Title: Crossfire

Author: Jusrecht

See Disclaimer and Warnings in chapter one.

A/N: Um yeah, so he gets two chapters in a row. Well, the other four main characters already got two chapters and we all want to know what happened to him, don't we? Thank you to everyone who has reviewed the last chapter. This story finally has 100 reviews! Yay! I really, really feel loved! Well, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as much. Happy reading!

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Chapter Fifteen: Athrun – Crossing The Borders

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Athrun had realized that there was something wrong since he had woken up and regained his consciousness five days ago.

Athrun had realized that he was most likely the only Coordinator in five miles radius later that night when Rakis's uncle had barged into his room and said – plainly threatened – "I know that's a fucking ZAFT mobile suit out there and don't you dare try anything suspicious, you damn freak monster from space, because that's the moment when I'm gonna shoot you dead."

Athrun had realized that he was probably the only one in that five-mile-radius who knew that he was the Chairman of PLANT's Supreme Council when the man had not shot him dead right away.

What he didn't know but desperately wanted to know was how the hell he had ended up here – or down here, looking at the circumstances. He had been floating in space and later shot, which must have rendered his GINN incapable to make a journey through the Earth atmosphere. It was impossible, but how else could he explain his being here now. He had tried digging up some information from Rakis once the girl had returned to speaking term with him again, but everything he got so far was useless in that department.

And there was the time gap. According to Rakis, he had been unconscious for two days since she had found him. He had left ORB on September 16 and today was October 6, which meant that there were fourteen days in between when he had not the slightest idea where he had been and what he had been doing. The idea was unnerving to him and rather ridiculous when he thought about it again, but he didn't see why Rakis would lie to him either.

Another conflicting factor was one of these many new injuries decorating his body. There was a large gash on his midsection and he seemed to remember a sharp, terrible pain after the shot had hit his mobile suit. Assuming that he really had been severely injured that time, the presence of a scar was perfectly justifiable. What he found strange was the fact that it had healed. Completely. And he knew for sure that a gash that big didn't heal completely in one week. Athrun knew his own body inside out and despite the superiority of Coordinator's recovering capacity, for a deep nasty wound to leave nothing but a barely itching scar in seven days was plain impossible.

There were gaps, lost times in his memory and there was nothing he wouldn't give right now to find out what in the world had happened.

'You know the beauty of not knowing?' Kira had once said to him when he had protested having his eyes covered in order to get his birthday present, firm arms around his waist and a chuckle tickling his ears. 'When you don't know, hope lives.'

"But in this case, Kira," he said loudly to the room, "I want to know."

Great. Now he was talking to himself.

Athrun rose from the bed and walked to the window, his loosely tied hair a familiar but nagging presence against his back. The GINN was still there, a discordant picture framed by the window, looking grim under the gray overcast sky as wind rippled faraway rows and columns of trees. He had spent the last five days lying on his bed and thinking, particularly about what Rakis had said to him. Every time he thought about it, Athrun only became more and more enraged to himself.

He was unaware, too oblivious to the fact that there was still so much hate in this so-called new era. Maybe it was because he had been looking at the world from a high pedestal, being the chairman and all. Strategies became the foremost in his mind, more than the actual deeds. And then, somewhere along the line, everything had started to fade into a blend of a giant chessboard, pawns and rooks and kings. Somewhere during his reign as the chairman, he had begun to forget those little things – sadness, pain, loss, despair. They were little, maybe unnoticeable at times, but he knew that they were important because it was those feelings that made human, human. There was no excuse to his ignorance. He was a leader. If he didn't even know these things, he was unfit to lead a country.

Athrun sighed and propped his elbows on the windowsill. He had to do something about this, but what? He knew that nothing could compensate the lost life of a loved one. That was why he had worked hard in the academy and afterward in ZAFT with an almost bitter diligence after the Bloody Valentine incident, why he had almost killed Kira after Nicol's death. Rakis was angry. Everybody here was angry.

