Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD. Please R&R!

Chapter 14

A month had passed, then another, and then a day since then. And Yzak Joule sat in his temporary office, trying not to lose his temper and shred the papers that he had been reading for three times now. It made no sense to him, not because the language was complex or anything, in any case, he had a degree in linguistics, but his lack of concentration was the one that was overtly to be blamed.

He squinted at it and rubbed his eyes briefly; marvelling at the flawless skin that stretched over his face and how the callous scar had been vanished to leave no indication of his stint in the war and the hatred he had felt. And suddenly, his spirits were rejuvenated and a tiny smile tugged at the corners of his lips, he would prove them all wrong in showing that he wasn't useless after all. And more importantly, or rather, most importantly, he'd show Shiho Hahenfuss that he was absolutely fine with or without her.

She was still in ZAFT, he reflected dispassionately, Dearka had mentioned it somehow or another without Yzak asking, and that itself was normal because Dearka chatted about everything under the sun, and yet it was suspicious because the topic itself was too close for comfort. But Yzak was terribly convinced and rooted in the belief that his friend knew nothing about how close Yzak had been to becoming too attached to Shiho Hahenfuss in the turmoil and chaos of the terrible war for either of their own good.

Yzak looked at his reflection and gave up trying not to sigh. He indulged himself with a bit of a yawn after that and stared at himself quite gloomily. Slaving like a bull hadn't been his forte; he preferred hard and fast work, not hard and slow work. The latter was entirely too laborious for his liking, and suddenly, he wished he could go somewhere, a place where nobody would find him and haul him out like a young boy the way his teacher had once done after finding out that Yzak was the culprit for the glue on the seat of some other child who had had the gall to insult him.

It was easy to put Shiho Hahenfuss out of his mind, because he had decided a long time ago that she was something left better unmarred by him, something pure and clean and good, and something he would rather protect by leaving alone than something charred and destroyed for his sake. She had gone to him not for love's sake or even attraction; it had simply been a want for comfort in the war. And he had accepted it then, but now he realised that he had grown selfish and greedy and wanted more than the role of a substitute. And when she hadn't been able or even allowed to give him that, he had chosen to leave. Perhaps he would regret it one day, but for now, it had been easier than living in fear that she would leave him first.

"Nicol Amalfi,"he muttered beneath his breath, his heartbeat painfully slow and measured, "You died without even knowing that she lost her heart to you."

She had told him once, so monotonously and dispassionately that he had to strain to digest what she said. Shiho had repeated herself back then in a tone no more pleasing nor with any more emotion than anything that she had before, "I don't love Nicol any more than as a friend would."

But he had cut her off and scorned her, taunting, "I won't leave just yet, there's no need for insurance for the present."

She would have continued, but he knew that she was there only for the comfort and he placed his arms securely around her back and drew her in to him and she was silent. He had been thankful then even in the midst of the war and the red, stiff material they both wore that pressed painfully against them as she returned his forceful embrace, because if she had spoken, he may not have been willing or able to bear the pain. But she didn't speak and he never got to find out what she might have said either.

And all that was in the past, he thought ruefully, nothing less, nothing more.

Eileen Canaver would be stepping down from her position as chairman in a week's time to make way for Gilbert Dullindal, and Yzak was secretly thankful to her for pputting so much at stake for PLANT when there was so little left to work with.

His mother never got along exceptionally well with her, she had once described Eileen Canaver as a morning glory, young and naïve, good intentions yes, but too reliant on Siegel Clyne's hopes on the future and the dreams she had put her life into. But Yzak knew that wasn't quite the case although there were grains of truth embedded in them, Ezalia simply envied the woman's love and zest for life and Yzak was well aware of that even when his own mother wasn't.

His trial would be held a day from now, and Yzak had already memorised all the answers he would be giving barely twenty-four hours from now. His mother, still confined to her home, had sent for the best lawyers around and personally selected one to be his defence attorney. And yet, the government had refuted it and made it a law for him to answer every question fielded at him with nobody but himself to prove that he was either innocent or guilty.

