Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD.R&R please.

Chapter 18

The footsteps in the room were irritating her, couldn't they just cut her some slack?

"Cagalli."

All she wanted was to be where she was, learning things by tasting and trying them for herself, perhaps sneaking out of the Atha Mansion for a few hours to roam in streets and enjoy the cities for herself, and maybe learn new maneuvering techniques here and there, while she still had time, but, oh the war was on them. And she'd watched Heliopolis being destroyed, and then she'd fled to the Desert Dawn and she wanted to be there, fighting with them, and now she was just taking a break, why'd these people have to come and take her away and see her struggle to be-

"Wake up," Kisaka said urgently, "The meeting starts in half an hour."

Stunned, she sat up and gasped for air. The sand faded away, as so did Ahmed's voice, he had been telling her excitedly about the refined oil that they had found to make the vehicles travel faster, and the sand, it was shifting, and it formed the room she had been working in- her office.

Her cheeks were still a little wet, but he pretended not to notice. He knew her far too well to know that getting information she did not want to give was more difficult than making stone juice. But his heart still ached for her.

When had he met her? When she was seven? No. Even earlier.

And Kisaka studied the woman before him, realising, not for the first time, that the child he had lovingly followed and taught, a sort of pupil of his own when it came to weaponry and combat, that sort of thing, was no longer his beloved pet. She looked up at him and desperately swept some strands from her eyes, and he saw, with a pang, that her eyes were shadowed and her lips were pale. More pale than what it had been a year and a half ago. She had admitted to being overworked, more agreeably than he had thought when he had accused it, but Kisaka was no fool. If she was being overworked, and only truly overworked, she would have vehemently insisted otherwise.

There was certainly more to it, and he could have found out if he wanted to, lord, he was tempted to half the time, but he respected Cagalli's decision to remain mum, and asked no questions. She told no lies either. She admitted to half-truths instead.

Her clothes were badly crumpled, and she looked in dire need of straightening. The image of a child, muddied and bruised, but laughing and presenting freshly picked apples to him somehow lodged itself in his mind, only she wasn't laughing now and the redness in her cheeks had been transferred to her eyes. Straightening. The problem was, where would they begin?

The plans were formulating in his head, he'd get Rainie to arrange for a stylist to come in and lather her with cosmetics to hide the dark circles and weariness in her face, and in the meantime, he would force her to take a warm bath and arrange for a new suit to be sent over. That would do, at the minimum.

"Listen," she muttered, looking dazed but somehow guilty, "Sorry about dozing off, I thought I could just take a bit of a break and-"

"No matter," Kisaka interrupted, flashing her a slightly forced smile in his attempt to make things seem more simple than they really were, "You're tired, but you can freshen up with a bath, I'll make the arrangements, and we'll be on our way to the conference before you know it."

She nodded once, too tired to say anything, and stood up, a bit unsteadily in her slightly drowsy state, and limped out of the room.

He tried not to watch her, but the pain of seeing Cagalli and not knowing what she was experiencing made him tired, drained, if not.

He had been brought into the service, directly under Uzumi Nara Atha, but he hadn't expected his bodyguard and combat skills to be utilised or required by a- well, child. A troublesome, spiteful child, no doubt, he had privately witness her kick another royal family's scion in a fit of rage once, and even if the little wildcat had her reasons, a temper-tantrum warranted some punishment at least. But nobody ever dealt it because she didn't tell anyone anything, and neither did the elder boy, now, what was his name?

Yes, Yuuna Roma Seiran was certainly intimidated by Cagalli Yula Atha.

And at that time, Kisaka had decided that nobody, not least a child, royal or not, bull-headed or not, insane temper or not, would intimidate him. But she hadn't tried, heavens no, she had stood silently behind the towering, well, at least for that time, Lord Uzumi, and looked a bit shy at the new bodyguard. Quite a flip over from what Kisaka had expected in fact, and he found himself, likewise, peering at the child who was gazing at him and his height with awe in her amber eyes.

"My daughter, Cagalli," Uzumi instructed benevolently, "And you will do well to greet my new helper, Cagalli."

She paused and peeped from behind her father, and he noticed for the first time, that his master's daughter was a very pretty child, large amber eyes, a bit cat-shaped but still attractive, and full roses for cheeks, although she had the clear indications of what they called a tomboy. Her dress was slightly gathered at the side and secured with a safety pin to reveal shorts underneath, perhaps to facilitate her tree-climbing, but still, he thought, allowing himself to frown a litttle, how unbecoming. And her hair looked like it needed a bulldozer to be neatened, although she set it right within minutes after a timely frown and reminder from Lord Uzumi that had made her glower.

