Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

Chapter 21

Pausing only to salute his subordinates, Athrun walked hurriedly down the halls. He felt like telling them, "If you see Yzak Joule, kill him for me," but he reckoned that inclination was neither appropriate for someone his age and ranking nor professional either.

"Are you done skulking around and ignoring me?" He heard Yzak snarl from behind the door he had stopped in front of to knock.

Wait-what door?

This was the hangar, for Land's sakes, Athrun reminded himself tightly, just because he wasn't sleeping well or working himself, day by day, pile by pile, to the shell of the person he was, 'or might have been', he thought tightly, was no reason to forget these things. Yes, he hadn't been working here for quite some time, not after he had been posted to-

In any case, Yzak Joule, the meddling bastard, had really irked him this time. No more stiff politeness for that man, Athrun swore, he was doing this on purpose to get at him, and Athrun wouldn't stand for it. Not when his life needed some normality and this man was going take it away from him.

Throwing his shoulders back and marching forward, right open into the hangar, he spotted a spock of white and identified it as Yzak. And the maroon, oh- Officer Hahenfuss.

He paused, they hadn't seen him, perhaps he could still turn back and leave them alone for a bit, but then, he decided sourly, it was tit for tat. If Yzak was going to screw with him, why, Athrun'd show him what he could do when he was desperate and bitter!

"Commander Joule!" He called raucously, saluting as the norm called for it, but, just a bit too brief. He dropped his hand as if it hurt him to raise it.

He watched the white spock turn around calmly and holler, "What?"

The maroon spock turned and disappeared into a cockpit. Oh well.

"I require your presence here right this instant!

'And get your sorry self over here before I pummel your arse, you fairy!' He added to himself as an afterthought, and he smirked, enjoying the grudge he nursed against the man who would have usually done just that for Athrun Zala. He watched the white spock sigh and march nearer and nearer until Yzak Joule was saluting in front of him. He ignored this and said harshly, "You re-arranged the schedule?"

"Yes," Yzak replied coolly, "You want more days off?"

"No," Athrun said bitingly, "I want my old schedule back, same shifts, not a single change unless you want it to be longer hours, I'd gladly comply."

"No can do," Yzak said mockingly in return, his hand on his hip, looking superbly unruffled although his eyebrows had, for a single instant, vanished behind his fringe, "I arranged the schedule because one of my officers is transferring to yours and he's applied to have certain time slots so he can see to personal matters. Mind you, I didn't encourage that, he applied without my knowledge and the upper brass gave him the approval, so all I was asked to do was reschedule some things so it'd all fit in."

He paused, watching Athrun look strained.

"I don't see why you're so pissed over your schedule being changed," Yzak said bluntly, "You're given two hours extra off everyday, and unless you're a control-freak who hates other Commanders deciding what time you get to go home, which I am, by the way, I never realised you were, then you've no incentive to look like I told the media that you had the hots for your secretary, who by the way, should be removed."

The lengthy speech ended, but he didn't look out of breath yet. Remarkable. Man of few words, not.

"Look," Athrun said gratingly, "I'm not half as concerned about you rescheduling as much as the fact that I'm missing two hours of work everyday, three and a hlaf on Friday even. What's the matter with PLANT's upper brass?"

"No issue," Yzak answered brusquely, "They just thought it'd be for the best. Even my schedule is being changed, heck, everyone else's is, and they're all given the same time off as you, which is abominably stupid in my opinion since they-"

And he might have added some unsavoury terms about the unproductivity but he paused very abruptly and stared at Athrun with growing comprehension, "You mean you want to work those extra hours, slaving away like a ruddy cow?"

The impact of his words hit him in the face like a well-thrown punch. It might have been the strange shock in his friend's voice, or the realisation of this that even Athrun hadn't made up to this point. But it was no doubt, the truth. Two extra hours of staring into space, broken inside, dead on the outside, sawdust dinner, fending off Meyrin's questions in case she visited, which she did not frequent very often, thank God, and the general pain. He'd rather work and not think so much.