Maybe he should try talking to them. Not as the Chairman of PLANT, just him, Athrun Zala, someone who wanted to make the world a better place. He chuckled, the sound sarcastic even to his ears. The idea felt far away, close to ridiculous at the moment considering the situation he was currently in and this place he had fallen into, this middle of nowhere.

Which might be not as middle-of-nowhere as it seemed. Athrun frowned as his instinct prickled for the umpteenth time in the last five days. Something told him – his honed soldier instinct probably – that he was being watched, that when he was alone in this room, there was an unseen eye watching his every move. But something – again, most likely his soldier instinct – also prevented him from directly looking to the corners of the room where hidden cameras and the likes were usually installed.

Because if his intuition was correct, he would rather not hand his observer the knowledge that he knew. One never knew. He might be able to use that to his advantage in the near future.

To be fair, it was only entirely too possible that he was wrong, that the whole thing was just the result of his paranoia being in a place he wasn't familiar with. But the feeling kept bothering him. He was itching for a weapon, anything to defend himself because his suspicion made him very uncomfortable and wary. Get out of this room, Athrun told himself as he stared at the broken mobile suit. Check the GINN.

The house was empty, grimly silent when he stepped out of his temporary bedroom, almost as if it didn't appreciate his presence. That was paranoia again speaking, he firmly reproached that part of him, and went to the front door, his feet a little stiff still in their first actual employment after almost three weeks of lying around. He chose not to contradict the last sentence for now, not before he could remember what had actually happened in the first half of the time set.

It felt good to be outside after being forced to stay in bed for so long. The wind brought a faint smell of rain, which he inhaled with a sense of contentment. Athrun had always loved rain, like his mother when she had been still alive. It cleaned the air, she had always said as they sat by the window, looking outside to either a drizzle or torrent, waiting for his father to come home.

The memory was heartwarming and Athrun was glad that he could still remember – his mother's smile soothing his disappointment and fear, his father's warm, big hand clasping his little one. They were beautiful and he kept them neatly in the locked drawers of his mind because they were too beautiful, so much that it pained him to look back at them and remember. Those were the things that time and conflicts and wars, the brutal attestations of human's carelessness, had taken away from him. No matter what he did, he couldn't have them back. His mother had died and his father had turned away from him.

Or maybe it was him who had turned away from his father. Athrun felt a familiar wave of hatred and guilt lapping the shore of his consciousness. He hated to remember. It was because Patrick Zala had loved his son dearly once – that small kiss on the top of his head when he had come home late and found him already asleep, that smile he could not help but to give when Athrun had shown him a report card with straight A's – that the bullet, the betrayal hurt more than anything.

At least fate still spared him one of them. Kira was a part of his childhood that survived and sometimes it made Athrun wonder if his attachment to that childhood friend of his was rooted deeper than just first love.

"Where do you think you are going?"

He turned around, surprised that he didn't hear her coming but quickly recovered and gave Rakis a smile. "For a walk. Four days in bed and now I really miss the outside world. Or am I not allowed?"

"I suppose you're getting better," she admitted, fingers playing with the end of her green shirt. "You want me to go with you?"

Athrun shook his head. "Thank you, but I want to be alone for a little while."

Rakis raised her eyebrows. "Four days in bed and you aren't bored being alone?"

"If you really want to come with me–"

"Alright, I got the message," she cut off with a sigh and shot him a dark look. "I was just trying to help, you know. Everybody in this village doesn't like strangers. I don't want you to end up dead after all those efforts I made to keep you alive. Anyway, just remember to return before sunset. You don't want to be out there after dark." She paused and suddenly her face brightened like she had just remembered something. "Hey, why don't you take a look at Carrot first?"

It was his turn to raise his brow. "Carrot as in..." he trailed off, unsure what to say next.

"My horse."

Her horse. Okay. "Uh, well..."

Rakis was quick to pick up his discomfort and on the next second, there was already an incredulous look etched on her face. "You don't know how to ride a horse," she stated, sounding so shocked that Athrun couldn't help a little sheepish grin.

