Aurora Borealis

Okaeri

Everything around him is broken apart. Of course a world engaged in war is inevitably and badly torn, but it is only recently that the reality of that has sunk in. Though he tries his best, ardent struggle a little more on autopilot every day, Nicol is still heartbroken by Athrun's disappearance. Several units are searching but the results are scarce (read: nonexistent) and it's more complicated than that anyway. Yes, he wants the blunette back safe and sound about as badly as he has ever wanted anything; however, that is not the entirety of his desire.

Unfortunately he is well aware that he could have had nothing more than perhaps a slightly stronger friendship from his MIA comrade even if Kira hadn't been in the picture and, sighing, he pushes the coverlet aside to get up and dressed. Duties need to be performed, no matter how unusually reluctant he might lately have been to leave his room.

Before, in the beginning of Athrun's and Kira's disappearance, almost any company and task gave comfort, simply because it provided something else to concentrate on, if only just a little and for a little bit. Now, as of two days ago, his locked, cramped bedroom is the only place he can relax. On occasion the complicated lock needs aid from a pillow over his head and some kind of noise, piano or the shower, to allow this.

He doesn't want to hear or see anything of Dearka or Yzak as they currently are– pained, angry specters drifting through the corridors only really registering each other. True, this exclusive fascination has long been the case, but whereas previously it was a source of joy it now causes only further arguments and hurt. Since his own emotions are pretty much locked down to prevent implosion Nicol has lived off his comrades' feelings, absorbing an echo of them. It helped the first week or so, when glowing embarrassment and attraction and warmth vibrated between the other two; now…. now he prefers not to be around them any more than is absolutely necessary. Not only does it eat at him how bad (make that "horrid") the atmosphere around the former roommates is, filled with tears and insults, but when they aren't lashing at one another they use anyone else available as an outlet for their dark moods. More than one technician and lower-ranked solider, considerably more than one, have suffered ruthless and senseless verbal abuse, and aside from Commander Le Kleuze no one is safe.

Nicol, like the captain, had to endure the occasional jab even when Yzak and Dearka were not acting like a couple in divorce. As things are now he doesn't stand a chance. It's easier not to take offense, since he knows that mostly everything they say and do are due to other causes, but it's impossible to completely refrain from letting it get to him.

Which does not, unfortunately, mean that he can avoid his teammates forever. Letting loose yet another sigh he puts on the uniform and smoothes it out, finger-combs his hair – he overslept for the first time ever, too much to have time to waste on freshening himself up properly in the bathroom. Once again he wishes the walls were soundproof, so he wouldn't have had to lie awake trying not to listen to the screaming and crying on the other sides.

Yzak truly is like a ghost, white and strained – he obviously does not sleep but is more zealous than ever before, stripped of all warm qualities. No laughter, smiles or jokes, no sympathy or youth or humanity taint his firm, crisp demeanor; only now does Nicol reflect that it was exclusively in response to Dearka that the Duel pilot ever acted happy.

Where his childhood friend does no longer allow for any faltering or failing, Dearka has slipped into a sort of passive aggressiveness. He does what he's supposed to, and does it well, but he's rude and short to everyone, blowing them off as meanly as he can. Nicol always considered his blond comrade a people person, but perhaps he ought to retract and reword that statement to say instead that Dearka is an Yzak person.

The commander seems not to care about the current emotional state on the ship, and given partly that their battle performance isn't suffering and partly that he himself is the only one not to be attacked, maybe he doesn't have reason to. After all, the two involved certainly wouldn't take kindly to outside meddling.

What Le Kleuze would care about, however, is Nicol's being late, and since he has no desire to be brought in for a reminder of the goodness of duty and discipline he finishes his grooming and carefully sneaks out into the corridor, hoping to avoid encounters.

He makes it to the briefing room before running into Yzak. Offering a polite nod that the Duel pilot doesn't seem to register he retreats to the wall, resting his back against it. He's missed breakfast and the first check on Blitz but he's early for the meeting. If he'd been thinking more clearly he'd have realized this and taken some more time out in his room to avoid having to be alone with the always punctual Yzak. Thankfully the other pays him no notice, just stares stonily into the wall, face looking as though it wants to distort itself with livid rage but lacks the energy. They both incline their heads in acknowledgement when the commander, the captain and their aids appear, Nicol deeply and Yzak so perfectly measured that it's almost an insult. None of them react when Dearka turns up just before the door locks.

At Le Kleuze's indulgent wave they sit down, Nicol and Yzak both in the foremost row of chairs but as far away from each other as possible, Dearka a few lines behind his former roommate. They both pretend that they do not concentrate on one another, that the blond's gaze never bores into the back of the silver head, that the owner of said silver head does not react to that on and off staring.

Tiredly Nicol wishes he could just forget all about them and focus solely on the commander.

"I have some very pleasant news today," Le Klueze announces without preamble. "Our missing Athrun Zala has return, along with Yamato, the Strike Gundam and the location of the legged ship."