"I never thought I'd say this, Zala," Yzak said slowly, "But you're getting stupider than you've always been, you need to relax. Relax and get some proper sleep, for God's sake, you're working yourself to the slaughterhouse."

They stared at each other, one in some strange shock, and the other with bitterness in his face and mouth twisted in the sardonic half-smile.

"See here," Yzak said eventually, leaning on the railings as if he were suddenly drained of any ability to be aggressive to Athrun, "Today's a Friday, I'm going to get a drink without Dearka, he's off dealing with some extra business, and if you say you will do it for him, I will kill both of you. I think you'd better come along, this is getting incredibly strange."

And he coloured slightly and muttered, "I'm not concerned, but if we don't get you sorted out then ETERNITY's going to have a lunatic leading them into some wild goose chase with that elusive thing called peace."

And Athrun found himself nodding stiffly, and marching off with Yzak Joule putting him in tow like a broken down car. Which, really, Athrun was, if a person wanted to be figurative about it.

The bar was noisy as usual, full of grease monkeys comparing tales about their girlfriends, and the ZAFTies lounging on high chairs or in squishy, maroon chairs in the dim lighting, camouflaging the Recoats spectacularly well iof they hadn't bothered changing into something more casual, and making the normal soldiers look like mossy boulders drifting in red wine. And the bartenders were kept busy, filling glasses, mixing drinks, all that usual business on Friday nights. Athrun spotted his secretary, she had brought a change of clothes and was partying at the side, contributing as best as she could to the noise of the area. And he rolled his eyes and turned to Yzak, by this time seated on another high chair with a drink of his own, and said emotionlessly, "My secretary's almost useless."

"Come," Yzak chided derisively "If you want to be mean, go all the way. She's absolutely useless. Go on, say it, a little rage can't hurt anybody."

"Just alot of furniture and me, who was almost strangled to death when you grabbed my collar," Athrun thought snidely, and said aloud, "How's your secretary?"

"He's absolutely-"

"Useless?"

"No, you arse, I was going to say brilliant," Yzak said calmly, fishing the glass for the cherry at the bottom and calling for another drink. He must have had the bladder size of Loch Lomond, Athrun thought rather decidedly. He downed his own glass and did similarly as Yzak had demonstrated, if they were going to drink, they might as well drink and get thoroughly drunk. It wasn't as if Athrun hadn't gotten drunk lately. He rather liked it, in fact, he didn't have hangovers, he used to be the envy of the team, in fact. Dearka and Rusty got terrible ones, and yet, they loved getting drunk. Miguel used to claim that they cured those with the girls they had met the night before. Miguel himself needed a long cold bath to shake off the hangover, and Yzak had raging headaches for an hour or two in the morning and as a result, he, well, raged. Athrun was normal, they hated him for that.

And Nicol, well, he stuck to peach juice.

The point was that Athrun got drunk without coming off worse in anything except a head full of buzzing, a slight cramp from sleeping in awkward positions because he hadn't had enough sense to sleep properly while he was drunk, and the best of the benefits being the disengagement of his thoughts and the memory of her. Although, he thought morosely, his sleep had traces of her laughter and voice intermingled with the haze that shrouded him in his slumber.

"Brilliant, you say," Athrun asked dryly, "Are we being a little generous here?"

"Try," Yzak said curtly, now stirring his drink busily like it might have a fly he needed to fish out," Try getting a secretary who does everything without a single word coming from you and does it perfectly, damn well, and without a single mistake you can fire him for. These people are certainly paying more for their children's genes."

"Oh," Athrun said dully, with lack of extra comment. God, were they so hapless that the conversation was turning to their secretaries?

"How's Meyrin Hawke?" Yzak asked suddenly, picking at the pizza listlessly. He had eaten a few bites of it and then left it with the cheese tendrils looking decidedly pitiful.

