Disclaimer: I do not own GS/GSD. R&R please.

Chapter 20

So she had grown up.

Her hair was flaming red, no longer tied in perky tails at either side of her head, but in loose waves nearing the back. Her face was slightly less round than when it had been, the full cheeks more gaunt in a newly attractive way, and her eyes made even wider in her pretty face.

If anybody had compared her elder sister to her in the past, they might have said she was 'cute' and her sister the pretty one. It still held some truth, she had men fighting to be with her precisely because her cheerleader appeal was still somewhere in her, much as she wondered where its location was, only now, she was older, wiser, and had the sometimes apparent, surprisingly sharp tongue that was frustratingly attractive rather than deterring.

And this was Meyrin Hawke.

He paused to stare at her a little, coincidence was a tool of Fate, and Irony was its best friend. Lord, so this was the worst of the worst. To be apart from the woman who had married, not him, another man, for political alliances, and then for him to be brought together with a girl who had saved his life, then he for hers, so the debt was even, and then to have her suddenly leaving. Weird.

"What can I do for you?" He said finally, not having the faintest idea how Meyrin Hawke had suddenly reappeared.

"I wasn't sure if it was really you living here, although the landlady told me that there was a new edition to our neighbourhood," she explained genially, "And I thought I saw you today, and I still wasn't sure, so I asked her who it was again, and my doubts were dispelled and, well, here I am."

She shrugged, as if going around snooping about the neighbourhood for men she had saved previously from treacherous politicians in PLANT were absolutely normal and something she did every day.

He remained silent, observing the water droplets trickle down his beer can. More ice, he told himself morosely, as soon as she decided to go.

"Athun," she asked curiously, "What are you doing here?"

"Work." He stated noncommitally. He had been telling everybody that, those who asked, so what was the difference with another person? Hell, it might have even made it more real for him.

She paused, a question her voice and a slgiht frown on her brow, and said slowly, "Cagalli?"

"ORB."

He looked into her eyes as he said this.

"First sign of telling a lie is to not look in the eye," His father had warned him once.

'Thank you, Daddy,' He thought bitterly. His mouth twisted into a softly sardonic smile, and she stared, not quite understanding what he was thinking. All the better then.

"Oh- alright." Meyrin conceded eventually, "How's it been?"
"Good," He said calmly, "I got the woman I've wanted for all the time since I got shot down with her on some God-forsaken island, it's been nice having won her after two wars, a lot of chaos, a ruined wedding thanks to Kira and Freedom, and best yet, the period of time when all we could say to each other was, 'Greetings from PLANT or ORB', whichever."

Athrun saw the flicker of pain in the girl's eyes, she was clearly still a little hurt.

'Join the club', he thought angrily, angry at his inability to do anything, angry at his lack of courteousness when she was trying to be polite, angry at the questions she asked, angry at the answers he gave and the lies he was telling.

Of course he had been naive about her on his stay aboard the Minerva, he had thought mostly of Meyrin Hawke as an efficient, rather admittedly adorable comrade, more often known as Lunamaria-of-the-miniskirt-Hawke's sister, or so most of the boys thought. On the Archangel, after they'd nearly lost their lives in the fleeing, he'd grown a little more attached to her and had found her to be giving, shy and good-natured, and he had appreciated her company. And after the war, she had offered to help him as he headed ETERNITY, she had been thrilled at the prospects of a political promotion that he had recieved, possibly, he thought wryly, more excited than him. And then suddenly, she had just left.

Of course he had wondered why for a while, she had been so eager to stay even though he had advised her to go somewhere less stuffy and boring since she was young, well, slightly younger than him anyway, and hadn't any obligations to sorting out the mess her parent had made in the First War. But she had refused. And then she just left with only a notice to tell him that he'd found on his desk.

Oh well, he had thought, she probably got tired of the paperwork.

He hadn't know n anything much, she had never told him, her innocence had trained her to think that by just staying, by just looking at him with hope in her eyes, that he would understand. Clearly, she had been wrong and his heart had been elsewhere, if not with ETERNITY. And not her.

And really, that was the point of the matter.

When she had met Cagalli in Berlin, she had passed her the ring, but it belonged to Cagalli anyway, not her. Her friend had looked startled, but Meyrin's blessing were in her hand and the future was shining open for her, and in a strange way, for Meyrin too.

