was time to act. Sitting in the driver seat of his car, he called Young to redo his schedule for today.
Kira was looking at him strangely as he pocketed his cell-phone. "You're going to drive yourself to extreme exhaustion."
He did not know whether or not he should be glad that it was not a question.
"I suggest you don't."
"Too late. It's been decided long ago."
"Athrun." Kira's hand on his arm stopped him before he got the chance to fasten his seatbelt. "Please. I'm worried about you."
"You're worried, Lacus is worried, even Yzak is worried; everybody's worried about me. I'm sick of having you all worried about me, damn it! Why can't it stop? Why don't you all stop worrying about me?" A small, weak sound in his mind told him that lashing out at Kira would only make him feel guilty and deeply ashamed later, but he did not care. To hell with taking things for granted, he spat hatefully. "And you! Why did you have to keep things from me?" Kira was his best friend. Kira was supposed to understand him the best because Kira had known him the longest and seen the ugly side of him that not even Cagalli was allowed to see. Kira had to understand him, because if he did not, Athrun had no one else to turn to. I've behaved for so long; why can't I stop and be selfish? "Why can't it be that, for once, I'm the one worried about you? Am I so weak to have to always be pampered? Am I that incapable?" He slammed his head against the headrest—hard. The pain felt good; it distracted him from the more intense pain inside.
"Athrun—"
"Don't! I know what you're thinking, Kira; just don't you dare say it. Just don't! If you don't understand me, start now!"
Kira did not look affected at all by his outburst, but Athrun was still able to catch the glimpse of hurt in his best friend's eyes. Breathing heavily, he looked away. The parking lot was pretty empty, but he still hoped that the volume of his voice had not attracted anyone. It would become a stupid, unnecessary problem for him and Kira, and he did not want more than he already had.
"I wasn't going to say I don't understand you," Kira said quietly. "I was just going to say I don't understand your actions." Then there was silence, a choking, unbearable silence. "I'm sorry."
Athrun wanted to say that it was he who should apologize, but he was muted. He could not utter even a word, not even when Kira unbuckled his seatbelt. It was only when Kira opened the door that Athrun was finally able to call him, though weakly.
Kira offered him a thin smile. "Done?" He patted Athrun's jacket-covered chest, right above the place where his heart lied. "It does feel better here after you let it all out, right?" He moved to get out of Athrun's car. "We'll talk later, Athrun. There's no need to ask you to cool your head down when you're this wound up. So this is my suggestion: take your time. I'll be there whenever you're ready to talk about it." He closed the door and started to walk back to the office.
Athrun knocked his head once again, this time hitting his forehead against the steering wheel, and wondered what Cagalli would say if she saw how low his view of himself really was.
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"I will be direct and short." Cagalli raised a hand a second after he entered her office, not even looking up from the folder she was reading. "The delegation from Neo Eurasia wants one more security briefing before the conference begins. They're currently in Erica-san's office—a part of Orb and Neo Eurasia's memorandum of understanding in scientific researches. They'll be back by tomorrow afternoon, so you can give the briefing yourself. And don't blame me; it's their request."
Nodding repeatedly, he sat across her. "That's all?"
"No, but that's it for the work department." She closed the folder. Tilting her head, she finally looked at him. "Got yourself in a mud pit again?"
"I had a fight with Kira."
She was silent for a moment. "Oh."
He slumped on his chair. "That's all?"
"As a friend of you two, yes. As his sister, no." He understood the sentiment, really. Kira was the only blood relative left that she had. He would have reacted similarly if he had one, too. So he waited to breach her next words. "But I won't ask why. You two are men enough to take care of things your way, so you'd better not disappoint me. Besides, I think it's just healthy that you two fight for a moment or two."
"Well, just remind us not to try to kill each other again if we fight," he retorted sarcastically. Her calm words had caught him by surprise, because he thought that she would mutilate him and use his blood to write Kira a letter saying that she had avenged him. That'll serve me right for being stupid, Athrun thought.
"I'll do more than that."
He slumped forward, head on the desk and hands outstretched to her. "...I didn't mean it."
"No, you meant it, but it's enough that you regret it."
He raised his face, looking at her. "Has Yzak told you?"
"About the faux letter? Well, yes. Immediately after he received it. Lacus knew about it, too."
