Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please
Chapter 31
"You'll do it?" There was only one who spoke, but the uncertainty in that particular Number's voice must have mirrored the expressions of the others.
Of course, the Twelfth Eye would never really know because those who faced him would never reveal their faces. And even then, Twelfth Eye reflected, he would never really know what the Numbers or the other Eyes thought of him or what they made out of this spate of events.
He looked at his hands. For all those years, he had taken to masking them, afraid to let others see these fine, undeniable lines that suggested that he was capable of losing his control. But when she'd willingly pressed her mouth to his and let her hands meet his shoulders, that had been enough for him to forget himself. He'd discarded all pretence of being unaffected soon after—he'd wanted to. Even now, there was no point covering those scars.
He nodded once, trying to cover the awful, familiar hollowness that threatened to shake his voice and will. "In for return my payment, yes."
There was someone amongst the Numbers who cleared his throat uncertainly. "Then you'll return to the previous stronghold that you occupied. The checks being run in that area have finished."
"Just in time then." Another Number remarked. The Twelfth Eye had only been released from the stand an hour ago. The Plant and Zaft military court had found insubordination but little else that it could not excuse either in the fact-finding or the essentials of sentencing. "Will you be ready to leave in twenty-four hours at nineteen five four?"
"Roger."
"May the Twelfth Eye take his leave now?" Asked Six to Nine.
He noted that Six sounded rather strained. Eileen Canaver did not approve of him returning, but she had been outvoted on this decision, amongst others.
Two spoke up, and the distortion of his or her voice did not change the intent it held. "No. Twelfth Eye, I will ask you once and once only in the presence of the Numbers. Did you pursue a personal relationship with Cagalli Yula Atha? "
Four cut in. "Understand, Twelfth Eye, that you are still under probation."
"I am aware of that, sir."
He was aware that they had turned the place upside down on the Fifth Isle. While the islands and the boundaries had been redrawn and areas renamed, the old summer palaces and other places that the ancient Danish royals had once built and occupied remained. The decrepit church did, as did the former Fifth Eye's base and other Eyes' strongholds. The former Fifth Eye had occupied the summer palace in a certain area and had furnished it.
During his recent absence, a Zaft squad sent by the Secret Intelligence Council had been sent in to do checks to find evidence to be used in the trial and questioning that the Fifth Eye had faced by Zaft. There had only been some harmless looking old diaries, photographs, files with carefully if not obsessively recorded finances and gems that had not led to any conclusive proof of conspiracy or frolic and detours from the main obligations. Rather, those items had reinforced the defense's case that the former Fifth Eye had always been strictly acting for Plant and Zaft's benefit, even if this had bordered on insubordination at points.
But amongst all the evidence, the investigation team had found multiple, unsigned paintings. The investigation team had analyzed the brush strokes and paint quality and produced a lengthy report concluding that the painter had been the same for thirty-eight paintings and that the paintings had been completed over the last year or so. These had been confiscated, as had the former Fifth Eye's personal records of his dealings with the Danish Liberation Front while undercover. Those had been deemed too dangerous and too questionable by the vote of the Numbers, and so those would be destroyed— written off totally.
While this report and evidence had not been used in court at all, he knew that doubt lingered. Why else would the paintings have been destroyed, as if those were suggestive of Plant's intelligencer indulging in things aside from his obligations?
"Well, Twelfth Eye?" Seven spoke, and the aggression was clear in the voice. "The Numbers are waiting for your answer."
He thought of the thirty-ninth painting that nobody had found. "The only relationship between the Orb Princess and myself was that of captive-captor."
"Fine." Seven said quite forcefully, as if foreclosing all further questions.
Still, those went on.
Eleven asked, "Will you re-swear your allegiance to Plant and Zaft?"
They would never be entirely trusting of him. But he had not expected anything more than that façade of indifference and quiet contempt or even apprehension. In response to their need for confirmation, he raised his hand in a salute, palm towards himself, outer hand facing those who could see him.
Ungloved, the scars on those were visible in this light, and those formed tiny, white ridges over the knuckles and lower digits. Those on the other side of the screen stared, unable to turn their eyes away from the evidence of their intelligencer's weakness.
-52 days
The steam rose from the cup in her hands and she blew slightly at it, wishing she could dissolve as it did.
