Betareading by Strata-Assassin

Deception

Aprilius City, December 15, C.E. 81

"I'm sorry the authorization is taking so long to be processed."

The military hospital receptionist smiled, while peering with understandable fear of the councilman, in the black uniform of the executive officers of ZAFT, who was waiting to get the green light to see the prisoner. The officer, who had introduced himself as a lawyer working for the Department of Military Justice Affairs of the Ministry of Defense, had presented impeccable credentials asking to be immediately admitted to his client's room and mentioning unspecified disciplinary actions. Everything exposed in a polite yet firm voice, accompanied by an icy gaze that had reduced the receptionist to stammering some lame excuses while entering his request into the system.

The girl pleadingly glanced at the terminal, hoping it spitted out the lawyer's authorization as soon as possible. If there was one thing that had the power to frighten her, it was dealing with the Justice Department.

Cursing her bad luck, the receptionist peered behind the man, wondering why that lawyer had to show up in the exact moment when Commander Joule –who had been around for most of the day– had had to leave for a recognition of the building. Even if he had ordered her not to let anyone pass, the girl knew he had no authority over those of the Justice Affairs, who were independent from the regular military hierarchy and directly subordinate of the PLANT Supreme Council.

Looking for support, she glanced at the group of soldiers Yzak Joule had left at the reception, but they seemed equally nervous. Their leader was trying to contact his silver-haired Commander without success. He mumbled something about 'wireless lines being down' which made the girl even more anxious. It was really true that, as her grandma said, disgraces never come alone.

"Do you think you can make it? I'm a rather busy person," the lawyer said, now looking slightly irritated.

She gripped the edge of her desk, not daring to stare at the man. His pale gray eyes were disturbing, and they gave her the distinct impression of being under the frigid look of a surveillance camera. For sure, the receptionist considered, he had chosen a profession that suited him well. She had to suppress a sigh of relief when the system allowed the requested authorization.

The girl printed it, unceremoniously placing the badge on the counter, only then raising her eyes on the lawyer. Much to her surprise, he was smiling.

"Thanks for everything, miss."

He saluted her, doing the same with the soldiers in charge of protecting the reception. "Thank you for your cooperation. When you succeed in contacting Commander Joule, tell him I'll meet him in my client's room."

The receptionist returned the salute, thinking that, all things considered, the lawyer could not be a bad person because he had a gentle smile, despite the stern look.


With the authorization in his hands, Nicol took the first elevator he could find for Lex's room. He and Riko had jammed the lines but it would have not taken much for Yzak to be aware something was wrong. His presence at the hospital made the situation a bit more complicated than it already was, not to mention having Athrun there too. If Yzak had dragged an Orb Admiral along with him, it could only be because they knew his identity.

Passing a hand through his short hair, Nicol relegated the thought to the back of his mind; he had no time to worry about meeting Athrun, no more than he had had driving to the hospital to admire the scenery of Aprilius, the town that ten years before he used to call 'home'. There were some new buildings, and an impressive monument dedicated to Lacus Clyne but, for the rest, everything had remained as it was. Nicol would have preferred otherwise, as it was too painful to recognize every corner of that city and associating memories he wished were not his.

When he arrived at Lex's room it was easy to be admitted, waving his badge at the officers, but a single glace at his companion's bed confirmed, again, how stupid it had been for them to accept that work. And how fervently he would have wished not to be there.

From the information and maps he and Riko had stolen from the Minister of Defense database, it had appeared it would have not been impossible to rescue Lex. The only dilemma was his condition which might be rather serious if, by himself, Lex had not been able to escape.

And one look at his friend was enough for Nicol to assess Lex was kept alive by the machines surrounding him, including a cardiopulmonary bypass pump that could not be disabled without killing him. With bated breath, Nicol read the data on the monitor. The cardiovascular and respiratory systems were compromised, the pressure dropping to the minimum acceptable for a man of Lex's size, and his pulse erratic. Lastly, his EEG was almost flat. There was a tablet computer beside the bed, and Nicol elevated it to examine the details of Lex's medical records. It was not a surprise to read his life expectancy was reduced to a few hours. And all for a stupid car accident, evidence of the fact that, despite their hi-tech implants, they were far from invulnerable.

Nicol's eyes scanned Lex's bionic arms, whose circuits laid bare by the removal of the synthetic skin. That was not a consequence of the incident, but the result of an investigation performed even before Lex was properly dead. The desolate vision made Nicol grip the tablet still in his hand so tightly he smashed it. He let it fall abandoned to the ground.