"Caught red-handed."

"How is it possible that you know how to ride a mobile suit, but not a horse?"

He offered her an innocent smile. "Conflict of interest?"

"Oh, go away," she waved a hand with a huff and turned to the house. Athrun walked away as ordered, still smiling. Sometimes she really reminded him to Cagalli, her wits especially, which was strange because on other occasions, she would seem just like one of those blushing girls he usually tried to avoid at all costs.

Still, Rakis was smart. It would be a waste for her to stay hidden in this village forever. With a little more education and proper polish, he could easily picture her running a company or even working her way up in politics.

And what on earth was he thinking? Athrun restrained an urge to hit himself on the head. He didn't even like politics and now he was thinking of dragging another into that dark black hole of scheme and deceit? Surely he had more decency than that.

Politics was, though necessary, despicable in his opinion. He didn't like it and honestly it had never been his field in the first place. He was only trying his best to keep up because his friends had put their trust in him – and if he were to really, really admit to himself, also because he was Athrun Zala, the son of the man who had almost succeeded to open the last door to total chaos. It was a debt, and as much as Cagalli had tried to convince him the otherwise, to him it was still a debt and he intended to pay it.

They didn't call him stubborn for nothing.

And so he had strived to reach the chairman's seat. Athrun was not surprised when he had finally done it because Lacus had been sitting there, giving him one of her warmest smiles as the election committee made their announcement. He wasn't afraid – anxious maybe, but not afraid – because he knew that he had friends who would give him their full support. He even had gone as far as thinking that he had done quite a decent job until Rakis's words came and slapped him in the face.

It would be one, among other things, he had to consider once he had returned, Athrun promised himself as he made his way to the ruined mobile suit. But first of all, he had to solve the returning-to-civilization problem first. And then he had to do something about this mess. He looked around guiltily, noticing the amount of damage caused by his mobile suit to the surrounding field and trees. He had expected something worse, but this must be enough to add another reason for Rakis's uncle to hate him and Coordinators in general.

It was then when something caught his attention. Athrun frowned, looking at the mobile suit's hatch, and climbed up for a closer inspection. Its left arm was completely destroyed, which was quite understandable if it had been hit by that one shot he had seen before blacking out. The problem was, this one had not been destroyed by a laser beam like he remembered. The remains of said left arm seemed more like a victim to missiles than anything else, which was strange because Athrun did not make a habit out of doubting his own memory. It really had been a laser beam.

The cockpit was mostly intact and as he leaned in to perform a little search, he noticed something which should not have been there. On the top right corner of the control screen, there was a scratch, small but noticeable. It had not been there after the accident, and he remembered because he had been staring at the screen during the endless floating. So why was it there now? Debris flying around after the shot went home? It could be, although the scratch was much too clean, too neat, almost like the result of someone's boredom with the aid of a pocket knife.

What was going on?

Athrun jumped down, ignoring the slight protest his ribs made at the action, and stared at the purple-coloured mobile suit. He frowned. The more he stared at it, the more foreign it became to his eyes. This was not his GINN. He had been a soldier for years and he knew how to recognize mobile suits one from another, even if they had the same design.

To make sure, he circled the GINN once, taking in every detail and frowning at things he found odd. This one did have the signs of experiencing a fall through the atmosphere, but other than that Athrun was convinced that he was not looking at the mobile suit which had saved his life.

Alone.

Right, he should not forget that. Athrun felt his anger bubbling up every time he thought about it. He should have asked Meyrin to come with him. Or everyone else in the shuttle in that case. Even better, he should not have demanded to return at once. He should have remained in ORB and stayed true to the schedule. He could have done a million things to prevent the accident.

Or did they manage to escape? But the explosion was big and he doubted anyone could escape from it alive. Even his own survival was still a mystery to him. And what about the others at ORB – Kira, Cagalli, Shinn, Lacus. They couldn't possibly know that he was still alive.