And Cagalli shut her eyes and breathed shallow breaths, trying to tell herself that all was well now. The paparazzi had given up trying to get a statement from her because she remained mum and Aaron had done an exceptional job with threatening to bring up their mortgages.
She put the cup away after washing it. The house was in perfect order, but it was not enough for her now. She began to locate the vases of flowers in the house, thinking that she'd empty those and fill them in with more if she somehow obtained some blossoms from a greenhouse somewhere. Flowers were important for normalcy. She even hummed a little song to herself, trying to smile even though nobody was watching.
She found a grand total of one vase. It had nothing in it— not even water to clear. The rest had been broken some days ago, when she'd torn through the house and ruined things senselessly, trying to find an order in the mess that she'd created. Over the last few days, she'd locked herself in and tidied everything up. It looked the same now.
Well, almost. There was only one vase left.
Of course, Cagalli did not break the tradition of trying. She took the vase and scrubbed it even thought it was entirely clean, and she even prepared to fill it with water before realizing that she'd have to go out to the gardens and cut some flowers. She took some time to consider whether she should continue, then moved back to the living room.
Eventually, she gave up thinking of ways to busy herself, went back to the unlocked house, and wandered over to the settee in her living room. She switched on the radio, but there was no news that she wanted to hear or to think about. The news still featured quite a bit of conspiracy theories about past events that she did not want to recall, and so she switched to a music channel instead.
She sat with her back straight, her hands folded properly, her legs together, almost as if she were at a conference and not resting at home. As the music played, the sounds filled the room but emphasized the sole presence of the person within it. If a passerby had happened to glance into the window, the owner of the estate would have appeared to be listening carefully to every syncopated beat and taking stock of everything. But she grew tired and irritable before she knew it, and the thought of how she had another week of leave made her even wearier.
And Cagalli began to look in each room of the house, hoping to find something that would catch her attention. She seemed like a poltergeist that was chained to it even when it was her own house. Her father's old room was empty; as was the servants' quarters. The room that Kisaka had once worked in had become a place for her books, and the chair he'd rocked her in once seemed smaller and more fragile than she wanted to admit. There were empty rooms in empty corridors and there was one such room that made her stop entirely. It was one that she had never gotten used to, unlike her father, Kisaka and Mana's rooms. This one had absolutely nothing in it; not even a single table or chair or anything left of its previous occupant.
Naturally, the only place Cagalli had to move to eventually was the mosaic of fields outside her house. She traced paths that she'd run on as a child, moving across worn steps to the edge of her estate where the house seemed less imposing with the distance.
She threw pebbles into the stream— some tributary of the Orb river that ran through the Atha Estate. And she watched fishes dart and dance until she found that she could watch no longer.
She came to the mailbox at the edge of the south side of her estate, biting her lips and looking at it. Once, Aaron had sworn that her mailbox was simply for dust to collect in it. Even the postman never got a chance to enter the estate without going through security checks.
Usually, she cleared it once a month. Letters were very rare when those were not from her friends or Lacus. She'd received Lacus' letter last week, and it was unlikely there would be anything in this box at all. If it was business, it was a call. If someone needed to contact her, there were at least five secretaries to go through first and twenty bodyguards. Even the postman who dropped things into this box had to pass through a security check and a notice served to Cagalli before she received anything. Naturally, Lacus' letters often came in a week late. The usual Anthrax tests and similar other checks were rather lengthy.
Frankly, Cagalli had no business being here at her own postbox.
Lazily, she still dipped her hand into the box out of convention, not really expecting anything. But then she pulled out a longish package, and her eyes widened. Instinctively, she dropped the package back and took a mandatory step back, half-expecting something to explode in her face. No notice of incoming mail had been given to her— this could not be authorized mail.
But curiosity got at her, and Cagalli eventually went back to the box and lifted the package out again. That recklessness and inquisitiveness had attracted her trouble time and time again, but she found that she could not care anymore. If she died for this, she would die for opening something at the edge of the estate she was bound to.
The package held no address or card but only a long tube. Perhaps Aaron had left it there when he'd visited the time, as a manner of surprising her, she tried to assure herself. She opened the tube drew out a scrolled piece of paper.
As she unfurled it, the room that had haunted her memories for so long lay before her.
There was an ocean beyond a window that greeted her- a picture in colours that she had personally chosen— a dab at a time, strokes caressing the edges of the canvas.
