Aurora Borealis
Where the Stars Fall
It was never really supposed to be like this, was it?
Kira Yamato, Coordinator child of two pacifist naturals, raised in neutral country, then dragged into the war on the EA's side – who would have expected him to be sitting quite comfortably on a bed (his bed, as much as anyone else's) in a ZAFT war vessel in outer space?
Nobody, probably, but such is the case with most things in life, so that's not so strange.
And now he is here, and fairly content with this. Things are fine, mostly.
He has people whom he has had to reluctantly leave behind, though. His parents, for one.
Hopefully they managed to get onto one of the emergency shuttles. As far as he's heard, almost everyone did. Then again he knows quite well how dangerous it is to make hopeful assumptions.
A low sigh escapes his lips, almost melancholy in its lightness. If they did not get away one must assume that they did not make it, and if such is the case – well, he'll grieve, obviously, but ultimately there is nothing at all that he can actually do. At most he might try and arrange for a proper gravestone, some kind of delayed symbolic burial. That sort of thing is quite depressingly usual in PLANT; there is an entire graveyard dedicated solely to the victims of Junius Seven. It's a large one, too. It kind of has to be, in order to fit more than two hundred thousand identical and humbly dignified gray stone markings.
From what Athrun's said about it, Kira feels more familiar with the place than is strictly comfortable when he remembers that it's disturbing to be associated with graveyards; the majority of the time he's just relived to be able to ease the blunette's sorrow a little by sharing, however inadequately. He can practically feel himself walking past the lush green grass, good soil apparently for headstones growing in perfectly straight rows, can feel the setting sun on his shoulders, the slight weight and floral smell of a bouquet in his hand, the mild strain in his knees as he crouches and gently places the blossoms before the one particular, identical stone he'd recognize anywhere.
He might do that for his parents, should they have passed away. He might, also like his lover, set out on a rather undefined quest for revenge, try to achieve vengeance and justice and assure that such a thing will never happen again. It might be the emotionally correct response, but he's seen what it's done to others and isn't eager to try his luck. That revenge just brings more hurt is only easy to say so long as you aren't the one needing avenging, but he objectively believes in the general sentiment and rather naively hopes that he'll be able to cling to it in the future too.
But if Athrun were to be killed…
Then other people aren't whom I'd kill, Kira answers his unnerved and nagging subconscious.
Plus, when it comes to the hypothetical question of seeking revenge on behalf of his parents, the issue is complicated by the uncertainty as to who should be considered guilty. ZAFT and EA both had their hand in ruining Heliopolis, and whereas it was the Coordinator military that attacked, the contract between Orb and the EA didn't leave them much choice.
Quite frankly, he has to admit, at this point it is inconceivable for him to make himself the enemy of ZAFT, for several important reasons, all of which are completely unrelated to Heliopolis and his parents. The only option left is to turn against the EA, but then that would be because of convenience rather than true conviction, thus it would be cowardice and falsity to label the quest righteous (if that word can ever be applied in this context) vengeance.
If he were to fight the EA, it would be because he is a solider and wants the war to end. It seems rather clear that that will only happen once one of the two opposing sides has been completely defeated, and ZAFT has the better chance of winning. The nicer government, too, and is more right than the EA when comparing reasons for the war. Most importantly, the one deciding feature – Athrun is part of it, and that inevitably and automatically means that to a certain degree Kira is too, whether he wants to or not.
That does not make it right or appealing, but he supposes that it does make it merely a question of time before he officially enlists. The idea is unwelcome, but far less so than the thought of being even temporarily separated from Athrun.
With some luck, though, he will not have to worry about what to do about dead parents for a long time to come. In all likelihood the both of them got away safely and thus ought to be back in Orb proper by now. They will be all right there. Tense as the entire world currently is, Orb is one of the safest places to be, without war or starvation or even any true intrusion on normal life.
They'll make friends with the neighbors, and with the other employees at their new works, and fit in, go on with their lives. They will miss him, and he will… always look back on them fondly and with a touch of regret. The distance between them was too large, in the end. Kira hasn't used to think that one's being a natural or a Coordinator matters very much, hasn't ever wanted to believe that, but his parents certainly did. Underneath the mild, weary smiles lay always a creeping tension and humility.
And, while this makes him vaguely sad until he shrugs it off, having things more deserving of his grief, such as his lost innocence of which this is only a little part – during his interaction with both naturals and Coordinators before and after the war, it has become slowly but undeniably evident that the only people comfortable around him are others of his own kind. Being more talented than others in one or two areas is one thing, but when one is so ridiculously superior in every aspect… Though one can certainly care for them, is it possible to treat retarded people as equals?
