Disclaimer: Kidou Senshi (Mobile Suit) Gundam SEED and its characters are copyright 2000-2004 Sotsu Agency, Sunrise, and MBS. English language adaptation produced under license by Bandai Entertainment.

In other words, I don't own the original intellectual property.

Warning: Extremely AU. No Coordinators, no Bloody Valentine, etc. And it's probably going to be depressing for a good duration of the story.

Warning 2: Pairings can be deceptive. Don't get all in a tizzy.

I managed to crank out this six part story in just a couple of days. Sorry if the editing is a little rough, but I'll be away for a while. I wanted to get this out. I might come back later and polish some more. Maybe continue the story?

The chapter titles and end quotes are a stylistic decision I've been thinking of using for some time. Let me know what you think.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Special thanks to DragonBlond for her advice and encouragement.

End A/N

For No One

Work had been slow during the holiday season. It was good to get a little vacation time. At least, that's what Athrun used to think.

The reality was that this vacation was terrible. He needed work to keep his mind off of certain things.

Winter, just past Christmas. Turning his head slightly to the right, he could see that everything outside was frosted over. Many would find the view from his home breathtaking. It was beautiful, especially from the second story master bedroom.

He hated it.

Returning to his original position was nearly effortless. The pillow beckoned and gravity supplied the obedience. He was so well sunk into the bed by now that any half-hearted attempt to move resulted in him returning to this position. Flat on his back, staring up at the motionless ceiling fan.

Athrun had been in this position for nearly a week now, excluding brief food or bathroom breaks. He didn't go anywhere, didn't do anything over this, the most terrible of vacations. That was how he wanted it.

And he hated himself for it.

He had brushed off all his friends for the past few months. Athrun sincerely doubted if anyone out there was still his friend anyway. The phone had stopped ringing days ago.

Athrun tiled his head to the left this time, toward his nightstand. On it were three items. A fourth, the alarm clock, had been flung into the wall the first morning of this vacation. The pieces lay by the dresser in a circular chaotic arrangement, as if wild savages had performed a frenzied dance and passed out. The first of the remaining items was the remote. He always had the TV on, but he never watched it. Occasionally he would put in a movie while up doing other things, but he didn't watch those either.

The last two items seemed to go together by now. Six months, nine days and about four hours since zero hour. One of the items was his father's service pistol, a 9mm. It was often in his hands, but not at the moment. He still had the taste of the barrel on his tongue from an hour ago. Satisfyingly metallic.

The final item was symbolic for the cause of this misery. A picture in a cheap wooden frame. Cheap because he had to keep replacing it. It had often been given the same treatment as his recently deceased alarm clock. Two people, happy and smiling, were in the portrait. Athrun hardly recognized himself, but then he had lost a lot of weight and didn't take care of his looks the way that he used to. Now he was scruffy, sorely in need of a hair cut and shave. But the biggest issue was his weight. He was never a big guy, so losing fifteen or twenty pounds made him abnormally weak and sickly.

The other person in the picture . . . he still got lost in her eyes. Bluish gray was an extremely rare shade, but then so was the pink of her hair. Lacus Clyne.

He hated her.

He loved her.

He hated everything, especially himself.

So full of contradictions. But then, that's how one feels when you lose the love of your life. Closing his eyes, he could almost smell her favorite perfume, almost feel the softness of her lips.

"I'm sorry, Athrun. I just don't love you anymore."

No, she didn't say that.

"I've found someone else."

No, not that either. Things would be so much more simple if that had been the case. She had said she wanted to reevaluate her life, to find herself. Athrun, being the good guy that he was, had been supportive of the decision at the time. Whatever is best for you, then that's what you should do. I love you and want only your happiness, even if it means we'll be apart for now.

Back then he thought this was just a phase, that they would get back together soon. And perhaps they would have if Athrun didn't keep screwing it up. When she said she needed to find herself, there was no hint that she wanted an outright breakup. Knowing that he wanted to settle down soon, this was maybe just her way of putting the breaks on things for a few months while she considered the inevitable proposal. Instead of waiting for the happy reconciliation that they both expected, Athrun had pushed her away. Don't forget that I love you while you're doing your soul searching.

Now he didn't know if she cared for him, even as just a friend. From time to time, he doubted if she ever had. Every time they spoke it ended in an argument. He desperately wanted to be with her and it was driving him crazy, as if she was a powerful narcotic that he had been addicted to for all his life. He could hardly speak to her without blaming her for his misery, even though he also insisted that he was already over her and quite happy to get some space.

