Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.
This is probably the last chapter. I don't know if the last one should be put before the epilogue. Oh well. Thank you to all who have supported this, I would have never done this without all the support!
Chapter 36
When had he become like this?
He looked at the park around him. Deserted. He didn't mind that. But somehow he did as well. The loneliness was disconcerting. That child was either his or not. Did it matter?
No. He wanted her anyway.He shouldn't have, he ought not to have. But it didn't change the fact that he did.
Truth be told, he had always.
Sunlight, unfiltered by curtains, touched Athrun's cheeks for the first time in weeks, and the wind whistled its questions, the same ones that went through his mind.
"Oh." He said to nobody in particular.
Kira had seen the wild, uncontained side of Athrun Zala before, and that had been during the war. After the war, it had been, in the most ironic sense, Cagalli, Kira's twin, who had witnessed it. In fact, she had drawn the side out of him without even wittingly doing so. Athrun Zala was still a mild-mannered, quietly firm and well-spoken man. There was only a slight touch of firmness mixed in his fine jaw that hinted of a slightly rash side to his will. He had been trained to be a soldier. And a soldier he had been for most of his life, and as a soldier, he had obeyed only the superiors. And he had watched as Cagalli had been led away by a man they both did not respect and had no love lost for. The only thing he had done as she protested was watch as Yuna Roma Seiran led her away. He had regretted it, even after Kira had taken her away with the Freedom, he had regretted it. No wonder his posessiveness now. Because Athrun Zala did not make the same mistake twice.
The gears of time and momentum would move fast now, as did he. Momentum was the pendulum of decision and he gained this quickly.
And now she carried a child. Possibly his, or possible not. But she was his.
Had it been a resurging of hope? Athrun was not sure, but the little grain that lay in the beach of desolateness and broken dreams was surely a chance that he would hold a child with either her golden, liquid-like eyes or his emerald ones. He wanted her, and he wanted the child she carried. Had Kira suspected? Perhaps.
But perhaps his best friend had been counting on him to stay rooted in his grief and in the road of emptiness and the bitter taste of regret. If so, he should have never said a single word, breathed a syllable about a child the only person Athrun had truly loved carried even as they spoke. Had Kira counted too much on the sting of the betrayal? Perhaps. But then he should have never underestimated the healing forgiveness in the chance a person sought for his own.
He paused and stood in the middle of the gravel path he had been striding down in order to think properly. If he was correct, Cagalli would be moving as swiftly as him. His instincts never failed him.
Later, Meyrin was busying herself with papers he had carelessly strewn around, but she did not chide him for rare show of poor housekeeping. Her brow was troubled but she had a vitality that was a helpless mirror of the energy that surged silently in his veins as he watched.
She spoke loudly, pretending to be a little deaf to his calm silence. "Are you going back to work?"
"Soon." He answered politely, "I hardly think I like being idle."
She grimaced and half-smiled, not trusting his impeccable composure and the veneer she had never reached through to find his soul before. The thought of it was like a slap to her, but she ignored it, busying herself with nothing. "Are you angry with me?"
"Why?" He asked in surprise. She glanced at Athrun, saw his face clearly in the light and quickly looked away. His eyes had widened with inquiry, and with a little difficulty, she muttered, "I gave Kira the spare key you trusted me with."
He made no indication that he had sensed her discomfort or guilt. "It matters little; I have exchanged something more valuable for the one key you held onto."
It was her turn to look surprised now, and a strange sense of foreboding filled her even as he smiled absently and with some warmth that seemed delirious for a split-second before the light of his smile vanished, but not the purpose in his eyes. Meyrin excused herself quietly and he said goodbye with little emotion. She would never grasp who Athrun Zala really was.
But somehow, it did not hurt as much as it might have before. She smiled and waved, wondering if the world had many fools like her and him.
An hour later, by the time Meyrin had left, excusing herself, Athrun Zala was strapped in a shuttle seat. The owners of the firms would be ready to meet him as soon as he stepped down. And the thought of that made a grim smile appear on his determined face.
She visited the Yamato residence the next day, and Meyrin could scarcely begin to imagine the Mediator Clyne the minute she laid eyes on Lacus, no longer unruffled and coldly elegant, but pink-cheeked and laughing wildly as Leon chased her doggedly and Kira watched from afar with a glowing pride painted on his face. When they finally all settled down again, Meyrin drank her tea and spoke while Kira watched them quietly, knowing what Lacus would not say.
"You are very happy aren't you?" Meyrin said pleasantly.
"Am I?" Lacus smiled.
The air around them was idyllic, filled with Lacus' semi-ennui. Had Kira realised this? Most probably, for she had that little contented, listless smile on her face as she stroked Leon's hair from his sweaty, rosy cherubic image of a face. She gave no indication to understanding or bothering to read a deeper meaning into Meyrin's words.
And Meyrin looked embarrassed at what she was saying even when a thousand burning questions lay at the tip of her tongue. Lacus' eyes were knowing. So Meyrin cleared her throat and asked, "You must be, you're the wife of the Commander, Leon's a perfect child, he-,"
"Yes," Lacus said sweetly and finally, if not a little irreverently as she glanced around, distracted by the mechanical menagerie calling loudly around their child who was rolling happily in the grass as Kira watched indulgently, "How perfectly true."
Meyrin's questions melted away, jammed on a invisible wall of an unseen barrier. The bees hummed around the fresh honey flowers and perfumed the air with lethargic perfume. How could she probe? Kira looked over to where they were, understanding that they were conversing the way women did when their lives seemed complete, too complete for them to wonder about anything that could be had after that moment.
The rest of the afternoon was spent this way. Filled with easy happiness and none of the answers that Meyrin had come for. And she left, understanding that she would not be able to understand the man she had loved with her entire self, not would she understand what he had now requested of her. Nevertheless, for old time's sake, Meyrin Hawke would do what he had asked of her.
