The Isle

by puzzlepuzzle

In the aftermath of the Second War, Athrun Zala vanished without a trace for seven years - Cagalli never thought to find him. But fate deviates when he comes to find her himself and a web of desire and deceit lies before them. Original Cover Art SEQUEL OUT. .

23. Chapter 22

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

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Chapter 22

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Her eyes fluttered open, and when those refocused, she knew she was alone in his bed.

They'd spent a complete week together, Cagalli thought distractedly, but she should not have expected that to go on indefinitely. After that week, Athrun had left, and he'd been gone for three days.

Yesterday, he'd returned and she'd been overjoyed, but he'd vanished again this morning.

Sitting up, it occurred to her that winter had stained all white beyond the window. He'd closed it, but her bareness made her shiver, and rubbing her arms with her hands, Cagalli looked to the sheets that had covered her before she'd woken up.

At the same time, she spotted what he'd left behind again.

A rose's silk folds were on the pillow he'd occupied next to hers. She picked it up, enjoying its fragrant depths and the scented centre tempting her, directly under her nose.

The nights they'd spent had seemed to be part of a larger tapestry- a painting of other patterns and motifs that she knew the existence of but never seen it coming all together.

It had made sense; she thought a bit wistfully, that Athrun could not have been with her for an uninterrupted time.

Perhaps, he had been even more aware of this than her, although Athrun hadn't brought it up until the night when he'd told her that he wouldn't be here in the morning. But during that week, they spent time greedily, like each hour meant nothing in the face of eternity. But they did not have that.

She stared at petal that loosened itself and fell softly to the sheets, a single drop of red. Each hour was a sand grain of an hour glass neither had the means to change the dimensions of.

For that matter, Cagalli had long discarded hope of ever knowing when the hour glass would be filled with the last speck. If a day felt strangely fast, then the week they'd spent together seemed queerly insignificant in the face of how they'd lived the days wantonly, loving so absolutely and so desperately that it seemed excessive to themselves.

She looked at the blossom. It had been picked in its prime, in a greenhouse that provided it a longer than average life in an artificial environment. It looked more beautiful this way, Cagalli realised, held between a person's fingers and taken into a place that allowed it to see what the real world was really like for once. It would live for a few hours, in this winter air, before withering.

Slowly, she got out of bed, smiling at how her clothes had been folded neatly and put on the bedside table. A pair of slippers were waiting at her side of the bed, and gratefully, Cagalli wore those.

While Athrun was not here, she knew he must have done all this before he'd left. There was the warmth of the sheets and the faint scents of their bodies, as well as a single blood-red rose on the pillow next to hers.

Whenever Athrun left for business, he often did so even in the wee hours of morning. He always did so ever so quietly, like a cat that was afraid of being heard. Naturally, Cagalli scarcely awoke although she would have liked to, if only to be with him for a few more minutes or perhaps even watch him dress and perhaps let her kiss him goodbye so he could start his day.

Athrun had left this morning without a sound. He never wrote a note and left it behind either. What could he have written anyway? While he'd told her everything, Athrun could not say where he worked or why he had to leave at times. Besides, Cagalli thought now, a note telling her he'd be back would have been superfluous.

They both understood that he would come back to her, no matter how long his business took. But if he had to leave without a sound in the morning, he always left a rose on the pillow he had occupied previously.

The small but exquisite blossom that she'd picked with others and put into the vases of their room had been selected by his fingers, placed on his pillow. It was his reminder that despite his leaving, he had thought of her possible uncertainty in the morning.

But Cagalli was not afraid of waking alone anymore, for she understood that Athrun could not afford the mornings with her on every day.

Besides, she thought with a soft smile, the past week they'd spent together was enough to sustain her. Even if Athrun had to return to his businesses, she knew he would come back when he could, just as he had yesterday afternoon.

Before Cagalli took a towel and prepare to take a shower and wash up, she began straightened the sheets first. As she had always done before, she felt compelled to remove signs of her presence in the room, even if it was now theirs. The sheets seemed to want to be put straight, the pillows fluffed and put in order, and the room untouched and distant as it had always seemed to her.

It was an open secret of sorts, she realised, that she slept in Athrun's bedroom and that he had abandoned his study even when he had favoured that as his room of rest in the past.

Morning after morning, she would creep to breakfast only after Athrun had first gone down. That way, the aides would not suspect too much. Of course, she hadn't had to wait for him these past few days, since he wasn't around anyway.

Overall, moving into his bedroom had been a rather strange business, Cagalli decided. The maids had seemed to know of every single development in her and Athrun's relationship- especially the past week that Athrun had passed without going to his office or leaving his bedroom very much.

Had the aides somehow realised that the study that he'd once used as a bedroom had returned to its status of being a mere study? Or had they realised that their master had suddenly became quite attached to a room he'd never really favoured in the past?

Whatever the case, the twins had somehow shifted an entire wardrobe of clothes over and her vanity-table things. In the middle of the week that they'd spent together, Athrun had remarked that their initiative was quite astonishing. But thankfully, his room and vanity table was certainly large enough for another person.

In the bath, Cagalli thought of the vanity they now shared, smiling a little. A trinket box with a tiny cat smirking at her was now a permanent fixture at the table, along with other things.

And for the past week, the number of things that used to be in her room had increased quite rapidly in this room. Certainly, she spent a great deal more time here and not just at nights, for they could never resist if one of them deepened a supposedly innocent kiss.

As Cagalli got out of the bathroom and dressed, she was suddenly glad that the people around them had long assumed she was Athrun's lover anyway. In the past, Epstein had supplied her all sorts of things she had taken without much protest. That had been because she hadn't known how to explain otherwise.

At this point too, nothing much had changed in the twins' treatment or attitude towards her. If it had, then they were even closer to her, perhaps because they sensed she was even closer to Athrun now.

But then, Epstein seemed to have changed slightly.

Cagalli paused, her fingers stalling on the belt she was trying to adjust. He did not seem willing to talk to her as they had before, and he seemed a little distant from her, even though he willingly responded whenever she approached him.

For the past two weeks, Epstein had seemed cautiously polite and overtly courteous, something he hadn't been for some time. Perhaps he felt worried too, over how she'd stumbled accidentally into his master's basement because of his bringing her to the study.

Perhaps, Cagalli thought with more cheerful thoughts, telling him it had worked out fine would set his mind at ease.

"Alright." Cagalli muttered to herself. "All done."

She put down the brush, got up from the vanity seat, and began to make her way out of the bedroom.

There were the knowing looks that Epstein and the maids gave her as she arrived in the breakfast hall every morning. The incident of her finding the basement had been one and a half weeks ago, and since then, it had become clear that Athrun was finding every opportunity to work from his manor if he could.

Apparently, as Cagalli remembered Laplacia telling her, his decision to leave the Manor for three days had been for lack of choice. It had been urgent business he couldn't delay any longer, although he'd come home yesterday before leaving in the morning again.

Ko of course, was the baby of the household and naïve, quite oblivious to everything. He had leapt for joy, in fact, when Athrun calmly informed the household that he was cancelling some trips and would stay in the Manor for at least a week instead.

Come to think of it, Cagalli realised, Ko hadn't even realised that Athrun had been back yesterday afternoon and had spent the night in the Manor before leaving again the morning. Similarly, Ko wasn't even aware that Cagalli was probably the reason for this.

Still, Cagalli was unsure of whether to keep their relationship an open secret as it currently was, or to come clean about it. Nobody seemed to be asking, but she felt compelled to keep it indiscreet as much as she could. As a result, Cagalli kept the ring on a chain secured around her neck, hidden under her clothes here nobody would see it, until well-

She smiled embarrassedly to herself, thinking of last night. Athrun had left in the morning a few days ago, then returned in the late afternoon. She hadn't asked him where he'd been, and he hadn't offered that information either. Nothing of that sort mattered. Instead, they'd spent the rest of the afternoon swimming, then in the evening they'd had dinner and then spent the rest of the night in each others' arms.

Come to think of it, Cagalli thought dryly, they hadn't even managed most of dinner.

When evening had arrived, Cagalli been preparing to go for dinner, only to have him suddenly appear in their room and lock the door.

Seeing how he was standing behind her in the mirror, his face buried near her neck, his eyes watching her, it was clear Athrun had other plans. His nearness had set off that strange, tattoo of her pulse and adrenaline in her, and Cagalli had teased him then. "Don't you know that you should have dinner before dessert?"

As Cagalli walked past the bed to get to the door now, she couldn't help but recall how Athrun had watched her from the bed. She had undressed before him because he'd requested it. Cagalli thought of him lying on the bed admiring her even when she was blushing and trying to remain calm.

Now Cagalli shivered a little, hoping there would be a normal colour in her cheeks when she got down for breakfast.

Still, she had every reason to remember last night. He'd emptied the trinket box of its contents, forced her to lie naked and absolutely still on the bed while he arranged everything on every square inch of her body, taking his time to stroke her as he laid out gems in a dazzling mosaic.

She had trembled, impatient but unwilling to disobey him as he'd ordered her to not move a muscle. He'd smiled that half-smile of his while kissing at her, ignoring her pleas. He'd done the same to her calves and toes, then moved on to her thighs. She'd tried to remain still, the gems on her body flashing with her suppressed trembling below the layer of jewels.

But as he had continued to tease her, she had hissed his name and swept everything off her, sapphires, pearl necklaces, diamonds, emeralds and rubies and whatever he had cared to give her, not caring that they fell to the floor, pulling him to her. He had glanced at the only thing that had remained on her- the ring she wore for him, then whispered with a smirk, "What took you so long?"

What a pity, she thought, closing the bedroom door, that Athrun couldn't be around for every minute of every day.

---

At the breakfast table, she helped to lay out the food, grinning and serving the aides as she had for these few days. Ko had laid out the cutlery and the twins had decorated the table with new flowers from the greenhouse.

As for Cagalli, she bustled from the kitchen to the dining hall, pouring the juice for the girls and Ko, and receiving a small, hesitant smile from Epstein when she remembered that he liked milk with his coffee.

He was helping to serve the food too, and she flashed him a smile that made him colour a little, although Cagalli did not notice.

"Miss Cagalli," Laplacia protested, urged to sit down by Cagalli, "Why don't you let us continue serving?"

"Oh," She grinned. "I thought it would be nice to serve you instead."

She heaped a steaming omelette onto Laplacia's plate, and the girl beamed at her, swinging her legs from the chair she sat on in her excitement.

"And Cartesia likes the half-boiled one," Cagalli murmured to herself, fetching it. She placed it in front of the other twin, and Cartesia smiled a little hesitantly and waited for Laplacia to take a bite before starting.

The twins and Ko, as she had insisted to Athrun, were now eating breakfast with her and Epstein. Athrun had been rather surprised by the idea that she'd put forward on the morning after she'd found her way into the basement. Time seemed to be marked by that day as of lately, Cagalli realised, for incremental changes had been made everywhere.

That morning, the two of them had finally made it down to the dining hall and sat, grinning a bit embarrassedly at each other, aware that Epstein and the twins were already busy in other parts of the Manor, for it was late in the morning y then. When Cagalli had sat down for breakfast, she'd realised that even if it had been the usual time in the morning, there were not many changes in the number of people at the table. And so, she'd asked Athrun, "Why don't the twins ever join us for breakfast?"

But Athrun had shook his head a little and told her, "They don't eat when others are watching."

Athrun had proceeded to explain to her that the twins had a strange habit he had never really understood as well. Even when he'd adopted them as young children, Cartesia and Laplacia had never eaten anything in front of him, despite their obvious trust for him.

"If Ko or Epstein were here," Athrun had concluded, "They would swear that the twins never eat as long as there is anyone in their presence."

That strange habit had reminded Cagalli of mistrustful animals who half-ate and half-tensed up whenever anyone came near. She'd insisted that the twins join them that very morning, and they had been rather unwilling to at first. Laplacia had looked ill at ease as she'd picked at her food, and Cartesia had looked positively paler than she already naturally was she'd tried to shuffle the utensils around.

Over the next few days of that week though, they were getting more used to eating with others around. Ko had been the next addition to the table, since Cagalli had insisted that he and Epstein eat breakfast with them before staring the day's worth of his training.

During that period, Athrun had looked on with some amusement, as if he were half expecting the aides and Ko to refuse or to panic. But her insistence had won them over, and it seemed that the whole family was present, save for Athrun. The seat at the head of the table was empty.

Now, she slipped off the apron she'd borrowed from Cartesia, settling down into her own seat and helping herself to the toast. Sinking her teeth into the fragrant, homemade bread and making a small sound of bliss, Cagalli closed her eyes in joy.

"I like the cake that Lacy baked," Ko chirped up, lifting his face from the food and displaying a milk moustache. "And I like the waffles that Cartesia made."

Laughing in affection, Cagalli wiped it off with her napkin and nodded. "Cartesia and Laplacia, you're amazing. I wish I could do that too."

They blushed simultaneously, and Ko looked at Cagalli in surprise. "You can't?"

"Back in Orb," She explained briefly, "I ate television-breakfasts. There was instant waffle, instant pancakes, instant everything."

"Television breakfasts?" Cartesia cocked her head like a confused puppy. "What is this television breakfast?"

Epstein cut in quickly. "Remember what I told you both the other time? Television is like that screen Mr. Estragon uses-,"

"Oh," Laplacia was remembering. Her face showed a recognising gaze as she recalled a vaguely familiar word. "I remember."