She was going to be a handful, Kisaka noted stiffly to himself. But as long as she didn't play the part of a spoiled princess too much, he would tolerate his- side duties.

On one day, he caught her jabbing her finger angrily at the Seiran's boy, no, Scion, these titles had to be observed. And he hauled the kicking, biting girl off the much taller and older, but regretfully petrified Lord Yuuna, and then Kisaka motioned quickly for the boy to get going before he could release the wildcat he was restraining in his arms.

A few seconds and three deep scratches later, he let go and she directed her full wrath on him, and he, a man hardened from years of guerilla warfare and animal instinct, met a child, 'a tempest child', Kisaka thought helplessly, watching her scream that she'd have successfully grilled Yuuna if he hadn't arrived and made a complete nuisance of himself.

"Why do you treat him so?" Kisaka asked interestedly, nursing a slight wound at where the girl had made her mark.

She glowered at him, the way Moses would have at the Israelites' golden calf. "He asked me to marry him."

Raising his eyebrows slightly, Kisaka questioned, "Isn't that good? Other than the fact that you're five and he's about seven? Six?"

He fought hard to not choke on his laughter, but the image of a muddied, spitting girl holding a bouquet of white roses was too precious to let go of. And the boy, why, what a pansy! He had ran right after Kisaka had held the girl back, little incentive to stay behind to sort things out.

She looked livid, and he felt slightly impressed at her ability to be so charming while she skewered some leaves on a branch and waved it furiously in the air like a sort of sword.

Then she stamped on it and hollered, "He thinks he's everything!"

No further elaboration needed, Kisaka thought morosely, this child hated nincompoops and hypocrites, buffons, all that he had thought of the Seirans, even while he watced her father tolerate their airs and put up with their graces even without a proper incentive to. She was unlike her father in that way, she tolerated nothing that she disliked, although her youth and her childishness was the excuse that would forcibly be removed when she grew up.

He was suddenly aware that Cagalli was half-shouting in his face.

"Kisaka!" She demanded impatiently, "I've been calling you for the last three minutes!"

Startled, he redirected his attention from the space on the desk he had been sitting at, and gazed at Cagalli. She smelt of scented soap and her hair was still slightly damp, curling shyly at their golden ends, which he noticed, were considerably longer than her usual length.

"Perhaps I'm growing old, forgive me Princess," he said regretfully, standing up to study her.

"Don't call me that," she said automatically, but she warranted a smile that made him consider canceling the appointment with the stylist. And then a thought struck his mind, how long had it been since-?

"When you appear on the airways tonight," he reminded her tactfully, "I'm sure Athrun will be watching in camp."

She nodded, cheerfully, pausing to look at some papers, but there was something unsettled in his eyes, he could see that at least, changed as she was, "He's busy in PLANT, he's been for the past four months anyway, but I think he'll make time for the footage when it's shown on the news, it's his job to keep current with the new agenda for politics and all."

Not knowing what to make of it, the normality, the abnormal weariness that dragged her down, or perhaps it was really overwork?

'Where was Athrun anyway?' Kisaka wondered silently. Cagalli had mentioned that he would be serving in PLANT for a while to clear up some matters in the headquaters of ZAFT, but he hadn't expected the trip to be so- long. And perhaps that was taking a toll on Cagalli, she probably missed him. And Kisaka was ashamed to feel slightly jealous that the young girl he had carried on his back as she whooped and cheered, a rebellious glint in her eyes at doing something so ruffian-like, was already another person's to keep.

"When will he be back?" he started to ask, but she was already gathering her things and moving off.

So he paused, and she half-turned to face the door. "I'll meet Rainie now; I'll tell you when I'm ready."

And Kisaka nodded, wondering what to make of it all. She was a grown-up now, twenty-five and very capable, but it was difficult to let go because she was still his daughter. At least to him, at least for all the years he had spent watching her grow up and fight the battles that had made her grow up and the tears she had spilt over her lost father and the wounds she had carried as proof of her transition into adulthood. And yet-

"Kisaka!" the child had cried, "Don't tell my father- he'd never understand!"

