Aurora Borealis
Fallen Archangel
Waking up on the Archangel feels unexpectedly weird. He's been dozing on and off during the night, cuddling Athrun's exhaustedly limp body against his own, unable to relax sufficiently for real rest with the several other people and their noises also here. His lover's deep, regular breathing and occasional snore are welcome, calming sounds, but the wet noise of Tolle's breast heaving and Miriallia's raw hiccups are disturbing on more levels than one.
At least now Athrun seems better, though – last night he was so weak that the focus of Kira's worry abruptly transferred from Tolle to the blunette, and he was dead afraid he'd allowed them to take too much, nevermind that Athrun is both young and healthy and a Coordinator and hence fully equipped to survive blood-losses that would have killed any natural. Now, with his lover shifting restlessly against him, eyelids fluttering, he can relax.
Loosening the other's arm around his waist just a little he pushes himself into a sitting position. The attempt at stealth was sincere, but evidently he'll have to practice more if he's ever going to be able to get out of bed without waking Athrun up. The blunette was a light sleeper already before the war sharpened his reflexes into near-paranoia, and Kira's light shuffling now causes him to bolt upright, hands instinctively reaching for a weapon that isn't there.
"Good morning," Kira says pointedly, rewarded to have green eyes focusing on and smiling at him as Athrun allows himself to collapse back against the pillows, still much too pale for Kira's liking.
"Right," he replies weakly. "Morning."
The sounds of their movements and conversation appear to have raised the other occupants of the little room; Sai's throttling down a yawn as he straightens in the chair, Miriallia's looking up at them with anxious, bleary eyes from where she's still sitting at Tolle's beside. The brunette natural remains unconscious, but at least now his breathing is deep and regular.
Unwilling as he is to stare, Kira finds he can't force his gaze away. "How is he?" he asks quietly, reflecting that these are his first words to her since before he was shot down and that she might well hate him now; it disturbs him that the prospect doesn't bug him half as much as he used to imagine it would.
"Fine," she says, giving the automatic reply. Then she blinks, obviously physically tired and emotionally exhausted and adds, "Considering. They said he'll probably be all right. 'S gonna wake up soon, too. Maybe even today. Apparently Coordinator blood's real good for people." Her gaze shifts to Athrun, who returns it expressionlessly, then back to Kira and she looks about to say something but swallows it.
"How are things?" he asks Sai.
The natural, who was mostly his usual distant-awkward-kind self yesterday eve, looks strikingly angry. "Seven dead," he says. "Among them Kuzzey and Ensign Badguriel."
"Oh," Kira replies. Looking at Athrun he reflects that he should want to hit him, should scream and lash out at him, but this far after fact he desires consolation and comfort more than revenge, so what he really wishes to do is share an embrace. "I'm sorry," he adds, and that's plainly the wrong thing to say, Sai's disbelieving and betrayed expression announces that quite clearly, but it isn't until several moments later that he understands why – that it's because he spoke the lamentation as a stranger, not as someone who'd lost people too.
A glass filled with transparent liquid on the nightstand catches his attention. "What's this?" he asks nobody in particular; dips a fingertip into the substance and gives it a searching lick before an answer can be given. "Some sort of vitamin concentrate, by the taste of it." Once again the musing lacks a recipient. He nudges Athrun's shoulder. "Hey, you should have some. Here." The blunette allows himself to be scooped up and fed the beverage without resistance, and it actually brings some color back to his cheeks almost immediately. Relived, Kira's moving to put the glass back where it stood when the door swishes open.
His gaze is not the only one flying to Fllay as she enters the room, so pale she looks washed out in the usual pink attire and with dark bags so big they resemble bruises underneath her red-rimmed eyes. Obvious as these are, the clearest sign that she's still desperately grieving her father's death is the matted, plainly unwashed state of her hair.
"Is it true?" she demands, voice rising with every word until she's screaming. "We have a ZAFT Coordinator here and he's still alive? Why!" Fresh tears sparkle in her eyes and down her face. "You killed my father, you sick monster! You shouldn't ever have been allowed to exist! You murdered my father!"
A cold sensation steals over Kira as Sai gets to his feet and unsuccessfully tries to calm his fiancée down, Athrun glances at the two naturals before giving him a blank look under raised eyebrows and Fllay rants on, very nearly incomprehensible at this point.
"She's Fllay Allister," Kira says quietly in response to the blunette's questioning gaze. "Her father, minister Allister, was on one of the ships engaged in the last battle."
"I see." Athrun sounds surprisingly unconcerned for someone lying exhausted on an enemy ship with a hysterical teenager ranting at him; probably too tired to mind the situation. However, when Fllay directs one more accusation at him, "Why won't you say something? You killed him, didn't you? Didn't you!" cold green eyes turn to her, effectively shutting her up.
"Yes," he says. "My unit was one of those taking the EA ships down – undoubtedly your father's among them. Given that he was one of the people behind the murder of my mother, I figure we're even."