"Miguel had always been right," he murmured with a grimace of pain. "Even for ZAFT we are nothing more than guinea pigs." He was determined to spare Lex, a good friend and one of the most valiant soldiers he had ever met, that last insult.

Nicol looked for the last time at his companion's swollen face then, after having removed the alarms connected to the machines, he meticulously turned all of them off. So serious was Lex's condition that it took few seconds for the EEG to become completely flat. The nanocapsules of acid in his body were set to explode twenty minutes later but Nicol, holding back the tears, took out his smartphone and sent the detonation signal to the devices. Even if already dead, Lex did not deserve twenty minutes at the mercy of ZAFT's butchers.


Athrun was not used to seeing Yzak Joule really angry anymore. He pitied the poor receptionist who had just admitted she had allowed someone to see the prisoner.

Yzak was towering over her. The girl, who looked around twenty and was probably just graduated from the college, standing stiff and pale beside the counter as her commander glared.

"I don't care why you did that, just tell me how he looked," Yzak hissed, inches away from her face.

To her credit, the receptionist had the nerve to reply as a trained policewoman. "Young, with green hair, tall around 5.75 feet, dressed in the ZAFT black uniform." She raised a hand to her face, frowning. "There was something odd about his eyes―"

Yzak did not let her finish. He turned towards the group of soldiers, motioning toa couple of them. "You two, with me. The others patrol the elevators. Do not let anyone leave the building." Then he sprinted to the elevators, and Athrun had no choice but to follow him, glancing with apprehension at the assault rifles their escort was carrying.

When the group arrived at the floor they found the corridor deserted and, breathing in, Athrun could detect a small trace of burning in the air. That was not a good sign. In the last hours, screaming and treating the staff Yzak had obtained to have the floor reserved for the prisoner, so out of the elevators there were only the couple of soldiers Yzak had deployed there to guard the passage. They came to attention but their Commander passed them by with just a small nod.

The group increased the pace, and they were almost running when they arrived at their destination: the prisoner's room. There the stench was stronger, a disgusting mix of burning plastic and flesh. The door was closed, and a doctor was unsuccessfully trying to open it with a magnetic badge. Two soldiers were watching him, hands gripping tightly the holsters of their machine guns.

Athrun heard Yzak exhale a curse.

"Out of the way, you're losing time!" he shouted, swooping down on the group like a bird of prey. He pushed away the doctor then, raising his gun, Yzak blew up the electronic lock with a single shot. The door suddenly opened. Yzak propelled himself inside and Athrun followed him, keeping the sleeve of his jacket in front of his mouth. The room was empty, and wrapped in a thick blanket of smoke. Athrun's eyes turned to the bed, his heart stuck in his throat.

On the burned sheets laid the blackened, charred remains still retaining a vague human form. Nothing was left intact. Even the precious implants so delightful for Dr. Zimmer were now nothing more than oxidized skeletons that disintegrated into ashes under Athrun's eyes. The sprinkler system was operative, and the cloud of water mist was slowly reducing the miserable remains of the terrorist to a black muck.

As quickly as they entered, Yzak and Athrun left the room. There was nothing there to examine.

Stiff with anger, Yzak assailed one of the guards. "What happened?" he hissed on his face.

"We have no idea. A few minutes ago his lawyer left. He told us everything was alright," the soldier almost stammered, as nervous as the receptionist had been. It was not easy to face one of Commander Joule's famous rages.

"A young man with green hair, dressed in the black uniform?" Yzak demanded.

"Yes, sir."

"Where did he go?"

"To the elevators that go down to the underground parking lot."

Yzak glanced at Athrun; those elevators were in the opposite direction of those they had used, so they did not stumble into him. Again, the 'terrorist' seemed to perfectly know how to fool them.

That was probably why Yzak's new order was tainted with nervousness. He tapped his finger on the earpiece. "To all security squads," he commanded. "Stop the elevators and closely guard all exits, in particular those to the parking lot. Immediately report to me every problem. We are looking for a man around twenty-five, with green hair, 5.75 feet, in the ZAFT black uniform."

Then he motioned the two soldiers who accompanied him, throwing himself in pursuit of the mysterious lawyer. Athrun had no choice but to follow, more and more worried. Not for them, but for the man they were chasing. He knew he was Nicol. Reflexively, Athrun's hand rose from his side, only then remembering he had refused to carry a gun. As the burned corpse of Nicol's companion still lingered on his mind, for the first time Athrun wondered if it had been a good idea to be unarmed.