There was no signature, but she recognized it- after all, she had painted it. She knew what the painted shadows within the room meant. This was the final painting— the one he'd put in the basement of his study and insisted on keeping there; kept sacred and pristine away from the eyes of others. He'd treasured this one out of all the others even back on the Isle, and it occurred to her that he must have hidden this somewhere nobody could find.
Where were the other paintings? She looked into the tube again but found nothing else.
But even before she really thought about it, her instinct told her that the others must have been found or taken away.
Eagerly, Cagalli searched for a letter, a sign of familiar writing, almost frantically, in the folds. There was none. There was no explanation of why he had sent this to her; where he was and why he had not returned to Orb even after news of his acquittal in Plant had been released. There was nothing that could assure her that she had not been dreaming of something just beyond her consciousness and created from all the memories of her failures and the aching of what might have been.
Disappointed, Cagalli rolled up the canvas, repacked it, and dropped it back into the mailbox. She made her way back to the house, where she had not locked the door. What was the point when there were gates beyond the house?
As she passed the mirror in the main hall, Cagalli did not dare to look into it and see the paleness that she could feel in her face for fear that she would truly fall to pieces. The last time she had, she had locked herself in a room and cried for hours. She had sobbed with barely any sound but with all the weight of the world pressing on her shoulders and suffocating the life out of her.
But she was fine, Cagalli told herself fiercely. She was doing her best to move on. She was in the process of regaining control. She was successful; she was competent; she knew what she was doing. She was going to be fine. She would be returning to her office soon.
The strains of jazz from the radio that she'd left on was still playing; the singer's fluttering, flirtatious improvisations mingling with the voices of others in the other room. Some soup was cooking somewhere in the kitchen, but she closed her eyes, blocking everything out, stumbling onto a couch and throwing herself back on it.
And not for the first time, she wondered what eternity was doing.
-63 days
In the spring, Cagalli accepted an invitation to see her nephew. The invitation came at the perfect time, she'd told Lacus over the phone, because she had been planning to go to the Plants for her to helm some major conferences. Lacus had taken her shopping on the third day of the conference, and the two women had experienced a rather nice time going incognito.
Nonetheless, Cagalli did not take up the offer that her brother and sister-in-law extended to her—she was afraid of getting in the way, she said. Besides, a hotel in Aprilius made it easier for her to get to work in Plant, whereas staying with them in December City involved longer shuttle rides.
Now, Kira watched as his twin bounced Leon on her lap. Leon was going to be a year old soon, but his charm was unmistakable. She had brought him enough toys to fill a cupboard, and it was clear how indulgent she was towards her nephew.
Even now, she was giggling at how he made little sounds and she watched as he clapped his tiny hands together. When Leon blubbered something of a familiar tune, her smile lit up the room.
In Kira's house, Cagalli clearly felt at ease, although she'd elected to stay at a hotel rather than at this place. As Lacus had tried to argue, the shuttles from Aprilius to December were far less inconvenient than what Cagalli had described, but Cagalli had still declined the invitation to stay there for that week.
But as Kira saw it, Cagalli seemed to be fine here, and she appeared happy and cheerful. She was hugging Leon securely in her arms, pointing to a fuzzy, slightly drowsy looking cat in one of the many children's picture books.
"Cat," Cagalli said clearly and very slowly. "See that? Cat."
"Cat." Leon said, without much effort at all. He looked at his new friend with a smiley expression. "Cat."
She laughed, clearly amazed at how Leon had acquired his speech recently. As if his aunt wasn't already enraptured by him, Leon meowed like a cat suddenly, surprising her even more. But then, Cagalli did not know that there was a cat that visited Kira's home occasionally. Nor did Cagalli know that Lacus often fed it and it would sit at the porch, meowing so loudly that Leon had picked up the sounds that cats made. Furthermore, Kira did not want to reveal how he was standing right at the doorway, looking through the gap.
He watched his son meow insistently, as if trying to confirm that he was correct.
"That's right!" Kira peered as Cagalli exclaimed, highly pleased. She bounced the child a little more, rewarding him and hearing him laugh happily. "You're so clever, Leon!"
The light that the drawn curtains let in flooded over Leon and Cagalli, and Kira noted how happy they were in each other's presence. Cagalli looked healthy in this light, her hair bright and her eyes sparkling. She had changed out of her formal clothes and was wearing a dress and scarf that Lacus had given her upon her arrival here in December City.