He suppressed another surge of anger back into the pit of his stomach. He really hated it when people left him out, and the truth that it was those closest to him that did it hurt even more. First, it was Kira; now, even Cagalli did. He wanted to cry out in frustration. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Cagalli leant close, very close to him. "Don't start now. I know how your mind works," she said, touching a fingertip to his temple. "I don't want you to think I don't trust you enough, so let's be frank. I don't want to add to your already massive responsibility. You've got enough in your hands already."
"So you're just sparing me."
She pressed the fingertip on his temple more firmly. "That, too, is out of question." He could feel her sighing softly. "I have enough guards, you know."
He glowered. "If you've forgotten, Indira Gandhi was killed by her own guard."
She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her again. "We're not talking about this again." Then she let go of him, making his nose thud painfully against the glass surface of her desk. "Yzak was right when he decided not to immediately inform you about the faux letter. You're only going to go nuts about my wellbeing."
"That's what he's best at."
"Getting on your nerves?"
"That, too, but that's not what I mean. It's taking the initiative."
"Aren't you, too?"
He shook his head, nose rubbing against cold glass. "I'm not. I'm best at following orders."
It was the truth he knew that she could not deny. Lacus and Kira were firm believers of the importance of free will, but they had never succeeded in influencing him. Time was proof enough of how he messed up when he took the initiative.
"You really are an idiot," she said softly, with no intention to hurt or mock, knowing where his thoughts brought him.
They did not speak again. Cagalli rested a hand on his head, fingering and fiddling with his hair, strand by strand. Occasionally she would let her hand mould to the shape of his head, fingertips absentmindedly rubbing his nape. It was strange that he actually found peace in Cagalli's office, the very place where they had a quarrel after the incident in Neo Equator, where there were no photographs or decorations to remind her of her family, of him.
Cagalli's hand trailed down the length of his arm, her fingers slipping between his. She brought his hand to her lips and gently kissed his knuckles. He forced himself not to tense. She had chosen, and her choice was not him—and he believed that he understood it. That had to stay between them. He could not waver, or else he would fail. Everything would fail. He just could not.
"Will you love me if I order you to?"
It was so soft, so quiet that he thought it was only his imagination. Cagalli's expression did not change a bit when he searched for something, anything to tell him that he really had heard it.
"Anyway," Cagalli coughed once, definitely trying to avoid that subject, "Can you explain a little about this?" She pulled something out of a drawer.
He stared and stared at the newest copy of Extravaganza, the one with his scandalous picture on its front page. Hastily, he leapt to snatch it from her, but she was faster. She put it back in the drawer, grinning wide.
"Not you, too," he warned. "Not. A. Word."
"Come on." She was still laughing, and though Athrun did not hate it—loved it even, he did not like why and what she was laughing for. "You're stunning. Dmitrij's found it good, too."
Though he could feel his face heating, even the tip of his ears hot, he did not miss the name. It seemed that Cagalli had come to first name basis with Feyedorov, and the fact that she did not bother to hide it from him threatened to dampen his recovering mood. He could not let it happen. He needed to stay focused. "You're right; I've got enough in my hands already."
If she noticed his mood shift, she did not say anything. He guessed that she was used to it. It was either that or she was just pretending not to mind.
He shifted, hesitating, coughing once. Then he finally, finally opened his mouth, speaking in a small voice. "Am I? Stunning, I mean." He hurriedly added, "Just curious, you know. Nothing more." It's not going to hurt anyone to know if she thinks I am, is it? Teasing isn't a one-way ticket.
The smile on her lips was brilliant. "You are, I assure you. You are."
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H-3 Before the World Peace Conference
Athrun left his seat as two of his subordinates came to escort the suspected culprit of tapping back to his cell. They had spent five futile hours to dig for information from the culprit, a crooked-nose and square-jawed man, and Athrun began to feel very, very impatient.
"Don't force me to take a last resort," he hissed to the culprit as the man passed him.
"Fuck you, Coordinator-kisser," the crooked nose man spat, hatred burning in his eyes. He was handcuffed and his arms were seized by Athrun's subordinates, but Athrun knew that this man would be very happy to murder him even if he had to tear out his flesh bite by bite.