Cagalli was amazed, staring at Epstein, who hadn't spoken until now. Also, she was amazed by what the twins did not seem to know.

Still, she remembered what Athrun had told her over the week about them. Abandoned children like Lyra too, the twins had lived as little urchins in areas where the Isle-dwellers had thrown their rubbish, sometimes fed by the more sympathetic people.

Athrun had taken them in on orders and had been instructed to teach them the way he had taught Epstein too. Unlike Epstein, the twins had no recollection of anything significant and were wary of everything. Nor did they know of anything outside the Isle. But their knack for organisation and their love of the kitchen had been clear ever since they'd stepped foot into the manor, and gradually, Epstein and Athrun had become reliant on them.

"What they do know of the world outside though," Athrun had told her one evening when she'd asked, "Is of military secrets and training. For them, the radio is an information-transmitter, and anything that shows moving images is defined by military language."

She'd seen his wistful smile and knew that he regretted so many things. That had been the moment when Cagalli was glad that she'd become closer to him.

She jolted to attention, because Cartesia was tugging her sleeve. "What other television meals are there?"

"There were television-lunches and television-dinners too," Cagalli remembered. "On the days when I had no energy or time to cook."

The widened eyes of the twins and Ko made her chuckle. "Not the nicest of breakfasts, trust me. I wish I could cook the way you, Laplacia and Epstein can."

"I help too!" Ko piped up, and she laughed and answered, "I bet you do."

But then, Ko looked at her, inquiring, "Cagalli, do you have a bit of a sore throat? You sound like you overstrained your voice a bit."

She felt her cheeks become warm- her voice was still hoarse and she wondered how to disguise it. Clearing her throat in vain, Cagalli smiled at Ko as he offered her remedies like honey with water. However, she found herself missing Athrun and thinking of the most recent hours they'd spent together.

He was usually gentle and controlled when he spoke to her. But in the bedroom, he took what he wanted of her, greedy and insatiable, demanding of her, like he was afraid that he would never hold her again.

Over the past week, she realised that Athrun, with her, was an overrun clock. He would hold her as if to make up for lost time, for the time that was going by, and for the time that would eventually come.

"I think Ko's correct, Miss Cagalli," Laplacia was saying cheerfully, "If you have a sore throat, you have to deal with it. It's not going to go away by itself."

Cagalli nodded distractedly, her smile still present but her thoughts elsewhere. She could only hope that none of them realised what she was distracted with.

Over the week they'd spent, Athrun had encouraged her to be uninhibited with him when they made love. When they did, she was forthright and refreshingly honest with him and herself, demanding for him to touch her exactly the way she wanted to be touched, accepting that she could demand whatever she wanted from him.

In the bedroom, they lost all control, untameable creatures that gorged themselves on primal consumption, led by both desire and need. Desperation driving each climax, they would be left with the soft, lasting aftertastes of joy that transited into a strange, healing peace each time they fell asleep in each others' arms.

She craved his touch and the warmth of his arms folding securely around her, whether he was possessive at times or remarkably gentle at others. Each time, however, they were attacked with such passion that Cagalli e was afraid that it was only temporary and he would disappear if she blinked.

Four nights ago, he'd told her with some regret that he would be unable to stay for the mornings after that, although he'd promised her he would try to return each day. He had done what he'd said for a few days now, and Cagalli hoped he would return again today.

"I'll get some honey water for you," Cartesia offered, looking like a pretty little kitten from where she nibbled at her toast daintily. "It's only fair, since you cooked the eggs today."

Cagalli began to protest, but Cartesia had already hopped off and run to fetch it. Laplacia followed naturally, and Ko, eager to tell them what proportion was the best for a sore throat, trailed excitedly.

Epstein, who sat opposite Cagalli, was quiet. His eyes did not meet Cagalli's.

Noting that he had been very reluctant to speak to her this past week, Cagalli felt nervousness enter her. Their past closeness seemed to have become a little strained for reasons Cagalli wasn't quite sure of, but she could see him look a little troubled before he noticed her staring and quickly changed his expression.

Puzzled, Cagalli ate her toast.

He had seen her merging from the main entrance of Athrun's bedroom the morning after she'd entered the basement. At that point, Epstein hadn't said anything, only looked silently at her as she'd coloured, and then watch him move off. Epstein hadn't spoken much to her since then.

With a start, Cagalli realised she had been so caught up and preoccupied with Athrun that she hadn't even spoken to Epstein over her entering the basement after he'd left the study.

But now she recalled what Athrun had told her of his past and Epstein's relation to it.

It was time, Cagalli decided. She had to speak to Epstein sooner or later.

Also, Cagalli was thinking that he had mistaken Athrun's recent lack of time spent with him and work as a sign of Athrun's unhappiness with Epstein's carelessness. After all, Athrun had certainly been staying away from the study where both of them usually worked.

She bit her lip, thinking that she would tell Epstein of this because it was an opportune moment when they were alone.

"Epstein," Cagalli said tentatively. He looked up and then sat there stolidly, staring at her without any clear emotion on his face. "Have you spoken to Athrun recently?"

"Funny isn't it?" Epstein muttered wryly under his breath. "You used to speak to me in order to find out what he was thinking. But that's changed now."

"Come again?" Cagalli said curiously, not really hearing him properly.

Epstein paused, wondering what to say to her. But she was his friend, and he knew he could not refuse Cagalli at any point.

"Alright," He said simply, looking at her. "I suppose I have to find out what he's thinking through you now, since he hasn't really been to his study much for me to talk to him. Now isn't convenient though- I have to run some errands."

Cagalli nodded helplessly, but tried anyway. "Er- Epstein? Don't worry about your bringing me into the study and my finding the basement and storeroom. It doesn't matter- I've spoken to him and he's told me what's going on." She smiled lightly at Epstein. "We're fine now. He told me what was going on."

He looked at her, a little surprised. "I know that."

"Wait-," Cagalli said unsurely, "You mean-,"

"I set it up." Epstein admitted. "The bringing you into the study, the stubbing my toe- all of that."

Not understanding, her eyes grew a little wider. "But why?"

"Because I wanted you to know how much burden he's carried for nearly seven years." Epstein said firmly.

"You mean you know about our past?" Cagalli said, gaping at him.

He nodded, looking more guarded than she could recall. "I found out- some time ago. When you first came, I didn't, of course, but I eventually wormed it out of him."

This was not true- Athrun had always been very secretive of the past he'd had before meeting Epstein. Despite the numerous times that Epstein had asked, Athrun had always told him that it didn't matter.

But after the incident when Cagalli had been the only one Athrun had accepted in allowing her near to tend to his wounds. Epstein had spoken directly to Number Seven.

Seven had been reluctant too, but he had eventually told him of the past Athrun Zala and Cagalli Yula Atha shared. Since then, Epstein had been a little less forthcoming with Cagalli, because he didn't know what to make of a person who'd rejected the parent he thought so much of for reasons that didn't seem to make sense. Nor did Epstein want to get too close to Cagalli, who could make him forget himself.

But all that didn't really matter. What mattered was that Epstein did not want to let the parent he loved so much be inwardly unhappy even while struggling to keep the little bit of peace he'd found with the captive.

So Epstein looked straight at Cagalli, who was looking a little confused. She did not understand that his motivation for making Cagalli discover the basement had been a very simple one.

"It wouldn't be fair for you to be with him if you didn't know how many problems he faces everyday," Epstein explained. "I didn't know if you would hate him or accept him when you discovered everything he was keeping from you, but I wanted him to be honest with you."

She gazed at the boy Athrun had taken with him here and found a smile spreading over her.

---

In Greyfriars' house, Athrun opened a suitcase.

As usual, the record was going on, and it seemed that the rather ancient mechanism Greyfriars favoured to play the music made the room seem frozen in time.

Unlike the dining room that Athrun had been in before, this room was completely different. That dining room had been filled with riches- gifts from Greyfriars' followers. Many of them were indebted to him. However, this gramophone that Greyfriars used had been assembled and made by Greyfriars himself.

He stood there, watching Greyfriars examine the suitcase' contents and then nod approvingly. "Not bad. Not bad at all, Estragon."

"Thank you." Athrun said mildly. "It took the companies I acquired quite some time to reproduce this powder. And that, I must admit, took quite a pretty penny."

"You must really hate him," Greyfriars mused. "And that's why you're spending so much time and money working for me, just to ensure that you eliminate him."

Athrun shrugged. "Every man has his own vendetta."

Greyfriars was studying him. "For four years, you've been working under- no, side by side- with me. I don't know what yours is, frankly. You can't expect me to believe at this point that it's just your nature as a businessman that's making you fund research for our weapons and the production of everything we need."

Athrun did not know what to say, although he should have been prepared for this a long time ago. Greyfriars was not a simply, empty-headed person who took every follower for granted.

Greyfriars was charismatic precisely because he understood what each person wanted and how the person would work for him if he convinced them he could achieve it.

As much as he despised the truth, Athrun knew there were similarities between himself and Greyfriars. He should have known that Greyfriars would ask for the real reason that Rune Estragon was working with him- if not in the past, then now. But that was where Athrun was more than equipped to deal with Greyfriars. After all, Athrun understood Greyfriars than Greyfriars understood Rune Estragon.

"I want revenge," Athrun said simply. "For the same reasons as you."

He pointed to the coffin that lay, almost unnoticeable, almost innocuous like a small table of sorts, in the corner of the room. It was covered with lace and was empty at this point, but he knew Greyfriars would not let go of the past so easily. "My own child died in that blast."

That was the surest way to gain Greyfriars trust, Athrun knew. People tended to trust those who were most like them, or those that they could sympathise with. And people tended to sympathise with others who had suffered the same plights.

There was a silence for a moment as Greyfriars eyes passed over Athrun. "Thank you. I didn't expect you to tell me. And for your grief, and for all you've done for me, I will make sure he suffers."

For a second, Athrun wondered if he was looking at a man who had faced no choice except to do what he had. But he shook his thoughts free inwardly and concentrated on Greyfriars as he had to.

Greyfriars was not someone to sympathise with, Athrun told himself firmly. The Numbers had warned him of this, as had the Eyes. Working as a spy was only for those who knew where their loyalties really lay. And his could not possibly lie with a man who had planned to have Cagalli killed for reasons she didn't even understand.

Greyfriars paused as he touched the vials but did nothing as stupid as to inhale the powder. The original powder that the Eyes had obtained from Mullin's suitcase was very lethal, and a simple dosage through inhalation would cause death quite immediately. Greyfriars had been quite eager to get hold of the drugs that Mullin's company was capable of producing, but Rune Estragon had beat him to it.

From what Greyfriars had been guided into believing, Mullin had never meant to sell Greyfriars that drug and to help him reproduce it. After all, that explained why Mullin had happily died from a heroin overdose and his suitcase had been found with nothing more than that drug by itself.

However, as Rune Estragon had offered, Greyfriars had another viable alternative. Here was an already trusted business partner who owned other drug companies that were capable of creating a drug that Greyfriars had heard of and wanted to use.

Besides, Greyfriars thought to himself, Rune Estragon was on his side, and Rune Estragon had proved to be a worthy man and business partner worth keeping. Rune Estragon was already handling the weapon companies that Greyfriars had wanted to acquire for so long, and Rune Estragon needed Greyfriars to complete his side of the deal. In other words, Greyfriars was quite sure Rune Estragon was to be trusted.

Now, Athrun watched as Greyfriars snapped the suitcase shut and handed it over to him, nodding again.

"When do we get the quantities we ordered?" Greyfriars demanded. He stared hard at Athrun, who looked fearlessly back at him.

"By the end of the month, it should be ready." Athrun knew that Alstarice Krieg was meddling with the drug companies and actually making them produce something quite similar to panadol tablets crushed into fine white powder. Hiding his smirk, Athrun knew that the biochemical weapon that Greyfriars was relying on so much was going to fail the minute it was sent out of the factories in their crates.

"What about the firearms we ordered some time ago?"

"Next month." Athrun looked at Greyfriars straight in the eye. Kitani Harumi was doing a fine job of controlling those companies and even the raw material companies that supplied the key ingredients for the weapon-producing factories. In other words, those would never reach the customers. Greyfriars wasn't the only customer ordering through Rune Estragon of course, Athrun thought inwardly. There was another customer that would be enraged to find out that his weapon stores weren't increasing.

In the meantime, Greyfriars leaned back, closing his eyes, then reopening them with a very tired expression. "My followers have been asking me why we can't kill her now."

Athrun felt his heart skip but controlled himself. Forcing a note of impatient incredulity into his voice, he answered. "Same old question and same old answer. Don't you see? Killing her now would be ruining the impact you hope to create. It's the same reason why it was better letting her survive the scuffle on the SS Rafael."

"Frankly," Greyfriars revealed. "I wasn't even sure whether to let her live or die that night. It was you who convinced me that it was better bringing her back to the Isle alive and in one piece so we could use her and her voice to tell the world of why she was being brought there. But that never materialised did it? She's been in your manor for ages and even Decant Corriolis was killed when he tried to kill her."

"I was preserving your purposes." Athrun told him firmly. "I answer to you, Greyfriars, not some lunatic who wants to garner support within your group amongst the more impatient members. Her immediate death would be less impressive than to have her being watched by the whole world."