A car pulled up outside the residence and Shiho Hahenfuss stood before her, dressed in a man's tunic but with her beautiful woman's figure and the sort of easy grace that Meyrin now admired. She stood still, watching the taller woman stride forward to meet her. A call interrupted them.
Irritably, Yzak beckoned, reminding both of them to hurry forward.
High above, Kira watched from a window as the car sped off into the distance where the road joined with the sky, carrying the three of them. Below, Lacus would be preparing Leon for a walk. He would join them shortly.
Athrun's mind was in turmoil. Strangely, a smile somehow crept itself upon his face when he imagined, against his immediate thoughts, a pair of tiny, white hands, perhaps her golden-flecked eyes or even emerald. His child, a gift they'd created. A father-
It did not escape the possibility of his calculations, that she might have been carrying another man's child; jealousy and hurt were powerful even in his utmost rationality. But something in Athrun knew the truth lay somewhere, and even if he could not grasp it all fully in his two hands, it did not disprove the existence of what he wanted, what he chose to believe in even then. Cagalli, he found he could not quite trust, not after so deep and so recent a betrayal, but the child he wanted, the child he would fight for.
The directors of the first clinic looked wary. Always a good starting point, fear and intimidation was.
"Let me introduce myself," Athun said calmly, watching them with alert eyes like emerald knives. "I'm Athrun Zala, ZAFT's Commander-status, First Class, PLANT's Defence Council's Chairman of ETERNITY."
"We know," One man said doubtfully, "That's why we're all here today."
He smiled an emotionless smile. "Good. I thank you all for making the effort to meet me."
"Not much effort," Another spoke up with his eyes not quite meeting Athrun's direct gaze, "When there is talk of you buying out the entire rights of our research and services."
"I'm glad my representative could contact you."
"Er- We've discussed it, and we have met up today to tell you of our decision. Another person, who we cannot disclose his identity, has somehow offered the same conditions as you have."
But he didn't wait to hear it. Athrun gave a singular, brief nod. "You misunderstand me. I was merely expressing an interest in your work. However, I understand you are the sole research and genetic modulation center in ORB?"
"Yes," the man said reluctantly, turning to his partner, both of them still in their laboratory coats. Clearly, they had rushed over to meet him. "And our clientele has sworn us to confidentiality."
"Remarkable that you mention it," Athrun said curtly, "I never even got around to asking if my wife was one of your clientele."
He calmly watched both the men trundle into a terrible panic.
Barely half an hour later, he left the building with his briefcase and the coat he hadn't even bothered taking off to meet the directors. He held the papers for buying them out in his hands, and the sole proprietorship of the ORB Genetic Modulation Centre. Yzak would take care of the rest. In the meantime, he would wait for the moment to strike. He was not prepared to lose.
In her office, Cagalli had been writing a note to a minister, reminding him of the changes in his proposal he would have to re-look through. And she was suddenly aware of Kisaka standing before her. For a minute, she had imagined it was Goebbles, but she had sent him to meet the ambassadors of EA America, unable to look at him without flinching. It wasn't that she despised him, but he was proof of the terrible lengths she was prepared to go to just to restart her life once more.
"What is it, Kisaka?" She asked tiredly.
Kisaka's voice was gravelly, like it was trying to sound normal, but failing somehow. "There's and urgent call. The directors of a firm they don't want to disclose request your attention immediately. I was tempted to put them off if they did not reveal their identities and the nature of their business, but they mentioned that it was a matter of great urgency. They are waiting on the line, and I wasn't aware if you had any business with them. What is your decision?"
She stared at him with a mounting sense of foreboding. "Put them on the line. And ensure nobody is listening. And if you will, leave me to speak to them."
His eyes shone with questions and slight hurt at being left out, but he complied nonetheless. And Cagalli ignored the pounding guilt in her heart and waited for a few terse seconds before snatching the line. The screen flickered and showed a frantic looking half of the directors she had spoken to a week before.
"Well, what is it?" She asked tensely, her fingers twined anxiously around the cord for a reason she could not guess. His next words made her fingers freeze, however.
"There's been an offer to buy us out. If we agree," the quaking director muttered, "Our records of the clientele will go with it."
Mute for a second, she did not speak. But when she had found her voice, Cagalli's tone was resolute. "Who made the offer?"
"We are sworn to secrecy," the director said uneasily, "Although this person does not come from ORB."
Athrun had found out. She gaped. How? Did he know that she had met with the directors and engaged their services with additional conditions that she would pay for them to keep silent if the paparazzi came knocking on their doors, providing them an incentive to disclose their clientele?
Upset, she questioned brusquely, "Do you accept competition amongst buyers for the shares?"
She watched with silent scorn as the greed gleamed in the man's eyes. "Why, yes, yes, of course we do. But we cannot disclose the identity of the buyer."
"It's fine," Cagalli said coldly, "I may know who he is."
She ignored the man's surprise and cut the line. But she was unable to continue, for her head was ringing with the voices she had heard from years ago, and her thoughts were hurried and interrupted. And a second call came. Nervous, she picked it up and watched with apprehension as the second director informed her of the competitor's second offer, even higher than hers. She hadn't wanted to buy over the foundation; she had only wanted maximum and air-tight confidentiality to protect the unborn children she carried. But now, she would have to bid to overthrow Athrun and acquire a company entirely.
She bit her lip. "I'm offering a hundred and twenty percent of the second offer he's made."
"Very well; I'll tell the person."
This time, she stood up and circled the room like a hawk. When the line rang, she snatched it up, breathlessly. But the offer had been even higher. And he had offered three times of what she had offered. She could afford no more. In desperation, she slammed the phone down and redialed another number. Athrun did not pick up the phone in his apartment. Perhaps he was somewhere else. Frustrated, Cagalli dialed for his cell.
Much to her astonishment, Meyrin answered instead of Athrun, sounding cheerful and sweet. "Hello!"