But Yzak Joule wasn't the only one under the heavy crossfire, in fact, he was just a single one that nobody took extreme or particular notice of. The war had bred so much filth and malice that those who had sinned were facing trials even as he sat in a comfortable chair and worked in an office for the very organisation that would prosecute him tomorrow.

When it was time to leave, he stood up, collected his things and swept them a bit haphazardly into his case and straightened his collar, no longer red, but teal, as it was customary of the Council's members. His mother had told him quietly, but proudly, that he was a fine man in it, and he had been secretly pleased.

As he moved by the corridors, surrounded by an entourage of other council members he had made an effort to be cordial or civil to for his mother's sake if not his own, he noticed Lacus Clyne standing nearby, quite conspicuous because of her hair colour, and speaking to someone he immediately recognised as Andrew Bartfield. He had clashed more than once with Andrew Bartfield, regardless of age or experience on the battlefield to say the least, but that had been in the past, and Andrew Bartfield spotted him and waved cheerily.

Out of courtesy and quite haplessly, he gave a wave in return, and Lacus Clyne turned around, spotting him too, and she smiled, an innocent smile, full of joy and delicate beauty, and he remembered the way Kira Yamato had looked at her. He smiled in return and moved off, recalling the conversation he had had with the others before time had passed as quickly as a cloud being displaced by the wind's hand.

They had been wearing their pilot uniforms, that at least he remembered, and Athrun Zala had been holding Cagalli Yula Atha's hand very firmly in his own. Dearka had had his head bandaged by a girl Yzak didn't recognise, a sprightly brunette with very lively eyes and it was obvious that his friend had been taken awfully badly by the girl.

"Where will you go now?" he had asked Athrun brusquely, and he had sighed a bit and replied softly, "ORB, I want to get away from PLANT for awhile and start afresh."

He had offered his hand to Yzak this time, who took it, the customary scowl now mixed with a bit of a rueful grin and shaken it very firmly. Cagalli Yula Atha had smiled at him, that he could remembered well because her smile was startling and very warm, and she had been like the sun with her mane of blonde hair and bright amber eyes and features. Perhaps she had influenced his friend more than he had thought, but Yzak would never know the extent of her will over Athrun Zala's until a few years had passed, and for now, he could only remember Cagalli Yula Atha but took very little notice of her.

And Athrun Zala had disappeared soon after that and Yzak still didn't know where he was in ORB. Dearka had gone back to ZAFT and had been demoted after his trial, but Yzak knew he didn't mind very much, not when he had a new girlfriend and a lot more chance to slack off while on duty since he had fewer obligations as a non-red-coat.

Shaking his head slightly, he moved on until he was out of the extensive building and council grounds. The sky was reddening like the glow of a cigarette, not that he smoked, he thoroughly disapproved of it even when a soldier had introduced it to him once and the risk of being addicted to it very high. He just didn't like the heaviness and tiredness that hung and clung stubbornly onto him after each puff, and he had ditched it quite easily, much to the amazement of the others. He valued his lungs more than them, he supposed, especially since he had been more keen to go out and kill more than laze around puffing at a cigarette they smuggled in now and then, but that had been in the past too. But now, he still couldn't bear the smell and the stench of the smoke.

It was then that he noticed her, standing quite forlornly at the road junction in a faded blue shirt that had been well-worn. He would have recognised a redcoat anywhere with the blood colour of the uniform she had rolled down and secured by tying the sleeves around the waist and the blue shirt she wore underneath. But then, he would have recognised Shiho Hahenfuss anywhere. She held bag after bag in her hands and some in her arms, bulky carriers filled to the brim with package after package, and he stared in wonder at the steadiness she held onto her load as a beast of burden would. He might have chosen to ignore her and move on, but he found himself striding up to her and clearing his throat a little awkwardly so that her attention was drawn to him and she slowly turned around.

