Hi Everyone!

Thanks for your patience and extra thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter. I am so happy that you are enjoying the story. I will try not to disappoint you. I am a little disappointed with this chapter though but after about a month I want to move on with the story.

Please excuse any spelling/grammar errors.

Disclaimer: I don't own GS or GSD

Affronted Affections

Chapter #15: Remnants of Memories

Patrick never left Athrun's bedside. None of his associates back in the PLANTS pushed him either though they were starting to notice a mild deterioration in the man's health. Patrick almost never slept and he hardly ate unless food was brought to him. Stubborn, he refused to leave his son alone. It had been a week since Athrun undergone surgery in the PLANTS and while the younger boy had slept through most of the week, Patrick hadn't and the mental strain was beginning to take its toll.

That evening, Mr. Amarfi hulled himself up the creaky staircase of the Zala residence to where he knew his associate and the household patient hid. He had volunteered to temporarily move into the Zala home to help Patrick see to Athrun. Through the crack in the door, he sighed when he saw Patrick lying unconscious across Athrun's bed; his head just inches from that of the blue-haired boy. Mr. Amarfi approached quietly and gave his friend a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

"Patrick… Patrick," He whispered and stepped back when he finally stirred. "Patrick, I think you should get some rest."

"Huh?" Patrick blinked and for a second, seemed to forget where he was. Glancing down, his expression saddened when he finally reestablished his surroundings. It was then that he noticed the pair of glossy, blood-shot hazel eyes looking up at him. Patrick gasped. "Athrun?"

Mr. Amarfi hurried over; his eyes wide as it sunk in that the boy was once again awake. "Is he conscious?"

"Athrun?" Patrick asked again and reached up to gently caress the side of his son's face, where the swelling had gone down. "How are you feeling?"

Athrun didn't answer rather he simply blinked slowly, his expression unreadable. Patrick felt his throat go dry – for someone so young; Athrun looked years beyond his age. His eyes had sunken and his skin was a pasty white. The light from the dimly lit candle by his bed reflected off his pale completion, reminding both Mr. Amarfi and Patrick just how delicate he really was. Most of all, he looked drained, drained of strength, of will and of life.

"I don't think he understands," Mr. Amarfi said carefully as his eyes moved from Athrun to Patrick. "Keep in mind, he's been through quit a bit… very much like that poor girl he rescued. Have you heard any word for her? Or her family?"

For a long moment, Patrick gazed down hard at his son, noticing how the boy's glazed eyes seemed to regain some recognition at the mentioning of Cagalli. Athrun's eyes drifted upwards until they were focused on his father, silently searching for a response to Mr. Amarfi's question.

"No," Patrick finally answered, the tension suddenly growing heavy in the room. "Not so much as a thank you."

Patrick averted his eyes from Athrun as he confirmed his answer while struggling to contain himself. "I've heard nothing from that girl or her ungrateful father."

The boy just continued to stare and Mr. Amarfi knew that if he didn't intervene, Patrick would break down into tears. He had seen in too many times already in the past few days. "I'll stay with him," He told the distraught father. "You go get some rest."

"I can't leave…"

"I'll stay with him until you come back," Mr. Amarfi added quickly, knowing what he would say. "Please Patrick, hurting yourself will not help your son… we've been through this."

Patrick took one last look at Athrun before rising to his feet and making room for Mr. Amarfi to sit by Athrun's bedside. "Promise?" His voice hiccupped as the question escaped his parted lips.

"I promise," Mr. Amarfi assured him and watched as Patrick reluctantly left and headed to the main floor. He was too tired to argue and was desperate for an escape from the conscious world he'd been living in for the past week.

Mr. Amarfi hesitated for a moment before turning his attention back to the broken boy lying before him. For a brief instant, he wondered if Athrun even knew who he was. He searched those deep orbs hoping to find some sort of indication that his spirit hadn't been completely shattered and was disappointed to find only the skeleton of a boy who had once been so full of life. He continued to look up at Mr. Amarfi, until he finally turned his head to the left and let out an airy sigh. Mr. Amarfi, much to his shame, was afraid to touch him in fear that he would break under his touch.

He stayed by his bedside as promised; close enough to be of comfort but not close enough to touch him. Pain spilled from every pore of Athrun's lithe body like a terrible disease or a sickness that had contaminated the very essence of his being.

"She's crying." he whispered softly, his pale lips barely opening enough to under the faint sounds.

