Disclaimer: Get a clue, don't own, don't sue (don't kill me for the super lame rhyme either, thank you very much)
P.R. no 3: Wow, whaddaya know, third chappie already. Huggles to all reviewers D. But as chapter three is really kind of my bad luck chapter so, don't be surprised if it sucks. As always, comments/criticism all welcome, I love them all! XD.
And I took some liberties with Frey's background in this chapter, just to let you know.
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Frey vaguely remembered that the arms that wrapped around her body were warm, that the lips that always claimed her for his own, were gentle, that the words spoken as they became one meant nothing in context, yet everything in essence.
Frey. Oh, Frey, please…
…Come.
Buried in him, she saw his heart in its rawest form, his passions, his desires, however dark, and worst of all, the scars. And it had hurt, it had hurt more than she had ever imagined. The scars that she had carved there in her love for him by her own hand.
She could feel him slipping from her grasp, as he had done many times before. He brushed a final kiss lightly against her forehead and…
I'm sorry, Frey…I have to go now.
He never had to beg, but she did, always, for him to stay. Never once. Not even once.
Oh, Kira, Kira…I'm so sorry.
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With her son not quite eighteen, Councilwoman Ezaria Joule (more informally known as Yzak's mother) was a staunch supporter against underage drinking. Unfortunately, in her eyes; along with vodka and beer, 'drinks' also included anything with caffeine, for example: coffee, tea, coke, and the like.
Yzak did not mind this much, or, it might be more accurate to say that he had not minded, until today. He had gone to sleep sometime around midnight, and woke a mere four hours after.
Unable to return to sleep after he had woke, he had sat on his cot clutching the private's knife and stared across the room at the hostage with the most cold-blooded glare he could muster.
And now here he was, expected to pass the day on adrenaline alone while he could scarcely keep his eyes open. On top of that, he was still expected to put up with her all day. Yzak honestly could feel his hair graying, not that it would actually matter but…
"Kira…please, don't leave…not yet…please!"
Yzak started momentarily at the sound of her voice, but eventually relaxed; they (namelypeople with common sense and experts)said psychopaths talked in their sleep and she was obviously of no exception.
"I…I promise I won't do it again. Kira! I need you, really! Please…"
Suddenly, arguing with his mother over one cup of coffee seemed less than trivial compared to listening to half-conscious rants. If he was discreet about it, no one would say anything. Yzak stood up and slipped unnoticed out of the room.
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"…Pardon me, Miss Allster, but I noticed the door was unlocked so I let myself in." a hand touched her shoulder gently.
Frey jerked up awkwardly in the cot, thinking that Yzak had somehow had a change of heart, however improbable that would be, but instead, she stared up at the weather-beaten face of the private she had bested the day before. "What do you want?" she demanded, her tone at its snippiest, when she recognized him. "You woke me up you know."
"My deepest apologies, but actually, I have to go on a sortie soon…" he blushed and concentrated on the freshly waxed tiles instead, it was clear that these rooms belonged to an Elite. "…And I was wondering if I could, err, get my knife back."
It was only yesterday, when Yzak had openly threatened her with the knife, Frey had not seen it since, nor did she have any desire to, "I think Yzak took it." This time her voice was airy, Frey really couldn't care less.
"…Yzak?" He was taken temporarily off-guard, no one referred to an Elite with such familiarity. "…Do you know where I might find him, Miss Allster?"
"--And I should have also added that there will be absolutely no entertaining the opposite gender in my quarters, Allster. Forgive me for trusting you, after all, you're only a natural."
They both froze simultaneously; the first thought that flashed across Frey's mind was 'Oh shit'. She didn't know what the crimson-faced private was thinking, though it was probably something along those lines.
Setting his half-cup of coffee down on top of the dresser, Yzak grabbed the shock-stricken boy by his collar, "Perhaps I'm wrong in saying that it was the prisoner's fault, I am, however, prepared to take the chances. But whatever the circumstances, I will have you also personally escorted off this ship if I ever see you here in my quarters again. Understand?"
What little color left on his nameless subordinate's face drained, "I'm-I'm really very, uh, s-s-sorry but I was just—I--"
Yzak's go-to-hell expression left no room for argument. The private gave a sort of high-pitched whine and shot out of the room like a bullet, his sentence wisely unfinished.
"You know, Yzak-san, he wasn't doing anything to me," Frey offered quietly, breaking the thickening tension that was getting to be unbearable, "He just, uh, wanted his knife back, you know, the one that you took yesterday…"
The full-throttled glare was upon her again; she flinched, but did not look away, which was a first. Yzak said, "You have no right to speak right now. By all rights, your remains should be floating among the debris outside. I suggest you shut up."
Frey bit her tongue so hard that she tasted blood. "You bastard."
"I have some questions for you," he continued on as if he had not heard, "Should you decide to lie, or not answer, I will kill you." he said this as if it happened every day, but then, Frey reminded herself, he was a Coordinator, and on top of that, a soldier of ZAFT.
She forced herself to nod, only because she had no choice. "Yes," Frey longed to spit, "I understand."
At this, he seemed satisfied. "What's your full name?"
"Frey Elizabeth Allster."
"Age?"
"15."
"Birthplace?"
"Heliopolis."
Yzak had neither pen nor notepad, but he was fairly confident that he would remember it all. He inclined his head slightly, filing the information away for future reference. "Any siblings?"
"No, none." Frey began to feel a tiniest bit hopeful, if the questions were like this, she didn't have to give anything important away, like the whereabouts of the Archangel, her father or Kira…
"Why did you enlist on the Archangel? I'm sure your old man would have preferred other habits for his only little girl." The emphases on the last two words were not tasteful.
"…I enlisted because…" at the mention of her former vessel, Frey cringed accordingly, "Daddy died…"
Yzak couldn't resist a sneer, if he kept this up, he'd be like Captain Klueze in no time. "So your old man blew up, and you flee on the ship for protection. How noble. And exactly what did you do in the 'legged ship'? Did you seduce all the pilots looking for pity? I'm sure STRIKE especially--"
"Don't talk about Kira that way!" She exploded.
"Kira?" Yzak raised an almost amused eyebrow, his lips curled intoa triumphant sneer, at the same time though, it was also full of pity. "Oh, yes. The guy that you called out for. The guy that you needed." Still smirking, he rose and headed for the door; "But then again, Allster, I suppose he can't help but pity you. No one can save you now, not even the almighty STRIKE."