'Don't play with your food,' Athrun wanted to tell him like how his mother had always done, but he realised that his was equally woebegone said instead, "Fine. And er- how do you know here again?"

He watched Yzak snort and resume the chewing of his pizza before his friend finally remarked, "She's a pretty girl, that one. I was invited to train an advanced group of pilots, specifically the GUNDAM mobile suit weapon group, and guess who I met?"

"Her sister?"

"No," Yzak said flippantly, flicking his fingers across the table as if he were itching to rip something apart, 'probably is,' Athrun thought haphazardly, "I met the brat boyfriend and his girlfriend who lost her wallet and I found it and happened to see a picture of her sister. She told me that the girl saved the great war hero's butt, yours, so of course I had to learn to recognise the poor unfortunate soul Meyrin Hawke is. I've met her anyway," He added, "She works in a separate branch for ZAFT, but sometimes, she has to collect things from the headquarters, that kind of thing. Her sister's brat boyfriend pointed her out to me the other time."

"Shinn Asuka, you mean?" Athrun said, trying not to look amused. He hadn't seen the youth for quite some time, even after he'd came back to PLANT. How he wanted to throttle Shinn at times! Granted, the boy was rash and headstrong, but dreadfully honest and sincere, even in his raging fits, and sometimes, Athrun felt as if he had a younger brother of sorts. That was the sort of boy Shinn had been.

"Alright," Yzak concluded, "Maybe he wasn't a brat, he was a bit quiet at times, but mind you, he was confident still, superb skills in what he does, make no mistake for my words. But that face has the letters B-R-A-T tattoed across the vampiric skin stretched across that forehead of his."

"You think he looks like a vampire?" Athrun echoed, somewhat tickled. Trust Yzak to have that mean streak that never vanished.

"Black hair, red eyes, white skin," Yzak drawled, "What could be missing except the coffin?"

A silence ensued and Yzak drank, gulping slightly. He glanced at the corner of his eye and the cup to view Athrun, quiet and moody looking. 'At least he isn't picking a fight,' Yzak reasoned, quite forgetting that he was the cause of their disputes, or rather, one-sided arguments, since Athrun tended to be politely disinterested whenever Yzak itched for a fight, and of course, that made Yzak more enraged than ever. Then-

"Bats."

He set down the heavy mug with a dull thud, sloshing a little of the drink.

"Shut up, Zala."

A cynical snort from the man.

"Likewise, Joule."

Childish, both of them were. Perhaps the influence of the alcohol? Probably not. They were grown men, they could hold their liquor remarkably well, perhaps it was the influence of a meeting too long forgone and an easy chat work had mostly deprived them of.

"You know," Yzak said disagreeably, as if to compensate for the pleasant, agreeable silence just minutes ago, "You ruined my chance to talk to Shiho."

"Did I?" Athrun said mockingly, "Like how you ruined my chance to stay in the headquarters for a blasted two more hours every day, and three on Friday?"

"Are we still on that?" Yzak muttered unpleasantly, "I told you it wasn't really me that screwed your schedule and exposed you as a loony workhorse. And you're evading my attempt to pick a fight about you interrupting my conversation with her."
"Conversation?" Athrun said snidely, "You mean confrontation?"

"Don't push it," his friend warned, although he was smirking slightly. He sighed, low and heavy and then, he leaned back, cracking a few knuckles to ease his arms and hands.

"How's it going with her?" Athrun asked curiously, in spite of himself and his promise to not ask about things like this when his own relationship was about as perfect as hell itself. The last he recalled, wait, he had seen both of them in ORB when they had been guest trainers for the soldiers there, and then-

"We're engaged- sort of," Yzak explained briefly, "Just thinking how not to trigger only about a thousand million landmines."

"Political marriage if I guess correctly," Athrun said slowly, "Your mother right?"

A curt nod. "It still is a political marriage, just that her House consists of a fortune and just her, no more ties with the political or social scene left, given that she's the only member of the Hahenfuss line now, and the other factor being that we happen to tolerate each other's company."