The world swims before Nicol in a sea of helpless joy-tears and he has to grab onto the seat to ascertain that he's not flying. Athrun isn't gone! He's alive, he's well, his presumed death has been miraculously transformed into a brilliant victory. He's made it back, with Kira and the long sought-after mobile suit and ship. Even the mention of his brunette lover can't take the edge of Nicol's euphoria; he even feels slightly, pleasantly bad for ever doubting the Aegis pilot's ability to come out on top of the situation.

All the rest of what is said is completely lost to him, save the time at which the two returned will arrive with Strike and Aegis, which was stored elsewhere during Athrun's absence. Only when they're already filing out of the room does he deign to notice his comrades' reactions. Dearka has an expression of strained boredom, though hints of curiosity and relief are peeking through; Yzak only allows a faint sheen of startlement over his closed-off features.

Nicol shrugs and continues to walk on clouds. Just two hours, a measly hundred and twenty minutes, and then Athrun will be here. Usually the youngest member of the Le Klueze Team is apprehensive about upcoming battles, prefers even the nerve-eating waiting to the actual launching and fighting, but now the scheduled skirmish can't come fast enough, for the sooner it's done the sooner Athrun will return to them.

Blitz' movements are smoother and faster than those of any other mobile suit he's ever ridden, and for possibly the first time he truly appreciates it, like he suddenly does the strength of the weaponry the Gundam carries with it. Distraction vanishes, washed away by his determination to finish off as fast as possible.

Yzak is wild as usual, and Dearka too is unusually aggressive. Between the three of them they do away with all resistance in almost no time.

Then they're back among the hushed cheers of the mechanic crew that is immediately and completely silenced by one icily murderous stare from Yzak. After a last glance, only half-jokingly trying to assure himself that his comrades won't kill anyone, Nicol slips away to shower and change out of the spacesuit.

Clearing the mist off of the mirror he inspects his appearance with what he recognizes as adolescent silliness but is still unable to help. What does it matter, anyway?

Finished at last, with newly-brushed hair and in a crisp uniform, he rushes off towards the machine hall to meet the arrivals. Apparently they're a little ahead of schedule for both Aegis and Strike are already here. Nicol stares in almost painful fascination as the red unit's cockpit slides open, allowing a view of a thin, red-suited blunette. With measured, efficient movements Athrun unclasps the straps holding him in place and glides down, landing nimbly on the floor only twenty or so meters away from Nicol. He's tempted to run to the blunette and throw himself into his arms, but the absolute focus Athrun directs at the other Gundam holds him back, like it apparently does the others who've come to watch and greet. Now Strike's cockpit too opens, admitting Kira. This time he as well is shrouded in a red space-suit of ZAFT model, which looks unexpectedly weird on him. Still not affording the audience more than a distracted nod they make their way to each other, standing so close that they might as well have been snuggling and speaking in low, private tones.

Lead steals into his limbs, but Nicol gathers his courage and plasters a smile on his face before approaching. "Athrun!" he calls. "Kira-san. I'm so glad to see you back."

They both turn to face him, rather obviously making an effort to redirect some attention from each other and to him. Sickly smiles distort rather than grace unnaturally pale faces with thick dark lines underneath the weary eyes. Nicol mentally stops in his tracks; he thought Yzak and Dearka were bad off. They are, certainly, but not like this. Clearly it has cost them dearly, whatever they had to do to be able to return.

"Thank you." Surprisingly it's Kira who speaks. "It's… good to be back."

This is probably the only time he could get away with it and he really badly wants to so he sort of ought to take the opportunity to embrace Athrun. Shyness, nerves and a feeling of not having the right to holds him back, like it has so often before, but such an action would probably serve to break the dark mood, or at least temporarily distract from and thus lessen it. Afterwards it might be embarrassing, but that awkwardness, tinted with crushes and youth, will have to be lesser than this one colored in dark shades of failings and sacrifices.

So finally he does it. While it is actually an idea contemplated, discarded and persistently taken up again, one that has inhabited his mind for months, he tries to make it look spontaneous. It'll be easier to explain and excuse it that way, if it doesn't appear like the fruit of planning and consequence-weighing that it actually it.

A startle runs down Athrun's frame as Nicol throws his arms around the blunette's neck. The Blitz pilot notices (hell, he's ultra-sensitive to every minor shift in his comrade at the best of times, let alone now) but ignores it for the time being, choosing instead to savor as much as he can of the famous forbidden fruit by leaning close, not heavily, exactly, but definitely not lightly either. It's a clumsy hug, the kind that if it were a kiss would have their noses bumping none too softly – the thought heats his face, both in blush and flush, and he takes the easy excuse to bury his face in Athrun's shoulder, reveling in the sensation of skin and hair brushing against his above the collar of the spacesuit, in the scent that's by now all but gone from the shirt he… borrowed… some time ago.