Athrun was no stranger to the mechanism of interrogation and its forceful-bordering-on-brutal-methods, and he did not object to using it right now. This man had the daring to infiltrate Cagalli's office by himself, and Athrun believed that the man would not cower in the front of potential death. He just knew it from the man's eyes. If he himself was in the man's position, he would not surrender before he reached his goal.
He knew it because they were all the same.
"Drown him in the pool, neck-depth, and don't feed him." This was serious and Cagalli would not be pleased, but he had no other choice. "Hypothermic or not, don't get him out until he agrees to cooperate," he eyed the crooked nose man, "with us Coordinator-kissers."
His men stared at him, partially shocked. "Sir, but it's against—" one of them tried to reason out.
"Do it. Now. I'll take the responsibility." It was the last thing he said before leaving the interrogation chamber.
He headed to the hotel where the delegation from Neo Eurasia was staying since he was asked to give one more security briefing to the delegation. Young had rescheduled his agenda to suit the request, and this was the reason he had to sit for two more boring hours in a closed room. Dmitrij Feyedorov sat on the front row, looking was calm as ever, but his smile reminded Athrun of the culprit's sickening smile at the interrogation. He forcibly maintained eye contact between them, but he preferred to look at the rest of the delegation and the black-suited bodyguards to look at Feyedorov himself.
"And that's all for the conference." He turned off the projector. "If you have any questions, I'll be glad to answer them." As he saw that no one in the delegation was going to ask, he knew that it was the end. "Thank you for your cooperation now and in the future."
Feyedorov approached him after the packed his equipment back into his case. Two bodyguards were standing close behind the prime minister. "Alex," he called. Athrun frowned; he did not remember being so close to Feyedorov that the prime minister could call him by his first name. "I'd like to have your company for tea this afternoon." He raised a hand when Athrun opened his mouth to answer, effectively stopping him. "And before you say 'With all respect, Your Excellency' and all, I want you to know that I insist, Alex. Let's just say it's my thank you." He smiled.
Athrun wondered whether politicians always had a way of making people listen to them, or it was just that Feyedorov was a master in the art of persuasion.
He went to the back veranda of the hotel forty minutes later. A security officer led him to the table where Feyedorov was sitting. If there was something that could surprise him regarding Feyedorov, it was finding him sitting with Lacus, having tea together.
"Ah, Alex. Please have a seat." Feyedorov smiled as he watched Athrun nod to Lacus. "I take it you already know Lacus-san?"
"Good evening, Your Excellency," he greeted Lacus. They had to pretend that they did not know each other very well, but Athrun wondered why she was here—and with Feyedorov, of all people.
"We're having a pleasant conversation, but it's nothing big enough to be put on newspaper headlines. Lacus-san here is as brilliant as her beauty," Feyedorov said.
Athrun's stomach twisted uneasily. Go away, you flirt. She's taken. "Yes, Your Excellency."
"Feyedorov will suffice, Alex. Or you can call me Dmitrij, if you prefer it more."
Lacus smiled at him. Her eyes were apologizing, silently asking him to bear this awkward tea time. "Mr. Dino, we're really thankful for your hard work," she said, trying to break the ice.
"You're welcome, Your Excellency." For my sanity's sake, let this be over soon. It's dead awkward to talk to Lacus like that. He hid a dejected groan. "Colonel Jule from the ZAFT National Guard has also been a really big hand, and of course I have to thank Mr. Feyedorov, too, for the cooperation of his officers."
"I said Feyedorov will suffice, Alex," Feyedorov said. "If you don't mind, please. I don't care if you're going to be stubborn and call Lacus-san with that tiresome 'Your Excellency' all the time, but with me, it's name basis. I wasn't jailed for a world where men aren't equal."
Lacus laughed softly. "That's Feyedorov-san for you, Mr. Dino."
"Oh, I just have a fetish of calling people by their names." Feyedorov joined her laughter.
Athrun's frown deepened. Somehow, something in Feyedorov's character rang a bell.
"Tea, Alex?" Feyedorov offered.
"Yes, please. Thank you."
"It's Russian tea. My favourite." The prime minister poured the tea into a cup. "You know, it's best to drink with apricot jam. The fragrance is wonderful so you won't be able to forget it. And the taste... Believe me; you'll prefer this more than brandy or scotch. Back when I was jailed, this tea was one of the things I missed the most." Smiling, he pushed the cup to Athrun. "Do you drink, Alex?"
