Disclaimer: I own nothing of Gundam Seed and Gundam Seed Destiny, which can be a blessing, because if you did, then you'd have legions of ASUCAGA fans waiting to kill you if you didn't get ASUCAGA sorted out.

Chapter 3

"Damn it!" he swore, as if for the thousandth time, as he glared at his long-time best friend.

In response, his best friend merely laughed a warm throaty sound that mollified Athrun only somewhat. Then Kira quirked his lips in a caricature of a smirk as he straightened his own tie once more and double-checked his reflection to make sure it was indeed the dashing, debonair image he saw.

Berlin was in the midst of autumn, crisp and cruel in its aching beauty, possessing nearly every tree that stood in the fields and forests, waited patiently for the winds to become stronger, and for their brown leaves, once so green and alluring, now orange and playful. These would become brown and brittle soon.

And what Athrun had seen when he stepped down from the shuttle had pleased him immensely, although he couldn't quite explain why. The other PLANT delegates had loved the place too, and Athrun had spotted one of them rolling around in the leaves like an insane dog which had just been taken off its leash.

He understood why.

The air around him was perfumed with the orange glow, and he felt like a child trapped somewhere in a body that was rippled and decidedly not a child's.

Perhaps it was that the crackling reds and oranges of the trees were a novelty compared to the Plants' carefully tampered and controlled climates where he had lived for most of his life. A nice, albeit boring sort of pattern, each day, each month, each year.

He smiled wryly- almost like his life after the war.

He tightened the black scarf around his neck, and looked up just in time to see an EA ambassador, a longtime acquaintance, rushing forward eagerly, her face rosy in the cold, to greet them.

She had been a longtime acquaintance, and upon the arrival, she now introduced him to her cousin, who had, she revealed, 'only just started working for the government here'. Athrun shook hands politely, as the rest did, and he noticed how the girl, unlike her elder, perhaps more experienced cousin, had eyes that widened immediately as he offered his hand, and she took it, trembling with as if she had the ague. This cousin was young and a blushing, wide-eyed fixture behind them as they walked, and Athrun briefly wondered if girls her age were all shy like her. He had seen enough of them to have come to the conclusion.

His mind was reeling in, piece by piece, color by color, the sensations of the world around him and the season he was somehow thrust into, like a single drop of white paint on a piece of orange canvas, vivid and out of place. His breath rose in great cotton puffs, and he smiled unconsciously.

Yet, the weather was unpredictable half the time, or so Kira had told him. His best friend dealt with the climate's problem while working for most of the time when Kira was on the job. If Kira didn't know what Berlin's climate was like, then nobody would. Athrun wasn't quite concerned that the weather was unpredictable; he was more interested in the fact that Kira had become rather unpredictable himself.

Kira, the rather inconsistent, shy boy had somehow inexplicably transformed into a male peacock, and now he was helping Athrun to straighten his tie! Athrun could hardly believe his eyes. If Athrun had not exhausted his vocabulary used for swearing in the last week or so, he would have used a few expletives to describe his shock at discovering Kira in such ease while being stuffed into an itchy, scratchy black suit.

"What has Lacus been doing to you?" he cried as he flailed his arms in a futile bid to protest as his laughing friend playfully pinned his arms backwards so that Athrun's jacket would be straightened.

The Gala was in an hour's time, but he had arrived early at the hotel to see his dear friends once more. Of course, he was a little edgy since it was possible that his secretary would suspect why he had turned up so early for a function when he usually took his time to dilly-dally back in the Plants. His secretary had wanted more time to get ready, although she had been quite dodgy when she told him that. He was sure she wanted to make a good impression on some important people today, enough of a good impression, Athrun thought dryly, for her to come to work with crushed clothes that reeked of a man's cologne and hair that implied that hands had been run through it for hours at an end.

Lacus, busy with her own preparations, had not made an appearance as of yet, but knowing her, Athrun swore she would be the belle of the ball, she always was. She had never failed since her debut, she was Lacus Clyne, untouchable, ethereal, and above the stature of any woman or girl.

And Athrun chuckled to himself, imagining her vexation during rehearsals. Her voice was a gift yes, but her talent was not without hours of practice for the perfection and sweet clarity it had achieved. And her feet, tiny like doves, were shod in pretty shoes and ruby blisters. She practiced to reap the fruits of her labour- she wasn't perfect as naturally as the world deemed her to be. But nobody really knew her.

Lacus Clyne had burst onto PLANT's media scene when she had only been twelve after her talent had been uncovered, and she had bewitched the Coordinators and became a leader in her own right since then. Athrun had never expected that she would be the link to Kira and him in the chaos of the First War, but he was grateful to her for that. She knew that too, although they never said anything. They knew, and that was always sufficient. He had loved her, but she had never quite, and the shock of the realization had faded quickly enough for Athrun to realize that he had never quite loved deeply as well. The first cut wasn't always the deepest.