"Is that Meyrin? Where's Athrun?" Cagalli questioned, getting over the startled state she had moved into when she had encountered Meyrin even when she had dialed for Athrun's personal cell.
"Oh," Meyrin said shyly, very awkward, "We're at his apartment."
"Why didn't he answer then?" Cagalli demanded fiercely, impatient.
"Oh I- I've been meaning to thank you, Cagalli. I know it's difficult to make him forget, but I'm trying, I really am. And I don't know, but I, oh, how do I say this? He's asleep, he's been asleep for a while since- well, since. But I'm planning to wake him soon-,"
Sickened, Cagalli cut the line and turned to the wall, closing her eyes and placing a hand on her forehead. She had been wrong. It wasn't Athrun Zala who had been trying to acquire the firm's shares and its clientele. It simply couldn't have been Athrun, because he had been with Meyrin, in his apartment, doing God-knows-what, and now he was asleep, so soundly slumbering that she had had to pick up the line for him. It was somebody else. Someone could possibly have been interested in the firm and was trying to acquire it, by accident gaining her identity amongst all the other names, mostly Coordinator families. She had to find a way to stop that person, whoever he or she was.
Frantically, she dialed for the directors.
A row of rooms aside, the two men stared at each other, silent as they sat across the chairs in Kisaka's office.
Athrun had been waiting for a while since he had blithely passed all the security with a wave of his hand and a ready smile.
"Shall I let her know you're here?" The receptionist asked chirpily, admiring his physique and handsome face. He handed her some beautiful red roses she squealed over, but he causally mentioned that he would take them back to give to Cagalli soon, and her smile deflated. He was a beautiful man, the young woman observed, he had reputedly been made fun of in his younger days, being called even effeminate, but if there was any man worth knowing, it was Athrun Zala. They knew him; they still knew him as their leader's husband.
He looked at her with a half-smile and unintentionally lowered, beguiling green eyes that sent her heart aflutter. How many women had tried to hit on him? And did they entrance him as much as Cagalli?
"Don't worry," Athrun replied winsomely, and his smooth, mild voice made her smile with pleasure, "It'll be a surprise."
And he had waited in Kisaka's office, until the man had arrived, earning a shock out of the burly guardian. Kisaka had came into his office and turned around to see Athrun sitting politely in a chair. And so Athrun watched him look frantic and disturbed by the urgent call that Cagalli had taken after refusing to disclose the nature of the firm that had called, knowing exactly what had happened.
"What are you doing here?" Kisaka roared in shock. Athrun merely smiled a slightly amused smile that did not reach his eyes. He uncrossed his legs and stood up, saying, "You received a call, didn't you?"
"What is going on?" Kisaka demanded, losing some of his composure he had never been known for losing. But Cagalli's tensed state and this man's unfrazzled, confident demeanor, coupled with his sudden appearance was more than what a solid wall of bricks could take at that moment, "And how did you know about the call?"
"Did I say that I did?" Athrun mused, "Oh. Ignore that. She must be busy now."
Glaring, although he was more startled than upset, Kisaka placed himself heavily in the chair opposite Athrun's.
Both had loved the same person in different ways, but they'd loved her all the same. The room was fitted in masculine sepias, and for a minute, Athrun felt disconcerted. The walls were the color of Cagalli's eyes whenever he held her close, their bodies fitting and molding, melting into each other. But he had imagined it- there were not gold flecked amber eyes, darkening with stained brown glaring at him, daring him to defy his sanity and lose himself for her.
"Cagalli's not in a bad state," Kisaka said steadily, "Not at all, in fact. She's happier now, I think she's found a reason to move on. Stubborn she is, but it makes life easier to live for her. Do you understand? When you've been to all sorts of Godforsaken places and but never had a chance to have been herself even once and properly the minute her father died, of course there's only stubbornness and pride left. You blame her for that, but she's got nobody to blame. Her life is to lead and be in politics, just like my master. Stubbornness never harmed anyone in that genre of living. Naturally, she'd apply it to her own self. "
They understood what he meant. Cagalli was like a wheel, she'd had a life halted and hen it started, it wouldn't be stopped once it started in motion unless she'd meant it to be stopped. She had her pride, that she would fulfill her father's role with the sacrifice of her own childhood and her own dreams, whatever they'd been meant to be when she had so many opportunities to walk away from ORB, walk away from duties and do whatever she wanted. No wonder she had resisted him for so long, and no wonder then, that she had refused everything he had offered so far. And Athrun drew in a breath, so she wanted to move on with only that stubbornness and her sheer will to live for her country. Had they failed from the start, before cracks had even shown and the collapse had occurred?
"I understand," Athrun said with an ease that seemed natural, "But with another man?"
Kisaka looked stony, but said nothing. Then he massaged his temples in a rare sign of human weakness that was almost mortal for the tanned Heracles, and looked sharply at Athrun. "She doesn't want you to be present, because I 've seen, and I know as well as she does, that it will be too easy to start dreaming of another life outside her responsibilities when she's with you. With another however, perhaps less significant and less precious to her, the chance of that is lower. And in most mercenary sense, she will never have to let the child face the stigma of having no father. You know as well as I do that living alone is difficult. Will you begrudge her that?"
"No." Athrun admitted, even though pain was insidiously creeping into his hands and eyes. "But inside, I cannot agree."
"Neither can I," Kisaka said uneasily, as if he were afraid somebody would hear. "I will not ask why you kept this from me; I have little right to interfere. However," A moaning sigh of weariness and tender pain gushed through his words, seepage everywhere, "If Lord Uzumi were around, I can scarcely begin to imagine what Cagalli's state would be like in its difference. Granted, she has a stubborn streak in her, that was given a long time ago. But the circumstances are not mutually exclusive from who she is today."
"Impossible," Athrun interrupted, not a little rashly, "If her father were alive, she would have given herself completely."
'To me,' He added inside. But Kisaka understood, his intelligent brown eyes were looking at Athrun, and he half-smiled. "Then what?"