"I still agree with that." Greyfrriars muttered. His eyes were dark.

"Her death must also be watched by those who would otherwise claim that some other group caused it." Athrun knew he was succeeding in convincing Greyfriars. "Only then, will Sweden be unable to control the media anymore, and only then, will the existence of your group and the cause you have been working towards become undeniable."

"That's what I told them, based on your advice." Greyfriars said heavily. He sat up and then looked directly at Athrun, who was standing before him. "But they say they'd rather get another leader who is more willing to be less cautious and to do more extreme things."

Athrun shrugged, although he knew he had a great deal to lose. "I say that's your problem. I'm not a Danish terrorist like them or like you. I'm a businessman. I will pledge my support to the group that serve my interests, and that includes the leader that can serve it for me."

Alarmed, Greyfriars sat up. He had grown too reliant on Rune Estragon by now, Athrun realised. "No-,"

Pleased at his reaction, Athrun sat down slowly. "I'm not threatening you. But for your sake, Greyfriars, don't rush things. I want my side of the deal to be fulfilled, and I'm a fair person. I'll fulfil your side of the deal, which you can only hope to achieve if you follow my advice."

"I know it's good advice to keep her alive- to prevent Orb from chickening out later and deciding not to attack Scandinavia," Greyfriars admitted. "At least if we have her alive and Orb reconsiders the ultimatum it gave Scandinavia, then we can release footage of her and tell Orb that she is alive and that if they want to get her back, they have to come get her."

He was looking more strained than usual, Athrun noticed. Probably because his group was badgering him too much, Athrun supposed. "But I'm just saying that my followers are getting impatient."

"Again," Athrun told him. "It's up to you to handle them, not me."

Greyfriars drank his tea, looking at Athrun. "I know. I've been curious though-,"

He paused, looking at his right-hand man. "What does the Orb Princess do in your manor?"

Athrun kept his tone neutral. "She's sedated, most of the time, and she's chained to her bed."

Greyfriars looked sympathetic for a second, which surprised Athrun. "Poor child. She doesn't even know why she's here."

Athrun shrugged, willing his mask to be in place. "That's not my problem either."

"I know." Greyfriars agreed.

He cast an eye over the tiny coffin in the corner. Those were surrounded by new bouquets of red clovers, and he knew Greyfriars would never recover from the pain of losing his wife and children.

When Athrun spoke, his voice was calm. "Tell them that if they want revenge for the children that died in the schoolhouse massacre, they'll have to sit tight and wait only a few weeks more."

---

In her bedroom, Lacus was stirred from her sleep, for Shinn was calling her name. With a jolt that ran through her aching feet to her sluggish mind, Lacus sat up, a photo-album still in her lap.

Leon was still sleeping by her side, and blearily, she looked at Shinn.

Right behind him was Meyrin, and she gazed around before she remembered that Lunamaria had flown back to Panama for some urgent business.

"It's time for Leon's meal," Meyrin said cheerily. She looked at Lacus smile wanly and Shinn held up a milk bottle. "Shinn's sterilized it already, so you should go ahead."

"Thank you." Lacus said a bit weakly. She looked at Leon who was still fast asleep. "I'll let him sleep a little more though."

Grinning, Shinn pulled a chair for himself and then for Meyrin, although Meyrin declined.

"I've got to make a call to my sister," Meyrin told them both sweetly. "So don't worry about me and do what you have to do first, alright?"

He nodded for himself and Lacus, then waited until Meyrin had closed the door. Turning back to Lacus, he saw he stroking her baby's cheek, her hair falling softly over her shoulder. Despite what people said about mothers taking on a glowing appearance, Lacus did look a bit pale and Shinn felt a tug of worry. He'd only just received Kira's call an hour ago, and he had promised Kira to ensure Lacus was eating well and healthy.

"And if you sense the slightest issue," Kira had told him firmly, "Call me."

Now, Shinn looked back at Lacus, who had apparently been flipping through multiple photograph albums. He raised his eyes to her questioningly and his friend smiled. "My father's photograph albums."

"Why take these out?" Shinn questioned.

"I was only remembering the past, Shinn."

He took one and saw Siegel Clyne bouncing a young child on his lap, his face young with happiness and the child with Lacus' soft pink hair and large blue eyes.

Smacking himself on the head inwardly, Shinn grimaced. Of course it was Lacus. He gazed at the woman in one picture who was holding a bundle of white and pink. Her mother looked almost plain and looked nothing like Lacus- not the pink hair, or the blue eyes or the face, save the strangely classic dignity that radiated from both women. Other than that, the resemblance was almost impossible to find.

Lacus must have sensed his thoughts. She offered, "I look more like my father."

Shinn tilted his head a little, not saying anything.

She chuckled warmly, but Shinn looked at her with doubt in his eyes. ""What do you need the past for, Lacus?"

"For the present." She said simply, looking at Leon still curled up, his hands and feet in mittens to keep him warm. "I thought that it was a pity that he wouldn't ever meet some of the people I loved the most."

"Like his grandfather?" Shinn asked hesitantly. He hoped Lacus would stop being so ambiguous, as she had a habit of being.

Shinn liked simplicity- he liked black and white. He wanted people he could trust, and people he'd bite if they got near. He didn't want to have to deal with people who could be either friends or enemies at any given point. Even though the war had taught him that it was not always possible, black and white never seemed possible with Lacus.

But for once, he suddenly wished she would be more ambiguous so he could pretend he was unaware of what she was really referring to.

"Yes." A tiny tremor passed through Lacus and she tried to steady herself. "When my father died, I never even got a chance to say goodbye. Just as this child will never say hello to his grandfather. But that can't be helped, can it? Unlike other things."

Immediately, he knew what she was thinking about. Inwardly, he berated himself for going down this line of conversation and even allowing Luna to insist he come and visit Lacus and the newborn baby with her and Meyrin. What if the things he'd agreed to help Athrun do were actually harming Atha?

Privately, he made a silent prayer that everything he had helped Athrun do was not anything wrong per se. Lacus' blue eyes were very clear, and he thought of a helpless frog being dissected. He was the frog.

Swallowing the sudden disconcertment in him, Shinn shook his head. "Atha's going to come back. Kira's doing all he can. She'll come back."

"What makes you so sure?" Lacus' voice was soft but steady.

"I- I just know it." Shinn replied uncomfortably. At least, he assumed that whatever Athrun Zala was up to, it would not involve hurting Cagalli Yula Atha.

"And what if I ask you about-," She paused. "About Athrun Zala?"

Shinn fought back the urge to bolt out of the room. "What about him?"

"Nothing, really." Lacus said clearly. "I was just thinking about him recently. I was thinking that it would be a sad thing if Leon never got to see his godfather."

This time, a bead of sweat did travel down, although it was thankfully at the back of the neck where Lacus could not possibly see it. "How did he become the godfather?"

"We agreed on it." Lacus said after a pause. "Right after the Second War. But of course," Her eyes turned to his meaningfully. "He disappeared without a trace. Just like Cagalli."

"She'll come back." Shinn said with more vehemence than he meant. "Surely."

She was silent for a while, looking quietly at him. "I hope so too, Shinn."

Carefully, he flipped through the album, avoiding Lacus' somehow searching eyes. But as luck would have had it, the next page contained a few pictures of a young Athrun and a person who could have only been Athrun's mother.

There were a few pictures of Athrun and Lacus as children, sitting next to each other quite formally and posing for the camera. Both resembled little dolls which were being ushered into their positions at the tea table.

But there were also other pictures of Athrun playing hopscotch with Lacus as children, and pictures of Patrick Zala on the adjoining page. Of these, many featured Siegel Clyne standing next to Patrick Zala and smiling, both comrades and colleagues at that point.

Lacus was still studying Shinn. "Athrun hasn't changed much, has he?"

It took all of Shinn's control to look back at her and keep his thoughts under check. He wondered if a thousand small beads of sweat were at his hairline. "I-I'm not sure. I suppose the last time I met him, he did look like this kid-,"

He pointed, feeling like an idiot, gesturing at a somber-looking eight year old Athrun who was standing next to a waving and smiling Lacus. Despite himself, he thought of the grave Athrun who had always seemed so stoic but had been so quietly desperate each time he'd approached Shinn for help. Lacus bent a little closer, but he was aware her eyes did not move to the photograph but seemed to be seeing through him.

Feeling incredibly pressured now, Shinn flipped a little faster and came to a page that featured photographs of something infinitely safer for Lacus' wellbeing and his blood pressure- landscapes. But that was what he had thought.

Meanwhile, Lacus had taken another photo-album and was flipping through it too, smiling at some memories only she could summon to her mind. But now, as Shinn kept his hand on the page, Lacus' eyes turned to him. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes." He agreed sincerely, looking at one shot of a rose-garden. Lacus passed a hand lovingly over that photograph, pointing at it.

"The home I always remember with the fondest memories," She told him blithely, "Because of that garden."

Feeling a little afraid that she would become emotional the way Luna was prone to while forgetting it was unlikely of a perennially-composed woman like Lacus, Shinn pointed at another. It featured a wide-swept sea and coasts of shells and beech trees. It could have been taken anywhere, but there was an aged, austere charm to the view. "Was that near your childhood home too, Lacus?"

She looked at it, pausing and frowning a little. Then she shook her head. "No. My father took all these photographs, and I've never seen this place. I suppose that must be a place he visited on Earth's territory."

"How do you know that?" Shinn said interestedly, peering at the adjoining photographs now. There were pictures of wide cliffs and grey seas, and put next to the pictures of the gardens that Lacus had expressed fondness for, the cliffs seemed to overshadow the bright colours of the flowers because of their sobriety.

"There aren't any beaches in Plant that look like that." Lacus said mildly. "Controlled environments mean that the beaches will never look this natural. It must have been back on Earth." She studied the pictures again, trying to remember if her father had ever mentioned those. He hadn't, as far as she could recall, but he'd told her that he'd lived amongst Naturals once.

"Maybe it was his childhood home," Shinn suggested. "It would make sense, right? This is the place he lived in when he went to the Plants and married your mother and started his family-," He gestured at the photographs Lacus seemed to have more familiarity with. "This was probably the place he lived in before that."

She frowned a little, peeling off the plastic sheets that protected the photographs. And Lacus selected one of stormy seas and those beautiful cliffs, wondering if her father had continued with his habit of marking every photograph he took and labeling it at the back. Plucking it from that page, she flipped it, and Shinn paused and drew a little closer.

"Skúvoy." She read. "C.E. 38." Lacus showed it to Shinn, who looked at what was probably Siegel Clyne's handwriting and raised his brows in an expression of interest. His voice was puzzled. "Haven't heard of that place."

"It probably doesn't exist anymore." Lacus told him steadily. "My father told me that when he left for the Plants as a teenager, his own home had already been destroyed. Lots of places were destroyed by radical Naturals back on Earth- even before many Coordinators migrated to space. The ancient places of Venice, Greece- so many places. You see, there were many Coordinators who populated those beautiful, old places where the wealth seemed to be drawn to."

"It's not like much changed after those places were destroyed and written off the maps," Shinn offered tentatively. He frowned a little, not sure why he was babbling about his own past at the mention of Siegel Clyne's and Lacus' vague recollection of the things her father had told her. "My own parents were forced to leave Kowloon with my sister and I when their business competitors started accusing them of using underhanded means as Coordinators to earn their salaries. That's why we went to Orb- which welcomes Coordinators and Naturals alike."

"Kowloon," Lacus murmured. "Another beautiful place. I remember looking at a book of ancient places that were sadly, destroyed, and I remember the picture of Kowloon. It was during a world history lesson with my tutor- it was a long time ago, probably."

She smiled at Shinn, and staring at her, he understood why so many worshipped this woman, including her husband. Despite her queer ways and somehow disarming mannerisms, this woman seemed truly kind and pure even though she was probably cleverer than most were aware. He was forcibly reminded of Cagalli in an instant, and feeling a bit flustered, he dropped his eyes.

Lacus, however, had returned to the photograph. She stared at it for a little longer, aware that she had never been to the place despite having looked at this photograph many times before. And then Lacus nodded, replacing it and calmly pressing the plastic sheet back. "Well, you're probably right, Shinn, this was probably part of his childhood."

"Nice place," He offered, feeling like the worst had been over. At least they were not talking about Athrun, who he was supposed not to have been in contact over these few years. He repressed a slight twitch of his shoulders and concentrated on meaningless conversation. "Those seas are fantastic. I wonder where those are?"

"Scandinavia, I think." Lacus mused. "My parents were of Scandinavian heritage." She suddenly thought of something and began to speak, but Leon woke up at that point and began to cry. Lacus stiffened with attention, gathering the baby up and quickly bringing it to her. The child began to cry a little more insistently and she shook her head haplessly.

Shinn watched her make a sound of distress for a second, then remembered the bottle and passed it to her. She sat up straighter in bed, holding her child and smiling at Shinn gratefully, and he returned the smile.

Neither of them remembered the photograph album or thought about anything more than getting Leon to pipe down right after that.

---

Epstein's form was hunched over as he weeded. He was nearly on his knees, and in his hands, the shears were making distressing sounds. Grass was flying into the air, perfuming it with the scent of dew and fresh green juices.

Some distance away, Cagalli watched him. She was weeding at a far less efficient pace than Epstein, despite insisting that she join him to do the same.