Looking at her, Kira thought that she seemed nothing like the cold, intelligent and even calculating person that he'd met along the hallways just hours ago; moving with her entourage and discussing the next strategy for the next meeting. At that time, their eyes had crossed and he had offered a small smile, but she had returned it only reluctantly before she passed by.
Now, Cagalli seemed to belong to this little hideaway that Kira and Lacus had built their home in. Like her brother and his wife, she was dressed in comfortable, loose clothing. The dress was a pretty blue and suited her very well, making her look bright and alert. It was almost as if she had not been forced to pick herself up from the mess and fragments of the courtroom all those months ago.
Kira smiled at Lacus, who peered over his shoulder to watch her sister-in-law and son playing. He murmured to his wife, "I told you they'd get along well."
"Yes, I thought so too." But Lacus' smile was reluctant as she pulled Kira from the room. As she did, Lacus shut the door quietly, turning to him.
As they walked to the living room together, Kira sensed her hesitation, and he took her in his arms before they could reach the sofa. The cake that the three of them had made with Leon watching was still baking, and the smell of sugar and flour in the air wafted to them as they passed by the kitchenette.
"What is it?" He asked unsurely.
"She's not fine." Lacus said quietly. The frustration in her eyes was growing apparent.
"But she was brilliant at today's conference!" Kira protested. "She took down Eileen Canaver's points without letting the chairman find Orb's proposal's weakness and—,"
"I wasn't referring to that." Lacus told him. "I know plenty of people were expecting her to be a wreck after she returned to work, but I was certainly not one of them." Her azure gaze grew firmer. "I never expected her to be anything less in terms of her performance today."
Kira hesitated, thinking of how Cagalli had refused to leave her home during the two and a half weeks of her recuperation. The media had been told that she was resting from her ordeal, but Kira knew that her wounds were more than physical. "Then what do you mean she's not fine? She's smiling, and she's playing with Leon-,"
"She's not fine." Lacus told him, a little more stubbornly. She sighed suddenly, holding his hands and then putting those around her, unable to verbalize her need to feel secure. Kira obliged, taking her closer. "If she was fine, she wouldn't have looked at the photographs on that mantle without any expression."
"What did you expect her to do, Lacus?" Kira demanded, pulling her away a little to look closely at her. "I'm not sure I even wanted her to see those. We've discussed this, haven't we?"
Lacus' eyes fell to his feet, and guiltily, he muttered an apology, knowing that he had hurt her without meaning to. "Sorry. I know you think that there's no point hiding all the traces of him away, and I agree that it does seem pointless. But—," He paused, not sure how to express his fears.
"Kira," She said quietly. "If Cagalli had really been fine, she would have made an effort to smile or laugh about those times."
"She couldn't possibly have done that!"
"She would have pretended that she had been fine the way she always had in the past— at the very least." Lacus looked directly at him. "She would not have looked at the photographs like those hadn't even mattered in the past."
He lifted his head, looking at those pictures displayed at the mantle. Smiling faces were reflected in those, and he understood what Lacus meant. Cagalli was not at peace, and frankly, Kira doubted that she would be for a long time.
If he'd once assumed that the wars would end and that peace would come and stay forever, Kira knew that he had been far too naïve and presumptuous. The peace he wanted was not simply a matter of the lack of war. The peace that politicians spoke of was an ideal; a throwaway concept for societies. It had always been a construct; a kind of social fiction that politicians talked about when wars ended. But at the very least, peace was supposed to be normality, and Cagalli would not regain hers so quickly. Some things in her life had been smashed and destroyed, and Lacus had sensed that even when Cagalli had shown so much control while seeing the photographs on the mantle.
As Kira swept his eyes over the framed pictures, he wondered why they'd left so many things behind them. He looked at how the four of them had once smiled and been so hopeful about the days to come, young adults who'd suddenly grown older than most within a war—teenagers who knew too much to regain that all-important, presumptuous naiveté about life.
And now, he knew that Lacus was correct. If Cagalli had truly recovered, she would not have looked at the photographs dully.
Lacus looked at him miserably. "Kira, try and convince her to stay with us a little while longer. She'll feel better here see how relaxed she was when we were baking? We can do more for her than Aaron or anyone could ever do. We can support her, Kira, and I'll be able to speak to her and to comfort her."