Now glancing back at Kira, he saw that his friend was answering a call a little distance away in extremely hushed tones, and Athrun immediately suspected that it was Cagalli he was speaking to.

He sighed and tried to look away from Kira. When he had gotten the letter, he knew that she would be invited too, for it would have been a travesty not to have invited ORB's Supreme leader. He had considered not turning up, but he couldn't refuse to not attend to the gala, that would have been an insane decision that would have cost him much explaining to the PLANT Supreme Council. Between the potential chance of seeing Cagalli, someone he had parted relatively well from, and an afternoon of explanations, he had chosen the former.

So he had been edgy all day, not because he didn't want to see her again, but because he was wary of something he couldn't predict or analyse. The unknown was a thorn in his flesh. He had been like that all his life. Kira knew it, and he knew it himself.

Kira had turned out beautifully, decked in a well-tailored, dark-navy suit that Athrun was similarly wearing, except Athrun's was dark maroon. Both men were at ease in their clothes after the practice in all their respective functions, but Athrun was queerly in discomfort when he thought Kira wasn't watching, ill at ease not in his suit, but in his own skin.

Kira paused; his laughter had ceased, and glanced thoughtfully at his best friend. Athrun was as dashing as ever, he noted, but he had sweat plastered to his forehead, making his bangs stick out at funny angles that created an unwelcome comical effect. Of course that would eventually be fixed, Athrun Zala hadn't been placed into the list of best-dressed, most desirable politicians just to arrive at the year's most important even with uncombed bangs.

Noticing his silent distress, Kira stared hard at his friend's fists balled in the deep pockets lined with piping. He was fingering something in his pocket feverishly, not nervously, because Athrun Zala would never be seen nervous by anyone. But his handsome face had something inscrutable and somehow wistful all at once.

And Kira concentrated hard, and then, only then, he realised it was something the index and thumb could entwine itself around, something shaped like a ring.

"A ring?" he said out loud, and blissfully watched a deep plum colour Athrun's pale cheeks very slightly. Kira's lips twitched, but he raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

"N-no, not that, just something like a..."

"A ring, Athrun, a ring."

"No, it's not a ring, Kira, it's a..."

"Ring, Athrun, a ring."

"Alright, damnit, it's a ring."

Sighing quietly for a reason he could not quite understand even himself, Kira strode over to his friend and patted his back a bit awkwardly. He scarcely knew what to say, and he suspected then, neither did Athrun. But the implications of the silence lay volatile and heavy in the air.

His friend's face was so heated it would have fried an egg, sunny-side up, in fact, and Kira was wee-convinced and quite sure he knew what it was caused by. He sighed again, but this time whole-heartedly and he desperately tried to ignore the slight aching in his chest when he glanced at Athrun's eyes, empty but somehow, vaguely, just vaguely dejected.

He thought of testing the waters a little and moved closer to Athrun's side.

"She may not be coming tonight, you know," Kira murmured emotionlessly near Athrun's ears, and then inwardly praised himself for making the right decision when he viewed his friend's shoulders from slumping.

A minute later though, Athrun's shoulders were squared, his posture perfect, and his fingers suddenly freed from the deadlock deep in his pocket, and then he turned very smartly on his heel and marched out a trifle bit stiffly. The dark suit he wore lent him a striking cut as he appeared with a smile, practiced and ready to welcome the delegates and officials from ORB and PLANT. Kira watched his friend disappear in the midst out the crowd while the cameras clicked and took pictures of ETERNITY's Chairman, then shrugged and followed suit.

Orchestrated music was echoing across the room and beautifully-dressed men and women were gliding everywhere to make small talk and enjoy themselves. They would then dine and dance while making important decisions amongst themselves on the course of action in economic, social and political areas that would have one main aim of peace that was everlasting.

"All to foster good relations among the leaders so the people can follow suit," murmured Kira, as he parted ways from Athrun and went to Lacus' side.

The songstress was surrounded by a barrier of cameras and journalists, she was barely visible save for the glimpses of pink hair and her glorious smile that had captured the hearts of thousands, including Athrun's best friend's.

He noted that Kira had suddenly just realised the cameras would turn their attention on him if he appeared and was trying to sneak away, but Lacus' voice was somehow heard over the cacophony as she called out brightly, "Ah, there he is!"

Then the cameras were surrounding his friend too and about to leave Lacus alone for some air to breathe, but Kira threw her an evil glare with his narrowed eyes, eyes that glittered violet and were sly and cat-like, and then he smiled winsomely before pulling her to him so she couldn't escape, not scot-free, at least, from all the cameras she had turned on him.