Without the bulkiness of his usual suit and because he'd taken off his shirt to work, she could see his slimness and youth. He'd taken off his glasses too, and she could not ignore how much he looked like his mother now.

The new knowledge that Athrun had given her now allowed Cagalli to feel sorrow for both Gilbert Dullindal and Talia Gladys. More than that, she felt great sorrow for the little fragment of their past that they had left in their present- Epstein himself.

But Cagalli found that she could not concentrate on anything. Her head was throbbing slightly but insistently, and upset, she tried to concentrate on whatever she was doing. But what was she doing? She was thinking of thoughts that were as fragmented as her concentration.

Epstein noticed she had been staring at him for quite some time, and put down his shears, sitting carefully in the grass. She did the same, smiling hesitantly and he returned it.

"I suppose Athrun told you about my parentage." Epstein said matter-of-factly. "I guess it came as a shock, didn't it? It came as a shock to me when Athrun first told me."

The use of Athrun's name made Cagalli stare at him, an Epstein shrugged, continuing. "It was during his second year here, you know. I was arguing with him over a mission I was supposed to be going for, one that he refused to let me go into. I told him he didn't really have a choice or a decision since he wasn't my parent and that I didn't have any anyway."

Cagalli was stunned and Epstein smiled wryly. "I know what you're thinking. You're right. Even on the days when I wasn't at my best or wasn't listening to his instructions, Athrun never scolded me or told me off. But that day, he had to control himself from socking me in the face, I'm sure."

"What did he say when you told him that?" Cagalli shook her head.

"He lost it and yelled." Epstein recalled. "First time I ever heard him yell at me. But he told me that my parents didn't die so I could join them in the afterlife by chasing after some foolish ideal either, and that's when I realised he knew more than he let on. I didn't even know the circumstances of my mother's death until that moment. He told me the rest eventually, of course."

He glanced at her, for Cagalli was silent. And then Epstein shrugged "I don't look much like him, I know. I've seen pictures of him, and I don't really have his features as much as you would have expected."

"Well, your father was a very talented man." Cagalli said helplessly. "You do take after him in that respect."

This was true. Gilbert Dullindal had been a brilliant man, filled with ambition, talent and potential. When he had died, Cagalli had been in Orb at that time, commanding the troops from where she was and praying for the safety of the others.

When the news of his death arrived, she had not been as relieved as she thought she would be. Rather, she had thought of Dullindal as that highly intelligent, persuasive person that Cagalli had sincerely admired but had disagreed with in the end.

"Yes, well, Gilbert Dullindal never wanted me." Epstein said harshly, surprising her. "That's why he let my mother leave him."

"That's not fair," Cagalli said immediately, reaching out to Epstein and touching his hand gently. "He didn't even know-,"

"He probably didn't want to know." Epstein said quietly.

The ministers around her had been cursing the man who had orchestrated the apocalyptic situation the world and society might have faced. Yet, all Cagalli had thought of was what a brilliant person he had been, how driven he had been, what a waste everything had been.

She had not been unable to comprehend why such sympathy had instinctively arose in her at that time.

But now, Cagalli knew why Dullindal had strove to create that future. His pain had been far to great for him to bear, such that his final dream was to eradicate the possibility of dreaming again.

If only he knew that Talia had given him a son, she thought with a pang. If only he known of that the child she'd bore for them.

"What made you decide not to acknowledge your parents?" Cagalli said softly, thinking of her own birth father. The only father she knew was Uzumi Nara Atha, and Ulen Hibiki was someone she'd never met or never hoped to.

Epstein shrugged. "The fact that he never acknowledged me. I know he never knew I existed, but that's only because he never bothered asking for the real reasons why his lover suddenly upped and left. The only parent I know of is Athrun Zala"

There was the son that Gilbert Dullindal had left behind. Did Epstein know she had pitted herself against his father, and did he forgive her for that? Or did he even know who his parents were, or did he think of them as strangers despite actually having met them?

Cagalli bit her lip. Did Epstein know of her and Athrun's role in his parents' death?

It occurred to her that Epstein was the son of the man that she, Athrun, Kira and Lacus had indirectly caused the death of.

By pitting themselves against Gilbert Dullindal, they had only been keen to prove that their ideology was superior to his- and he had failed and would be the person history thought of as a villain. Conversely, Cagalli Yula Atha, Athrun Zala, Lacus Clyne, and Kira Yamato were the victors that books featured and academics recognised as important forces in shaping history- particularly the two women.

Now, Cagalli saw the four of them as merely correct only because history was written by victors. They were the victors- they had imposed their ideology on the war's survivors as much as Gilbert Dullindal had attempted to impose his on them.

Gazing at Epstein, Cagalli was aware of how many things she had not understood in the past.

In the aftermath of the Second War, Kira had told her of the relationship between Gilbert Dullindal and Talia Gladys. And Athrun had been requested by Talia Gladys, or perhaps even Kira, to look after her son. Why Kira? Why Athrun? Had it been merely because they were there? Or was it for a reason that only Talia knew?

Talia Gladys had been just another woman, really, torn apart by her loyalties to her job and her desire to return to her son. She had exceptional leadership qualities and was a very good officer, but beneath that, Talia had been little except a woman fighting her demons every day. From the information Kira had gathered, Cagalli had understood that Talia Gladys had probably continued her relationship with Gilbert Dullindal.

He'd eventually stepped aboard the Minerva and came face to face with her, and Cagalli could only presume that they'd either been attracted to each other again or had never fallen out of love. Either way, they'd probably entered a semi-casual relationship, as Arthur Trine had revealed to Kira Yamato, and Talia had probably never even told Dullindal that they'd had a son.

Naturally, Cagalli had not paid much attention to the presence of the boy that Kira had showed her a picture of. At that time, she had also been too bogged down with rebuilding Orb. Thus, she had clean forgotten about the child, who bore a strong resemblance to Talia Gladys, a boy whose smiling, happy face had seemed normal.

That had changed. She was looking at that same boy and she was aware that he had taken on some of Athrun's traits. Epstein was a bit guarded, a person who was a bit mistrustful, a person who kept to himself, and a person who had his own insecurities just like Athrun.

"Epstein," Cagalli said carefully, making him pause his weeding and shearing. "Remember the other time, when you remarked that both our parents were too caught up with their own lives to care about their children?"

He looked directly at her. "Yes. I hold to that, even now."

"What do you know of your parents?" Cagalli said awkwardly.

Epstein shook his head. "Athrun Zala was very kind to their memory. I don't think I can be. I don't think they deserve a person like him to tell their child that the parents who left him were good people."

She looked at him, a bit disconcerted. "Epstein- I don't disagree that Athrun is like a brother or even father to you. But your parents-,"

"My birth father didn't want me." He spat. "Nor did my mother's husband. Not even my mother. That's why she left me back there with her husband and let him throw me out! I know Athrun said she wrote letters- but what's the point?"

Epstein's eyes were narrowed. "Those went to the old house we used to live in. It was obvious she didn't even think that her husband would throw me out after she'd left for the Plants."

In that moment, when she had uncovered his weakness, she had placed her finger on why he was so emotionally vulnerable, so affected by each and every of Athrun's moods.

She pulled his hands into hers. "It's not like that, Epstein. I'm sure your father wanted your mother to stay with him. But he couldn't marry her at that time and let her have a child. As a young politician, a family would be a weight to a career that was about to take flight."

"So he left my mother?" Epstein asked aggressively. "And then what about my mother? She left the man she married back in Germany, just because she had been offered a promotion back in Zaft, which she had previously resigned from. She wanted her career more than me."

Cagalli bit her lips, trying to find the words to explain it differently to him.

"And your birth father was just like mine." Epstein said accusingly. "Ulen Hibiki was once my father's teacher. Did you know that?"

She shook her head wildly. Cagalli had cut off all information of her birth father, not wanting to know anything of him. But here Epstein was, providing her all the facts she had not wanted to know of.

Epstein looked at her directly. "I'll tell you what really happened then. Gilbert Dullindal had been a brilliant physicist and doctor- under the tutelage of your own father, of course. My birth father witnessed your twin's birth. Or creation. Whatever you call it. Maybe that's how Gilbert Dullindal realised that if you planned the future for everything, the child would never have to worry or to be hurt."

He shrugged. "Looks like your father and mine got along well not only because of their intellectual interests. Your father used your brother in his experiment- and he would have used you too if your mother hadn't intervened. Then she had to watch her marriage fall apart because of that."

His expression hardened. "My father was willing to sacrifice anything for his own dream too."

He pulled away from her and began to shear again. The grass flew furiously into the air.

In the past, she too, had thought of Gilbert Dullindal as delusional and Talia Gladys to be emotional to the point of being irrational. But now, she could not say the same. After all, Cagalli realised, she knew what it meant to do anything to reach an almost impossible ideal, and she knew what it meant to want to give everything up for a loved one. How different was one human from another, really?

Cagalli thought of Kira, who had given up a future of quiet and anonymity for Lacus. She thought of Lacus, who'd given up that same future to work for the ideals of peace and harmony between Naturals and Coordinators. Hadn't Lacus sacrificed things for her ideals too?

Cagalli thought of the way she'd done things she had never dreamt of doing in order to ensure her service to her country was no disrupted by anything. When had it ceased to be a service and more of a personal raison d'etre?

Had it been merely when her father had died? Or had it been all those years later, when she'd believed that she had nothing else to live for except Orb, and that Orb would be the one thing that she needed for the simple reasons hat Orb needed her in the first place?

'Your father would have loved you if he knew you'd existed." Cagalli told Epstein firmly, trying to reason with him. It was difficult, she realised. She was pulling at straws, because nothing she seemed to think of could deny the fact that Epstein was truly against his birth parents. "Those ambitions- those dreams probably mean nothing when you find another reason to live. That's why your mother left him to have you."

Epstein shrugged, hiding the hurt away, as he always had. "She still went back to Zaft, right? If not to meet him again, then what? She never told him I existed, I suppose. And she left me with a man who didn't care for me- so I'm not convinced when you say having a child made her forget her ambitions. She went back to the Plants because she couldn't give up her relationship with my birth father even when she had me and another person who loved her. In any case, her husband soon realized I wasn't his son and threw me out fast enough. My birth father didn't want me too. He let her leave him because he wanted to focus on his career too. So what if she was carrying his child?"

When had Dullindal decided that a mere theory would be the path that was worth walking down? Hadn't that path meant sacrificing everything humankind had used as motivation for an unknown future?

Had he made his decision when his own dreams had vanished and he'd found hollowness in trying to believe and hope again? Or had it been when he'd met the living creations who were all but waiting to die and trying to leave their own make on humankind? Hadn't those living creations been the sons of someone who had worked so hard and had been so infinitely hopeful as to alter his own genes in hopes of writing his future for himself?

Looking at the son Gilbert Dullindal had left behind, Cagalli couldn't say she knew any better. Whether Gilbert Dullindal had known that he had a son or not, he had believed that the only way to prevent unhappiness and pain was by writing and dictating lives.

While people would never know how to expect and would therefore never dream, they would never feel the disappointment Gilbert Dullindal had personally felt. They would never aspire for what they could possibly or possibly not have, and they would never have to suffer if their dreams never came true.

After all, as Dullindal had reasoned, they wouldn't know what a dream was like, or what it meant to dream.

"Epstein," Cagalli said, watching him wipe a few beads of clean sweat from his forehead even while he snipped at the grass savagely. "Are you upset at my knowing about who your parents are?"

He immediately looked wary, the shears pausing in his hands. Then he sighed and nodded. "A bit."

Cagalli bent forward, gazing intently at him.

Epstein shook his head tersely. "I was hoping he wouldn't tell you about the other reason why he stayed on after three years. He shouldn't have burdened you with that." His eyes flickered to hers, and again, she saw what she found so familiar. But now, she knew whose hair and eyes he had, whose face his resembled. "My father was Gilbert Dullindal and his was Patrick Zala. A fine way to associate the sons of madmen." He laughed ironically.

Cagalli grabbed his face in her hands, lowering his head slightly so she could stare at him. "Don't say that. I never thought that of either of you."

Suddenly, he was no longer an adult but a confused child again. He put away the shears, no longer able to vent his frustration. "The only person who won't ever sacrifice me is Athrun Zala, Cagalli. And that's why I had to make sure he had a chance at his own happiness."

He shook his head. "Don't take him away, Cagalli."

"I know Athrun belongs to you too, but he belonged to me first." Epstein's eyes were pleading with her. "So don't take him away."

"Take him away?" She echoed, confused.

"He's the only person I have." Epstein begged. And she was forcibly reminded that Epstein was not as old as he made himself to be, not so matured as she had thought, and in an instant, Cagalli had flung herself into his arms, hugging him tightly

Her voice was soft. "I'm not taking him away. I can't. He already cares for you too much for me to change anything, and I wouldn't change it for the world. I knew your parents briefly- Athrun may or may not have told you that."

"I know." He said instantly. "You need not apologise for anything. His death was his own making. Besides-," A hard look crossed his mouth, which made him look uncharacteristically cold. It pained her to realize how similar he looked to his father suddenly. "The only person I recognise, like I said, is Athrun Zala. He's the one who gave up his freedom to keep me safe. That's why I promised him not to go in the end. That's why I decided that he was worth dying for if he wanted me to, except that he would never accept it because he is the person who really cares for me."