"Do you think I'm not miserable, as well? That you are the only one who is suffering?" Such comments fueled both his hope that she still cared for him as well as his despair at being apart from her. It only made him lash out again, like a wounded animal.

But I need you, he always failed to say. He was going to propose just a few days ago as Christmas had been a special time for them. They had dated in high school and all the way through college. Over a quarter of his life had been defined by his being with her. Who am I now? he would ask himself.

The signs had been there for a long time. They were madly in love, or so they had convinced themselves. But they had also lost interest in so many things. Their relationship was stagnant, as if everything was done just to go through the motions. And the whole time, the foundation of their love had been that they were best friends. Maybe that's where they should have left it all those years ago. But none of these thoughts made it any easier on Athrun. Perhaps not for Lacus either.

Maybe that was why Lacus had eventually wanted out. She was so quiet, and yet there was an inner strength that surprised everyone from time to time. She would never be content to remain "that woman with Athrun Zala." Unfortunately, all Athrun had wanted out of life was to be "that man with Lacus." He had no drive, no ambition. And without her, he had nothing to live for.

No one to leave behind when I'm gone, he thought once more as he reminded himself of the taste of the gun. No family and only a handful of friends with whom he had already lost touch. Will I do it this time? Does it make me a coward for killing myself? Or am I a coward because I can't kill myself?

A vaguely familiar voice came from the open bedroom door. "Athrun, what the hell are you doing?"

Athrun retorted, "Perhaps a better question is 'what the hell are you doing in my house?'" His eyes narrowed at the intruder. Meyrin Hawke, a coworker. Someone who he once regarded as a friend. One of the few.

"I was worried," the redhead's fear receded a bit as Athrun replaced the pistol on the nightstand. "And apparently with good reason. I tried calling, but . . ."

Making it to his feet, he saw the reason for not hearing the phone. He had broken the last phone in the house after trying to wish Lacus a merry Christmas.

"Whew," Meyrin made a face. "How long has it been since you bathed?"

Athrun could only glare.

"Well, you get cleaned up and I'll make you some dinner."

For the first time he noticed that there were grocery bags at her feet.

"What?" Meyrin wasn't feeling the least bit self conscious with all this staring and glaring going on. Well, maybe a little. "Something on my face?"

Athrun relaxed a bit. "Yeah, something green."

"You must be so starved you're seeing things," she laughed. "Go on and get ready."

Having been defeated for the moment, Athrun obeyed silently. He found the bath already drawn and waiting on him. Meyrin didn't have the foresight to remove razors and electronic devices from view, however. Perhaps a few moments ago was the first time anyone had any indication that he was suicidal.

Athrun sighed. Well, I'm not going to kill myself with someone in the house. He removed the offending objects from his path before peeling off the pajamas he had worn for the past five days.

While soaking in the tub he stared at his left wrist. Some time ago he had been in the kitchen cooking, wondering why he didn't plow his car into a bridge pylon on the way home. While lost in thought he had accidentally cut himself. He had never given thought to slitting his wrists before. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how he looked at the situation, this particular cut wouldn't kill him. It was about two inches away from the vital arteries. He had treated it himself and a thin scar remained.

Holding his breath, Athrun slid under the water. His head itched like it was on fire, though he had successfully ignored it until now. Athrun wondered how cave men kept their sanity, with all the long hair and no shampoo. Forget the wheel. If I had been around back then, soap and shampoo would have been first on my list of things to do.

As he surfaced, Athrun caught a glimpse of the door closing swiftly, silently. Perhaps it was his imagination, or maybe she was checking up on him. Meyrin was a good girl and always supportive. And she was quite pushy. Meyrin refused to be anything less than a close friend.

But the only girl he ever wanted was Lacus. Everyone knew that. Even Meyrin.

"What am I doing?" he asked himself while shaving in his bathrobe. Leaning over the sink was difficult, but necessary to get a good view of his sunken cheeks. He hurt all over. For the first time, Athrun could see that the stress and depression was affecting more than his weight.

"It's ready," Meyrin informed him.

"Thanks. For everything." Athrun didn't turn to face her.

Instead, she came to stand at his side. "See? Don't you feel better now that you're clean?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Get dressed while I set the table."

Meyrin watched over him like a doting mother. She made plenty of food, all of it fattening, and made Athrun eat generous portions. She also made him eat it slowly, as she didn't want him to get sick.

Being the bright and energetic girl that she's famous for, she could at least do this tactfully. Instead of explicitly barking orders, she kept him too busy talking to eat. The dinner took at least an hour. Probably two.

"Hey, let's watch that movie," Meyrin insisted.

"What movie?"