When they arrived in front of the elevators, they realized one had already reached the parking lot. The others were going off order, but it was too late.

"We take the stairs," Yzak hissed in frustration, probably conscious the security measures he was adopting were backfiring on him.

They rushed downstairs, Yzak ahead shouting orders on the earpiece and receiving reports on his smartphone that were not optimistic if the silver-haired Commander was becoming more and more nervous.

Pausing a few seconds, he glanced at Athrun. "I got a report from Dearka. His squad at Lacus' hospital is under fire. Heavy machine guns, apparently."

Surprised, Athrun narrowed his eyes. "Were we wrong?"

"No. It could be a diversion. But, at least, now we know they had no intention of freeing the captured terrorist."

Lost in their thoughts, both friends remained silent for the rest of the short descent, marked by the heavy steps of their escort. Athrun could not believe Nicol had killed his injured companion. That was something the pilot of the Blitz would have never done. Yet, it was another warning the young man they were chasing was not the Nicol he knew.

When they reached the parking lot, the guards they had expected to find there were not in sight. Surprised, they approached the elevators, weapons in hand. One of the cars was at the floor, the doors kept opened by the bodies of two men Athrun recognized as members of Yzak's group. Approaching, he noticed they were just unconscious, but their guns were missing.

"Too late," Yzak exhaled, almost growling, looking away from the elevator car and peering into the rows of vehicles in the parking lot. "And why were there only two soldiers?"

In that moment, the soft noise of something falling to the floor resounded behind them.

"Because you got fooled like a rookie, Yzak. What would Miguel think of you?"

Yzak loudly cursed, but Athrun's reaction was different. The Orb Admiral's eyes widened while he stood crystallized on the spot. The voice that had just spoken, although more masculine than he remembered, was undoubtedly Nicol's.

They turned toward the elevator.

The soldiers who had escorted them were crumbled on the floor, at the feet of a young man with green hair. He was pointing two large-calibre pistols at Yzak and Athrun's heads.

Now that Athrun could see him at a close distance, without the hood covering his face, the Orb Admiral could not deny he still retained a vague resemblance to the boy he knew. Only the look in his eyes was completely different; they were shiny, as if he had just cried, but determined and unnaturally fixed on them.

"Long time no see, Athrun," Nicol said in his typical delicate yet serious tone the blue-haired youth remembered so well.

Athrun did not dare to move a muscle.


San Diego, December 9, C.E. 81
Four days before the attack on Aprilius One

For Miguel Aiman being in California was like returning home. Even if he was born on the PLANTs, his family had lived in that part of the Atlantic Federation for decades before they fled to space, and every time he was there he enjoyed driving along the coastal highway. The bandana and the black glasses Miguel wore in public to hide the scar on his forehead gave him the exotic look of a rockstar, and it was long since he had grown to appreciate the Natural girls. However, that time Miguel was in San Diego to help coordinate the attack on Aprilius One, and that work was gnawing away his time to have fun in downtown.

Walking down the corridors of the modern building where Serpent Tail had its offices, he glanced through the windows to admire the slices of clear December sky that poked among the skyscrapers. Miguel smiled, knowing how powerful the mercenary agency was, rich enough to have its North Atlantic headquarters in one of the most exclusive business districts of the world. Fully registered as a contractor company, Serpent Tail offered its wide ranges of services to anyone who had the money to pay, acting openly, and the Atlantic Federation government was a regular, good customer.
Because of their past, Miguel's group was rarely chosen to work for the Federation, but for that unique work the commissioners had asked for the best agents, and the former ZAFT pilot found it utterly ironic the Federation had to pay for something they had created in first place. However, Miguel had to make sure Nicol and the others he had selected did not damage the agency's reputation and relations with the Federation. And that they come back home to Earth.

Miguel arrived at the briefing room where he had arranged the meeting. Opening the door, he found Nicol already seated on the sofa with a laptop on his legs. The green-haired youth raised his eyes to greet him with a small smile. That day Nicol wore ice blue contacts; he possessed a collection of lenses of any color, except his original one. Miguel had often wondered if his friend was consciously avoiding to resemble too much to his old self, but did not dare to ask. Nicol had matured through the years, finding stability in his new life, yet there were matters he did absolutely refuse to discuss with anyone.