The thought brought a lump to his throat and Athrun walked away from the crash site into an area overgrown by trees, tall and green still at the beginning of autumn. He couldn't make a contact with the outside world because there was simply no means to establish any contact. No telephone in this village, he had asked Rakis about it, and his cell phone's whereabouts was also currently unknown, along with the council robe he had been wearing prior to the accident. Not that there would be signal in this place anyway. It was frustrating, but what could he say to the person who had been so kind to let him stay and recover in her house? Rakis – and her uncle too in that matter – could have just let him rot in his cockpit if they wanted to.

But this was ridiculous and he was growing desperate. How was it possible that there still existed a place where lives could go on without phone lines or televisions, totally isolated from the world? It was crazy, unthinkable. But then again, this was the big blue Earth, the very witness of human's ability to survive more than two million years without any of those he had mentioned above, so it was probably a moot point. He had been born at PLANT and it was a fact that Coordinators lived really close with, if not depended on, technology. It might have just plain escaped his mind that there were places like this still on Earth.

He should have learned how to ride a horse that one time when Kira had come up with the idea out of the blue. It was during their field trip to Earth and the opportunity had been there waiting for their taking, but Athrun, ten years old and very much intimidated by animals bigger than dogs, had flat out refused.

Maybe he could try. Like Rakis said, he could ride a mobile suit, so how much a challenge could a horse present to him really? Or the horse cart. Yes, the horse cart started to sound like a really good idea–

And at that moment, Athrun felt his heart suddenly stop beating.

Thunder rumbled in the distance but his whole attention was currently held prisoner by a young man with dark brown hair standing not far from where he was. Athrun could not see his face and he was too shocked to give a real voice to the screaming in his head, but he knew.

He knew it was Kira.

The other man slipped out of his sight behind a cluster of trees and Athrun broke into a run, his body hot with hope and cold with fear. It was Kira. It must be Kira. He might have mistaken Rakis for Cagalli, but Kira was an entirely different matter. He had recognized Kira at first glance in Heliopolis after not seeing each other for almost three years. Athrun knew that he would not be able to mistake someone else for Kira even if he wanted to.

But even as he whispered convictions to himself, he began to feel uncertain. He didn't see anyone and his surroundings sounded as quiet as it had ever been. Still, Athrun continued to search. The only remaining explanation was that he had, to put it shortly and frankly, hallucinated and he was not really ready to go there yet. There might be some other explanation.

At the end of the forest was the main road of the village, but there was no one on the road as far as his eyes could see. At the other side of the road were a number of houses, similar to the one he had been intruding upon these past few days. Intent on finding his friend – or any explanation to his fleeting daydream, if it was the case – Athrun crossed the road and walked past the nearest dwelling, every thought of caution already thrown out of the window. At this moment, he could hardly gave a damn if he were to get caught by mean villagers whose greatest desire was to see a Coordinator lying dead at their feet.

"This is too dangerous!"

The voice was loud, angry and instinctively Athrun slipped behind the nearest house. It was Rakis's uncle. He knew for sure because it was him who had been on the receiving end of that tone of voice five days ago. From his hiding place, he couldn't see anyone but there was a low voice answering, too low for him to hear what it was saying.

But it definitely wasn't Kira's voice. Had he really been imagining things?

"You know that he's recovering, don't you?" Rakis's uncle said again, obviously still in rage. "In three or four more days, there will no one here who can stand up fairly against him! He's a Coordinator for god's sakes!"

So they were talking about him. Athrun could feel his suspicion once again stirred into full alert. The way that man put him in the conversation was like talking about a prisoner, and maybe that was exactly what he was here. A prisoner. He pressed himself closer to the house, mindful to a window just a feet away from where he was hiding, and attempted a little peek over the wall. Nothing. He could only see trees in the background and nothing of the talkers. His guess was that there was a backdoor to the house and they were standing in front of it if not on the threshold.

Something was said in response by the second voice but Athrun could only catch the word 'time' and 'trouble' after listening intently. It was not long before Rakis's uncle cut in again.