"Occasionally," he answered honestly, avoiding Lacus' eyes. Now, she knew that he did not only drink an excessive amount of coffee daily, and soon there would be more who knew.
"I can understand that." Feyedorov sipped his own tea. "Drinking, I think, is just like committing suicide. An escape. The difference is that you don't die directly only because of drinking—or smoking."
"Not immediately," Lacus said.
Feyedorov chuckled. "True, Lacus-san. Some people say it's just like killing yourself. A silent, hidden killer is more dangerous than a blatant one, isn't it?"
It took Athrun's thoughts back to the situation with the pig-headed culprit. He did not enjoy this conversation, not at all. Feyedorov might be a very casual leader and a charming politician, but it did not mean he could just jump over the protocol. Even Cagalli, one of the most informal people he had ever known, would not do it. Politicians had to know the line between being polite and overfriendly. Mannerism, Athrun, Cagalli once said, sucks, but it's unavoidable.
"You know, sometimes I wonder why all guards have to wear black." Feyedorov put his cup back on the table. "It's not that I want to see them in multicoloured clothes—that'll make them look like silly clowns rather than guards. But black's intimidating. And frightening, even."
"I believe that's the purpose, Your Exc—Mr. Feyedorov," Athrun rejoined. "We don't want to scare people, but we need them to keep a distance." He knew that he sounded very calm, but he wondered if Lacus felt it as coldness. "We do not want the ones we guard to get into trouble."
"Because they're ranked VVIP?" Feyedorov inquired.
"Because they are our responsibility."
The tone, intensity and determination in Athrun's voice silenced both Feyedorov and Lacus. He did not understand why they looked so stunned; he was just being honest. He could not tell if Lacus was sympathetic or sad. He only knew that once again he had made a dear friend worried. Or maybe it's genetically engineered into my blood, he thought. After all, I am a horrible Coordinator-kisser.
He almost laughed at the absurdity that the only person he had ever kissed was not even a Coordinator.
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He escorted Lacus back to her hotel room, three floors below Feyedorov's. For the sake of security and effectiveness, all delegations were to stay in a same hotel, and now he felt very thankful for the arrangement. It meant he did not have to bear more of Lacus's openly expressing her concern. Even more so, he felt like he did not deserved even a moment with her since his outburst against Kira.
Yzak was waiting in front of the lobby when he and Lacus exited the elevator. He and Lacus had a short talk concerning the agenda for tomorrow before Lacus bid the two of them goodnight.
"I'm going back to PLANT," Yzak told him when they were in the elevator. "I've just confirmed it to Lacus."
"You won't be here for the conference?"
Yzak frowned. "What do you mean? I'll only be at PLANT for the War Commemoration Day. I'll be here again tomorrow night."
It was a hard, painful slap for him. How could he forget? If you weren't horrible before, you are now, Athrun Zala. He knew that Yzak always attended the War Commemoration Day—a day held in PLANT in honour of the victims of the Two Wars—and brought flowers to the graves of their fallen comrades. The graves may be empty, but I'll still honour those who died as real soldiers, Yzak once said, and until today he still preserved the principle.
Athrun swallowed. "...I see."
Yzak looked like he was waiting.
"Would you," he hesitated, not sure if Yzak would grant him this, "bring flowers to my mother's grave? Lilies. She loved them. And—" something got stuck in his throat, "and for Nicol, Miguel and Rusty, too. And for Heine." Now he remembered. "Heine Westenfluss. You may not know him; he's a comrade during the time I was in the Minerva." He paused. "Would you?"
Yzak was strangely quiet. "Just remember that I'm not doing it for you, Zala." Yzak could be as sarcastic as he wanted, but Athrun knew him. He looked uneasy when Athrun thanked him, but he did not say anything further, nevertheless.
As Athrun stared at Yzak's retreating car, he could not help but thinking of the people who had fallen and of his motherland. He would never meet those who had gone, and it had been so long since his last visit to PLANT. Time sure is powerful, isn't it? he thought, feeling bitterness stake its ugly claim back in him.
He missed them all.
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