"That one you used to go on and on about. The one where they have to blow up a bridge."

That was half a year ago. He was a little surprised that she would remember it. "Fine." Athrun went to his room and acquired the desired disk.

Meyrin patiently waited on the couch while he fired up the home theater system in his spacious living room. "This is a nice place. Your parents built it, right?"

"Yeah. Big, empty and reasonably far from civilization." Athrun used to love the place. Of course, that was before losing Lacus. Everything now ready, Athrun took a seat on the couch a polite distance from his guest.

"It's not that far. Only twenty miles from the city."

"That's still pretty far."

"It's only fifteen miles from my house. You should come visit us sometime. Luna's been worried about you, too."

"Isn't she more concerned with how she can get Shinn even more tightly wrapped around her finger?"

Meyrin let out a tee-hee at his little joke. "True. He's totally whipped now."

The two sat in silence for the duration of the film.

"You look tired," Meyrin observed.

"Not really."

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Meyrin offered to help him up, but he politely refused.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening," he scoffed.

"Likewise," she matched his sarcasm. Taking him by the arm, she led him to the master bedroom upstairs. "Get some rest. We've got a busy day tomorrow."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You need a new alarm clock and some phones. And if you don't stop breaking them, I'm going to lock you in a padded room at the hospital."

Athrun awoke to the same scene as the previous few days. Things were still covered in a thin layer of ice and snow outside, though the roads were quite clear and passable. His TV was off, though he didn't remember whether or not he went to sleep with it on. The remains of his alarm clock and phone were nowhere to be found. Those were not the only things that were out of place.

His picture was missing. And his father's pistol. And many other things. There were once shoe boxes filled with love letters and greeting cards Lacus had sent him over the years, each of which still carried the scent of her perfumes. There used to be a stuffed animal that Lacus slept with as a child. It was her most precious childhood possession. At the time, it meant a lot that she would give it to him. "So you'll never be lonely when I'm away," she had said. "Wherever I am, know that I'll always love you."

Tingling olfactory nerves brought him out of his pensive state. The smell of bacon made his mouth water, seducing him into following the salt cured sent down the stairs, past the breakfast nook and into the kitchen.

"Good morning."

It was Meyrin again. In her pajamas.

"Moving in?" Athrun cocked an eyebrow at the increasingly unwelcome house guest.

Meyrin thought about that for a moment before responding, as if wondering what type of retort would be most appropriate. She decided that honesty should prevail over wit in this one instance. "I was worried and didn't want to leave you alone."

The sincerity in her voice and genuine concern on her face kept Athrun from responding as harshly as he would have liked. "Whatever."

"I noticed you have a guitar in the spare bedroom. Do you still play?" She placed a plate of food in front of him as he sat at the small breakfast table.

"No. I haven't played in a while," he lied.

"A shame. I'd like to hear you some time." Meyrin knew full well that it would remind him too much of Lacus, but if he was ever going to survive this he would have to learn to live with the fact he would still have to deal with these things. If he shut himself off from everything that reminded him of her, then there wouldn't be anything left. He had been with her too long.

"Maybe I will sometime," he almost offered. He didn't really want to and immediately regretted hinting that he would. He had only played for Lacus.

"I'll hold you to that," Meyrin promised. As a matter of fact, she would try to get him to tune up and play before they left.

And he did, though she didn't really care for the song. It was a beautiful melody, but very sad. It reflected his mood and situation almost perfectly. The strums were a soft and even ohm-pah-pah-pah, but it was the words that nearly yanked tears from her eyes.

"Your day breaks, your mind aches; you find that all her words of kindness linger on when she no longer needs you.
She wakes up, she makes up; she takes her time and doesn't feel she has to hurry, she no longer needs you.
And in her eyes you see nothing; no sign of love behind the tears, cried for no one. A love that should have lasted years."

"You want her, you need her; and yet you don't believe her when she says her love is dead. You think she needs you.
And in her eyes you see nothing; no sign of love behind the tears, cried for no one. A love that should have lasted years."

"You stay home, she goes out; she says that long ago she knew someone, but now he's gone. She doesn't need him.
Your day breaks, your mind aches; there will be times when all the things she said will fill your head. You won't forget her.
And in her eyes you see nothing; no sign of love behind the tears, cried for no one. A love that should have lasted years."(1)

It was this moment when Meyrin finally understood the depths of Athrun's sorrow. He had lost a large part of what made him who he was. And the pain in his voice . . . it did more to convey his feelings than seeing him with a gun in his mouth.

Cried for no one . . .
1. "For No One," Lennon/McCartney. Revolver, 1966.