He turned back to her, extracting her from his arms gently.

She patted him on the back, and then on impulse reached forward, holding his face tenderly, and kissed his forehead. This was the child she had been, Cagalli realised. One who'd had a vague recollection of someone who ought to have been around but wasn't.

---

Only two days after that, did Athrun appear in the evening.

She hadn't seen him for a few days, and Cagalli wasn't even sure if he was around in the manor at all. Nevertheless, she had spent the nights in his room, waiting until she had fallen asleep.

For the past few mornings when she had awoken, Cagalli had been quite sure he would be there. But he hadn't been, and she felt a little bit of disappointment but hid it well enough.

If Cagalli had ever wondered if she had missed out on teenage escapades in the past, she had probably dismissed it as something unimportant. Now however, she wished she had gone through the said processes of finding oneself totally emotionally reliant on another to the point that hours spent hanging around the phone seemed like a good way to spend time.

In her case, the hours of doing everything but nothing was an experience she had become quite familiar with. In other words, Cagalli found herself thinking of nothing but him and doing everything to concentrate.

The rest of the days had involved helping the twins to spring-clean a few rooms that were not used. Time had also had been spent with Ko. This morning had been no exception.

But during lunch when one person had been absent, Epstein had informed her that Ko had taken a bit of a fever after his afternoon training. Naturally, she rushed to his room, and had not found him there.

Upset, she had whirled around to find Epstein trailing after her. He was a bit breathless because Cagalli had shot off so quickly without hearing him. Now though, she hadn't found a need to.

"He's still training, isn't he?" Cagalli had demanded.

Epstein had nodded, about to say something, but Cagalli had taken off at the speed he had never quite seen before.

In the training hall, Ko had been barely able to stand. His slightly unfocused eyes had flown to hers as she entered with Epstein, and when he turned around, she saw that his cheeks were red.

He'd looked around with surprise on his overly-pink face, saying blearily, "Cagallli? Why are you here?"

His hands had been a little unsteady on his sword, and not for the first time, Cagalli had been stricken to see how ridiculous it was. A boy like him, carrying and practicing with a sword that was slightly more than half his height! What more would he be asked to take on next?

"Leave it," Cagalli had ordered. "Go back to your room."

Ko had looked at her stubbornly, about to protest, except that he opened his mouth, got ready to argue, and found himself kneeling forward in a faint.

Subsequently, Cagalli had stayed with him in his room for the rest of the time, soaking cloth bandages in cold water to ease his fever. Some time in the later afternoon, Ko's fever had mostly subsided, and he'd gotten up and tried to insist he go back to training.

Epstein had put his foot down firmly, despite Ko's hopeful eyes. When he'd left, Epstein had seemed almost rueful.

"I've got to get back to my work now, Ko." Epstein told the boy softly. "But Cagalli will keep you company."

The boy nodded, smiling at them both even through the haze of his fever.

As Epstein left, Cagalli had slipped beside Ko, hugging him, feeling his flushed, slightly pink face rub against her shoulder as she patted his head. Cagalli began drawing him close and hugging him delightedly, liking his warm little form and the way he melted into her arms.

Almost deliriously, she began to cuddle him, laughing as he put his arms sweetly around her and began to rub his face into her shoulder.

Ko was slightly better now, she thought to herself, touching his forehead while he snuggled against her.

Epstein had carried him back to his room, and Cagalli had been to upset to see that Ko's stubbornness had led him back to the training hall, not Epstein's insistence. Ko was fixated on his training, she realised, because he had little else to do here.

At this point, Ko shifted against her and she sighed quietly, looking around the room.

The first time that Cagalli had entered Ko's room, she noticed the absence of any childish elements immediately. A ten year old boy would have model trains and cars, aeroplanes and even toy soldiers or a mechanics set.

But the room had nothing except a bed, a pillow, some plants, and a few swords and framed photographs which seemed out of place in a corner of the enclosure. That was it, really, she thought to herself. It was an enclosure.

"Cagalli?" His voice was muffled.

"What is it?"

""What if you get my fever too? Is it high?"

"It's not a high fever," Cagalli said with some relief to herself, touching his forehead again. Ko was still looking at her doubtfully.

"I won't," She assured him quickly. "We're all immune now, from the jab that Epstein for from Miles Summon. Besides, this isn't a flu. This is just you overworking your body."

He began to reach for her again, and she let him bury his face, quite unaware for a few minutes this child was not hers. It made no difference however, as she felt Ko rub his face tiredly against her neck. She giggled at the sensation and stroked his fair head, wondering what Ko's father had looked like for Harumi's child to have hair of this color.

"When you get better quickly, we'll go for a swim again." Cagalli promised.

She felt him squint against her shoulder as he leaned against her .

"Yes." He mumbled. "I'd like that."

He continued staring at her, his eyes wide. He had beautiful features, although they were a strange mix of his mother's jet eyes and what must have been his father's white, milky skin. He rested his head against her chest and she ran a hand through his curls, smelling the soft baby powder of his face and the egg complexion all children had.

"Why do you train so hard?" She asked curiously.

"Because I want to protect everyone. My mother, Epstein, the twins, and Mr. Estragon" Ko said innocently. "My mother tells me that they are worth more than a few men put together. But how is that possible? You can divide, and you can multiply, but when you add, it doesn't work that way."

She tried to see his logic but failed to, just as he had failed to understand the figure of expression. So she laughed, ruffling his hair.

"Cagalli," He yawned, "When did you and Mr. Estragon become friends?"

Cagalli blinked, then remembered how Epstein had introduced her. Chuckling, she decided not to correct that. She wouldn't know how to even begin explaining anyway, Cagalli decided.

"Two hours and one gun-shot after we first met." She said merrily.

"Gun-shot?" Ko's voice was puzzled.

"An accident." She laughed. "Don't worry about it. Nobody got shot. I just fired by- by accident."

"Close-range?"

"Close-range."

"Mr. Estragon said it once-," He interrupted himself with another yawn. "That close-range shooting takes more control and will for one to squeeze the trigger." Pepita was curling up somewhere near them, bored by the inactivity. Like her master, the puppy had exhausted herself with affection.

She paused. "It's true. How shall I explain it?"

"It's something he mentioned a very long time ago." Ko offered haphazardly, beginning to fall asleep. "Maybe-," He tried to explain, getting himself more and more confused. "I think he called it an internal struggle."

"Hmm." Cagalli smiled indulgently. "I think it's precisely what you think it is."

"Really?"

"Mm."

"I thought so," He said sleepily, and within minutes, he was fast asleep in her arms. "I always wonder whether to shoot first and run, or run away and then shoot." His ongoing fever was making him a bit drowsy.

She felt him cling to her and smiled a little. He was like a small weight, those lead pieces one attached to a string and watched for oscillations. Tiny but beautifully shaped and solid, Cagalli wondered how he would grow up on the Isle. If he could talk of shooting and of hurting, it was unlikely that his childhood would last for much longer.

Like Epstein, what did he really know of his mother? Would he have to grow up, piecing together random bits of information that gave an incomplete and negative picture of someone who'd done all she could to distance him from the world she lived in?

He cuddled next to her as she lay by him, and stroking his fair curls, she kissed his forehead. He was born as Harumi's child, but for now, he was safe here. He was a perfect little creature who would grow up suddenly like a runner bean, she thought fondly. These limbs would lose their chubbiness and become lithe and with a panther's masculinity.

Cagalli eyed the wooden sword that lay on the other side of the bed with some sadness. Unlike the messily-strewn toys, this one was well-wrapped up and leaning against the wall.

This place needed more toy aeroplanes, building blocks to make cities, all of that children should have all had. This boy needed more than lessons to make him learn what he was living for.

"Maybe something that would occupy his hands," Cagalli muttered to herself. "Something a boy of his age would like… Perhaps they'll accede to my request that his room be made more liveable."

Something knocked very lightly on the door. Without waiting for a response, it swung open.

From where she lay, she looked up and froze, for Cagalli had caught sight of Athrun in the doorway.

In his heavy, jet-coloured coat, he cut a stern, if not striking figure when surrounded by the neutral wood-tones of Ko's austere room. Ko remained fast asleep, his small arms around her and his face turned towards her like a baby marsupial.

Cagalli continued to stroke the slumbering child's cheek as she had before that. Athrun watched her, and although she did not want to show it, she was disconcerted.

His eyes were narrowed, and his mouth a firm, set line on his face. Nothing about his body language suggested clear hostility, but she felt slightly threatened with this child next to her, as if she had been his mother who was bound to protect him from all. Athrun looked at them carefully, and his voice was quiet so as not to wake the child.

"How have you been?" He said after a pause.

"Fine." Cagalli whispered. "You?"

"Fine." He echoed. "Epstein tells me that Harumi requested for you to look after Ko."

"Yes," Her voice was soft and her face and form lovely, rounded and yet delicate with Ko's body, a perfect symmetry of both bodies curled for warmth. Athrun watched her, wanting to bring her into his arms.

And yet, Ko was cuddling even closer to her, burying himself even closer to her. His small arms and hands were wound around her as if she were a bolster, his head pillowed on her chest, for he was still deep in his dreams. Cagalli's voice was quiet. "He's a lovely child."

"He is." Athrun made no effort to step closer. "A pity then."

She looked at him unsurely, although her voice remained as soft and as murmuring as his to allow the child to sleep on. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing at all,' Athrun said deliberately. "Now, leave him to sleep. He has a long day even after this. His training will start immediately after his dinner."

"Training?"

Her eyes flew back to the sword.

"That's right," He said in that unreadable way. His mouth was stern but his eyes were either ambivalent or slightly sad. "He is near perfection in his skill with the knife, but this weapon is not exactly the same. He will need more practice with this."

"But he having a fever!" She gasped, horrified at the prospect of the young body bearing his mother's scars. "And he already knows how to protect himself-,"

"He's learning to do more now." Athrun told her quietly. "Epstein will accommodate the fact that he has a fever, although Harumi would never allow that. When you are attacked, nobody cares what your handicap is. If anything, they will exploit it."

They understood what he meant. Athrun spoke again. "Some things cannot be helped. But don't think about him for now. Leave him."

Cagalli looked helplessly at the child who was clinging to her even in his sleep.

"Leave him." Athrun repeated, and she knew she could not disobey him. "Come here."

Regretfully, she extricated herself from the boy, who made a small sound of discontent although he did not wake up. In that moment, Cagalli realised that she could not refuse to. She wasn't Ko's mother after all, she thought sadly, and she wasn't bound to this child the way she was to Athrun.

Carefully though, she tucked him in before getting up. Away from the heated mattress and another body's warmth, Cagalli shivered a little.

She moved to Athrun slowly, taking one careful step after another. With blazing eyes, Athrun caught her hands in his even though she hadn't expected it.

Wordlessly, he pulled her out of the room, shutting it quietly, not looking back at Ko. There was something pained in his eyes, and she thought she understood what it was. He was shutting himself away from the things he could not help. But there was more than regret in his eyes.

"What is it?" Cagalli said awkwardly, still afraid to raise her voice for fear of waking Ko, who was inside.

"Come with me now," Athrun said intently. His voice dropped even lower in volume as he pressed a hand to her cheek, and his eyes narrowed but did not close as he laid a soft kiss on her lips.

She gaped at him, her colour rising. "You don't mean that-,"

He answered her by pulling her waist close to his body with his other hand, and she felt him and knew instinctively, that Athrun wanted to touch her.

"Wait-," Her voice was nervous, and she felt her heart beating violently. What was wrong with her, Cagalli wondered. Hadn't she known and learnt enough of Athrun over this time to recognise when she had no say? But why- why wasn't she feeling upset or even resistant to that, and why was the pulse in her racing?

"No," He murmured, kissing her cheek now. "I can't. I won't. I need to feel you now-,"

And perhaps he was right. Cagalli found every nerve, every pore charged with that strange, tingling desire even though he had done little more than kiss her. And it was then that she realized how much her body ached for his and how fragmented something was on the Isle without Athrun.

He was already leading her to his room, and she stumbled in as he locked the door, and within minutes, his mouth was on her neck, her mouth in his hair, kissing him, pressed against the door.

"You'll never know how much I missed this," He muttered. Cagalli shifted awkwardly as he undressed her, knowing that her breath was appearing as small puffs of mist in the cold air of his unheated room.

Distractedly, he pulled his tie loose, throwing off his coat and undoing his shirt swiftly. And promptly, he led her to the bed, where she mounted it, slipping beneath the sheets and watching him before he joined her shortly.

Hugging her to him, Athrun buried his face near her. His bare arms circled hers tightly and her torso and his own began to share each other's warmth.

It struck her that only a short while ago, a child had done nearly the same, and now, with Athrun, the same act could mean so much more. He was not a child, but a man, one who knew what lust and desire meant, one who knew how to induce it in her. But all that did not change the fact that like the child, he wanted to feel her near and feel safe.

"You know," She murmured, stroking his hair, "Ko's a good child."

He gave a short bark of laughter. "I'll say. He can be a little demon though. You're lucky he likes you."

"How do you know?"

"I watched you with Ko. He likes you."

"Does he?" Cagalli said distractedly, trying to ignore the maddeningly pleasurable sensation of his fingers stroking her inner thighs, and the electricity of his mouth roving on her neck then further down. "He's trying so hard to live up to his mother's expectations."