"Who?" Mr. Amarfi asked carefully. The boy hadn't spoken since the surgery and he hadn't really been aware of what he had been saying. Why was he talking now? To him no less - Why not Patrick? The man yearned to hear his son's voice yet Athrun had said nothing… until now. "Who's crying Athrun?"

"Listen."

Mr. Amarfi did as Athrun asked, despite not knowing what he should expect to hear. Athrun's shallow breathing could barely be heard over the rain as Mother Nature drummed her fingers on the roof. It was a steady tapping but he failed to understand what he should have been hearing. "I can't hear it," He admitted. "I'm sorry."

Athrun's eyes had moved to the window which had long since fogged up due to the storm. Mr. Amarfi followed them; an uneasiness sinking into his stomach. He wished he'd known what to say to him but he didn't. He could have told him that things would be ok, that he didn't need to be afraid though what purpose would that serve? The boy had almost died and was in insurmountable pain. To express false assurances would only demonstrate his ignorance. Suddenly he wished he hadn't sent Patrick away. He was the boys' father – surely he would know how to deal with him.

"Cagalli is crying," Athrun mumbled and blinked slowly. "Tears are falling."

Mr. Amarfi hesitated, unsure what to say so he decided it best to remain silence. The man simply figured the boy was disoriented and had yet to remain his senses. Those were the last words that Athrun Zala spoke. Eventually, the boy succumbed to an awkward sleep and when he awoke, his world had changed. Nothing would ever again be as it had once been.

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For six long months, Athrun was bedridden. Having broken both of his legs, the boy really couldn't move much nor did he appear to want to regardless of Patrick's efforts to cheer him up. Nothing seemed to get through to him and even when the splints came off and Athrun could move around again, he restricted himself to the small room that had become his world. Always subdued and downcast, Athrun hadn't spoken a word to anyone.

It had come to the point that Patrick was truly concerned that his boy had forgotten how to speak altogether. Athrun didn't eat unless asked to nor did he move unless told to. Not once had he cried or shed tears over what had happened to him which also worried Patrick. He wasn't sure if the boy had really come to terms with everything that had happened. Both he and Mr. Amarfi had spoken with Athrun's doctor but he was of little help. The only conclusion the doctor could come up with was that Athrun had withdrawn into himself to deal with the trauma he had endured and only time could cure his ailment.

Though still incredibly weak, Athrun's physical injuries were all but healed while the scars he bore within were still very deep and bleeding. When Patrick would come home, it wasn't uncommon to find Athrun just lying on the bed, his unfocused eyes gazing emptily through the window as he fiddled with the bandage that was still wrapped around his left hand. It was the only visual reminder that the disaster had occurred. Athrun usually would glance over at Patrick as he entered the room before returning his attention back to the window.

Patrick had tried to talk to Athrun but it had been so long since the boy had uttered a single word that he wasn't sure what to talk to him about. Athrun's friends had wanted to see him but Athrun had silently indicated he had no desire to talk to anyone. Even the people of the PLANTS were becoming concerned for the boy's well-being. Nobody blamed Patrick of course but the news of Athrun's impassive behavior spread quickly, as did the immense empathy that everyone seemed to feel towards the youth and the Chairman himself.

Rumors soon began to spread that put into question the boys' sanity; much to Patrick's disgust. Some believed that Athrun was no longer in his right mind which was why he'd gone mute. Others believed that Athrun had simply been traumatized to the point of no return. Patrick denied all speculations but he couldn't help but wonder if Athrun really had gone mad.

Patrick tried taking Athrun downtown which had proven to be a mistake in itself. He had gone to get some supplies from the grocery store and had brought his son with him to get him out of the house. When the kind lady at the cash register offered Athrun a free coupon, he simply stared at her. The look on his face would be forever engraved in Patrick's memory. That indifferent gaze that Athrun seemed to always wear on his face met the eyes of poor woman. He didn't make any sort of motion towards her rather he just stared at her and the offering she held before him.

When asked if Athrun had understood what she was saying, Patrick only nodded. Resolutely, he took his son's hand in his own and left the store after paying for what he had needed. As usual, Athrun just sat beside him in the car quietly, staring off into the distance.

Another incident not too long afterwards also clawed at the back of Patrick's mind regarding the mental state of his son. Patrick had tried to take Athrun fishing in hopes to get him to open up. Instead, he found that all Athrun seemed interested in doing was sitting by the riverside, poking his finger into the water and watching the ripples spread across to the other side of the stream. His vacant eyes just stared down into the water at the empty shell of what had once been a vibrant young man. Almost mechanically, he continued to dip his finger into the cold water and watch, mesmerized by the way the ripples erupted and extended across the still water. Patrick would watch his son, wondering if he could see things that Patrick simply could not. Perhaps Athrun really was too far gone to be saved.