So Meyrin had watched as the months went by and interviews came and went, sometimes on television when both Athrun and Cagalli appeared in it, and she had smiled softly to herself. And then a frightful accident had occured, but Meyrin had kept very still and watched with the world as the wrongs righted themselves, and then one day, all the headlines of the magazine store she walked by every morning when she got to work screamed of a union that she had once longed to see with herself and him. But this time, she was glad, and she had sniffled a bit. Cagalli had sent her an invitation, it was very kind and thoughtful, but all the same, Meyrin didn't trust herself to go, she'd have drowned them with her tears or something.

And for the next few years, there were random articles of the couple when they travelled, that sort of thing. And Meyrin often paused to buy a newspaper and study their faces. Athrun, slightly older looking now with more maturity in his face, but it added to his handsome features and his smile. She noticed then, that he was smiling more often. And Cagalli's face was alight with happiness each time in those articles, written and taken without their consent, for she knew they were too private people to agree to that sort of thing unless they were forced to, but all the same, without a single hint of ill-intention.

They looked so very happy.

But she hadn't bore malice, it was not in her nature, and Athrun had been too much of a gentleman and unknowing that she would have wasted regret on him. And now she was here, she had caught sight of a tall, midnight-haired man striding past the sorry square of sand the compound called a sandpit for the children, which by the way, had moved out ten years ago, and she had known-

She checked with the landlady who was quite nice to her, apparently the woman thought she was a young girl of eighteen. Meyrin realised that this had some advantages, so for the past few years of living here, she had never said anything but giggled in secret and the candies and soft toys she was prone to receiving from the kindly but absent-minded landlady. And yes, she had told Meyrin that the man had recently came in to the compound, he owned an apartment permanently, and he was none other than the great war hero.

The pie she had brought was lying on the table, steaming and fragrant. He ignored it, he had little appetite.

"Tell me," Athrun muttered eventually, "Why you're here again."

She grinned, it was slightly wry, and he had never seen that side of her before, previously so young, so tenderly earnest and eager to please and befriend, and he was reminded, quite forcefully, that she was no longer sixteen, but twenty-three. How time had passed.

"Simple, really," Meyrin offered amiably, "When I left the Archangel, Lacus kindly arranged for me to live somewhere, just temporarily so I wouldn't have to impose on my sister and all. And then I had a job with you for a while, then I switched to the ZAFT spokesperson, who you probably met a while back then, and I decided not to get rid of this apartment because I liked the neighbourhood and thought I'd station myself here after returning from all the travelling and got home to PLANT. Aprilius is really congested, at least this place isn't too bad yet."

"You like the neighbourhood?" He asked incredulously, even though he was rearing to hint to her that she ought to go. But the courteous, cool mask was slid back on, he was Athrun Zala again, not some irrate man cooped in his apartment in a failed marriage.

She shrugged. "Not all blocks are like yours. There are a few in the compound, I live two blocks off in this area, and it's mostly the single civil workers who are granted their leases and apartments here, so I have a few colleagues in the same block or the compound at least."

"I hope the neighbours next doors aren't your colleagues," Athrun said tautly, his mouth pursed, and she wondered why he was being so-

So mean.

Perhaps it was just his mood of the day, she thought reasonably, you never knew what happened and it wouldn't be fair to guess anyway.

A growing comprehension and background of Athrun's neighbours had settled upon her even at the doorway as she stood waiting for him to answer the door, and now, Meyrin's face looked horrified, but then she caught onto his dry humour and laughed. For a minute, he was seeing a young, innocent girl on the Minerva, holding documents and trailing after her sister, her eyes blue and wide with earnest shyness and sweet youth.

"No," she chirped, quite nonchalant and nonplussed about the implications of him trying to chase her away previously, "Haven't been to this side of the neighbourhood until today. You could say that it didn't occur to me that there were people other than the PLANT government workers in the compound."

"No wonder you like your side of the neighbourhood then," he rasped ungratefully, but she did not catch the stray note of sarcasm and beamed again. She shifted slightly and tilted her head, making his eyes rove unwillingly but appreciatively over her legs, uncovered in a short skirt with her white feet clad in kid boots, comfortable and airy. Still a child, she was.