He kissed her, seizing her breath, and gave her little time to recover. His hands were stroking her and hers were entwined around his waist now. He muttered her name and groaned as she began to nibble at his shoulder and neck.

Teasingly, she raked her fingernails on his lower back, and he hissed in pleasure. It was all he could do to maintain his control when she asked in a playful whisper, if he liked what she was doing.

"I watched you kiss him," He said roughly, "I felt envious."

Cagalli laughed, slightly flattered. "A little obsessive here, aren't we? Is it the five days that you haven't been back that's making you so impatient?"

"Two days." Athrun corrected her. "I came back three evenings ago, remember?"

"Which proves my point." Cagalli chuckled. "I can kiss your forehead if you like, here-"

Her lips met the smooth wax of his forehead, a chaste, tender kiss that he closed his eyes to receive.

"I need more than that." He retorted. And roughly, he began pulling her up and cradling her as they sat, facing each other on his bed.

"Say," Cagalli said softly. "Do you think it's possible to give Ko some toys? If he's a child, he should have some time to himself and less of that awful training with the sword I saw by his bed. Or do you think that-,"

"No." Athrun's voice grew into a command but a plea at the same time. "I'll explain everything later."

"Why not now?" Cagalli said, a bit confused. "Why-,"

"Focus on me now." He interrupted, his voice a bit harsh because of his impatience. "Only on me. I want you to think of only me and what I'm about to do for you. Only me."

She found her head sinking into the pillows, and smilingly, she wound her fingers in his hair as he bent over her. Her eyes closed, and she felt his lips brush against hers, knowing she was lost to him.

Each time they made love, Athrun found himself asking who Cagalli really was. She could please him by simply laughing at what he said, smiling or touching his hand slightly with her fingertips.

Beautiful women were often poor lovers, expecting to be pleased without having to please because of their pr-existing appeal. But Athrun found Cagalli to be an anomaly. She was incredibly generous as a lover, satisfying him until he begged her to stop. But she demanded as well, and he found that he could not resist her.

Eventually, he lay on his stomach, the sheets covering his waist. She was curling by his side, the loose shift she had tied around her moving open a little. Her hands were stroking his back and massaging his arms and neck.

"That feels nice," He muttered. "Very nice."

She laughed, glad that he was back with her, although she didn't dare to ask when he'd be leaving again. "You're incorrigible."

"Why not, if it's you dealing with me?" Athrun said agreeably, his face buried in the pillow, exhausted.

"Your shoulders feel stiff," Cagalli murmured. She drummed her fists slightly and kneaded into his back. She pressed her lips against the back of his neck, her cool arms brushing across his back. Cagalli's voice was a bit cautious. "What were you up to these past few days?"

He clammed up swiftly. "Nothing much. Just work in general."

"Alright. " She said a bit meekly.

He turned to look at her. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Ah." She said simply. "I don't expect you to either. But that doesn't matter."

He stopped her from massaging him and took her into his arms.

Possessively, he moved above her, held up by his arms. He tried to kiss her but she moved her head away and his lips met her cheek. He tried again and this time, touched her neck. Then laughing, he ran his mouth over her neck and undid her shift deftly.

"We just-," She said in amazement and a bit of protest on her lips.

He forced her on her back, kissing her cheek with a twinkle in his eye. "I missed out yesterday and the day before that. It's only fair."

Cagalli chuckled and looked at him directly, watching as the background behind him changed from the wall to the door they had been pressed against at, and then the ceiling as he lowered her onto his bed, dragging the translucent curtains across to house them in their nest. She clung to him, discarding all thoughts of Orb, the Isle, and what the future really meant. There was no past or present- no future even, when she was with him. There was only him.

He was leaning forward as he thrust hard, pausing purposely to make the tension within them build up, then plunging deep into her, bring them so close but not beyond it so that every sensation was agony in its very pleasure.

Briefly, she wondered if she was reciprocating fairly. His body was chiselled and hard against her softer frame, magnificent and intent on pleasing her as she trembled, panting his name like an animal- his animal. She wondered if she was doing enough for him, but his voice assured her that she was even though she doubted that she could.

She made a cry of frustration, and he relented. He had to. He built his rhythms into a mad rush of thrusting, his hips strong against her soft, slippery thighs. She had moved over him without him realising it, riding him, moving herself vertically over him, his voice articulating her name, hoarse with feeling and sensation.

His hands were burning into her breasts and waist, and he knew that his climax was seconds away. The concept of time was abstract, but here, with her on the Isle, in this cove of their world, time flashed by amidst a strange form of eternity. Nothing made sense. He tried to make sense of the days, but all that made sense was holding her.

And when he found himself erupting into her, his shouts of pleasure strangled as she kissed him, Athrun knew why he had been unable to concentrate on his work.

Despite all his efforts over the past few days, being away from her had been harder than he'd expected.

His voice was strained and her name breathed in spasms, his body nearly contorted. And shortly she climaxed, her voice in a low cry until they were curled up, his chin tucked above her head, and their arms tight around each other, the aftermath of the spasms melting into chocolaty warmth.

As she breathed against him, curled up like the child he'd watched when he'd entered Ko's room, Athrun brought her closer. She settled into his arms easily, as she'd learnt how to all over again in the basement of his study, and soon fell asleep.

While she slept, Athrun held her, faced with all the old fears. If he slept, he would awake to find that she had left. If he fell asleep, she would change somehow, and in the morning, he would be faced with a stranger.

How funny Fate was! In the past, he'd despised the manor. He'd despised working from it or even having to spend his time there, for it had reminded him of Rune Estragon. Away from the study, he'd secured the things Athrun Zala had held dear to him, and he'd kept a little sanity by spending time in the abysses of a place nobody had been in. Apart from that place, Athrun had hated spending his nights in a place that reminded him of his loneliness.

But Cagalli had changed that too.

She'd found her way in there- convinced him to let her enter his mind for once. And after she had, he'd found himself unable to leave the manor without feeling regret or even unhappiness.

The possibilities for why he felt empty and distracted when apart from her now frightened him. But Athrun was still drawn to her, and he knew that he could find no peace except when he looked at her and reminded himself that she was still there with him.

The hours passed without him realising it, and he was soon asleep.

But in the morning, when he woke and was glad he didn't have to leave the manor today, Athrun could not bear to wake her, if only watch her sleep by his side for a few hours more.

---

In the morning, Athrun got up to make a call to Seven.

Six rooms away from the bedroom that Cagalli was asleep in, Athrun realised that he was about to be engaged in a conversation that would have deafened most. He was glad that the locked study was soundproof, and he was also glad that he could control the volume of the voice coming through the speaker.

Number Seven was roaring, and Athrun allowed himself a secret smile.

"I can't believe you let her find that basement of yours!" A long distance away and in his flustered state, Yzak threw out a hand in anger and it hit into a pile of papers on his desk, which knocked into another pile. He cursed openly into the phone. "When was this?"

'More than a week ago,' Athrun thought to himself. Aloud he said, "Two days ago. I've already covered it up as much as I can."

Athrun could guess what was going on from the sounds, and his lips twitched silently. In his own study, he gazed at it and realised that it was less neat than what he would have allowed for, except that Cagalli had been in here and he hadn't cleared up these few days. What was the point when she'd come in and they'd end up sweeping everything off the table to make love there anyway?

"Give me a second," He heard Yzak mutter. "Stupid things get in the way-,"

Athrun grinned, imagining Yzak's office. He'd been there once, right before he'd left for the Isle, and knowing Yzak, nothing much would have changed. Yzak's office was actually neater than what most of his subordinates would have expected of him. In other words, it was a bit of a mess but it wasn't a catastrophe.

Athrun cast his eyes towards the locked door, blanking out Yzak's tirade with the memories of much more alluring thoughts and sounds.

He had locked the door in case Cagalli wandered in, and he knew it was better to prevent that for now. While Yzak continued saying whatever he had to say, Athrun thought of how she'd come into his study yesterday in the late afternoon. From the looks of it, she'd been painting by the shore, but the twins must have gone there and told her he was back.

"And you left only a three-word voice message to tell me of what happened!" Yzak demanded, his voice modified into a strange, multi-layered stream. "I mean, for God's sake, can't you stop giving me heart-attacks? What the fuck am I supposed to guess from the words 'She found out' anyway?"

"Sorry about that. I knew you'd call back anyway. I didn't really have time to say more. I was meeting Kitani Harumi yesterday." Athrun told him mildly. Amongst other things, of course. He smiled a little to himself. His back felt a little sore from lying and being pressed hard against the wood of the table he was currently using in an infinitely more normal way.

"See! I told you she was smarter than you thought!" Yzak who was quite unaware of Athrun's distracted thoughts, was brewing into a huge storm. "She convinced you to let her in right?"

Athrun began to speak, but Yzak interrupted. "Don't need to tell me, I knew she was planning something." He began to say something again, something about upping the security.

Surely, Epstein and the maids were aware of Athrun's less than slavish behaviour to his work desk by now. Perhaps, they'd even found out about the first time when Cagalli had visited Athrun in his office and how they'd spent the subsequent afternoon locked in it, his files no longer on the table, but strewn all over the floor.

Roughly one and a half week had passed since he'd told Cagalli of what was happening, Athrun recalled, and the aides probably had more instances to certify that the captive was quite free to visit the study as and when she wished.

"So that way, she won't find out more-," Yzak was saying something that Athrun wasn't really listening to.

The week he'd spent with Cagalli had gone by far faster than Athrun cared to acknowledge, with him finding excuses not to meet up frequently with the Eyes on less important reports that he'd still gone for in the past.

Instead, he'd spent as much time as he could with Cagalli. For the past week, they'd had meals together, sparred for hours, and taken long swims near the coast. He had watched her paint and she'd watch him read. Neither of them vocalised their thoughts, but it was clear they wanted to be in each other's presences. For that matter, neither of them could resist each other.

As a result, they had made love frequently and sometimes, even indiscriminately in rooms that anyone could have walked into- particularly Epstein, the twins or even Ko. It only increased the thrill and danger involved, and Athrun realised he had never loved as deeply or as recklessly with anyone except her.

Yzak was still advising someone who was not paying attention. "And you should also ensure that the refugees who are in the East Wing are allowed to leave as quickly as possible-,"

Despite his better judgement, Athrun would seize her in his study or the library or anywhere, really, when she goaded him and distracted him from pouring through his work. She had more tricks up her sleeve than he'd ever thought possible, Athrun thought wryly, thinking of how she could brush innocently against him and then prevent him from being less than a meter away from her for the next few hours.

On more than a few occasions, he'd promptly locked the study and cleared his carefully arranged things from the table with a carelessness he never knew he could exhibit, and she would encourage him. Ironically, in the more sober moments, away from the dizzying sensation of his lips and hands on her, she was embarrassed and afraid that others would know of this.

Yesterday when he'd returned, Athrun thought with a grin, he'd pecked her on her cheek in front of Epstein at the dinner table, and Cagalli had actually tensed up and blushed, pushing him away a little. But hours later, she had been the one to make wild, pagan, love to him in the tight passageway of their previously separated rooms- the bonfire that prevented him from working with all his concentration even when she was not next to him.

"How did she get in anyway?" Yzak demanded, unaware that Athrun had been preoccupied with thoughts that were only tangentially related to what he had been going on about for the past fifteen minutes.

"It was an accident that she found the place." Athrun told his superior, when Yzak got back to the phone, probably having rearranged the fallen things or more probably crushed those to bits in a temper. "My aide was careless and she got into the study and found the adjoining room."

The voice grew even more agitated. Yzak was nearly spitting. "It was something you were supposed to prevent!"

"Relax." Athrun said casually, covering for Epstein as well. "She didn't find out about the Swedish Royals or the Halfs."

"She would have," Yzak gritted his teeth and rubbed his temples, knowing his subordinate would not be able to see him tear his hair out. "If she knew that the supposedly dead husband of the Swedish Crown Princess was alive and kicking, she'd ask questions and we'd all be in the worst shitstorm of the Cosmic Era!"

"It was all under control." Athrun told him stubbornly. "She's promised me not to leave the Isle."

"Control?" The caller snorted. "Promise? You must be joking! The last time, you allowed that madman under Greyfriars- what's his name-,"

"Decant Corriolis." Athrun supplied.

"Yes, whatever his name was," His superior said impatiently, "To get as far as her room. If you had been a second slower, he would have killed her. I told you, you don't take risks like that- you shoot first and question later! Or are you afraid that we won't cover your ass when it finally gets exposed?" The voice grew distinctively frustrated, "I've already told you that you don't have to be worried about these things- you're acting under Zaft and Plant's name and we're-,"

"I'm not worried about that." Athrun interjected. "I've never been. Remember when we committed war crimes while obeying Rau Le Creuset's orders? Zaft certainly cares enough to protect its soldiers."

"Don't use sarcasm with me!" The voice snapped. "I can assure you, on my own honour and even my head if you like, that I won't allow you to be tried as a murderer when all you were doing was kill in self-defence or on our orders! I'm no Rau Le Creuset, that's for sure!"

"I know." Athrun said quietly, allowing himself a smile. "I've always known that. What I want to know though, is why we can't bring her back to Orb. Won't Plant be free from questioning in the Galactic Courts? If nobody will questions our intent or how we reproduced the Orb Princess, why not let her go back now?"