Athrun caught his friend mouthing to him, "Misery loves a companion," and he smirked at Kira.

"What did you say, sir?" exclaimed a reporter, excitedly gesticulating and brandishing his pen like a sword.

Athrun smirked.

"Oh, I said I sincerely hope everyone here will enjoy tonight," Kira replied smoothly, Lacus probably still hanging off his arm even if Athrun could not quite see properly.

Turning away in amusement, Athrun made for a safe area but was caught too.

"Chairman Zala! Would you like to comment on how this evening is going?" cried a reporter, obviously sent in to do coverage and report on the wonderful evening to the people. Athrun allowed the reporter a smile that he had practised for ages, automatically checking that not too many teeth were present for a commercial look and not too few teeth were shown that would inevitably give a sly smile.

He always thought his expressions through, it was a science where politics was concerned, and if it was a science, Athrun would be damned if he didn't get it down perfect. But if it was something books or instructors couldn't teach, well he'd just be half-assing it like he always did. Then he recalled the time he had proposed in a haphazard manner to her, or rather, tried to, and his smile dimmed a little.

His smile was perfect anyway, he thought dully, perfect for the media's coverage and an entirely impersonal one that proved how they did not deserve to see his real smile. There was no way in this world that he could be free from any cares as he wanted to be, but he didn't mind that so much. He had expected it anyway. One did not just become a PLANT leader by shirking all their heavy responsibilities, no matte how young their shoulders were when the responsibilities were herded there. Besides, thirteen was the official age for Coordinators, so in retrospect, he was middle-aged at the ripe old age of twenty.

He laughed humourlessly to himself and watched the cameras suddenly turn towards another and applause erupt throughout the room.

Lacus, resplendent in a pastel-green gown, floated towards him, with Kira taken captive by some other important officials that wanted to hear his opinion on new machinery that Athrun would have liked to hear about if they hadn't been around. He stared at Lacus with dull eyes, trying to mute the jolt of pain that gushed through him, unwanted, but like an old scar being reopened. The pastel green was foamy and a beautiful colour, and Lacus wore it well, but it wasn't her colour. No. Not hers.

Had she protested vehemently and slightly violently as her body had been swathed in the beautiful material and her hair pulled back to reveal her delicate features, features that sent the hearts of the men pounding in their chests?

No.

Because Lacus Clyne wasn't her.

Quite similarly to Kira, Athrun couldn't care less what Lacus wore, and he knew his friend thought she looked perfect in everything, especially after the one disastrous shopping trip at Copernicus. She had repeatedly changed outfits in a bid to find one that Kira liked, but Kira had simply smiled at everything and nodded and then said she looked nice in everything. He had sounded so sincere that it was quite inevitable for Lacus to be a little suspicious that Kira couldn't care less.

In fact, she had been more or less accurate in her suspicions, although the implications weren't dire, quite the opposite actually. Athrun supposed the lack of interest in her outfits that Kira showed was due to the fact that he adored Lacus so much that the clothes she wore didn't quite make a difference.

Now she wore green, but the colour didn't belong on her. He remembered a heated conversation a few years ago and felt his hands grow cold and numb as if he were ouside in the bitter cold while the memory pervaded his mind.

"Are you going to wear that?" he hissed, as she joined him on the travellator in Armory One decked in a plum-coloured Emir suit that did nothing to emphasis her feminity.

"Well, why not? I mean, this is official right?" she cried as her blonde hair stood up on ends like they had a life of their own while she bristled in indignation.

"I thought you'd wear a dress or something…" he had retorted, but he had been silenced by a rather upset glare that made him unsettled somewhat.

Shifting uncomfortably, Athrun transferred his weight to another foot and cursed the way he had handled the conversation a year ago. If only he had told her how much he wanted to see her in the pastel green gown and not criticised her choice of the Emir's suit.

"Athrun?" Lacus' voice, as sweet as a tinkling bell, but semi-anxious, interrupted his thoughts. He snapped back into attention and peeped at her through his eyelashes, inwardly warning himself not to think of Cagalli anymore when he saw Lacus dressed in the very colour that she had once wore.

He knelt, and she proffered her hand, and he kissed it, as was the custom. They had come from respectable families, this was something they had been reared to do, something ingrained in them like an instinct. And then he straightened and she smiled innocently.

Her eyes were very wide and beautiful. He had heard of women who took the essence of Belladonna to dilate their eyes- Lacus would have no need for that. Her lips were delicately-pressed, like a petal of a plum blossom had landed on her white face as her mouth, but he found that her lips weren't as full and as-

He shook his head. She did not seem to see, but she must have, for she smiled again. Her smile was secretive now.