Silence.
"I understand, however," Kisaka said finally, drawing himself upwards, seeming to regain that lion-like strength that made him look taller than ever even while they sat, "I am not certain it is the lost love in your marriage, whether or not it is my right to comment upon something I have no say in, but I sense a deeper reasoning Cagalli uses."
Athrun nodded. "I was foolish to ignore her fears, ignoring those and hoping the years would fade and she would forget the burden her father's death had left for her. She couldn't forget, could she? Time wasn't on our side in the end."
"You speak nothing of time," Kisaka corrected roughly, "You both know nothing of time. You can convince her, if you try, to see what I have seen, that her life, her being, can be divided as you desire. Her guilt is heavy, you know as well as I do, and that child," A soft smile passed his lips, "Is a proud one."
Pride again. Did he not know enough?
"And therefore," Athrun said, speaking in a rush now, although he was very coherent, his words were rapid but not unclear, "Will you agree to assist me?"
Kisaka frowned. "My allegiance lies only with Cagalli, heir of my master." His fingers were locked in each other, strong but not harsh, "I abide by her wishes; I have given her advice she has refused. I play no more a part in this than a stranger. If she refuses to continue with her expectancy, or if she refuses you the birthright, then I will watch and comply with the subsequent orders. Do you understand?"
He wanted to hurl in his despair, but he kept his voice from shaking. "I'm the father of the child she carries."
Kisaka only cocked a cool brow at him.
"Do you wish to let her know that you came?" Kisaka finally asked, as Athrun stood, rigid with a bearing that spoke of his strength and inner conviction, "Is that your desire, Athrun?'
"You may tell her that I have come for her," Athrun said, not turning around, merely pausing like a frozen being at the semi-opened door, "And tell her that she cannot hide the truth from me. But then, by the time you tell her that, I may have already shown her that."
Kisaka's nod wasn't seen, for the door was already closed, and Athrun had disappeared along a familiar corridor that led to Cagalli's office.
'Oh my master,' Kisaka thought wearily, 'If only you could have seen what you did to her when you chose your country over your life and her childhood."
He had hoped, even though he was a jaded man, old and world-wearied, too battle-scarred a warrior to want of love or more than a just master, that the man who had only just stood before him, steady and strong but so tender to the child he had brought up with his master, would take Cagalli away and make her forget what Kisaka's master's death had meant.
Even if it was possible only for the shortest period of time, Kisaka had wanted Athrun Zala to remind the child that she had a right to be selfish. He had hoped that the child would be loved by someone she would give herself entirely to, even if it was just one hour of the day when the country's burdens were lifted off her small shoulders. He had hoped then, that she would love as deeply as Athrun had. Perhaps Cagalli had, perhaps, but like what she'd claimed, they'd fallen out of love. But Athrun's wounds lay in the depths of the forested eyes, and those proved otherwise, that he loved her with every fiber in his body, and that she had utterly ruined him.
Then had she fallen out of love? Perhaps, perhaps not. Cagalli's eyes were distant most of the time, but when he mentioned happier times, she would smile, a warm, a little wan smile, but life would re-enter her face. The child in her would soon cause her body to swell, and she would not be able to hide it any longer. Was that when Athrun would make the final attempt to regain all that had been lost?
He shook his head; it was not for him, Kisaka, to think about. He was a soldier, an advisor, and Cagalli had refused his advice. All the same, Kisaka found himself praying for the first time in years- that the child he had carried on his shoulders would regain her senses, and that the man he had grown to trust and respect would bring her from her chains that held her captive to the ground she walked on, fought to keep safe, would fight to keep safe to the last of her days.
Goebbels had left ORB for a few days to represent his country in a conference in America. Kisaka was not sure of his part in the matter, but he had observed carefully and found nothing in Cagalli's manner to suggest feeling or even affection in the slightest. And Kisaka was not unaware that the youth that had trained in the Seiran's ministry had watched the young Lord Seiran from a distance as he pestered Cagalli to comply to his requests. Kisaka saw much but commented very little.
It had hardly made him nervous that when the Seirans had been entirely eradicated, the House collapsed and defeated in a spectacular disgrace, that the youth, no, young man now, had entered the main House in leadership of ORB and in the next few years, worked his way up to the assistant position, answering only to Cagalli Yula Atha. These things did not quite worry Kisaka, for he had relied on Cagalli's innocence and Benjamin Goebbels' overwhelming ambition to obliviate any possibilities. Besides, he had somehow known that even after the Second War had ended, Cagalli sometimes looked at newspapers for a long time and there would be a slight rose under her cheeks as she glimpsed a picture or two of the newly-elected ETERNITY Chairman.
Now, Kisaka wondered if there was a threat at all. He would remain silent even in the midst of all the he did not understood, in the midst of all Cagalli refused to tell him about. Because Ledonir Kisaka trusted.
Cagalli was nearly losing her control, but somehow, her words were still firm and clipped, well-defined and without a trace of emotion except the ungodly determination that coursed through every syllable.
"To whoever who is willing to buy you out," Cagalli said steadily, "I offer thirty percent more than him."
A knock sounded on her door, and she paused, holding a hand up to the director to signal him to wait, and without turning back, she called, "I'll explain later, Kisaka!"
"No need," Athrun's voice said, sonorous over the crackle of the line and her breaths, "I guessed as much."
She instinctively whirled around, the director's face still frozen and immobile on the screen in the wait, the phone still sandwiched in between her shoulder and her cheek, and she turned in her seat, to face Athrun Zala. His eyes were boring through her, and she gaped at him, as frozen as the image on her screen. The director's voice was frantic, "Ms. Atha? Ms. Atha?"
And she watched as Athrun strode into the line of vision and observed the director's face go slack with shock. Calmly, he plucked the phone from her grasp, watching the image projected on the screen balefully, and said sharply, "The deal's off on this side. Now you can deal with the other buyer."