Taking a chair, Miguel sat down in front of him, looking around for something to drink. The vending machine in the opposite side of the room had only coffee, mineral water and a brand of orange juice he detested. Making a mental note to ask the office manager to refurnish the dispenser, he turned towards Nicol, who was still typing something on his laptop, his attention focused on the video.

The blond Coordinator studied his friend, perplexed about how to face the problem. He could act all sensible and supportive, or he could be a derisive ass. Crossing his arms in front of him, Miguel decided for the latter; Nicol could look timid, but insults and allusions had always had the power to bring out his inner harshness. Exactly what Miguel intended to achieve.

"Ready for the mission?" he asked.

"Sure. We'll leave tomorrow and in two days we'll be on Aprilius One. We'll still have one day left to prepare for the job."

Miguel nodded. "The audience of Alexander Borodin in front of the PLANT Supreme Council will be on the 14th; once there, you'll need to carefully plan the attack."

"I know, Miguel, this is not our first assignment, you know?" Nicol glanced at him, lips bent into a soft, derisive grin. "Are you worried for us?"

Miguel relaxed on the chair. It was a good thing Nicol had introduced the issue for him. He gingerly placed his hands behind his head, trying to appear unconcerned. "Actually, it's only for you that I'm worried."

Nicol's eyebrows slightly furrowed in a questioning scowl. After so many years from the incident, he still retained an evident lack of facial expressions but, for Miguel, who prized himself to knowing him perfectly, Nicol's features were like an open book.

"Why?" the green-haired youth asked, in an uncertain tone that contradicted his composure.

"Because that PLANT was your home. And because you're likely to meet Lacus Clyne and Yzak Joule there."

Nicol's reaction did not surprise Miguel. He lowered his eyes, closing the laptop and placing his hands on it. Miguel could not help but stare at them. Nicol had nice-looking bionic hands, with the long fingers of a pianist. But he did not play piano anymore. Those were the hands of a killer.

"I'm aware of this. But I don't care. Lacus was just a casual acquaintance, someone I knew because both of our parents were in the Council, and Yzak was a comrade when we both served in ZAFT. Nothing less, nothing more."

Miguel, who had not missed the disdain in his voice when Nicol had mentioned Yzak, licked his lips, preparing to flee. Through the years, the blond pilot had been very careful not to cross the line beyond that Nicol became really dangerous, and the only time he had forgotten that golden rule Miguel had found himself hanging, upside down, from a sixty story building. He knew Nicol would not be pleased for what he was about to ask him.

"And Athrun? He's supposed to be in Orb, attending his wife and their two newly born daughters. But what if you meet him on Aprilius One too?"

This time, Nicol's eyes stared directly at Miguel. If a look could kill, the blond knew he would be dead on the spot.

"And so? Like Yzak, he was just another member of the Le Creuset Team."

"And a very special companion to you. Can't you accept that after so many years?" Miguel exhaled, a well studied dramatic groan, and raised his eyes to the ceiling. "We've never talked about your relationship with Athrun, but I think I've come to understand why you always avoid the discussion. I've seen the wreckage of the Blitz and, considering Athrun came out unscathed, I suppose that day you did your best to protect him at any costs. It's not surprising, considering how close you were back at the Academy and on the Vesalius."

Miguel studied Nicol's face, a beautiful mask of imperturbable calmness that concealed his thoughts and feelings. Those like him had been nicknamed 'war dolls', and it was a well-deserved description.

"I suppose you know of his relations with Kira Yamato, your enemy that day," Miguel continued, placing the hands on his knees. "All things considered, even if you say you don't care, you still spend a great deal of your time collecting information on Athrun Zala on the official and unofficial networks. Sure, you waste a lot of energy worrying about things in which you have no control, and to track down someone who was just another member of your team." Considering Nicol was still quiet, Miguel decided to push his luck a bit further. "Whoever you'll meet on Aprilius One, I urge you not to do anything funny. This mission is important for Serpent Tail but, more than this, it's crucial that you come back with your companions. Safe and sound."

Miguel rose from the chair, placing both hands on his hips. The fact that Nicol was still silent gave him confidence. "Come back," he repeated. "What would Cecilia say if she knew you abandoned her to run after your former boyfriend, Athrun 'pretty eyes' Zala?"

Only in that moment Nicol smiled. A happy, care-free smile. "Talk about Athrun with Cecilia," he said, sounding as innocent as a ten-year-old kid. "And I swear I'll use your head to play basketball."