A smile wrought itself on Athrun's face, and he was pleasantly surprised to realise that he still enjoyed company.

"Have you had dinner?" She inquired sweetly, extending her hand to shift her mane of crimson hair over her other shoulder, and he stared at her fair neck, unblemished and pure. She probably didn't have a boyfriend after all this while, he decided slowly.

He coughed, realising she was waiting for a reply. "No."

And suddenly, Athrun found himself, reckless but simlutaneously courteous, "If you haven't, do you want to stay for dinner?"

Her eyes crinkled with laughter, "I don't see why not. Back home, it'd be the same pie with my flatmate. It's just a matter of where."

'And with whom,' She added wistfully to herself.

At least he was a naturally neat person, the apartment was as clean as it could be in its already dilapidated state, and all his clothes were either folded neatly or put in a laundry basket, save for the coat that had been flung over the couch, in want of a hanger in this place. The furniture was old, the chairs a bit sorry looking, but he was sure they were stable, and there was usually the couch to sit on in any case. The drawers however closed and compartmentalised they were, were filled with work documents, neatly filed, save for one. And Athrun was not, and had not been, keen to disclose the contents of the drawer and the letter that had reached him a few days upon his arrival.

He was vaguely aware that his things had been more or less sent over, and in spite of the usefulness of those and the apparent thoughtfulness, a growing bitterness had produced itself in his blood and thrived there, waiting, biding. Athrun's things were in order; he however, was not.

The sound of something being sliced made him snap back to attention, and by this time, they were already at the table, she leaning forward and carefully dividing the pastry, somehow looking well-suited to a sort of domestic bliss the men at work would be keen to chase after, Athrun thought humouressly, and he, ill at ease and stiff in his position. She leant forward and cheerfully passed him a plate, and he took it with a wan smile, then noticed her neckline. And he glanced away but wondered what was the point. There wasn't any real need to.

The meal was had in almost complete silence, except for her occasional anecdotes, his polite, vague replies, and her innocent friendliness. How like her.

When it was over and done with, he was again, surprised to find that the silence was a lot less stiffling than he had somehow imagined it to be, and that her presence was somehow calming and the lilt of her singsong speech rather amusing. But the brokeness in him still remained, and he wondered if she would grow aware of his gradually souring silence and consistent politeness but inability to be more personal with Meyrin.

He took some time to study her, aware of the changes she had undergone physically, and she did likewise, consciously or otherwise, she was not confirmed, but the crux being that she did. Athrun Zala was the same, just that, she thought with some disappointment, that she thought he'd be more open and warm. He wasn't really like that in general, but if he was caught unaware and relaxed, then they'd see another side to his perpetual courteous ways and a different veneer to his softspoken, yet firm nature. She had expected Cagalli to bring it out, and perhaps she had, Meyrin was not sure, just that maybe, just maybe, Athrun Zala did not want to exhibit it to her, Meyrin.

A rising and falling in her made her sigh a little. But she did not know what she had expected to see, and even now, she did not know what she felt.

"Meyrin," she was aware of him asking abruptly and quite bluntly, "How is your sister? And Shinn?"

"They broke up," she said calmly, "They just got tired of each other and called for a time-out. They're still good friends, anyhow. My sister insists they fell out of love, not that they were just fooling around. I'd like to believe her, it seems that way to me."

He did not know what to make of this. If she had bleated about how much they were in love or how deeply they felt for each other, he would have tasted a bitterness welling in his thoughts and heart. And now, that the fairytale broken and love lost, he wondered if he should have felt the sick agony of triumph in having gained a companion that misery was so well known for being fond of. And yet, he did not know what to feel. Just an emptiness and little else settled over the calm of the night.

"I see," he said languidly, not seeing at all, "I didn't expect that."

"I don't know," she offered, her voice velvet, a bit sad, a bit wry, but still hers, "They were together as friends for a long time, and then they progressed on amidst the heat of the war, in a short span of time. And I suspect Shinn is still trying to fit back into the world after the war, a place, like it or not, that he thrived in during the chaos and uncertainty. But he wants to move on from it all, that much I know at least. My sister is different, she's always wanted to be in a high octane environment, piloting, doing reckless things, just living the way she wants to. And she'll never leave ZAFT, I think, not when she revels in the training and the piloting. She calls it adventure, she does."