"I don't care! You can drug him or something! Just keep him under control!"

His company hissed something which almost sounded like 'PLANT', but for the third time he was interrupted.

"Well, tell your boss that I don't fucking care! If he doesn't do anything in three days, don't blame me if that guy escapes or tries to take someone hostage!" A pause and then Rakis's uncle continued with an even sharper tone of voice. "Remember, I may just have to shoot him if he does something funny. He won't be much useful to us dead, will he?"

The dialogue was ended brusquely and there were sounds of footsteps distancing, soon eclipsed more howling of the wind. Athrun remained rooted to the ground, breathing suddenly a heavy work as the earlier conversation echoed in his head. This of course was not the first time he had encountered an attempt to take his life – the shuttle accident had obviously been another – but something about the whole matter unnerved him. Perhaps it was the apparent hate in the man's voice. Perhaps it was the fact that he was alone, friendless in this unknown zone of Coordinator-haters and worse still, defenseless.

Or perhaps he was becoming weak.

Sliding to the ground, Athrun held his bowed head between his hands as the first few drops of rain fell onto the earth. Very few things frightened him and he knew for sure that he could take them head on if he had to, no matter what the circumstances were. This one was different. He could already feel his body shaking and it was not from the cold drizzle.

He couldn't go back, not after what he had heard. He wouldn't be able to talk with Rakis without thinking that they were lies coming out of her mouth. He wouldn't be able to look at the food she had laid out on the table without suspecting that there were drugs in there. He wouldn't be able to sleep at night without worrying that her uncle would storm in after midnight and put a bullet in his head. But without her help, how could he find his way back home? His options were limited and now he was running out of them.

In the end, there were two roads ahead of him and he was required to choose one. The first was going back and enduring everything mentioned above while trying to get Rakis to help him – to really help him. Before that though, he needed to get past the stage of convincing himself that she would want to help, which was a very big hurdle from his current standpoint. The second option was to find a way out of here by himself with the risk of getting lost and stranded in this alien ground for even a longer time. His almost nonexistent knowledge of the area aside, Rakis had mentioned that people rarely passed this part of the world, which only swelled the 'getting lost and stranded' prospect.

If he didn't look too closely, the first option was better than the second. His fear might be simply a result of paranoia – his and everybody else's, including Rakis's uncles whose better judgment appeared to be clouded by his animosity toward Coordinators. However, in light of the dialogue he had eavesdropped just a few minutes ago, staying around even for just a little while longer could as well mean as waiting for them to come with knives and manacles.

Athrun brushed dark wet bangs out of his sightline, the two choices still battling inside his head. The white T-shirt Rakis had lent him was sticking to his skin as he continued to sit under the downpour, no longer aware of the harsh beating of the rain. He had to choose. Gods, what he wouldn't give in this world to have his friends with him now.

Kira. Damn it, Kira.

"Don't worry. It's going to be okay."

And now he was hearing Kira's voice. Athrun felt a small bitter smile on his lips. He was starting to hallucinate and really, he couldn't say that he was surprised. This place was hell. He needed to get out of here before he lost another shred of sanity.

He had to return to ORB.

"There he is!"

The shout made him turn his head and he saw a number of men pointing and running to his direction, guns in their hands. His first instinct told him to get up and run and Athrun did just that. The ground was slippery and raindrops were whipping his cheeks like cold talons as he increased his speed, but right now, he couldn't bring himself to care. The only thing in his mind was how to make a bigger distance between him and those bullet-spluttering weapons. He might be a Coordinator and a seasoned soldier, but it still hurt to get shot no matter how often he had repeated the experience.

They were losing him, Athrun realized when his ears could no longer catch any sound but the pouring rain and his frantic footfalls, mingling with his quick breathing. He slowed down a little and grimaced when his ribs finally decided to announce that they had not exactly recovered to full health yet. However, there was no telling if the pursuers were still on his trail or not and so he maintained the pace, quiet and wary.