He could almost imagine Yzak shaking his head. "We rather not complicate the situation for the Supreme Council. It's better if we stick with the scenario we originally planned for. The immunity you contributed to us obtaining is a bonus, but it doesn't mean we can throw aside the plans and let her go like that. Your orders are the same for now. Keep her on the Isle until we tell you she can go."

"Roger." Athrun said coolly. "I'll make her stay, that's for sure." Even if the Numbers had decided to send her back, Athrun knew he was reluctant to let Cagalli leave any sooner.

Yzak could sense Athrun's confidence, and that made him worried.

"On a side note, you should remember what your scope of duty is. You know the Numbers and the Eyes have immunity from the Galactic courts now," Yzak said firmly. "And that's partially thanks to the letter you sent to Kira Yamato, which made him approach Chairman Kanaver. But I think you know that while we can safely provide a defense for what the Eyes and the Numbers have been doing all this while when the time comes for it, anything you do beyond the scope of duty cannot enjoy the same protection Plant and Zaft would have given otherwise."

"You're really starting to become old," Athrun said impertinently. "I've heard that over and over again. You're boring me."

Yzak exploded. "Don't think I don't know where your relationship with her is headed! Do you expect me to play idiotic and pretend I'm not aware of the only way you could have made her promise to stay with you on the Isle?"

"How much do you really know, Seven?" Athrun sounded cautious now.

"I have my imagination." Yzak said drily. "And at this point, I'm actually afraid to use it. But between us, I'm wagering that you're trying to pull the wool over many parties' eyes."

'Not bad,' Athrun thought to himself. Yzak hadn't lost those killer instincts. But Athrun played along with Yzak. "You can guess anything you like. I'm not going to be an idiot and throw away what Plant and Zaft have promised me for my service."

"Let's hope not." Yzak's voice, even though distorted and modulated as usual, was clearly wary. "Whatever it is don't take things too far or too easily with Cagalli Yula Atha. I've seen her. We all know how she works and how tightly she manages Orb. A woman who removed all the political threats and potential competitors for power within a little more than a year is not one to underestimate, let alone someone with her character. She's a very clever woman- she'll escape if you even blink. I'm not sure if she's lulled you into some false sense of security."

"Don't worry." Athrun replied, thinking of Cagalli who was curled in his bed. While it was probably true that Cagalli's past actions had all aimed towards helping her escape, he knew that the truth was the exact opposite from what his superior was claiming. Cagalli was unlikely to leave even if enough escape routes were right in front of her.

"Now that she knows a little of what those terrorists are up to, I bet she's prepared to fight tooth and nail to go back to Orb." Yzak fretted. The modulated voice that Athrun was hearing seemed to squeak in its anxiousness.

Secretly, Athrun smiled.

Cagalli had fought him last night, that was for sure. She'd left two nasty pairs of scratches on his shoulders. He glanced at his hand, which sported a bite mark. She had been impatient, trying to take control of him, of them. But he smiled privately now, thinking of how she had finally allowed him to dominate her.

"Perhaps she needs something to occupy her." The person mused, still in his stream of consciousness. The irony was that the caller had somehow forgotten to be all business-minded, despite the intent of his call. "Maybe she wants something to spend her time on."

"Maybe." Athrun said diffidently. It was clear that all she wanted these days, he thought semi-humorously to himself, was to be bedded by him. It was obvious in the half-lidded gaze each time he happened to brush his fingers across hers during a meal, obvious in the way her voice became slightly hoarse and her lips a bit wet when she looked at him.

Her voice played in his head, a low, smoke-like moan raising itself to a soft cry of pleasure, and he nearly groaned. He wanted to get back to her and not stay here listening to the Numbers warn him not to get too close. After all, Athrun had long chosen to ignore all the warnings, slept with her more than a few times and was already destined to burn in hell. A few more warnings were pointless.

"What has she been doing recently?" Yzak demanded, suddenly realising that Athrun had not spoken up while he had been wondering about everything.

Athrun grinned, thinking of things that his superior had probably no idea of.

She would lie with him for hours and make love to him in return for his holding her, and even now, his body could still recall what she had felt like.

"Painting," Athrun said coolly, telling his superior of all the things Cagalli did when she was not making love to him. "Sparring with my aides. Gambling with them. They like poker." He was guiding his superior as far off-course as possible. "Lazing around. Looking after Kitani Harumi's boy."

There was an intake of sudden air on the other end. "That woman's positively mad! The head of the underworld with the head of a superpower- you're asking for trouble."

"You're the one who suggested I speak to her when I came to you as a friend and asked that you take over the Zala enterprises," Athrun pointed out. "You're the one who told me you had a person you thought I'd like to meet. You knew she had heard of the Isle through her underground connections and wanted to get her son there."

"That was me being stupid, okay?" Yzak was sounding highly annoyed. "Kitani Harumi is trouble, and so is that Orb Princess! If Cagalli Yula Atha convinces Kitani Harumi to bring her back to Orb, we'd be quite screwed against Kitani Harumi. Yes, we can probably take her down, but we'd probably lose a few people doing it. She's a demon."

"Her son's not," Athrun reminded him. "And I think Cagalli likes children. She'd like that child- she spends a lot of her time with him and my aides."

"I don't care what you do as long as she stays put in that stronghold we assigned you." The man on the other end said uncomfortably. "I know you've carried a torch for her ever since you met her. But your duty must come first."

"I know." Athrun said reassuringly. "It has always come first. I'll keep her in check."

"You keep yourself in check too." Yzak warned.

"Don't you trust me?" Athrun responded wryly.

He looked at the mark on his hand, surveying it with some interest. Cagalli had bit him very hard on his hand yesterday, but he'd punished her eventually. When he'd finally let her fall asleep, she had whispered that when she got her energy back, he'd regret it.

He grinned, thinking about her.

The voice on the other side snorted. "Oh come on, we both know why you stayed behind at the Isle. Besides your saviour complex where Epstein Cleamont was concerned, of course. I try to trust you, but I'm beginning to wonder if I should. You have a chance to prove yourself now. Don't waste it on the past."

"I know." But Athrun was planning for the future already, and Yzak's advice was as good as a random whistle of the wind.

Perhaps Yzak sensed this, for there was a long sigh from him. "Do what you want. But don't jeopardise what with been fighting so hard to save for almost seven years. Your promotion awaits you too. And if you do this well, you know what the prize is. Your father used to say that all the time, didn't he?"

"Eyes on the prize." Both men muttered.

Athrun chuckled, thinking strangely fond thoughts of his father now. "That bastard."

"Give your father a little credit. He tried his best."

"Yes." Athrun said dutifully. "He screwed our lives in a way that was quite irreversible."

"You see? You haven't made much progress, despite your high-and-mighty , moral-arseness. You still hate him because you love him. But I'm not a shrink and I sure as hell am not yours. I'm off to get some sleep. You better too."

"I will." Athrun said simply. "I had a rough night."

"Good God! You don't mean-,"

And Athrun put down the phone, cutting off the line. He wanted to get back to bed too, since Cagalli would have probably awoken by now. There was nothing better than a rough night, than rough nights leading consecutively to a busy morning, Athrun thought with some regret, but he had other work to catch up on.

Sighing, he took a file from his desk, flipping through it. If he could get through this quickly, Athrun told himself firmly, maybe he'd get back to their room soon enough to be there when she woke.

All the same, Athrun knew he was clinging on to something very fragile.

The plans were in the final stages, and as long as Cagalli stayed on the Isle, those would be put into action in no time at all.

---

For the next few days, Athrun stayed with her.

Cagalli had never known what it meant to live, she realized. To live was to do something without inhibition, without a care, without reservation. If she had to hurt inside even when she was smiling by Athrun's side, wondering when he would leave again, then she would willingly do so.

Once, she'd asked Aaron why he subscribed to so many romance novels.

Looking at her straight in the eye, Aaron had told her that to find someone to love was a chance of a lifetime.

"Even one complete attempt at loving is not given to every single person on this earth. Love isn't everywhere, you know. At times, people are right for saying it's fiction. Maybe I've come to believe it is."

But if it did exist, and if it did exist in her lifetime, Cagalli knew that she had gotten her attempt.

They would lie in bed and talk, talk of everything they could talk about. She would tell him of all the new things in her house, how she had been coerced into buying those because she couldn't say no to Aaron Biliensky.

They talked about her favorite authors, about the times when they'd run off from events she had been asked to attend with her bodyguard, about the kind of weather he liked, about the paintings she had seen and wanted to see once more.

And inwardly, Athrun suspected that he was living a life beyond his means. When he had to leave in the morning, it was physically and emotionally painful to leave her, although he made it an effort to leave without waking her.

When he did, he lost every trace of gentleness and returned to his businesses with the ruthlessness that was demanded of him. When he was forced to handle slightly more complicated businesses, he disposed of the task quickly, then returned to his Manor, soaking himself until he was sure the rusty smell of blood did not cling to him any more

Guiltily, eagerly, he would return to her side, desperate to forget anything that was outside of the little happiness they could derive from each other, desperate to hold her and convince himself that for the few hours at least, she was pure and good enough to make him less blood tainted.

In his arms, Cagalli could not hide herself from him anymore.

She could laugh and cry so easily, shed of her steel and power, without any kind of defense. She told him of Arabella Debbie Biliensky, and Aaron's fondness of chocolates that he must have passed on to his little niece.

She told him of the house he had once lived in, and she would gently correct him when he mentioned some servants' names- for they were no longer there.

He, on the other hand, would try and imagine what the house looked like with Aaron's most recent additions to it, and she would fill in certain details and tell him exactly what had been added in and subtracted from the mix of furniture and antiques. Laughing, Cagalli would tell him about the chairs Aaron had threatened to chop and use as firewood, and he knew that she had been very lonely.

In return, Athrun would tell her of how Epstein used to amuse him by playing pranks when the boy had been younger, as a child would. It hadn't been too long ago, but there was always this passing of age when children became adults. Of course, both of them knew that this passing had been hastened by Athrun's bringing Epstein to the Isle.

And she would know that he was in pain although he hid it.

Slowly, he opened himself to her.

In the past, she had thought that having too many toys killed the excitement children ought to have in those. But after listening to Athrun hesitantly recount and mention the puzzles he'd been asked to solve as a child, Cagalli knew that a far worst thing was to grow up, lacking the understanding that those had been toys.

Cagalli found herself becoming part of him, as if she had entered some portion of him and had assumed some part of his identity. It was difficult to say what it was that made her feel that she knew him, but she found that she did.

They would trade stories, things about themselves that they had told nobody else about. They would lie in bed after a session of frantic, wild lovemaking, flat on their stomachs, talking and laughing, listening and learning.

He told her of his childhood, of the way he had once taken a pair of scissors and cut up the curtains and the table cloth. When his mother had told his father about it, his father had merely said, "That's all?"

So the seven-year old had taken the same scissors and cut up his own clothes, the smart little pair of pants and the jacket that his parents made him wear during special occasions. Again, his father had not been keen to hear about or address his son's latest misdemeanour.

But Athrun had taken to some documents that his father had arranged on the table in his room.

That had been the only time that he elicited a response from his father. His father had belted him, while his mother had locked herself up in her room, unable to watch.

And the boy had allowed himself to be beaten, not resisting, not crying out. When it had finally been over, his arms had been covered with welts and his legs with ugly red lines of the belt's contact with his flesh.

"Did you cry?"

"Of course." He had said calmly. "I got my ass whupped. Of course I cried."

"So your father finally snapped?" Cagalli had asked, looking up at Athrun while he stroked her fine golden hair and her white face and arms, his arms cradling her.

He frowned. "Of course not. It wasn't the accumulation of my misdemeanours. It was the fact that I'd done something that he'd actually felt affected by. The only thing that mattered to him was work, you see."

And nothing she said could make him think that his father had been primarily concerned with his career and ambition. Privately, Cagalli thought that it was probably the case that his father had not known how to love his wife and son even though he had.

Once, Athrun, at her prompting, told her of what it had felt like to kiss Lacus.

His first kiss, he told her affably, had been awkward. It had been curiosity which made him want to touch that white, pretty face, but all he could remember was the sweet taste of a melon-mint she had been eating at that time.

"Did you make any passes at her?" She asked inquisitively.

"Never had to," Athrun said simply. "We were already supposed to be together, so what was the point?"

Cagalli had laughed. And he'd looked at her, smiling, knowing that Lacus and he had never been in love with each other because their temperaments and tastes were far too similar. Here though, was a woman who had so many traits that were the polar opposite of Lacus'.

He had never really quarreled with Lacus- she was too patient, too understanding. She had never made him feel more than admiration- he was too used to her ways, too used to his own and the strange feeling that he had to be what his father demanded of him in Lacus' presence. Lacus was a little queen, a saint of sorts, an unblemished figure and a confidant. Nothing less but nothing more either. Their characters were far too similar.

But the woman in his arms was a firebrand, bursting with ageless energy, capable of being passionate to the point of being downright foolish, and with a natural sexuality that he'd noticed even when she had been something of a child.

She'd denied it along, encouraging the rest of Orb to do so as well so they would see her as a truly infallible force. But Athrun knew that even as a child, Cagalli had possessed that strange, indelible sexuality that men must have seen, for he had recognized it quickly and been attracted to her quite inevitably.

While he did not tell her of this, Athrun still told Cagalli exactly why his engagement to Lacus would have collapsed even if Lacus had not met Kira.