Patrick desperately wanted Athrun to turn back into the happy youth he had known before he had sent him to Lunar Prep but that didn't seem to be happening any time soon. He wished Athrun would cry or at the very least give some sort of indication that there was still some life in him. That his soul hadn't been shattered beyond repair on that fateful day.

As the days grew longer though, Patrick's own resolve was starting to wane and he found himself yearning for escape. The time he spent with Athrun decreased and Patrick often discovered his son preferred roaming about the hours on his own than with him. It was just as well for Patrick was growing weary of Athrun's detached nature.

Many a times, he had found himself gazing hungrily into space. He felt torn; part of him wanting to acknowledge his desire to get away while the other part of him continued to remind him that he couldn't abandon his only son. Athrun, however, seemed almost nonexistent.

One night, after putting Athrun to bed, Patrick found he was unable to sleep and decided to sit by the fire in the main room. Resting his head in his hands, he perched himself by the fire and gazed sorrowfully into the burning embers. He didn't know how to deal with Athrun. He didn't know the right things to say and was frightened by his aloof behavior. If only the boy's mother was still with them… she would have known what to do.

"Patrick?"

"Hmm?" He looked up to see Mr. Amarfi staring down at him.

"You're thinking of leaving, aren't you?" Mr. Amarfi observed as he sat down beside him and handed him a cup of coffee.

"How did you know?" Patrick asked, taken back by his friend's impressive intuition.

Mr. Amarfi just shrugged before shifting. "How do you think Athrun would feel if he found out you were also thinking of leaving him?"

"Athrun?" Patrick chuckled bitterly and shook his head as he averted his gaze. "I don't think he feels much of anything anymore."

"That's no reason to abandon him is it?"

"Of course not!" Patrick snapped angrily. "It's just… I want to forget everything that has happened. I don't understand what's happening to Athrun… I've tried… I just am so tired of looking at him. Every time he looks up at me with those cold and detached eyes of his, I don't know what to do or say or anything!"

Patrick sighed and turned his gaze back to Mr. Amarfi "I know I can't leave him behind. I just …"

"It's okay," Mr. Amarfi soothed as he put a hand on Patrick's shoulder. "I know this is hard for you. Nobody can really understand what Athrun is going through. Right now it's important that we be there for him when he does decide to open up and… he will eventually."

Patrick nodded dejectedly. "I hope so. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Mr. Amarfi simply smiled and firmed his grip on Patrick's shoulder. Neither one of them was aware of the pair of emerald eyes looming over the railing that overlooked the fireplace. Neither one of them aware of the young figure who pushed himself away from the banister and made his way back to bed, possibly even more miserable than he had been before.

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After having heard his father's words, Athrun went about as though he had heard nothing. Deliberately staying in bed until he was sure that both Patrick and Mr. Amarfi had left for work, Athrun went about as he had been for the last few months. For most of the day, he simply roamed around the house. Having wandered about for over 2 months, he had discovered an old oak tree that lingered over the shallow creak that identified the border of the Zala manor.

That day, he had sought out his new favorite retreat from the world. The sun was going down, the northern winds playfully pulling at the leaves on the tree above him. There wasn't a soul for miles and somehow, he felt more at peace there than he had in ages.

Running his fingers across the rough bark, he reveled in it's every curve. His Father had once told him that a tree bared proof to the passage of time and he could only imagine the secrets that this tree held, the things it must have seen. He pulled myself up onto the lowest branch and balanced himself while swinging his legs absently back and forth. Did the memories of the oak tree fade and contort with time as his were? Or were they immortalized in every ring that buried itself within its trunk?

Suddenly, Athrun wished he could be like the tree. He tried so hard to keep his memories untainted yet as the days past, he found their substance fading; replaced with his own creation of what he thought to be rather than what was. Athrun was loosing Cagalli… though he tried so hard, he was loosing her. His memory was slipping away.

Athrun looked up at the sky and saw that the sun was starting its noble descent. Soon, he would have to leave. Leaning against the trunk of the tree, Athrun pulled off a piece of its bark and fiddled with it as the winds seemed to pick up; causing him to shiver. It was going to be a cold night.

Deep down, he dreaded going back home. Back to his father. Patrick would try to comfort him though his futile attempts only proved his inability to understand what he was going through. Athrun sighed. How could he expect him to help him when even he didn't know how to help himself?