Her lengthy speech ended, and he wondered what Shinn and Lunamaria looked like at that point. Would Shinn have lost the edge in his ruby eyes and learnt how to smile without the frown still appearing on his brow? Would Luna have matured from the impulsive girl she had been and a reckless lover she must have made for Shinn?

He had seen a bit of the change when he had left the memorial, the flowers freshly planted and the petals blowing woefully in the wind. And he had known how Luna had protected Shinn in their battles, her reckless nature transmutated even as a lover. Would they change?

He didn't know.

"You three were together in the academy, weren't you?" Athrun inquired softly, suddenly not wanting to hear the sound of silence but the girl's voice running on and on. Not to hear what she was saying, but to feel the sound of her voice compensating for awkward silence. He had had too much of that already, now was an opportune moment to pursue something else.

"Right," Meyrin sighed, "Vino too, Rey as well. Rey was always very composed and very sure of himself, he was older than for his years, literally, figuratively, anything than I'd like to imagine. He was never interested in the affairs of the those in the Academy, he'd listen quietly as we gossiped, but he never took notice of anything that he deemed unimportant, no matter how," she chuckled, "titillating the details were. A friend my age once confessed her crush to him and he politely thanked her, went to the vending machine, bought one drink for her, none for himself, and then went back to his training. She was distraught, but they became good friends, that was how Rey always was."

She sighed, thinking of him, then she continued, not aware that Athrun was thinking of Rey as sadly as she was.

"Vino was different, he was always very sweet and endearing, just that he liked relying on people. We were good friends, always, and I used to drive him around in the crazy way he liked when the pilots were training elsewhere in another field and there was one vehicle in a huge space. He would enjoy it immensely, even after he got down and emptied his recent meals, but he always insisted on doing crazy things like that, just for the heck of it all."

"Shinn, he was always immature."

Athrun looked curiously at her and she quirked her lips, holding up her hands hastily, "Not that we all weren't, but he was particularly prone to, what's that called? Oh. Angst. He used to challenge our instructors, insist on the alternatives to handling knives, guns, piloting, anything he could get his hands on. My sister used to call him a troublemaker, and I think he remained that way even after you came."

She exchanged a meaningful glance that somehow caused Athrun to laugh. The briefing when he had snapped at Shinn was still remembered then. And suddenly, they were both aware of the first time he had laughed for that evening. Carefree and open, the sound was, amazing, this girl's effect on his brokeness.

"And then," Meyrin said excitedly, recalling something, "He was always saying he had no time for girls and that he had to work on becoming the strongest. I suppose that attitude made him become a Redcoat even with his love for attention and trouble-seeking. My sister was always gloating over the fact that she sailed through the examinations to be a Redcoat while he slogged and killed himself for it. But of course-,"

She looked suddenly unsure of herself, almost edgy, "We didn't know about his- family then."

Too late they all had. And when Athrun had first stepped on the Minerva, the jet-haired youth with strangely bestial ruby eyes had sized him up and gone straight, teeth already bared, for Ca-

He frowned.

"Anyway," Meyrin said, her voice drifting and lost in her thoughts, "I loved his rashness and earnestness, we didn't see much of that sort of honesty in ZAFT even when we were young. We were all good friends, and I thought we'd always stay that way, he was always somehow protective of me, I don't know why. Perhaps because I was the youngest and always trailing behind all of them, refusing to pilot the machines, spending hours working on bridge operations rather than fighting to get into the simulations, and then he told me once that he wished that I wouldn't be such a child."

"What did you say?" Athrun asked amusedly, somehow realising that Shinn's invariant, insiduous need to brother somebody had shown itself.

"I was awfully upset," Meyrin said dazedly, resting her head on the back of the chair, entirely at ease in his partment, Athrun noticed with some wryness, perhaps she was just like that, even in the Archangel, she had made friends very quickly, "And I shouted that he was an idiot and that I wasn't a child, and to prove it I-"

There was a horrible silence and her face was flaming. He sat up a little straighter, just a bit, but obvious, and his curiousity was immediately aroused.

"You what?"