Miguel froze. He had reached his goal, but it was definitely time to leave. However, walking to the door, he could not resist provoking Nicol with a final taunt. "Death threats do not suit you, ya know? Better if you prepare for the mission, than losing time stalking Athrun on the social networks."

The blond fled, and he had just the time to close the door behind him before he heard the crash of Nicol's laptop against it. Miguel sighed, complimenting himself for still being alive while walking down the corridor to his new destination. That conversation with Nicol had given him another idea.


As expected, Miguel found Cecilia in her laboratory. A burst of laughter assailed the pilot as he walked inside. He entered, finding Cecilia busy working on Lorran who, he knew, had pretended a modification to her left bionic hand.

The young Coordinator was sitting on one of benches, her beautiful legs, barely covered in a pink pleated miniskirt, dangling over the edge. Unnaturally beautiful, with translucent skin and bright red hair, Lorran was the living image of one of those anime girl figures she liked to collect. And, just like those virtual fighters who were equipped with impossible weapons, Lorran exhibited long claws on her left hand. However, those were anything but fake.

Miguel took a moment to observe the scene. The years spent among that particular group of Coordinators did not make it less surreal.

Cecilia had not realized he had entered, as she was busy chatting with Lorran. After the incident in Nassau that had almost took her life, the two had become close friends.

The Coordinator turned her cat's eyes on him, bending her full lips into a sly smile. "Hey, Cecilia, someone came to visit."

On the scientist's face appeared a shade of irritation while she shot a cold glance to Miguel, before immediately returning her attention on Lorran's arm, spraying something on it. "It's ok, we're done here. How do you feel?"

Miguel was not surprised by Cecilia's icy welcome. The modified Coordinators were her only family, while he was just another despicable monkey, as she called the rest of the human race in her bad days.

The redhead extended her left arm, bending her fingers and retracting the claws that disappeared under her fingernails. Lorran whistled in approval. "Flexible as I wanted."

Cecilia nodded. "Your opponent will notice them only when it is too late."

Lorran cheerfully commented, applauding like a child. "Excellent! You know, guns and rifles need ammo, and my missions sometimes impose a dress code that does not hide even a Swiss knife," she concluded winking at Miguel.

A chill run down his spine, but he successful hid his discomfort grinning at Lorran. She was Serpent Tail's best agent when it came to infiltrate into the life –and sometimes beds- of rich warlords and drug merchants. On several occasions Miguel had heard her saying it was funny. Another proof Lorran was insane, exactly like her companions.

The redhead jumped off the counter, grabbed her bag and, while passing next to Miguel, she caressed his left shoulder with the tips of her fingers. "Aww, I'm bored to death, masked man! Why don't you invite me out for dinner?"

Miguel, who had expected such a request, shook his head. "I don't date minors."

"But I'm twenty-seven!"

"So what? It is not my fault if you look seventeen."

And it was absolutely true, but that was not reason Miguel had for years strenuously rejected the court of Lorran.

"I didn't think you were so politically correct," she replied, pouting as if offended and waving her hand. "Hello, sweetheart. Meoww..."

As the door closed, leaving Miguel and Cecilia alone in the laboratory, he finally relaxed.

For Miguel, Lorran was probably the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. It could not be otherwise, considering the countless reconstructive surgeries she had been through. He could understand how people found her fascinating ―especially someone who did not know what she really was― but he could not forget what lied beneath that flawless skin. Like her companions, Lorran was a compact war machine, or the missing link between the homo sapiens and a multitasking kitchen tool, as Miguel used to joke.

His attention returned on Cecilia who, on the contrary, not only thought those Coordinators were more enjoyable than the rest of the human beings, but who had a regular love story with one of them. Cecilia was still working, her head bent over her inseparable laptop, unaware that Miguel was still in the room. He smiled. She was as crazy as her dolls.

"Doc, you work too much," Miguel said to break her concentration, but he earned only an annoyed look.

"I have to finish this test before Nicol and the others leave. It could be important for their mission."

Of course, when Nicol was concerned everything, even her own well-being, was superfluous.

"Oh come on. The plan is perfect, same for their preparation. I know you are worried, but there's nothing else you can do for them. You should relax and enjoy with your boyfriend the few hours left before the departure."

Cecilia, who was a genius in engineering with the emotional maturity of a sixteen-year-old girl, slightly blushed, not raising her head from the keyboard. "He prefers to stay alone."