He took his hands away from her, looking into her clear eyes. "Maybe we're wrong. Maybe she doesn't need anyone."
"No." Lacus insisted. "Be honest with yourself, Kira. You know she wants to put a distance between herself and even us. It's because she doesn't want anybody to reach out to her anymore."
He paused, shaking his head.
"I know that." Kira said slowly. "But you know as well as I do that she doesn't want anyone to be too close to her. Not even us. The minute she stepped in here, she told us that she could only stay for tea. The conference in Plant has ended and she's got some things to deal with back in Orb. I think you know that she can't stay."
"Kira, you know what she's doing!" Lacus' voice grew a little louder. "You know why she's choosing not to stay in this house!" Her eyes flew to the mantle, where all the photographs were. The children in the orphanage that Cagalli had once been so closed to beamed back, as did others that Cagalli had once known. "You know she's afraid of becoming dependant on people who actually care for her. She doesn't want us to know what she's really thinking."
"But that's because she's trying to be normal." Kira said firmly. He held Lacus' hands in his, although she pulled those away, turning from him. "Lacus, listen to me. She's trying her best and she doesn't want anyone's sympathy. You can't begrudge her that."
"I know, but I can't accept the way she's doing it. She's trying to forget, Kira. But she doesn't have to." Lacus shook her head. "She shouldn't have to forget him at all. Maybe it hurts deep inside, but forgetting everything won't make the pain go away."
The clock's ticking in the corner was quiet and steady, but it made Kira feel trapped in his own home. He thought of the past and the hours he'd spent trying to make Cagalli talk when she had been at her lowest, and he knew what Lacus was referring to.
"That's not the way Cagalli works." Kira told her morosely. "I've told you this before. When she meets unhappiness in her life, she doesn't sulk or complain or cry out anymore than she can stop herself from doing. She doesn't even try to work it out the way most people would and to see what went wrong. She can't—it wouldn't make sense for someone like her to revisit mistakes and diagnose what went wrong." Kira shook his head, thinking about all that had happened. "Most of the time, she wouldn't be able to either."
What had gone wrong was something none of them could really understand. If Kira made a mess of his work, he would simply have to apologise and try to fix it. For Cagalli, her mistakes were not of that sort but mistakes that moulded her present and future.
She never looked back, for she could not, and she would never be able to fix the events that she'd been embroiled in without understanding why or how these had come to pass. It had seemed inevitable that she'd made her mistakes, as had Athrun, and Kira wasn't sure that their mistakes were mistakes at all. Who could place a reason as to why Cagalli had agreed to leave him, and who could place a reason as to why he had chosen to fight his demons alone?
"She imagines that period never existed in her life—she aborts those memories by sheer will, just so that she can go on living in the way her country needs her to, like she's something infallible. But that's the only way she can deal. Maybe she will be fine, Lacus." He looked at her firmly. "Maybe we just need to trust her to carry on."
"But it's not right." Lacus insisted. "It's not right to try and forget in order to deal with her pain."
"It's the best she can do." He said quietly. "What else can she do now?"
A chiming sound from the kitchen interrupted their silence, and instinctively, Lacus began hurrying towards the kitchen. But Kira grabbed her hand, holding her close and kissing her forehead gently. "Don't worry."
"How can I not?" She said in a tiny voice. "I want to help her so much, Kira, but I don't know how to." Lacus lowered her voice. "Even Athrun. Don't you think he's trying to do what Cagalli's doing now? He doesn't visit, he doesn't want to answer our calls, and he's just cutting us off entirely too."
"But that's because of his job," Kira said defensively. "He's still working for the Intelligence Council, so he can't get out of that place as often as he would probably like."
Lacus looked at him doubtfully. "Don't you think that's why he agreed to go back there? It's unlikely that he can ever return to Orb, and I think he doesn't want to face a situation where if he wanted to, he would not be able to. That's why he agreed to go back to the Isle." She shook her head. "I begged him to talk to Cagalli, but he wouldn't say more than what he told us before he put down those picture books for Leon and left for Aprilius."