And Lacus spun in a circle, swirling and showing off the stunning pastel-green material before striking a pose.

"How does this look?" she enquired sweetly, as her pink haro bounced maniacally around them. It was spouting some weird misquotes that Athrun had never dreamt of putting and encoding in the mechanical toy, and he was pretty sure Kira had done it for fun.

Athrun had a talent for tinkering, but Kira was the real genius at modulating and revamping. The rotound object flew at Athrun, and as was customary, he caught it as it struggled and flapped its ears angrily.

Noticing how she was waiting patiently for him to say something or make some kind of reaction, Athrun flashed a genuine smile at the lovely songstress who beamed at him and simultaneously reached for his cold hands, guiding him towards the dance floor and waving at Kira who smiled and waved back at them.

"No jealously there," Athrun commented in an attempt to make conversation.

Lacus merely grinned and replied placidly, "Is there a need for any?"

The orchestra was trotting out a familiar mazurka he had learnt in his childhood during etiquette class that his memory had somehow dredged out especially for the event. His feet were mechanical and precise as he guided Lacus through the waltz, doing the triple-step as precisely as he would have fired a shot into a target. The rubato the orchestra had swept itself into, the pitful of oboes and horns now caressing the night air, was not being done justice by his feelingless steps. But he could not muster the longing and the bright beauty the strings were singing to the world, begging him to listen to.

Bit by bit, he lost his concentration and Lacus seemed to notice because she took the lead after that. The girl seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself as she hummed the piece they were dancing to, and she seemed happy enough to steer him around while he woodenly followed her rhythm and steps. He was lost in thought, trapped in a memory of an excited thirteen-year-old proudly announcing to his father that he had been made a redcoat only to have his father coldly brush him off. Like a fly.

The guests were drinking champagne from glasses- there were a hundred smei-globes of clear bubbles moving in the endless stretch of the halls. He wondered if it tasted as sweet as the air it perfumed.

His eyes, as a child, had been wider and more innocent then. After that, they had narrowed a little, but still permanently. Nicol had died with wide and innocent eyes and hands that seemed to wash off the blood they had drawn in the war by sitting down at the piano and bringing music forth.

Then he placed where the piece had come from, hauntingly lilting, familiar and heart wrenchingly lyrical.

Nicol had been playing it in the room the Redcoats used exclusively, before the news had interrupted his playing and the announcement came for them to sortie under Le Creuset's command to steal the gundams hidden in Heliopolis. Along the way, Athrun had killed eight EA soldiers and was about to kill Murrue Ramius to take the Strike, which Rusty had failed to do and died trying to finish.

The song had come to an end, and the reporters were about to rest their fanatic, trigger-happy fingers for a moment before resuming the non-stop clicking. Athrun slipped his hand off Lacus' waist, and smiled down at her once more. She was quite tiny with the kind of delicate bone-structure that made her look fragile, but she owned the rare sort of aura that made the reporters and delegates love her, undoubtedly along with his best friend.

He bent his body in a bow while she curtsied along with the others who were dancing as the conductor ended the final note.

Before he could slip away silently to speak to some ORB officials, she suddenly grabbed his hand in an inexplicable motion, and he stared at her, puzzled. And then an announcement was made that made him freeze right in his tracks, unable to comprehend the rush of memories that gushed through his mind.

A blonde soldier was pointing a gun absent-mindedly at the dirt, now was his chance to kill him! He'd kill the soldier while he was distracted and then use his SkyGrasper to escape from the island! Now was his chance!

A man was opening the door for her. She was murmuring her thanks. Her lips parted in a soft, pinkened half-smile. She blinked once, blinded, only momentarily, by the light that flooded through the halls, and her eyelashes, long and like individual strands of a spider's web, goassamer and golden, rested lightly on her cheekbone before she opened her eyes again.

"Crabs?" she said confusedly as she flipped up her shirt, making his eyes widen and his cheeks stained with a blush. What was she thinking? He could have killed her!

The chandeliers, gigantic and omnipresent, cast their crystal glow downwards to the world they suspended above. The light was flung carelessly across her cheeks and caught on the string of diamonds that went around her neck, caressing her skin, inviting his eyes to be drawn upwards to her face.

He stared. Helpless. Paralysed with longing, a longing that was indescribable and probably irrational.

"My name's Cagalli! What's yours?" she shouted across the rocks. He stared at her, wondering if it was safe to shout his own name to the blonde girl who had messed up his thinking in a short 24 hours. What a difference knowing her made. Here he was, preparing to shout his name to a potential enemy and not giving a hoot what happened next.

"Athrun! My name's Athrun!"

"Chairman Atha of ORB has arrived!"