He felt so detached from everything around him. It was as if suddenly, nothing mattered. Athrun saw things in a way he never had before; in a way that he was certain eluded his father. Instead of people, Athrun saw objects. Mindless mechanical machines that played out the predetermined script to each day. Where Athrun had once found happiness, he found emptiness. How could he go on pretending nothing had happened? Sometimes, things seemed almost surreal and when he played back the events in his mind, Athrun found each time the film had been altered. Nothing was real… nothing but the present and he had found himself estranged from it. And so was his dilemma.

Athrun's life was spiraling out of control and he so desperately wanted to just scream for everything to stop. He saw the way people looked at him, a mix of pity and suspicion. Mostly pity. They didn't reach him…. Nothing could reach him. Besides, in a few minutes, all that had happened would be gone. Erased from the face of the earth just as the accident and just as his relationship with Cagalli had been. Athrun couldn't hold onto a distorted memory but he couldn't move on either. Thus he was frozen, suspended in a state of paralysis while time continued to push forward without him.

Athrun closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, feeling much older than his years. Young men his age shouldn't feel this way. It wasn't right. Yet, the feelings refused to go away. Looking up into space where his father yearned to be, Athrun shuddered. He knew he was hurting his father but the feelings inside of him had all but devoured him and had left him raw and empty.

He remained in the tree for about another hour before deciding it was time to head for home. The winds carried him as he slowly lumbered home. Had Cagalli's eyes been blue? Brown? Or perhaps they were green like his own. His mind told him they were brown but he no longer trusted it. Like a puzzle missing pieces, his mind simply filled in the blanks of the images in his mind with falsehoods and he hated himself for it.

Why hadn't she written him? He remembered giving someone his address. He had even heard her voice… or so he had thought. Though she had tried, Cagalli hadn't been able to give him her address. They both knew that electronic messages were simply too risky and since letters were almost a thing of the past, they had both felt it to be the best way of staying in contact without anyone noticing. Aside from that, all electronic messages that reached the Zala home were cleared by his father while traditional mail was not… or so Athrun had thought.

Had she forgotten him? Perhaps he meant nothing to her after all? The more he thought about it, the more distraught he became. He couldn't talk to his father about it. He hated the Athha family. That much he had made very clear.

As Athrun slipped into the main room of the house, he began the seemingly long journey up to his room. Despite not having done much that day, he felt strangely fatigued. Trudging up the stairs, his eyes drifted casually to his father's room where the door just happened to be wide upon.

A slight frown creased his features as he noticed a pile of open envelopes lying by the side of his father's bedside in an uncovered box. Being raised to file and keep everything orderly, it seemed strange to Athrun that his father would just leave previously read letters lying about.

Bending down, he picked one up and checked the address. His expression hardened even more when he noticed the letters had been addressed to him. When he read the mailing address, his heart stopped – Cagalli. It was from the moon. Quickly he sorted through them, trying to put them in order. She hadn't forgotten about him. She'd been writing him almost every week! Why hadn't his father told him?

I think I know the answer to that one, Athrun thought bitterly as his eyes ran over the letter that dated back the farthest… just a week after his accident.

Dear Athrun,

I know you will tell me not to, but I can't help but blame myself for all of this. I never thanked you for what you did for me. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am – for everything. I was selfish. I should have never forced you to go to that party with me to meet my father. I should have known it would turn out badly yet I refused to believe it.

I am sorry and even if you never want to see me again, please, I need to know that you are okay. Please, write me. I must know. I miss you. You are a very special person to me and you always will be.

-Cagalli

Athrun's fingers trembled as he read her words. Snatching up another letter, he read it as well. Then another and another. They all were the same. She was begging him to let her know that he was ok.

For a moment, his chest constricted and Athrun was almost certain that he couldn't breathe. He felt as if someone had just punched him in the stomach and had refused to ease off and let him take in air. All this time, he had believed she had forgotten about him. That she no longer cared. Though he hated the idea, he had even at times felt that he never truly even loved him. It had all been out of… out of what? Sympathy? Empathy? Pity for the 'pathetic' son of Patrick Zala?

For months now he had believed this. The initial shock melted away and was soon replaced with relief. That, however, quickly turned into anger. Anger at his father. He had had no right to keep this from him. No right at all!

"Athrun!"

That voice burned his ears as Athrun cast a glance over his shoulder to see his father standing in the doorway. With his arms crossed, the man glared down at him in disapproval. Athrun's eyes followed Patrick's and he noticed a glint of recognition flash across his father's face at the sight of the letters. It only fueled the young man's already rising anger and frustration.

"Athrun," Patrick's voice was sharp and stern. "I want you to put those away and get out of my room- this instant!"