What I should I do about that? flitters in lazy panic through his head. Should I return it to him? Try and sneak it back in without him noticing it was ever gone? Or is it better if I simply pretend I never took it? Would its absence register on him? I should think not, he doesn't seem to pay much attention to what he's dressed in. Yeah, I ought to just keep it – no, wait, Dearka saw me with it. Before he might just have kept quiet, but as he is now he'll spill as fast as he remembers it. But he'll probably do that even if I manage to return it without Athrun noticing it was ever gone, so does that matter? Of course, I could deny any knowledge and claim that he's making up stories but the suspicion would always be there and what would everyone think?

Apprehensive as he is at the prospect of his hopeless crush being exposed, it's simultaneously extremely comforting that his current worst worry is just his love-interest finding out about an embarrassing incident, not that said love-interest might be dead and gone.

Suddenly frivolous he allows himself to bask in the closeness he has never been invited to share. Having Athrun within the circle of his arms is at once completely alien and like coming home, both awkward and comfortable in a nervously excited way that he knows he ought to repress better than he does in order to minimize the pain that will inevitably follow when he's pushed away. Is it worth it? A few seconds of having something only to lose it? But I want it regardless of whether I can ever have a taste of it, so why should I pass up the possibility? Too late for that now, anyway.

What might be a split second or a year after the initiation of the embrace Athrun's hands raise to clasp his shoulders, perhaps to return the hug or perhaps to push him away. It doesn't do much good to achieve either possible objective, and Nicol reminds himself that Kira is standing right there waiting for them and gathers his discipline, withdraws. For just a second he allows himself to linger, to gaze at the blunette's rather nonplussed face. There's surprisingly little bitterness in the reflection, He doesn't react at all to my hugging him; at Kira' mere presence his entire demeanor changes, like he freaking melts for him. The thought moves his eyes to the brunette still standing beside them, has him wondering whether the purple look can be considered knowing, isn't sure whether the prospect alarms him or even whether it should alarm him.

"Shall we go?" Athrun suggests at last, and Nicol and Kira both nod. They walk with the blunette between them, the lovers' hands brushing with every step and the Blitz pilot feigning ignorance of this.

Five minutes later they arrive in the populated parts of the ship, find Yzak and Dearka in a lounge area. The silver-haired solider has his back against the wall, blue eyes wide and a little glazed before he snaps to attention. His blond companion is sprawled on the one couch, and Nicol briefly wonders whether he was pushed there. That the two are constantly upset is nothing new to him, but this time they seem a little more alive than they recently have, a little less drained and pained.

Unsurprisingly, having never met them before, Kira can't be too clearly aware that something's off, but the blunette is obviously taken aback.

"Athrun," Yzak says, and Dearka nods, as though to be considered part of the greeting.

"Yeah," the blunette replies, tired and questioning and inching towards Kira.

Nothing more is said before they continue on their way a few awkward moments later. Nicol's inquiry as to where they're headed is answered that they're supposed to meet the commander for reporting in an hour, previous to which they were hoping to get to their room and rest up a little.

"Of course," Nicol says. "It's just as you left it. Only, the room between it and mine isn't empty anymore, Dearka sleeps there."

"What?" Athrun asks, apparently understandably startled. "What the heck is going on with him and Yzak?"

Nicol doesn't like to feel like a gossipmonger, but he's been more or less forced to contemplate that particular question during a fairly long period of time by now and so sees little harm in responding with his most qualified conjectures. Besides, it's all but necessary information for anyone hoping to deal with the two involved, and whereas Athrun can probably handle himself it's apparent that Kira is a gentle soul, and even with the blunette to take care of him… well, to put it simply Nicol rather doubts that Athrun is capable of quite the same meanness as certain other people aboard. "I think they slept together," he therefore states. "After that I figure Dearka must have said something stupid because Yzak threw him out. They've been insufferable ever since."

Two pairs of eyebrows rocket upward before Athrun slowly nods, apparently quite surprised by this piece of news. Nicol wonders how he ought to react; then doesn't have to do anything because Kira laughs, a light, glad sound shaking off the previous tension. "Come on," he teases affectionately. "You've been in the same room as those two for more than five seconds, and it wasn't obvious to you that they're in love?"

Hence thankfully it is among headshakes and laughter that Nicol leaves them, returning to his own quarters to hide the shirt Athrun will hopefully soon forget about and perhaps play a little, a happy, hopeful tone to contrast all the grief his poor instrument has been forced to voice lately.

Against reason he can't ignore the temptation to sneak quietly through the same corridor they passed before, to throw a glance at his other two comrades. They have been acting peculiar, after all.

His plan goes awry when Yzak brusquely brushes past him, headed in the opposite direction, stomping fast and hugging himself with one arm, free hand fingering his lips.

Despite how unhappy the Duel pilot still seems Nicol might have interpreted that last gesture as a sign that Yzak and Dearka have kissed and made up, were it not for the sight that greets him just past the lounge area. The Buster pilot too is feeling his own face, and true enough a fingertip strokes over his mouth, but most of his concentration seems focused on the large bruise rapidly taking shape on his jaw.

Pressing down the instinctive impulse to offer to fetch an icepack, Nicol silently slips past the other and locks his door between them.

xxxxx