A/N: I'm surprised that I'm still getting some feedback for this fic, and I feel so unworthy since I recently reread it and thought, "Wow, why didn't I delete this?" As it stands, it wasn't I that /I bad. So in a stroke of love for this pairing (or masochism), I decided to revise this fic. It's roughly 200 words longer, although I wish I could say that the content is 200 percent better. Some parts still make me go "ew", but I guess I'll have to live with that. And really, upon rereading, I realize that there's so much more I want to say but I'm afraid of overdoing it, so I'll just drabble those loose ends off my system someday.

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Sealed With A Kiss
Written: 04-26-05; Revised: 01-05-07

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As soon as we returned to Earth, she held a special ceremony in honor of the people who'd lost their lives in the war. Kira and Lacus didn't come. They were--or at least, Kira was--still recovering from their emotional scars.

Strangely enough, there were no tears that day.

- - - - - - - - - -

He stares blankly into space, willing an answer, a miracle to appear before him. Lunamaria's words have been reeling in his head over and over again, and, try as he might, he can't seem to grasp the sense in it.

It's all so confusing. It feels like being caught in a tornado, not knowing where he's going or when the spinning would stop. He wishes someone were here to tell him what's going on. But life doesn't really work that way, does it?

- - - - - - - - - -

As she recited her speech, I could see in her amber eyes that although visions of her father haunted her still, a smile arrested her lips.

"We're not here to mourn over their deaths," she explained to her captivated audience. "Instead, we're gathered here to celebrate their lives, and to cherish the future they fought for. We all have to embrace this reality and carry on. This is our way of thanking them."

- - - - - - - - - -

He massages his temples with his fingertips, trying to sort out his thoughts. For some reason, he can't seem to think rationally. Then again, whenever it involves Cagalli, it's hard to be rational; it's even harder when she's gone.

He clenches his fists so tightly that his knuckles begin to turn white. The question in his head right now isn't Where are you?, but Are you alright?
He's never been superstitious, never believed in anything that he's never experienced himself, but today he prays to whoever's listening and wishes for a sign--any sign--of her safety. And he waits.

Silence, stillness. He waits some more. Not a flicker of anything.

Perhaps he should have taken this as a sign in itself, that the only person he needed to have faith in was Cagalli.
Eventually, he does.

- - - - - - - - - -

"There you are."

I didn't bother turning to see who it was; I already knew.

Her fingers closed in around my wrist, twisting me so that I was facing her.

"You walked out before I finished!" she exclaimed, anger coloring her tone. "I was worried that I'd said something wrong!"

"I was... visiting my friends," I explained apologetically, gesturing at the marble gravestones that stood side by side. Flowers were neatly placed above them, delicately framing the names Nicol Amarfi, Miguel Aiman and Rusty Mackenzie. "Besides, I know what you wanted to say, and that's enough. I didn't need to hear any more. Others did."

She released my sleeve, her gaze downcast. Sorry, said the guilty and sheepish look on her face. She took my hand then, and I gripped it tightly. We stayed that way for a while, the silence solemn and comforting at the same time.

This was why I thought Cagalli would be a good leader. She insisted in sharing people's pains because people shouldn't carry heavy weights by themselves (and she'd look pointedly at me whenever she'd say that--like she's one to talk). It's true that she's young and maybe a little inexperienced, but her heart's in the right place and she's strong enough to follow through as soon as she grows into her position, and that's why I'm going to do everything to support her.

When we were out of the cemetary, she finally spoke: "I was scared that they wouldn't listen--or worse, that they wouldn't hear me out at all."

"I believe in you," I said, and I meant it.

"Yeah, but I don't," she muttered. "I can't believe in me when you're not there."

"I'm always with you," I told her, tilting her chin up with my fingers so that she would be looking at me. "So believe."

"Next time, I want you to stay."

"Next time." I repeated in agreement, sealing the promise with a kiss. My other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her closer to me. Her fingers entangled themselves at my nape, and for what seemed like eternity, we held on to each other, hoping, desperately hoping for that one moment to last...

But nothing lasts forever.

- - - - - - - - - -

It's been two years. He had sincerely thought that they could keep up that relationship, but duty is a succession of walls.

Is this the power of destiny? he asks the open sky. The power to play two hearts like a harp, only to sever the strings?

Vaguely, he wonders if Cagalli is still wearing his ring. His stomach churns when he remembers that he doesn't even know if she's alive.

Maybe, he whispers (his voice hoarse with tears he'd refused to shed), maybe it's better this way.

He briefly presses his ring finger against his lips and then holds out his hand, hoping that the wind would carry his kiss and find its way to Cagalli.

'I'll stay,' he had promised.
'I'll wait,' he promises.

A true soldier never breaks his word.