He put the phone down with a brisk click.
"What- What are you doing here?" Cagalli asked, shocked beyond her senses. For a minute, it had seemed impossible that he was standing here, but he was leaning over her, and the air was filled with his familiar scent of the spicy aftershave, and his smile was knowing. "I've been asked the same question twice today, within an hour. Uncanny."
He carelessly threw a bunch of red roses to her wide glass- framed desk, and a few petals were displaced. Those were ignored, even though they imitated brilliant splashes of blood and ruby silk on the clear glass surface. Athrun looked at her, smiling his half-smile. His eyes said nothing.
Angrily, she stood up, forcing him to take a step back and stand as upright as her rather than leaning over her shoulder. If it could be helped, she resisted contact of any kind, it was far too dangerous. And Cagalli's heart contained an iron-wrought drum, her eyes were wary pools of gold, mottled with distrust. She said nothing, pursed her lips hard, biting them, making them turn a luscious pink, before she spat, "You tricked me!"
She did not wait for him to reply, she marched as far away as she could and stood, backed like a wounded animal against a wall, and her cry was searing. "What did you do?"
"Nothing very difficult," Athrun replied gently, "I could not confirm if you were planning to hide the truth from me, nor could I even confirm the truth itself. I sent Meyrin to become the only way of contacting me. She has been waiting in my apartment for your call to induce you to keep on trying to acquire the firm."
"And the other buyer?"
Her voice was shaking.
"Yzak Joule." He answered simply. Her face crumbled and she crossed over to the room, slapping him hard, unable to bear the deceit he had used to find her out. But he did not flinch, welcomed the stinging mark without a single indication that he had taken it.
"It was the only way," Athrun said, as if in response to her panting self, pink with anger and frustration. "I did not know if you carried my child or not, and even if you were, I did not know if you were hiding that fact from me. Therefore, I realised the only way you could hide something as obvious once the child was born, was to modify the physical features. You would never consent to other tests, would you?"
She nodded blindly, unable to speak. And he continued softly. "And if you were truly carrying my child and you wanted to change that fact on the surface so I would not try to take the child away, you could not have sought for PLANT's genetic centers, because you would be found out easily in my stronghold. In ORB, the only centre would not be obligated to release information to a government which I did not come under. And it made sense that you chose it."
"And then," Athrun said steadily, "You would take Goebbel's name for the child and then remove him from the scene later with both your consensus, I suppose. Either that or you would leave the child's father's identity a secret. I had to know for sure. You would have succeeded, but you made a fatal flaw. You forgot that the Centre, the sole one in ORB, was ultimately a profit-making enterprise, which would then be bought over if offered a high enough price."
"I did," Cagalli said bitterly. "And what about it?"
"It was simple then," Athrun said, strangely mildly, as if he were recounting a light-hearted story, "For me to arrange that Yzak Joule offer money for buying over the rights to the Centre. And I knew you would suspect it was I. And naturally, because you are not a foolish woman, you checked, prepared to know if I was trying to buy over the rights as well. Did it cross your mind that even if you had successfully contacted me, I could still lie and you would have no way of knowing? I think not, because you would have trusted me. But you didn't count on Meyrin answering from my apartment, nor did you count on her lying and putting forward the impression that I was not the other buyer."
He paused, looking at her. "And that made you even more desperate to retain the confidentiality, because, as I suspected, a strange would be even less hesitant in selling your identity and mine over to whoever who wanted to pay for it, therefore endangering the child's future."
"Yes," Cagalli answered, dazed, "But also because I didn't want to implicate you."
It was his turn to fall silent, for he had not seen that. But so far, he had been correct. "And while Yzak, upon my request, competed with you with the directors as the middleman, I roughly gathered all I needed to confirm that you were indeed part of the clientele. And in prolonging the competition for proprietorship, I bought enough time to come here and find you engaged in what I had suspected you would be involved in. I wanted to see for myself. And I have seen."
"Yes," Cagalli repeated. "Are you satisfied?"
She was still reeling from the shock and the hurt of being fooled the way he had done. But her words, meant to provoke him into leaving, perhaps, she thought hopefully, storming out of her world, created no other effect other than the soft, wan smile he gave her. "No." Athrun replied, "Not yet. Sit down. Please."
She glared at him mistrustfully, even considered calling for the security. But her gaze fell on the roses he had put on her desk, and she realised he was had came to well-prepared for her to even begin to try and defeat. They would not believe her unless she did something drastic, and that would have been even more unbearable than this.
"Sit down, please, do as I ask," He repeated, and she heard a tender huskiness in his voice and distrustfully complied, although she placed herself as far away as her chair would allow. Cagalli's reflexes were entirely functioning, and she curled herself into the chair, protectively, her knees shielding her abdomen from his gaze, afraid that his eyes would take the truth and her chance of keeping what she had sworn to bring into the world and love for both of them.
He said nothing, only gazed at her with a silent, knowing expression that frustrated her because she found she did not understand it the way it seemed to read and comprehend her thoughts so easily. Her hands covered her soft body protectively as his eyes flickered over her.
"Not yours," Cagalli said defiantly, her lips full and trembling slightly, "There's nothing more to be said. Everything is ready; my name is the only one worthy. Nothing belongs to you."
He smiled softly. "You make a fine mother and the worst liar I've ever seen."
She colored rapidly, but it was an angry flush, and to her horror, she found herself resorting to childish temperaments. "Shut up. You've no part in this. Perhaps Kira didn't make it clear, but it's time we stopped shirking our responsibilities, you shouldn't be tied down by rumors or anything that will leave a stain on your reputation, you've got a longer way to climb than I have."
"Is that why you've asked someone else to shoulder the responsibility, as if it were his?" Athrun responded eloquently, leaning back to survey her, "And if so, why did he agree? There are a few possibilities, that you've given him an incentive to. Either monetary or something deeper."
He broke off rapidly and she hissed, "Don't insult me!"