Oh, not that naturals are retarded, in the clinical sense of the word – it's just that a Coordinator is so vastly improved that they might as well have been. The distinction is somewhat fleeting, the very best naturals actually surpassing the worst Coordinators in the formers' areas of expertise, but the difference is there and it's irrevocable.
Naturals his own age he could never fit in with – they could not treat him as an equal, nor he them, because when push comes to show they aren't equal. A prepubescent Coordinator's intellect vastly and effortlessly surpasses that of any intelligent adult natural; the same child could, with the smallest of hardships, beat the trained grown-up in physical combat. Their worth might be equal, but their abilities plainly aren't.
So his own age group is a lost cause, and the adult naturals are even worse. Custom and pride dictate that they be shown respect, that they be better, and they just aren't.
Kira wishes that all of this could be overlooked, that they could all live in peace and harmony together. At the same time, no matter how he hates how prejudiced he sounds, he knows which company he prefers.
Even so the Archangel crew sort of fits the description of people has he reluctantly left behind, too. What he told Athrun earlier is true, he is no longer part of them, is one of them even less than he is one of ZAFT, but they were important to him and they tried, and he took it upon himself to approach Dearka and ask about them after the Buster pilot had returned from his quest aboard the EA ship. The blond, who was friendlier and more distracted than Kira had been led to believe, reported that the naturals were fine, considering. Apparently Fllay is still not remotely recovered, but if she allows Miriallia to calm her down she's moving in the right direction. It seems La Flaga and the captain are hitting it off, and from what the Duel pilot said Kira gathers that Miriallia made quite the impression on Dearka. "What a girl," the blond smiled, something a little reminiscent of awe in his tone. "If I weren't out of the closet and she didn't have a boyfriend… well."
In other words, the Archangel people are doing all right on their own and will, as far as he's been informed, be able to continue like that; ZAFT does indeed treat prisoners well, and the civilians aren't even considered prisoners but will be allowed, even assisted, to return to Orb as fast as they've been examined and identified.
All of which leaves Kira here, sprawled on the bed he shares with Athrun. His lover is out fighting along with Nicol and Dearka. When the blunette isn't around to accompany him they prefer him to stay in the room, the lock-codes on which are advanced enough that he might actually have a bit of trouble trying to break them from the inside. Not that he's been foolish enough to attempt to; he can do mostly what he wants the rest of the time, and it's not like he's exactly a prisoner, nor like he could expect them to let him run around on his own, given his past and the fact that he hasn't de facto joined ZAFT.
Yesterday was bad but not a disaster. Athrun's father is a stuck-up prick, but fortunately he's out of the picture now, and seeing the Clynes again was nice. Mr Clyne was calm and supportive, and Lacus-san was her usual kind self. Her and Nicol's music was welcome background to Athrun smiling through unshed tears, tangling a needy/affectionate hand in Kira's hair, unfolding beneath him.
Still, Kira rather prefers even the unpleasant parts of the previous day over his current situation – at least then he was a participant, could act and help out, knew what was going on, and however uncomfortable things were no one's life was in true danger. This, this sitting around uninformed and waiting and achingly aware that, though the possibility is small, Athrun could get hurt, really hurt – this he hates. Crying and longing and killing on the Archangel was purgatory; this gnawing, freezing helplessness and anticipation is hell.
Reason says Athrun ought to be back safe and sound anytime now, but, again, Kira is far too well aware of how dangerous it is to rely on hope, and the blunette has been gone for rather a long while by now. Increasing worry gradually transforming into a nagging feeling of unrest and nausea, he curls up on the bed, hugging his legs to his chest. It's not the first time Athrun has had to leave for battle, but instead of growing used to the occurrence Kira is more disturbed by it every time.
Then, at last, oh thank god, the door swishes open to reveal a familiar red uniform worn by… Yzak Juhle?
He's seen the pale youth before, of course, sees him everyday though their actual interaction is sparse but polite, but nothing has prepared him for suddenly finding an agitated Duel pilot standing in his doorway.
"Get up," Yzak orders him. "Come with me."
"What?" Kira asks uncertainly, "What's going on? What do you want with me?"
Yzak opens his mouth, presumably to answer, but before he is able to an expression of annoyance and resignation flitters over his pallid features and next second he's clinging to the doorframe for dear life, shaking with coughs.