And then she saw him and although it was only a split-second of change, her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly.

"What are you doing," he said, but it wasn't unkind.

She looked at him mutely for a few more seconds and when he got impatient and glared, Shiho tilted her head slightly and answered hesitantly, "Holding things-"

"I can see that," he growled impatiently, "Must I spell everything out for you?"

"-for those back at the camp" she continued smoothly as if she hadn't heard him or even witnessed the impatience he thought he had lost but apparently still possessed in significant amounts such that Shiho Hahenfuss would have incurred a little of his wrath.

"I'll give you a lift," he stated in a non-negotiable sort of way, plucking some bags out of her motionless hands that were positioned to hold everything, "And then you wn't have to cross those roads."

Shiho might have protested, but the noise and the bustle everywhere silenced her effectively and she trudged after him, her hair swinging loosely behind her, long and untied, and dark strands blew into her face, making her seem more melancholic than ever.

He tried to ignore the pang that brushed through him because she hadn't had much of the reaction that might have made him feel as if she wanted to remember anything at all. But if Shiho Hahenfuss, the one that he recalled, had jumped into his arms and declared that she loved him and nobody else, he might have questioned who the impostor really was and what she was doing going around as Shiho Hahenfuss.

"Shut up," he muttered furiously, trying to cancel all the thoughts as he got into the car and placed everything in the seat behind. She got in too without a single word even when she had heard him talk to himself, and he marvelled at her ability to stay so single-minded and mechanical in a situation as awkward as this. And suddenly, he was very bitter, because the situation would have been awkward only to a person who cared about the matter at all, and to another who had absolutely no inclination to care, it would have been made as simple as a ride back to the camp and nothing else.

And the realisation of that would have been enough to shut him up but Yzak was terribly curious about everything and couldn't help blurting out, "What's with everything that you went to buy?"

"Spare parts we couldn't get," She replied evenly, "And dinner."

"So you still stay in the barracks," he concluded softly, keeping his eyes on the traffic, and she made no reply but the air around her was tense.

"Your trial's tomorrow," she stated shortly, her eyes focussed on the dashboard and the bags in her lap, "I wish you the best."

"This isn't an examination," he reminded her a little more breezily than he felt, "Iv don't know how it'll go but we'll see how. I know some have been sentenced to death, some have been proven innocent and gotten off scot-free, I don't know how it'll go."

She was silent, thankfully, and he saw a bookmark poking out of the seat's edge where Dearka had flippantly passed it to him after getting it from somewhere. Yzak had been miffed that Dearka would have handed him all his rubbish like he had a royal duty to go clear it for his friend, but he had taken the book and shoved it somewhere, and it's pink ribbon was hanging out limply and very pathetically.

There was a relight, and he pressed the bakes impatiently. The evening traffic was enough to make anyone go mad, and there were horns blasting rudely through the air. Shaking his head a little, he hoisted the bookmark out of the edge with two fingers and passed it to her, saying distractedly, "Help me get rid of this when you're at the camp. Or better yet, pass it to Dearka, no chuck it at his head and say it's fromYzak Joule with much love."

"Alright," she replied stoically, and she took it and fit it gently somewhere into the folds of one of the many bags. And he stopped and she got off lugging all the bags, and turned to look at him and said clearly, "Thank you."

Yzak might have said "You're welcome," but he nodded, his voice jammed somewhere, and she had disappeared a minute later.

But the next day, when he woke up, got he changed into the suit they had prepared for him and stood in the court, facing the judge with nobody but himself to defend his innocence, he spotted a dark hair and violet eyes amidst the people in the court. Shiho was in fact, sitting right next to Ezalia Joule. And he saw a pink ribbon that looked terribly familiar sitting on the ends of her long, dark mane and had to smile in spite of everything.

And he was able to turn and look at the judge with confidence surging though his voice and the determination in his eyes that he was going to live and live with a vengeance.