"You gave yourself easily, didn't you?" Athrun challenged, although there was nothing in his voice that suggested anything but gentle persuasion, "Give yourself to me, when you were the one who suggested we followed what we were supposed to do according to what had already been set out by our parents' deaths on the basis that we had fallen out of love. And my word," His half-smile made her cringe, "Didn't you enjoy it."
She had leapt out of the chair and tried to strike him, but he easily snatched her hand out of the air and held it securely between them. Athrun Zala was a gentleman, she knew that, intrinsically she did, and that he was resorting to slightly caustic words to provoke a reaction from her to prove that she had her honour, that she had loved him from the start, and she knew that she ought not to have responded to his words. But the suggestion behind them was far more than she could bear, especially when his mouth was the very thing that uttered them. She struggled a little, but Athrun looked at her and said in his infinitely quiet, mild manner, "There."
He had never been one to speak very much; he preferred succinct speech rather than verbose exchanges. And the thought of that made Cagalli protest, "It meant nothing!"
Her words rang as hollow as the silence. And Cagalli's eyes fell, her skin feverish and her hurt became obvious.
But Athrun spoke now, and his voice was so low that she had to strain to hear it. "We've never fallen out of love, have we?"
'Athrun,' she thought miserably, 'I've given you all the options you've ever needed to move on. Why do you not?'
"I don't know," She retorted, "That's what you think. I've moved on since the day you moved out."
"You haven't, "He replied in the way that silenced any other objection as he surveyed her levelly, "And falling out of love isn't the reason why we've ruined ourselves. It took me a while to understand, but I do, and fully now. You were always unable to let go of your father's death and the responsibility you thought you had to carry as a burden, didn't you? And that was why I could never fully have you even when you had given yourself or pledged to at very least."
She looked away, discomforted. "I didn't realise until you left. And it's taken me far too long for that realisation that between my country and being selfish for myself, I'm obliged to bind myself to the former."
"So you are," He said with the kind of sigh that make her ache inside, "But can't you have both?"
"I can't be selfish, can I?" She asked, angrily, her eyes were flashing amber. It was true then, he reflected that her insecurities had been the onslaught of the collapse. And that confirmation made him more determined than ever, and he held her gaze without a single thought of what he risked, only that he could not afford to lose the only things that mattered to him then.
He frowned. "Then why did you agree to give yourself to someone other than the country you were bound to?"
"I told you already," Cagalli shot back, well and thoroughly ill at ease now, she was becoming more and more exposed and weaker with every line she was admitting, "It was a mistake, wasn't it? I'm trying to make up for it now, but damn it, you won't let me!"
"You said you couldn't be selfish," Athrun said softly, "Then can I be?"
Her head had slipped down, she had been lost in her darkness and thoughts, but now, her face reverted towards his and a kind of saddened, numbed shock entered her features as Cagalli stared at him. "You-,"
He wanted to be selfish, he wanted to have her, if not entirely, then as entirely as she would allow. That had been the premise for their union each time, each time they touched, he had reasserted his possessive hold over her and she had welcomed it gladly, giving herself, but now, it seemed to her that the destructive nature of the hedonistic, beautiful bond they had shared had been too dangerous. And perhaps, that had been the intrinsic reason for her awakening from the long, glorious dream of being his and having something all to herself.
"I want to be selfish," Athrun continued steadily, not looking away, "I cannot have anybody else. Do you not understand, Cagalli?"
Her eyes were slipping away but reluctantly, she looked back at him, drawn back by his unwavering emerald gaze and the strength he held his posture in. And slowly, her hands lost the strength to hold her knees up to herself, and they slipped, realigning the creases in the folds of the thin white shift, revealing the familiar, soft swell of her breasts under the fine material, and Athrun swallowed. The taste of the night's memories were distant but subtly powerful. But she stood up, as rashly as she would have been capable of and said loudly, over the roar of the thoughts that gushed through her head, the unwelcome joy and strange desire to shout something, anything, "Go back to where you belong, Athrun."
Then she stood and bolted in a flash, calling wildly, "Kisaka!"
But he had blocked the door with his foot and cornered her easily. "Stop. He hasn't got a part in this. Only we do. Didn't you know? Kira and Lacus will not interfere either."
A darkening of his eyes did not deter her. "Go back," She continued rapidly, "And leave me to be. My world once revolved around you, but it has since ceased to. You never gave me a choice to not love you, but now I see what the mistake I made was. We made a mistake, both of us did. But I will never begrudge you anything, and the life in me will not implicate you in any way, I promise you that at least."
"But we haven't finished yet," Athrun said gently, sensing her pain, mistaking his own for hers, but not quite mistakenly either, for both together made them in that moment, "Please, sit down."
"No," She said violently, shaking her head, "I might regret it."
"You might regret not hearing yourself clearly," Athrun corrected quietly, "Please."
His eyes pleaded her in a way his guarded, careful voice would never be capable of doing, and reluctantly, she sat down again. His gaze scanned her hungrily, noting the slight differences, so slight that they were nearly impossible to detect if Athrun had not been one who was so well familiarized with the one he felt for the best. Her lips were fuller and more inviting, her complexion less of the peach-gold but now a more hinting white, waxy even, and he could almost imagine the sensivitised skin tasting milky and inviting. Her neck would surely feel slightly warm, as would her bared torso, warmth that came not from temperatures of the room but her internal development. Instinct told him this as he stared at her.
"Why am I weak?" Cagalli asked desolately, "When I should not be?"
"You aren't," Athrun said in a single, wonderful breath, and his eyes bored into hers. "You possess a strength you don't recognize and that strength draws people to you- myself included."
She looked away as bitterness welled in her.
"I must be taken as I have been made," Cagalli said finally, her eyes pained, "The success of my father's death as a bind to my country and I, or the failure to recognise this early enough before I allowed myself to become involved with you, I don't know. But the two together make me."