Kira feels the world drop out from underneath him as the numb quiet that proceeds the blunette's words is broken by Fllay's teary and bitter, "It's not the same thing at all! My father was a real human! Your mother was just a mistake that had to be remedied! Bitch deserved it, got what she had coming!"
Even if he'd never met Athrun before the frozen expression on the blunette's face would have practically yelled at Kira that Fllay's dead. His lover fully intends to shut her up permanently, and she has about the same odds for survival as a snowball in Hell, for blood-loss or no blood-loss Kira just barely manages to throw his arms around Athrun in time to restrain him from pouncing. Cursing the potion that keeps him from effortlessly wrestling the blunette down he struggles to hold on to the parody of an embrace – arms wrapped as tightly around his lover as he can manage, face resting against his shoulder.
"Run," he tells, begs, orders Fllay. "Immediately."
Fear and indecision painted over her features she remains rooted to the spot until Sai takes hold of her arm and drags her hurriedly away. After they've disappeared from sight Athrun makes a last attempt to escape, then sighs and slumps, very nearly falls, back against Kira. Steadying what, considering his thinness, is likely his lover's entire weight, the brunette inspects said lover with considerable anxiety. His eyes are closed, his mouth slightly open to ease his panting, and distress has drawn lines over his still snow-colored face.
"Athrun?" Oh gods, I did let them take too much.
The sound that answers him is… a sigh? A sob? Laughter? Whatever it ought to be identified as, it's bitter and uncontrolled and has the blunette shaking. "Yeah," he says at length, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Captain Ramius and Lieutenant La Flaga, the latter bandaged and jumping on crutches, have entered. Disinterested in anything that isn't Athrun and calming him down, Kira too ignores the new arrivals and the blunette continues, "I can't believe I let myself think co-existence could be beneficial. Good lord, that's what naturals are like, they're EA and Blue Cosmos and they destroyed Junius Seven and I should never have allowed myself to forget that for even a second, but I disregarded it and saved one of their damned lives! Some son I am, huh?"
He might have said more, but the short pause becomes considerably longer than it was probably intended to be when the lieutenant quietly steps forward and belts him a good one across the face. Without a sound the blunette crumbles, collapsing heavily over Kira's lap. Barely able to process what's happening the brunette catches La Flaga's still-raised hand in a grip millimeters short of breaking the natural's wrist. "What the hell are you doing?" he demands, his voice an unfamiliar hissing. Even Athrun's weak movements, which indicate that at least he's still conscious, don't have much of a lessening effect on his fury.
The blond man's face is pale, but it's Sai's hurt voice from the doorway that says, asks, accuses, "You're on his side?"
That has been so obvious to him for so long by now that he's actually a little surprised by the question. "Yes," he agrees, calming a bit though keeping his grip around La Flaga's fist. "And since when did this degenerate into an issue about sides?"
"Since he started killing us," the lieutenant says tightly, the touch of sarcasm strained by the obvious discomfort caused by Kira's much too hard hold.
"Please," the captain intercedes. "Let's all calm down. Release him, would you, Kira-kun?"
"Can I trust you to not to make any further aggressive moves?" It isn't until he registers the pallor of the blond's skin that he remembers that the need to make such an inquiry should gall him. It doesn't; the only thing that nauseates him is the idea of Athrun hurt, and he has to consciously prevent himself from tightening his grip enough to break a few of La Flaga's fingers. However, when the man nods acquisance not to cause further damage he lets him go in favor of helping a still sprawled Athrun sit up. The punch, which has painted the left side of his face an angry red in screaming contrast to the sickly lack of color dominating the rest of his face, appears to have drained the last of the blunette's reserves, rendering him a limp weight. Eventually, though, his eyes blink open and manage to remain focused and lucid.
"Nobody would have had to die if you hadn't suddenly started shooting at us," Kira says then, returning to the question of when this boiled down to with us or against us.
La Flaga shows the grace to blush lightly as he looks up from examining his injured wrist to explain, "It was a mistake. One of the junior officers happened to inadvertently push his trigger while he was struggling with the safety."
With his lover evidently still too worn out to speak a new challenge, Kira voices the incredulity in the green eyes, "So the entire incident, including the casualties, was due to your own lack of preparation and competence, and yet you have the audacity to try and pin it on someone else?"
Placing a calming hand on the blond man's arm, Captain Ramius attempts to explain, "As you know our resources leave much to wish for on every level, which is the only reason you ended up in Strike to begin with. Little combat training is required for technical personnel, but we had no one else."
"Civilians are more risk than gain in any dangerous situation." Kira's reply isn't, really; rather, it's a simple establishing of fact the denial of which demands further explanation.
Mu La Flaga gives him a look he can't decipher, one resigned and a little wistful. "You've become a Coordinator."
Normally he'd probably have reacted positively to a philosophical remark like that, but not now, not with Athrun leaning helplessly against him, cheek still bright red and beginning to swell. "I've always been a Coordinator," he replies. "I wasn't aware that that was necessary to practice common sense."