Moving on instinct, Kira is up and approaching him before he has time to think about it. Coordinators generally aren't supposed to get sick, but this sounds fairly serious and he needs to help – then he stops uncertainly in the middle of the room as he remembers that though not aggressive, Yzak has hardly been welcoming either and probably wouldn't take kindly to unasked-for assistance. Kira would have tried his best to aid him anyway, had the fit not blown over by then, allowing a bleary Yzak to straighten up again. "Come on," he urges, turning on his heel and obviously expecting Kira to follow. Alerted by the unexpected visit, the brunette does, and the Duel pilot continues, "You know the others are fighting, right?"
Kira dips his head in anxious acknowledgement, fear clenching his hands at his sides, and the other continues, "They're not doing too well and need help, and I –"
– neither can nor need to say anything further, because you're coughing badly again, Kira silently fills in. No, it is quite clear that Yzak can't aid them; it is equally clear that they've both reached the conclusion that Kira will do it instead.
"But they put lock-codes on Strike's systems," the brunette abruptly remembers. If Athrun and the others are in sufficient trouble for Yzak to come and get him, then they certainly don't have time to try and unravel those. But perhaps Yzak knows the passwords? He almost has to, since he's fetched Kira.
For a moment he hopes that the grimace fluttering over the paler boy's features is merely a suppressed cough and not denial of this hopeful conclusion, but realizes that that's foolishness, Yzak's eyes spell that out quite clearly, and Kira thinks he'll choke on his fear before his companion grimly replies, "I know the passwords for Duel."
"Oh," Kira says, and the sound is almost a sigh, relief washing over him. "Of course." Naturally the other knows them, and apparently he'll let Kira use his Gundam, and the brunette has the mad impulse to throw his arms around the grumpy pretty boy.
The machine hall, he notes once more, features an almost uncanny resemblance to that of the Archangel. It's certainly a bit better filled out, though, both when it comes to units and mechanics. Several of the latter stare at them as they brush past, but however eloquent the startled and suspicious glances are, no one speaks aloud. One does not, Kira has amusedly learnt, question Yzak Juhle when his brow is wrinkled. The boy might be just a boy, and might currently additionally be red-eyed and out-of-breath from his coughing and dragging a sort-of-prisoner with him towards one of the most advanced weapons history knows, but all of that is secondary. Nobody who values his life argues with the hot-tempered elite, and that's that. Le Klueze might have a chance, Athrun would survive the experience, and Dearka has some crazy talent for it, but even the captain simply bows down rather than takes an argument. Kira can't blame him; Yzak is equally competent and insufferable.
Now he grabs a convenient helmet and throws it at Kira, whose hands snap out on reflex to catch it, then leans into the opened cockpit, pale slender fingers dancing like lightning over the keyboards. Nodding a little, he steps back and allows Kira to take place.
The second he's seated he scans the systems, finds them mostly similar to Strike's and considerably better kept than the other unit's were when he first used them. This will work, then, he can assure himself.
Exploding out into space is so familiar it's almost comforting. No matter how much he hates fighting, waiting in helplessness and fear is worse.
"Yzak!" Dearka's voice snaps through the communication link, tone so worried it becomes an accusation.
"This is Kira Yamato," the brunette replies, hears more than one shocked inhalation from the others.
"What…" Athrun begins.
"…are you doing in Duel?" Dearka finishes.
"Yzak-san sent me out to save your buts," Kira clarifies, is answered by a snort and a chuckle.
He fulfils the lightly worded expectation. Disgusting as that used to be to even consider, he has grown to accept that he is very good at fighting. All his life he's been more than adept at practically everything, but for this he has a real knack.
When they return onboard a little less than thirty minutes later he's calmer than he expected to be. He is ZAFT now, in action if not yet in thought, and while that's never been in his plans for the future he has long since recognized the necessity. He'll have to talk to Commander Le Klueze when the blond comes back, he supposes, but it'll probably go smoothly.
For now he is quite content to return Dearka's wave and Nicol's nod before wandering off with Athrun. Funny how the room doesn't seem stuffy or jail-like anymore when the blunette's in it along with him.
They spend the next few hours like they spend the majority of their free time, curled up together, touching and talking languidly.
"What about the future?" Athrun asks softly at one point, pressing a kiss to Kira's cheek. "What's in store for us after the war?"
"Well," Kira contemplates, smiling, "I always did want a lot of children…"
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