Which was, Athrun decided, probably Yzak's way of saying that he worshipped the very hem of Shiho Hahenfuss' male uniform. Typical.

"How's it going with the Princess then?"

He should have seen it coming. 'Athrun, you bloody idiot.'

"Fine. We're just," He swallowed to clear the block, "missing each other from time to time."

There was a spot of silence in the huge arena of noise pollution.

"You didn't have to come back to PLANT to oversee the running," Yzak remarked pointedly, "It's your own fault you want to be so heroic and work extra and make more sacrifices than what is required. I can't imagine how the Princess can handle both you and your organisation. She probably voodoos ZAFT secretly. Might be why we still have Dearka working for us."

"Supreme Commander, not Princess," Athrun corrected him lightly, although his insides were calmly twisting themselves and untying the entrails and then knotting them again, "That's her official title."

"Doesn't want to just be a figurehead," Yzak nodded his approval, "But I'm willing to make a gamble that she doesn't tell you to call her Supreme Commander instead of Princess."

"I don't call her Princess," Athrun reminded Yzak and him vaguely, "I just call her- Cagalli."

And the rush to his head with her name on his lips made him want to bury his head in his arms, and the familiarity of the name and foreign sensation that he had managed to alienate from her name and the constant refraining from the pronunciation sent a crushing force through his arms, and he ached for something.

Yzak was studying him carefully, "Credit me with more intelligence, Zala."

"What?" He asked defensively, suddenly returning to where he was, the noisy bar where only they could hear themselves, the tired old bartenders in the little sections polishing glasses, hurring with trays of drinks, the masses of people, dim lighting, cold burns of alcohol on his tongue-

"It's not going smooth, is it?"

"Don't assume," He said coldly, "I told you it's okay."

"Have it your way," Yzak retorted, "In a few years' time, when the world realises that you've been living apart for more than a year, which by the way, you arrived here in PLANT almost half a year ago, don't say it's fine, even Kira Yamato won't be fooled by that. I've seen you with her before, I know it's not all fine and dandy, I can tell because I've seen it. The rest of the world haven't, they won't catch wind of it if you're careful, but it's a matter of later if not sooner. I'm not sure if you care about the rest of the world, but for God's sake and your own, do."

He ended this, distressingly quiet, and then drank more. Athrun did the same, with very little emotion left in his eyes and just a wince between his eyebrows.

When they finally called it quits, it was two in the morning, although the crowds were still pushing their way in, a sleepless night filled with merrymaking and laughter for them.

Upset, although he couldn't place his finger on it for various reasons, one being the grogginess of his head, Athrun fitted the key and was disturbed to realise after five minutes that his keyhole wouldn't fit. And then it struck him that he was drunk, and he snorted with laughter. A drunk saying he was drunk, like how a Coordinator said all Coordinators were liars, so which was which and what was true?

He tried the next door- bingo.

His foot hitched the back of the door and it slammed, locking him in his apartment. The flies around his ears were still buzzing, oh well, he'd sleep it off. And hopefully, he laughed brokenly, he wouldn't find an indecently exposed version of Lacus Clyne in his bed in the morning, Cagalli would see them and then-

What would she do?

His fingers stopped their path down the buttons of his shirt, and a puzzled thought crept into the haze of his mind, he hadn't thought about it, he had never seen her jealous about the attention the females gave him, although he had expressed to her once that he would have liked to feed the man who was staring openly at her, eyeballs that Athrun Zala personally gouged out from him. She had laughed and called him a turkey, he had grabbed her and carted her off, ignoring her sputtered protests and squeals until they were both breathless from laughter and that her arms were thrown around his neck, so now what would she do?

He didn't know.

"I'll ask her about it in the morning," he promised himself, still stuck in his stupor, his shirt half-unbuttoned and his feet resting on the pillow and his head at the foot of the bed.

Then it struck him, just before he dozed off, that he wouldn't know, because he was alone in this place in December City and she apart and away from him.