At the same time when Lacus had shown a growing unwillingness to be bound in an engagement to him, Athrun himself, had realized that since meeting the soldier on the island, he had thought of no other person except Cagalli.

Cagalli was privately touched, for he had volunteered the information without her requesting it, as if to allay her insecurities.

He told her of the first time he had killed a man- a Natural who had caught spying in the Zaft barracks. He offered no explanation for why he had felt compelled to do his duty- he'd only told her that he could still remember the man's face.

When he told her that, she saw how pale his face was, how cold his hands felt even around her.

And he told her of his mother- how she had never been able to begrudge his father of so many things when really, it would have done all of them some good if Lenore Zala had told her husband that he was being a bastard to his face. Of course, when Lenore Zala had died, his father tried to remedy that and ended up going mad in the process.

So in many little ways, Athrun and Cagalli absolved each other even though neither had the right to.

She would hold him tight, close to her, trapped in his arms as he lay above her, enclosing her with his weight. But he felt trapped each time he did this- she would stroke his cheek with her finger, and he would wonder why he was so helpless.

It wasn't fair, he reflected, that he could pin her onto the bed so easily, and yet, have her looking at him unafraid, as if she didn't know how bloodstained his hands were, how easily he could harm her.

Cagalli would look at him, through him, fearlessly, brazenly even, and she would reach to his mouth, his lips, and stroke him with a single finger. Every time she did this, he was sure that this was a kind of rape. While Athrun couldn't confirm from experience, having one invade his thoughts, his being, learn him against his will, was probably similar to it.

In a bid to regain control over himself, Athrun would seize her, crushing her with his weight, trying to make her understand that she had no reason to love him so fearlessly when he was so capable of destruction.

In those very moments, he almost wanted to make her hate him, so that he would remember that he didn't deserve her. But she would only look at him with slight apprehension at worst, anticipation at best, and let him enter her even if she fought him initially.

They spent many days in a tranquil fashion, with the light of the present distracting them from the reality of the Isle and what lay beyond it. It became a pattern they established; this pattern of living in a peace they had found, a peace they were so afraid of losing. Their statuses of captive and captor were blurred by the shared days of alighted happiness.

She had begun to draw and paint feverishly, as if she had somehow decided that the present world around her would be the only thing she would fill her thoughts and time with.

So Cagalli would sit and paint for hours. It seemed that she could not do enough of this, this transfiguration of her thoughts into paintings on the canvases. It was a sort of mental preservation for her- how she would fill her eyes and thoughts of everything she knew of the place, and how it would be emptied out on the canvas.

With every completed sketch or painting, it seemed that the Isle was no longer a dream or nightmare- it was her new reality, one with Athrun.

Without consciously finding a reason, Athrun liked to watch her sketch and paint.

She would sit on a stool, small, huddled, her brow fair even if slightly furrowed, concentrating on her environment and her representation of it. Her stool would tilt a little at times, when she was so intent on seeking something with her senses that she scarcely paid attention to anything else.

Each time he watched her, he became more enamored by her. As it was, he was- was there any other word?- besotted by her, more so than he had ever been.

She would sketch, vivid, wild lines of carefree spirit with the liberty of interpretation. He particularly enjoyed her paintings- intense, untamable dashes of color and energy even with the most dainty of flowers and structures.

When she painted a simple but charming scene of the twins on their knees, weeding and whispering to each other while working, it had been a raging fire, a burning fountain of colors with two pale girls in white, somewhere in the midst of the garden.

When she painted the maiden's hair fronds dipping into the pools where tiny fish raced, it seemed like a burnished mirror of moss, mysterious with light, accentuated with tiny specks of orange and gold with only thin streaks of cobalt to reflect the sky above the pond.

A shadow had been cast over the pond in her painting- her own and the easel's. Athrun would not have been surprised by her sensitivity to detail, but this level of it made him admire her more.

She painted the white flowering tree that they had stood under in Rochester's greenhouse. And it seemed that she had captured snow and frozen it onto paper, a smudge of gold for the discarded goblet he had drunk from at the tree's base.

Cagalli painted so many things. But he was most taken with a painting of her view, through the window, in their room, for his room had become theirs.

When she finished it in the dimensions she'd decided on and had presented it to him for his birthday, he'd taken a look at it and told her that he was certainly not going to hang it up anywhere but would keep it for himself and nobody else.

That picture was a window in itself, and it had been a window to her eyes through another window. Through her eyes, the view of the world through the window in their bedroom, was a magenta frost overlooking the sea, where a lone, midnight-hued divan lay some distance before the actual window. There were dabs of grey, shadows that melded into the semi-darkness, the sea beyond the window brighter than ever.

And those shadows were his and hers.

If Cagalli had been forced to replace her previous world with the Isle, then her paintings of every room she saw, of the yacht she had been on, then everything she painted was clearly an acceptance of the Isle.

While she painted, she did not speak, because she found no will or power to speak as she spilled her thoughts and memories, her own shadow cast on the canvas.

During those moments when she lost all desire to converse so as to concentrate on her task, he would sit with her.

He too, would study what he saw, and he would sketch. But the only thing he saw was her. And all his sketches were of her, each line etched not on paper, but in his mind, deep and vivid, as if he had taken a blade and etched scars into his own chest and arms.

Athrun didn't think she was aware of what he was doing by watching her- she was always too caught up in what she was doing to notice how others were observing her.

But he knew what he was doing.

He was trying to prevent her from leaving him, as if watching her everyday would prevent her from leaving the Isle eventually.

He would start his mental sketch from her hands, always her hands- her finger tips, small, like edges of flower petals, flowing into curved, tiny palms. Her hands were warm, soft and strong, although those were small hands, like a child's.

But her hands were expressive and sensual in white flesh when she touched anything with them, and those hands would flit and sketch across anything, whether paper or skin.

He often faced a dilemma in his silent sketching at that point- upon reaching her soft, small-rounded shoulders, where should he then look upon?

He could continue upwards, with her delicate collarbone and its angular ridges leading on to a sweet, pointed chin and her finely-shaped jaw. Her jaw was small, but it had that mould in it, that stubbornness, that set firmness to it that confirmed the strength of her character.

Her mouth was always the same, no matter her expression; it was a warm and full set of lips, inviting and passionate. When she teased him with it, he always ended up losing control over himself. He could not help it when it was her.

Her nose was but a path to the eyes he found so beguiling- those were large and expressive, though asymmetrical and almond-shaped, a cat's features.

Yet, upon reaching her shoulders, he could sketch downwards too. He could look past her collarbone, past the undeniable curves of her chest to the narrow taper of her waist, and to her slightly boyish hips. That was a strange, almost paradoxical element of her form- those hips. Those were narrow, small, like a boy page. But her thighs and rear were very soft, firm and full enough to show that she was a woman.

Her torso was beautiful- small and narrow waisted like a young page, but so womanly at the same time. Her breasts too- those were very difficult, almost impossible to ignore. Cagalli often wore just a singlet and shorts under an apron when she was painting, and he would gaze at the swell of her body from its profile.

She would sit on a stool, almost like a young page with her hay-colored hair, concentrating with her mouth pursed, but her body a woman's. He was always fascinated by her calves and feet, bare and creamy, swinging as she sat on the stool, oblivious to his presence and his observation of her.

Her feet were as talkative as her hands, her toes wiggling now and then to speak because her mouth could not bear to. They could arch in consternation when she was trying to sketch something difficult, and Athrun was amused by the way her feet were extensions of her thoughts and emotions.

Her calves were gleaming, slender curves, reminding him of how they felt against his own, how smooth they were when he ran his hands past her thighs, to rest on them. Naturally, he often found himself interrupting her work even though his very silence and quiet observation of her had been meant to avoid that situation.

Although he avoided conversation with her, preferring to leave her to her own devices, his mental sketching of her was a memorizing of every aspect of her- beyond her physical form.

Her features assured him of his presence, the way her attributes anchored him in space and time like coordinates. But with each feature came memories of her and the significance of Cagalli Yula Atha to him.

Athrun frequently found himself standing abruptly, no longer rooted in his seat, coming over to her, she still oblivious to him. He would take her head, press its back against his abdomen, watching as her eyes blinked and focused upwards towards him, watching him look down at her.

Then he would take the charcoal pencil or brush out of her hand, letting it fall to the ground where mats were spread out.

And he would kneel before her, holding her face to his, looking into her eyes, through her eyes.

One of his hands would be resting against her cheek, if not, at the back of her head, forcing her to look at him. The other of his hands would still hold her hand, and he would bring her hand to his mouth, kissing her wrist.

Although they both knew what this would lead to, she was always caught by surprise, eyes widened. Cagalli would gaze at him inquiringly, as with the innocence that she tended to look upon others with. She would look at him as if she didn't understand what he wanted to do to her, as if he were a harmless, entirely innocuous person, innocent like her.

It was always enough to launch the catapult of emotion and need in him, her hand in his, her cheek below his palm and its warmth the proof that his sketch was of a living thing. And the question in her eyes was always a sufficient signal for him to lose his last restraints.

He would wrestle the apron' strings loose, forcing her on her stomach to tug the knots loose, barely hearing her soft cries of surprise that would be muffled in the ground of wherever they happened to be.

And the apron would come loose as he tussled. Athrun would throw it aside, shifting her until he could bury his face in her lap, breathing in her scent of apples and musky-smelling flowers, inhaling until he was filled with nothing but her.

Cagalli would find herself demanding from him, encouraged by how readily he responded, how pleased he was when he found that he could please her.

Perhaps, their lovemaking was aggressive and very impatient because they instinctively knew that the little happiness they had found was so difficult to protect.

Then, only when they were completely satisfied, he would allow her to continue on the painting, but then they would fall back into the same cycle of temptation and giving in to it.

As they spent their days together, Athrun found no more than an absolute peace, and no less than a kind of fragile happiness- the way a caged bird was released into a sky, free but aware of the lurking dangers.

When he had her by his side, it felt similar to the past, as if the past hadn't gone anywhere. Of course, it was very different, they each knew that. They were different people, although they had found the same love once more. If anything, they were even more dependent on each other.

And when he had to return on some mornings, to meet the other Eyes, he found that he was very unhappy. It hurt to leave her, a warm, living entity, in a bed they had shared and breathed in.

For all his efficiency at his duty, Athrun knew he was a walking contradiction. He enjoyed and was very good at piloting a killing weapon, although he didn't enjoy the killing. He drew others to him, despite being slightly introverted by nature. And he was meant to be a tool for others, a sort of killing machine himself now, for others to drive around. But he was a thinking soldier- someone who could empathize with whosoever that died at their hands.

The other Eyes, save perhaps Sheba, were not capable of empathy. Lent rationalized, Tom and Barnett distracted themselves, and the rest of them were indifferent. The Eyes had never remarked on his general passiveness or the rare moments when flashes of Athrun's temper would present themselves- after all, he was an effective person, very efficient and rather competent.

But Athrun knew that they suspected that he was losing his conviction in duty.

He did not need their suspicions in order to be alerted of this. He knew that he had lost the conviction in his duty from the start, when he had been asked to eliminate Cagalli Yula Atha if the reason presented itself.

Every day, Athrun looked at her and prayed that time would stop, that the hourglass could be turned over and over and over, for as many times as eternity itself. But the days were being lost, and he knew that no matter how much he had of her now, he would have to let her go, every bit of her, every last trace of her. Six months would pass.

Duty demanded it. But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

During the moments when he met the Eyes or gave his report to the Numbers, he would revert to being Rune Estragon. He was someone who didn't need to feel, someone who wasn't supposed to be any more or any less than an automaton.

Upon returning, Cagalli would take him in her arms and never question what he'd been doing while away. While he was glad for her trust, he was stricken with misery.

Each time he watched her fall asleep, Athrun found that he would be engulfed in that self-hatred. It had been hatred so strong it sustained his abilities and effectiveness in his duties, but a hatred so potent that he would die from the inside.

Being with Cagalli now was speeding up the inevitable- she was reminding him that he was alive now, capable of loving and being loved now. But when she had to return, he would still be trapped on the Isle, watching as she slowly forgot him back in Orb.

No matter how passionately they lived and loved, there would be a day when she would grow cold and respond very little to a memory that was vanishing swiftly too.

He would watch as she slipped away, through his fingers. While Athrun could not help that, he decided as he watched Cagalli run and play with Ko and the twins along the shoreline that he would at least prevent her from being harmed.

So he often looked at her silently, unable to tell her what he was thinking, unable to express his fears even as she laughed and smiled and stayed by his side.

---

1 month. 25 days.

---

A/N: Dear readers and reviewers, thank you for all the overwhelming responses to the last chapter! Yes, I enjoyed getting to the point where they were honest with each other too, but there's definitely still some way to go, as you would have inferred from this chapter. I did plan for the Isle to finish by New Year, but I guess that still depends. Whatever the case is, a Merry Christmas and Happy upcoming New Year to you!

On a side note for those who were wondering, the past wikipedia bios of Siegel Clyne actually stated he was of Scandinavian descent, and that Athrun (and presumably his father) was of European descent. The Yamatos and Hibikis were stated to be of Japanese descent (duh). But I think those bios have been updated since t hen and that information has been recently ommitted. Too late for them I guess- I kinda incorporated it into the fic by then, and I'm not about to change that. :)