"I cannot not have you," Athrun continued, ignoring her slight response, thinking only of what was at stake, of how much he wanted to take her and hold her in his arms, feel her body warmth seeping through the thin material and enveloping them both, "And I understand that you cannot not have your country, a country whose soil is stained with your father's blood sacrifice."
"You understand then," Cagalli said listlessly, "And now you will go."
"Then why did you give your hand?" He demanded, "Why lead me on and spurn me?"
She rose in a stunning fit of pride and rage, on her feet, and suddenly, she felt like the mermaid that had traded everything to walk for her lover, for each step was a performance of fire gushing from her lower limbs to her entire body. "I told you it was a mistake! You were at fault as much as I, although I can scarcely blame your being and your face and the way you held me as much as I blame my own weakness in thinking that I could go against what was set from the minute I watched my father explode in the flames he used to protect this land!"
"Does your self-denial equate to selflessness?" Athrun demanded with his own anger, derisively holding her captive with his voice, but then he felt her thrust of pain as she turned away like he had stuck her, and his voice softened, "If you will not be selfish, at least let me be."
"Why do you assume so?" She asked stubbornly, holding her arm with one hand crossed over her defensively, "What if I say I stopped loving?"
"Then I know you lie," Athrun retaliated unrelentlessly, satisfied at watching her look bewildered at the turn of events that she had not been able to predict or handle now, for he had came with nothing but his determination. She might have been prepared, Cagalli might have been ready to fight, but he presented nothing more than a truth that he would tell.
"You cannot prove it," Cagalli said loudly, boldly defying the fear, "And you have no claim to- to anything."
"The child is mine," Athrun said softly, with a finality and gentleness that struck her more soundly than a blow, "I know. And you are prepared to let go of whatever we shared but it isn't possible if I don't let go of your hand even if you have let go of mine. You belong to me, don't you know? From the time I saw you, you belonged to me."
She stared at him with growing frustration, incensed by his stubbornness that she was supposed to outmatch. And it seemed to Cagalli that he was towering over her, somehow drawing her to him even as she prevented herself from sitting or more accurately, collapsing into the chair that she had previously occupied. She was a failure, the ruse had been worthless. And if she could only make him leave and retreat until it was time to stem all outcomes of his characteristics from appearing in the lives in her, then she would have won a Pyrrhic battle. For he knew the truth.
"I belong to my country!" She declared tautly, badly infuriated by the growing ache in her, and something in her appeared to be forlorn. "And to no other!"
He smiled, it was a painful, tender one. "Still so stubborn. You cannot move me."
"What would you have me do?" She asked indignantly.
"Did you stop loving me when I foolishly left you alone after the loss of our child? Or when you came to me for comfort and I gave you nothing but cold composure?"
Horrified, Cagalli nodded, then shook her head helplessly. "I don't know. I don't know anymore."
"You forgave me, didn't you?"
"As much as you forgave me for losing the child." Cagalli said wistfully and in a manner that reminded him of a tiny boat swept out to the expanse of blue, unthinking ocean. He looked at her and said quietly, "I'll give up anything you want me to in exchange."
They both knew what he referred to. Her lips drew apart in instant protest, and to silence her, he held up some papers he took from behind him, and for the first time, she noticed he had held them securely. Her eyes caught sight of the firm's familiar names, and her heart beat wildly and uncontrollably as her lips became dry.
"This," Athrun said reflectively after a moment or two, "Is proof of the ownership and sole rights I possess to all the possible firms' you might have approached in PLANT. If I know you well enough, you would not give up and try to find a way in PLANT. And therefore, this is the proof that you cannot find another alternative now that the first option is closed."
"Liar!"
Her cry of distress was aching to hear.
"No," Athrun said easily, "Yzak Joule acquired the ORB Centre. I, on the other hand, bought a year's worth of direct ownership to the PLANT foundations. A year is more than enough time to ensure that the child will bear my mark. No doctor or genetic researcher in this country, or any, for that matter, qualified or not, will manipulate our child's genes with our combined acquisitions. I trust you will not go as far as to hire unqualified and untried practitioners of genetic-manipulation that risks the child's life aside from the physical attributes you were planning to modify."
Stricken, she shoved past him, but he caught her hand and dropped the papers, and they cascaded to the floor like grieving white birds whose wings had been shot off. "Who told you?" She asked in a deathly whisper that was sharp nonetheless. "I told no-one, not even Kira."
"I suspected," Athrun replied emotionlessly, "I counted on you being who you are to fight. I kept the fact that I had arrived secret, so I could gather and find all the information I needed."
"They were sworn to confidential information!" Cagalli protested, insane with desperation, "It was impossible for you to know!"
"They were careless, although not quite enough for me to be absolutely sure that you had approached them," He confirmed somewhat wistfully staring at her. His grip was not ungentle but she was held motionless in it. And he lifted a wrist to his lips, baptizing it with a feather-light touch. "You carry my child."
She felt the prickling of tears, because she could not afford to lose and somehow, he would not let her go. And she drew in a deep breath, courage solidifying in her mind's depth and the reaffirmation that she could not win at this stage. "I carry your children."
"Child." His voice held stupendous disbelief.
She shook her head. "No. Children."
His eyes grew wide with astonishment and instantaneous amazement, joy mingling in the forest color. "More than one? Twins?"
She nodded blindly then, too dazed by the joy she had never imagined and the wild happiness that shone through his features. A passionate smile was lighting his eyes, leaving no room for any emotion except an empirical, unthinking, dazed eagerness. And she feared that she wanted to hold him close as he did for her, and try once again, try and eventually fail and know that the entire cycle of pain had repeated itself. No, better to stay away and forbid herself from returning to someone who could so easily tear her away from a country when nobody else could, better that she take their children and live for them and the country instead of someone who would live for her as well.