Miguel grinned. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. And Cecilia's desolate tone meant she was not happy of Nicol's decision. "You should ask yourself why. Look at you," he said, pointing a finger at her disheveled hair. "You're a disaster."

"And you are being disrespectful," she retorted, finally looking at him. "Whatever. What are you doing here? Apart from being the usual asshole, and peek under Lorran's skirt, was there anything you wanted?"

"Actually, yes. I wanted to do you a favor." That said, Miguel leaned over and grabbed the right wrist of Cecilia, forcing her to stand up. With his free hand he saved the laptop that was falling, placing it on the counter.

She glared at him, aghast. "Are you nuts?"

"No. And, please, stop playing the role of the mad scientist, for once! You are young and in love, after ten years of life in common with Nicol why for tonight don't you show him just how much you care?"

Cecilia opened her mouth, clearly outraged. "I prove that every day. He's everything to me."

Knowing that for Cecilia that 'everything' could be declined in many disturbing ways, and not all related to romantic affection, Miguel shrugged, forcing a devious smile to his lips.

"I know, but he's not only your work, Cecilia. Nicol is young and definitely quite attractive."

The blush on her cheeks worsened. "I know!" she protested, but Miguel laughed.

"Glad to know you are conscious of that," he encouraged. "It's the reason why we are on a mission."

"No way!"

"Sure you'll come, or you'll regret it later."

Softened by the confused look on Cecilia's face, Miguel decided to grant her an explanation. "I'll take you to a classy shopping center where I'll help you to buy a nice dress, shoes with heels, and then I'll leave your in the hands of a make-up artist. Then, we'll book a table for two at a restaurant on the bay."

At that point, Miguel saw the woman noticeably tremble. "For me and you?" she stammered.

"No, silly girl, of course NO!" he replied, overcome by a moment of tenderness for Cecilia. Thirty years and still she did not understand a thing about seduction and romance; good for her he was there to solve the situation. Then Miguel gulped, feeling a shiver of panic running down his back. He knew better than to take advantage of Nicol's lover, one who could very well rip his limbs off one by one for daring to touch his precious Cecilia. It was time to leave.

"Come," Miguel hastily ordered her, grabbing her bag and unceremoniously dragging the scientist out of the lab. She looked at him too shocked to react.

While walking, Miguel felt compelled to explain. "Don't you get that the person you love will leave tomorrow for a dangerous mission at the place that was once his home? Where he will likely meet up with his old friends. You should give him a fucking good reason to come back to you, don't you think?"

If before she had look outraged, this time Cecilia narrowed her hazel eyes, hitting Miguel with her bag. "Nicol will never leave me!" she declared, sounding positively sure.

If Cecilia knew of Nicol's past she would have not been that confident, Miguel figured, asking himself what he could say without revealing too much, in particular the reason why he feared Nicol's potential encounter with Athrun Zala. Aware that Cecilia was not immune to jealousy, an only possible explanation came to Miguel's mind. "You talk like this because you do not know Lacus Clyne."

"Who? The former PLANTs' Chairwoman?"

Miguel sighed heavily. He stopped, placing his hands on Cecilia's shoulders. Serious like he was dictating his last will, Miguel looked into her eyes. "One day, Nicol told me a bit of his past. You know, boys' confidences. Apparently, he was a famous pianist and was intimate with Lacus Clyne, who was a singer at the time." It was not completely a lie and, noticing Cecilia go pale, Miguel knew he had hit a sore spot. For good measure, he decided to add other details.

"He confessed he could not play anymore because it reminded him too much of Lacus. Nicol adored her, and she's still a beautiful woman, younger than you with an enchanting voice." With a sorrowful look, Miguel's eyes run down Cecilia's body. "And she's so much curvier than you. Now, you should perfectly know how unpredictable Nicol is…"

A well-studied silence left the rest of the words hanging unsaid between them. Satisfied, Miguel saw Cecilia bearing her teeth like a lioness defending her cub from a predator.

"Thanks for the warning. I don't think I have to worry too much for a mature idol with a silly color of hair, but better to be safe than sorry. Let's go!"

Miguel found himself running after her, laughing to himself; what would have happened if instead of that pitiful lie about Lacus he had instead reveal to Cecilia of Athrun Zala?


Notes: usual thanks to my awesome beta Strata-Assassin. I don't know what I'll do without you!

Well deserved cookies to all of those are reading, commenting, and favoring this story