"I don't believe it is," the captain says calmly, plainly refusing to get agitated. A wise decision, and an admirable feat, as the only other unruffled individual present is the unconscious Tolle. Miriallia's staring, though with no expression Kira can identify, Athrun's tense beneath the exhaustion, and himself, La Flaga and Sai are all ready to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. Forcing a deep breath into his lungs, he attempts to expel his agitation.
"Now," Captain Ramius continues, "kindly don't take this as insulting, but given the situation I'm sure you understand our anxiety to clarify your standing. Though I generally agree with your denunciation of sides, please specify your current loyalties."
It feels like a kick in the stomach, a sensation rendered even worse by the fact that he can clearly understand her reasoning. "I respect and care for all of you," he says, "and I would certainly not wish to harm you." He pauses, uncomfortable but certain. "However, I will never let you hurt Athrun."
"I see. In that case…" She's interrupted by a discreet knock at the doorway, following which someone hands her a few papers and what looks vaguely like a notebook. Nodding once, twice, she talks briefly and in low tones with the deliverer before dismissing him and gesturing for La Flaga to join her examination of the materials. Seconds later the gazes from two wide pairs of eyes fly from the papers to Athrun and back, the lieutenant's hand tightening around the brunette woman's shoulder.
"Athrun Zala," he reads aloud, blue gaze trained on the couple on the bed. "Solider of the Le Klueze Team of the ZAFT elite forces, designated pilot of the Gundam Aegis." He pauses. "Son of Patrick Zala of the PLANT Supreme Council."
Sharp breaths are drawn by Sai and Miriallia; the former looks about ready to faint. Athrun's expression remains just tired as he says, "Yes. As you are obviously already aware."
"Lost someone on Junius Seven?" La Flaga inquires, not unkindly.
This, however, is not a subject to be taken in any way lightly, as Athrun's strained and somewhat short, "There isn't a person in PLANT who didn't", bears witness to. "Mostly all of my mother's side of the family lived there. She was visiting her parents for the Valentine Holiday."
This time Kira's tightening of his embrace most assuredly isn't to restrain. You lost that many? Not that he'd need to restrain in any case – Athrun is as slumped and pale as ever, and clearly lightheaded and possibly confused to boot for his tongue and temper to have slipped free like this.
"My condolences," Captain Ramius offers, sincerity and sympathy in her voice and face. "I think we are just a bit surprised that you're so young to be involved in a war, especially one like this where the sides are even enough that it seems it might drag on forever."
Athrun gives a sad sort of snort-smile. "There are twelve-year-olds training to become ZAFT pilots." That simple statement is what fully clarifies how huge a catastrophe Junius Seven was to PLANT; to earthen nations it was a great tragedy, certainly, but still on the same scale as other such unfortunate events through history, whereas on PLANT it's real, not a scar but an open wound the persistent picking on which assures that it cannot even begin to heal. "And don't tell me you honestly believe you can keep up as equals in a long-term conflict; PLANT was holding back under Chairman Clyne. That won't be the case after the new election. PLANT will win this war, that much is already fact. It's only the price that has yet to be decided, and whatever that turns out to be it won't be considered too high." He trails off, blinking a few times before demanding very calmly, "What the hell did you spike that vitamin concentrate with?"
Though they don't appear uncomfortable per say, the EA officers don't seem exactly comfortable either as the captain eventually says, "Just a few drugs to enhance the chance of your talking and being sincere. They probably wouldn't have had any effect on you normally, but given the blood-loss we thought it might do some good."
Athrun simply nods, looking neither shocked nor angered – the one gawking at and gagging on the shameless betrayal is Kira himself. "How could you?" he asks. "I know what happened with Lacus, but there was no need – there's no excuse for something like this. He just saved Tolle's life, and you drug him?"
"Easy," the blunette says, hand brushing lightly over Kira's.
Caught up in surprise over his lover's unexpected serenity, his head snaps up anew as La Flaga agrees, "Yeah, relax, kid. Being the kind of solider he is, he has to have expected this kind of thing when he let us at him."
"ZAFT didn't interrogate me," Kira argues, not wanting the thought, he knew, plainly he knew they'd do something to him, and yet he agreed to help Tolle – because I asked him to. "Not once, not about anything save my personal views on the war." They did drug him, but not in secret; he'd even given his consent to the treatment.
"I suppose we'll be content to keep to personal opinions as well," Captain Ramius says. "After all, I would very much appreciate some enlightenment concerning the newest passenger on our ship. Now, Athrun-san, young as you are, you've obviously spent quite some time battling, and I would like to inquire as to how you deal with the losses on both sides."
Athrun looks her in the eyes with every appearance of cold, speculative calm; then he swallows repeatedly, as though unsuccessfully trying to push words back down in his throat. "The EA is the culprit behind Junius Seven and thus behind the entire war – hence it's only the logical conclusion that every death, regardless of whose and by whose hands, is on said organization's conscience."
"Is that… the opinion of ZAFT at large?" the brunette woman asks softly at long length.
The blunette's smile is blank and edgy as a knife. "I believe we have already established the connection between Coordinator genes and sound reasoning."
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