"Understand what, Princess?" Kisaka demanded tightly, "That you threatened to hit young Lord Seiran if he didn't tell you about your mother?"

"I had to, you understand? I had to," the ten year old Cagalli pleaded, clutching urgently on his toughened, brown arm," I heard some people in school saying things and I want to confirm it's not true!"

Lord Uzumi and why, even he, a bodyguard, had feared that. They had discussed it quietly, privately, but her pleas to attend a normal school had struck them as being reasonable at very least. And Kisaka was no doubt certain that Lord Uzumi must have considered the things they would begin to say about the girl, but they had certainly prayed for it to be later rather than sooner.

So their time was up, wasn't it?

She looked so woebegone that he was obliged to kneel down and look at her in her eyes. Her uniform was untidy, the blouse crumpled and grey with constant muddying and rewashing, and her skirt torn from her tree-climbing. How like Cagalli, he thought amusedly, in spite of himself. Her hair was still the beautiful shade of honey and sunlight, but her lips were trembling and she looked defiant as a tear or two slid unobediently, out of her eyes. He sighed and wiped them away.

"If you really want to know," he paused; she was looking at him, rapt with attention, "You won't ask anybody but your father. If you are ready, that is."

She forgot her tears and flung her arms around him, and he slowly returned her eager embrace, wondering if bodyguards had some rule about not hugging their young, headstrong employers, "I am! I am! I'm ready!"

"I'm ready," Cagalli said slowly, "Are you, Kisaka?"

And she stood before him, regal with her hair pushed and held back, her suit traded for a uniform with matching skirt, all that was customary for ORB's Supreme Commander, and her lips stained berry red to hide their pallor that he had observed in the last few months or so.
He straightened up and studied her, she looked significantly less tired but the little signs, the age in her eyes, the pride she carried herself with, coupled with the shadow of ease that was nearly gone, and the stiff shoulders, he-

"I am," he said, albeit reluctantly, offering his hand which she took without question, as she had when a child, as she did as a woman, "Come, the leaders are waiting."

He watched as she attacked the discussion with careful aggressiveness and more than a measure of good tact. At a certain point, she got on her feet and fought for her case, almost as if her life depended on it, and Kisaka watched the cold determination build in her face while she spoke. Perhaps, in a strange way, her life did depend on it. And when he passed her water during the interval of rest, she took it with a breathless word of thanks, and drank thirstily.

He studied her, and said slowly, "Are you alright?"

"I am," she said dazedly, "They're being really hard-fisted today, these EA people, won't hear of this, won't think of trying that, they don't-"

She trailed off, looking exhausted, but then she looked smilingly at Kisaka. "It's fine, it'll be over soon, I think they're going to take my words for it, so we'll see how it turns out."

So she had grown up.

And as he sent her back to the mansion, he reminded her, softly, to keep in contact with Athrun. He watched carefully, she showed no sign of surprise at his words, only sighed a bit and shook her head, remarking, "What would I do without you, Kisaka?"

A rueful grin spread over his face, perhaps he had been mistaken. She was overworked, poor child. He would send Rainie over to make sure Cagalli was looking after herself properly, just in case Athrun returned home and got on Kisaka's case. That would have been so like him, so serious and tender with Cagalli, so perhaps this was just a passing phase and-

She smiled blissfully and promised she would call Athrun that very night; they were planning to see Kira and Lacus as soon as she could get over to PLANT for a trip or two.

"I can arrange one," Kisaka said immediately, standing up from the car abruptly, but her eyes widened and she hastily reminded him of the upcoming season of conferences PLANT and ORB would go through for the political scene. And regretfully, she watched him drive off as he left with a sigh as well. Work was such a chore.

"Actually," he muttered, watching the person in the review mirror wave and become smaller and smaller as the distance between the house and the car increased, "It's just watching the Lord Atha's daughter going through it that's the real pain. And where's Athrun Zala when you need him to tell her to stop working so damn hard?"

She stood at the stone steps, waving cheerily at the retreating car. And then she turned around and turned the key in the door, clearing check after check, wondering why it was becoming so dark so fast. It was only evening, and she wanted to sit in the garden, but with the impending night, there was no point at all.

Her feet dragged her in and up the stairs, her jacket was flung over the chair, and she flipped on the lights and stared blindly at the spickspan, impeccably neatened house. So the part-time housekeeper had been in to clear the clutter and months of accumulated, miscellaneous things.