It was until he noticed a tall presence obstructing his way. Athrun stopped, eyeing the high fence before him – and a series of malicious-looking barbed wire sitting on the very top of it – in astonishment. It was at least twenty feet high, but why would a small, remote village like this have a circle of fence this high on its border? If it was to keep outsiders out, the effort seemed way over-the-top. Or was he actually about to enter a new, restricted area?

Whatever it was, this was not the time and place to linger and contemplate, he realized when the sound of his pursuers closing in was registered by his auditory system. Without a single glance back, he climbed the fence deftly, thankful that his limbs had not yet forgotten their years and years of ZAFT training. The top was tricky but he managed to maneuver his way over the wire and jumped down, wincing when a few strands of his long hair were caught by the pointed tips.

He continued the mad sprinting as his ears caught a few curses spat by the chasers from the other side of the fence. Athrun had never been more grateful that he had been born as a Coordinator than when he looked back and discovered that none of his pursuers could repeat the performance he had just made. He couldn't help but to sigh, newfound relief washing all over him. Now he only needed to hope that the entrance was nowhere nearby, preferably at the other side of the village.

The sentiment, however, only lasted until Athrun noticed that he was surrounded by nothing but trees and more trees, big and menacing they looked in the murky weather. Their thick canopy protected him from the torrent's onslaught, but it also forbade him to make out where he was going in this new forest. His sprint turned into a complete halt once he realized that he had been running blindly for a while. He turned around and realized that to find his way back would be a very difficult task if not near impossible.

Just perfect. Now he was lost.

Almost on impulse, Athrun wound his arms around himself, feeling much lonelier than before. He continued to walk slowly for a while, hoping that he was going to the right direction as his eyes darted around anxiously to detect anything, ears straining to catch the slightest sound. But the forest was silent, aloof, nothing but trees, leaves and raindrops. He had an urge to call out in hope that there was someone in the vicinity, but caution forced him not to take that road. Even if there really was somebody to hear his shouting, there was no way he could tell whether he was revealing his whereabouts to a friend or a foe instead.

Alone, lost in the darkening woods, Athrun realized that he might not be able to find his way out. Who knows how long he would be forced to survive in here without practically anything. Silently he cursed his stupidity that succumbed to his sudden impulse to run earlier. Maybe those men were just trying to bring him back, even if they looked slightly murderous. He had overreacted because of the guns.

It was ironic, but he really had the strangest urge to laugh when he thought about dying in this middle-of-nowhere. It seemed that he was just postponing his death when he had escaped the shuttle explosion. Fate must be laughing at him now. It would end the same no matter what, no matter how far he tried to run.

He continued to walk, no longer paying attention to his surrounding. Slowly but surely, the picture of him back among his friends began to blur. Athrun wanted to hit himself. He could have been more careful and thus avoided the whole mess. Now he might not be able to see them again.

He wondered if Kira would miss him.

Too caught up in his dark thoughts, he didn't notice the sound of a car speeding to his direction, neither did he realize that he had stumble upon a small road. When he finally came back to his senses, the car was already a feet away from his body. He automatically jumped to avoid a collision, but it was too late by a fraction of a second and his body collided with the car's hood and hit the muddy ground afterward with a loud splash.

Pain exploded in his right arm and Athrun thought for a moment that he really was going to die. But then it cleared a little, allowing a little sense to seep back into his mind, and he vaguely heard the car's door being opened, then closed, and hurried footsteps on the wet soil approaching.

Oh, damn it all to hell. Just let them come.

"Are you alright?"

He struggled to sit up, still wary despite the obvious concern in the driver's voice, and looked up.

"Gods. Athrun Zala?"

End Chapter Fifteen

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Notes: I hope everyone is confused after reading this chapter XD No, no, let me rephrase that. I mean I hope the story isn't too guessable. That will be too boring, right? Anyway, please review. Cookies for anyone who can guess who it was at the end of the chapter. Thanks for reading!