"Why, he didn't tell me?" Athrun murmured, and suddenly, Cagalli was aware that she was breathing in the heady scent she was so prone to losing herself in, already lost in his arms and his lithe physique that complimented her softer one. But she did not give herself any time to rediscover the sensation of his touch or admire the hard lines of his body, and she clumsily pushed away. "Let go."
"No." He insisted, holding tighter, his breath tickling her ear. "I'll give anything. State and I'll give."
"There isn't a price!"
"There is." He cut in seriously, holding her slightly apart so he could gaze into her face with the brooding expression so vastly different from the one of child-like joy only moments before. "I have paid it."
"What have you done?" She cried.
Something in his voice suggested no reason to think that he was joking or telling a lie. There was only a solemn, slightly wonder-filled note, as if he could not believe what she had only just told him. But his hands, placed securely on her waist in a mimicry of a plant's roots in the ground, encircled her lovingly and drew her near so that he could have kissed her by simply breathing.
"I've resigned from PLANT's service," He answered stoically, in an even manner as she gasped and stared in shock, "I will be here forever, like what I promised before. But they can never recall me back as long as I belong to this country. I have a provisional citizenship here." He reminded her lightly, tracing her cheek with his fingers, ignoring her frozen attempts to speak, "And that is the price I have offered. Is it adequate?"
Shakened, she drew back as much as he would allow her and asked weakly, "But you can't! You're making me seem selfish and the exact reason for not-,"
"I don't care," Athrun interrupted simply, holding her by her bare shoulders, understanding her dilemma for the first time in the truest depth possible, "You understand me, don't you, Cagalli? I don't care."
"Oh what difference does it make?" She cried in frustration and agony, "If I have you with me, I will never truly belong only to my country!"
"I don't want to share you with anything else," Athrun said, in a manner that made nothing but his words become the truth in that instant, "In every thing that lives in this body, I don't. But your blood is of this country's, and tearing you away would not obtain me what I want. I don't care if your guilt in not being totally involved with your country or with me exists- I only care that you are with me and we live. Together. I will never be free of you."
"I must be free of you!"
She was shaking. Hot tears of disappointment with something she couldn't identify and utter futility swept from somewhere and her eyes were luminous. But she did not cry. She could not. For the first time, Cagalli understood him. Why a man like him had chosen to spend his life on a person that she was, she still did not understand. But now she understood, the reason why he had attempted everything to gain her was the same reason why he wanted to keep her by his side now. She still did not know the reason, but it was exactly the same one. She opened her mouth to say something, and a huge, gasping sob tore its way through her, leaving her breathless with gaping, wracked sounds of a silent weeping.
He was instantly holding her to him, pressing her head to his neck, letting himself become weak and somehow so firm still in the way he held her. She did not cling to him like a tiny child; she had that little dignity even in the remnants of her wrecked plans, because she had a pride that was fierce and as golden as her eyes. But the tears came eventually.
How could they not?
He waited however, waited until she could breathe properly once more. His hands were still wrapping her close to him. And she was grateful that she could not see his face and he could not see hers, streaked with tears and her runny nose. She was aware, however, that he was smiling. His voice held that sort of gentleness that reopened a wound in her, a deep wound, because it has been the first cut she had ever experience, and the first cut was always the deepest. "I have offered you a solution, the only one. Will you accept the price?"
"Is there no other way?" She choked. He knew as well as she did, that she was near to the end of her rope of stubbornness. Her guilt at being so easily swept away by a love so intense and the only one she had known when he had brought her across the line of of a child on the cusp of womanhood to being one shaped by the experiences of life he had given her was strong. This was none as strong as the reality, yet, that Athrun Zala was standing before her, and that he had nothing left to offer that he had given up to her. And she put her head against his chest, lulled into a healing calmness by the rhythm of his broken heart. He held her quietly, understanding why she could never give herself totally to him with the blood of her father mixed in the soil of the land they stood on, and he found that it did not matter anymore as long as she was ultimately his. And the reality was dazzling and before their eyes, and so he answered her readily.
"None. I must have you. I made the mistake once of chasing the remnants of my father's sins, trying to atone for them so much that I gave you away to another. I won't allow a second time."
"Alright," She said, a bit of her old spirit returning in that broken moment, and a strength re-entered her face and voice "And only because-"
He lifted her away to survey her face, his eyes eager and satisfied with that spark. "Because?" he prompted.
"Because I can never devote myself entirely to this land while you live. And even if you had gone away, far away where I would not remember and you would not come to find me, you would have taken a part of me away. I had planned to keep that little of you with what I carry in me now, after I thought I could make you leave and find a chance of being happier where-"
"I'll never go," Athrun interrupted briefly, finding the mixture of resolute beauty and wistfulness on Cagalli's face captivating as he stared at her reddened eyes and pinkened lips, "And you can't have a part of me either without my entire self being together with you."
She understood and smiled, a sparkling, genuine smile, perhaps the only one she had wanted to give for the first in a long time. His hands slipped to her tender belly and with sensuous wonder that grew on his face, and wordlessly, he gazed at her.
Athrun had won.
But then, he had never really lost her, now this was something that they understood, because they had never been able to fully alienate each other from their minds. And the unspoken was the most affirmative then as he cupped her cheeks and kissed her mouth gently. Her mouth was bright and curious, something sad formed in the shape of her lips and their subtle soft texture, but all the same, a bright and curious mouth. Unable to stop, unable to not taste her, he took encouragement from her initially reluctant clutch to a frenzied, earnestly passionate embrace. His stubbornness had been dormant, now it arose and overpowered her will. But then, she had been longing, secretly, for a difference, for the greatest length of time. Now he offered it.
And when she broke it desperately, her lungs seeking for air, he smiled vaguely and remarked, "I imagine you'll need an extraordinary amount of help where children are concerned."
She hit him, but he only smiled at her returning tears and the pink blush over her cheeks as he held her breathlessly and the world around them with the white papers he had strewn on the floor loomed smaller and smaller until it was insignificant in its oblivion.