She cleared her throat, "I er- kissed him."

He stared at her and found an unwilling grin stretching across his face. "Like that."

"Secret confession," she said guiltily, "I never even told my sister that I kissed a boy before she did, and not least of all, Shinn. She might have killed me."

"Fine," he said obligingly, recovering from the slight, cruel amusement they had had at her expense and Shinn's, "No wonder he never really talked to you while I was aboard."

She couldn't bring herself to glare at him, he was too gallant, too nice, too- Athrun. But then she glanced around, noting how bare and unfurnished the room was even though it was tidy and inscrutably neat. And she sensed a tiredness and unwillingness to- Oh, she didn't know, perhaps he was still not accustomed to her presence even after all this while.

Her hands tightened and twisted her skirt in her hands under the table, and her shoulders became tense. What was going on?

She licked her lips, making them moist, wondering if she should speak, wondering if she could ask, wondering if this was something not as simple as a good talk with an old acquaintance. Something hidden and lurking was swimming beneath both of them, and she wondered-

"How is Cagalli?" She asked recklessly, her face snapping up to meet his full in the eye before he could look away.

"Fine," he answered. There was a mechanical twang in his voice, and far too late, he realised the danger in the immediate lack of elaboration. So he drew his breath in and said, as nonchalantly as he could force out, "She's slaving away at her job like all of us, but you already knew that. But she's with Rainie and Kisaka, oh, Vino's there sometimes when he gets leave from ZAFT, so I'm just waiting for this current assignment to be over until I meet back with her again."

"Surely," Meyrin asked hesitantly, "You don't have to stick here in PLANT?"

"I do," he said auotmatically, "The overarching task is under me."

He did not bother elaborating, this was partially true in any case.

"Then this apartment," she looked around, seeing, perhaps not for the first time, its emptiness and faintly whitewashed sullen walls, "I mean, don't you have a house somewhere in Aprilius?"

"No," he said a bit more slowly, more insiduously than he should have, then he decided to give the heck of it to her, she deserved to know a little at least, "We-", he paused a little, "We have a house in December, but it's far more economical to stay where the headquarters are and the city is."

"Oh," she repeated a bit fretfully, understanding a little better, "So that's what it's about."

"Yes," he echoed dully, "That's it."

Monday came, work from morning, streched up to the evening, with a bit of extra time here and there, he made it home, just nice, at eight. An unfinished meal, a long, frigid bath, and he didn't mind this in the least, and then sleep.

Tuesday came, work from dawn, put to nightfall, ache in heart, unheard sighs in the mind, home, the dingy apartment and he took back some work to do, he declined to say anything to the landlady downstairs he met, and then a bath, cold again, as long as he could soak and close his eyes for, and then weariness claimed him and he closed his eyes.

He dreamt of two things, one, the girl he saw in the park. And then she held out a book for him, he took it, and then when he had completed the request and handed it to her, the girl was Cagalli and she looked sorrowfully at him and ran.

"Wait!" he cried feverishly, "Don't!"

The second thing he dreamt of was snow, just falling snow and the familiar sensation of her arms hugging him tightly and it was all crucial to hold her back and stand still, but she began to melt and disappear with the snow.

He woke up and his eyes were darkened, looking at the stains on the ceiling, the pitiful peels of paint, but not seeing, not seeing.

Wednesday was easier to get through, work was extended to fit in datelines and he reached home, exhausted, then took a bath, neglected dinner, and fell to his bed.

He decided that this was the way to go.

Thursday followed suit as such.

Friday was difficult, they insisted that they all go early for a good weekend, and Athrun found himself resting on the couch with too much time and too much thoughts. He didn't cry, he hadn't cried for a long time, but the numbness and frigidness in his heart was more painful than a few hot, fleeting tears.

Meyrin knocked on his door, he let her in without the unusual greeting he had hurled at her the other time, and they spent an hour talking about the politics. This time, he was careful not to mention anything about the past. If not, she would become invariably suspicous, and her was not yet too lost to know that he did not want Meyrin Hawke to familiarise herself too much with him.

And when she went back to her own apartment, he lost the need and urge to talk about anything and curled up in a fitful slumber, dreaming of her again, of sunlight, amber, her voice, her hands, her smile, just-

Her.