Her reflection in the vanity was too painful to observe, so she made a roundabout diversion from the halls to the other staircase to get to her room. The lights were too bright, she thought dully. The chandeliers were too brilliant for their own good; she wanted to smash them to hear their damaged cry and the melody of shattered glass. But she refrained, her sanity was intact.

She opened her wardrobe and studied the clothes inside for a minute. Just her clothes, she had sent the rest to where he was in PLANT, and she had checked with Kira. Athrun was living in an old apartment he had owned, just briefly for a period of time, after the Second War, perhaps slightly less than a year, and so the possibility of him leading a life in the house in December City was close to none.

At least the clothes and the other belongings would reach him.

Forcing herself to hum a tune to keep up with the normality, she selected the green silk dress she usually wore, but thought better of it and replaced it with a blue one. Normality to be damned. She ignored the churning in her stomach as she picked the orange sash up and replaced it with a sensible belt, but the prickling in her eyes refused to disappear.

So she ran, helter-skelter, down the hallway and faced the full-length mirror and stared at herself in the eye until they disappeared completely.

"You don't cry," she choked fiercely, her fingernails digging deep and angrily into her soft palms, "Don't you dare."

Her reflection glared back at her.

Only then, did Cagalli breathe properly and turn back. Just to keep herself steady, she made herself finish the work she had brought home, ate some badly-cooked dinner without really tasting it, but what did it matter anyway? She hadn't tasted anything impactful after he had left, only when she had neglected to cook the meat properly, now that had really been impactful.

She let out a short bark of miserable laughter. Strange how she always contradicted herself.

The phone was ringing, it was echoing insistently throughout the whole house, and for a whole minute, she thought it might be him, but she forced her heart not to hammer, and moved swiftly to fetch it.

It was Kira.

"How are you?" He was asking gently, "Kisaka told me he couldn't reach Athrun just yet, apparently, he was not contactable, must be at a meeting or something, but I got home and wanted to know how you were doing. He tells me you're overworking yourself, and Lacus and I are not surprised but still worried of course."

His voice was still quiet and mellow, but honestly, she hadn't expected anything else. The rather immature boy she had met, years ago while on the Archangel had long since became a man, less cheerful, but not any less happy or blessed, not with his lot in life in any case.

"Athrun didn't contact you?" she said, puzzled, hoping the tone would sound natural.

"No," Kira said calmly, "Why would he anyway? He's busy in PLANT, working on the project we all know about, and I didn't catch sight of him or Yzak Joule either, they're both involved in a separate faction of ZAFT for now, so it's not quite possible to meet up. You wanted me to speak to him about something?"

Her eyes widened, "No, just- asking."

"Oh." He sounded slightly bewildered, but still calm and placid. How like her twin.

She made herself put a smile into her voice with just the right amount of lilt. Anymore would be highly artificial.

"All fine here," she chirped, "Just a little tired, I suppose. How's Lacus? And the child?"

He launched, almost immediately, into the digression she hoped he would take. But he paused a while later, and her grip which had slackened after immediately stiffened again.

"Now I've digressed," Kira remarked, almost emotionlessly except for the slight wryness in his voice, "This was for me to call up on you, not for me to talk about other things."

"I like hearing about those," she replied hastily and brightly, "Listen, I have to sleep early tonight, I have this meeting tomorrow and-"

She trailed off and he captured the hint immediately, and Cagalli echoed his goodbyes and put down the phone more gently than she would have felt like doing.

Then she stumbled up and huddle under the bedclothes, wondering if Kira and Lacus were suspecting anything. Probably not. Hopefully not. She choked back a few tears and cursed colourfully and creatively. It wasn't her to be a helpless damsel in distress, she was the Supreme Commander of ORB, damn it!

Dealing with the aftermath would be sooner or later, she chose later. One day, when she no longer felt a need to live up to the normality, to go to work and return to the house with lies in the office, lies at home, lies in her bedroom, then she'd tell them what happened. Athrun wouldn't, that she understood about him at very least.

He had fled the house, she half-wondered if she could have handled it better, but she had done what she had, and later, she realised that he had left ORB itself. Logical deduction led her to think of PLANT, then the house she had miscarried in, but the latter turned her attention to somewhere else.

'But she was only doing this to sort the remaining things left,' she said fiercely to herself, "Nothing more."

Nothing more.