Athrun didn't budge. His expression hardened as he slowly rose to his feet. "Why?" He demanded coldly. "Why did you do this?"

For the briefest of moments, Patrick was caught off guard. It had been a long time since Athrun had actually spoken to him. He had always figured though that when Athrun did finally decide to open up, his words would contain a little more warmth. These words were frigid and as cold as ice.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," He replied. "I did what I had to do. That is all I want to say on the matter."

"All you want to say?" Athrun felt the blood rushing to his cheeks. "I want to know why you've been screening my mail!"

"I was protecting you!"

"You had no right!" Athrun shot back angrily. "You had no right to do this! To let me believe she didn't care! To make it seem like I didn't have enough courtesy to answer her letters!"

"It's because of her that you almost lost your life!" Patrick shouted. "Because of that stupid girl, I almost lost my only child! I know you, Athrun. You are naïve and trusting. You care about people even if they hurt you and I'll be damned if I just sit back and what my son destroy himself because he's too blind to see the truth!"

"Truth?" Athrun raged. "What truth?! Cagalli didn't do anything! She didn't force me off that cliff! You lied to me! She…"

"I don't want you having anything to do with her!" Patrick roared. "Nothing! Do you know what I have been through these last few months, Athrun? Do you!?"

"Father, I…"

"I thought you were going to die!" Patrick continued, ignoring the fact that Athrun's face had gone deathly pale. "The doctors thought you were going to die! You probably would be dead if I hadn't brought you back to the PLANTS. Back to your home! And this, this is how you repay me? By going mute for 6 months and then shouting at your own father for wanting to protect you from the source of your pain in the first place?! Think about it, Athrun. You are not the only victim in this!"

"That still doesn't justify what you did," Athrun tried to keep his emotions from getting the better of him. He had never imagined that his father had been suffering as well. "If someone wants to speak to me, I should have the right to know."

"Don't start with me, young man," Patrick warned. "My patience is already warring thin."

Athrun clinched his fists at his sides, crumpling up the paper in his hand. Furious, he made a move towards the door to leave but his father caught him by the shoulder and held on. Athrun grimaced as he felt the pressure intensify on his left shoulder and looked up in surprise.

"I will not allow you to be put in that situation again."

"Father," Athrun shook his head, willfully. "I am not a child. I don't need you protecting me the way you did when I was five."

"I let you go to that school," Patrick pointed out. "And looked what happened?"

The words had escaped before Patrick even realized it. Athrun's eyes widened with hurt and before Patrick could make any other motions towards his son, Athrun had pulled away and stormed off to his room.

"Damn," Patrick cursed. "Damn it, Athrun."

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When Athrun reached his bedroom, he collapsed onto his bed, his breathing labored as he fought to calm himself. His father had no right to keep Cagalli's letters from him. Regardless of what his intentions had been, it had been wrong. Lethargically, Athrun brought up the hand holding the crumpled letter to his face and skimmed it over. Resting on his elbows, Athrun's eyes darted to the doorway of his bedroom and then back down to the letter.

He felt betrayed. His own father had lied to him. Open lies of deceit during his illness and lies of omission afterwards. Athrun closed his eyes, suddenly feeling fatigued. He didn't even want to think about what Cagalli must have been feeling.

After a moment, he got up and moved over to his desk. Sitting down, he picked up a pen and piece of blank paper. Setting the ink tip on the grainy surface, he hesitated for an instant. Taking a deep breath, he forced his hand to move the pen tip across the paper as he scribbled down Cagalli's address.

What did one say to someone they hadn't spoken to for almost 7 months? He honestly didn't know. Should he talk about his feelings? The operation? The horrible rehab he had been through? The fight he had had with his father? The weather?

With a sigh, Athrun started to write what would be the first of many letters of correspondence.

Dear Cagalli,

It's been a little cloudy here in the PLANTS. Next week, though, I hear it is supposed to be a little warmer. I guess I owe you a great deal of answers. I don't even know where to begin but I you deserve to an answer to the questions in your letters. I'll do my best to comply…

TBC

Sorry about there being no Cagalli. She will be back. This chapter was really hard to write so I appreciate your patience. Cagalli will reappear in the next chapter. I have had people read my mail before so I thought it would be interesting to include. Do you think Patrick was in the right? Please review and let me know what you would like to happen ok?

I've got ideas but I am wrestling with the ending. I honestly can't see Cagalli and Athrun being able to work around all their obstacles – can you? Again, please review. It means a lot.

Until next time,

Krilyn