He hugged her close, understanding her insecurities and fears. Lacus was someone who understood others very easily, and she was someone who could express herself without much trouble at all. But if Lacus had made the most of those abilities and taken those for granted at some point, it was becoming obvious that she could not reach through to grasp hold of Cagalli's heart or Athrun's stoic facade to remove the pain both hid behind that competence.
For Kira though, he was glad that they were together in this place and that they had each other to move on from the agony of the events in the courtroom. "Don't worry so much. We just have to trust them both to live the way that they want to."
She said nothing but he felt her relaxing against him. The chiming sound from the kitchen continued, but they ignored that. And he whispered, "Maybe she needs more time to understand that what she had with him was still a blessing."
Lacus buried her face in his shoulder. "I don't know."
-94 days
The time came when Cagalli was summoned and asked to face the Council of Elders. It had irked her to think that she was being ordered around when really, she was the head of Orb. But the domain was no longer the Parliament building where she sat at an office in the top floor but the Sarano Abbey where the Elders sat to make decisions for various members of the Orb royalty.
Even as she'd received notification from Ernest Rohm, the assistant to the Head Elder and spokesperson of the Council, Cagalli knew that she had no choice but to show up with that measure of deference that the Elders commanded. No matter how powerful she became or how important her word was, she, her father and all the Orb Heads before them had still been obliged to act according to the standards expected of them.
Cagalli was not ignorant or delusional enough to not know what the Council of Elders had summoned her for. The date and time had been set, and the address was a given. On a brighter note, Aaron had tried to say, the notification itself was one week in advance of the meeting, and she had been given ample time to consider what to say. Of course, she doubted she would have any say at all.
For all her irritation and unwillingness to hear about anything that would remind her of the past, Cagalli understood that she was still obliged to turn up. As the car with its Orb flag drove past the rather incredible architecture of Sarano Abbey, her troubles loomed closer and closer as she approached the massive stretch of architecture that the House of Elders currently met in.
No matter how much the media was regulated, there was no changing the fact that some laws still bound her, and Cagalli Yula Atha would have to account for those as long as she wanted to keep her seat. The thought of that irked her at times, but there was no way around it. As usual, appearances were to be kept up with, and even her trip to Sarano Abbey had two cars of bodyguards tailing the one that had come for her.
Muttering a few choice words to herself at this point, she checked her reflection in the driver's review mirror. The chauffeur, a rather youngish-looking, slightly too-tall bodyguard, was hunched in the driver's seat. With his height, he seemed to have been crumpled and tossed into the car like an old shirt, although he was quite menacing when he was part of her entourage. He happened to glance into the review mirror at the same time, and their eyes met awkwardly. He'd been caught checking on her, and she'd been caught checking on herself It was a moment of pure awkwardness and she smiled nervously.
But he spoke softly, and it surprised her to hear that his voice was hesitant and soft like a child's. Cagalli had never taken much notice of any bodyguard, but this one was venturing to speak to her. "Your Grace, don't worry."
She stared with astonishment at the chauffeur, and nodding mutely, Cagalli tried to smile to convey her thanks at his concern. It came out more as a grimace. Nevertheless, there was no time to think of all this as they came to a halt.
As the usual procedures went, he escorted her out of the car, passing the keys to some one else that she scarcely looked at, and moved behind her as she marched to the main elevator that would take her to the top floor. Frankly, Cagalli found the Sarano Abbey highly foreign, especially since she had not been here since her coronation and official reinstatement after the Second War.
Cagalli was vaguely aware that the Abbey was filled with people today. These were not visitors who came to take photographs of national icons and treasures from a distance and who wanted to soak in the atmosphere of the place where the Council of Elders sat. Besides, Cagalli mused as, tourists were in the wrong place if they wanted to see anyone of any importance in this place on a normal day. The Elders themselves met once a month, and only the Orb Royals found any significance for this place on specific occasions when they were summoned here.
The place was in official use today, but other Emirs from the other Houses had still gotten in here. They were staring at her, milling around and talking behind their hands, and she was glad that they would not be allowed up to see the House of Elders.
Her bodyguard did not move down the end of the corridor when they stopped on the top floor. Instead, he nodded once, smiling awkwardly again, and said quietly, "Mr. Rohm instructed me to wait here, Your Grace."
Nodding curtly to mask her fear and feelings of insecurity, Cagalli turned, straightening her uniform as she moved down the hallway. There was only one room at its end, and past memories of signing key documents since the Second War came rushing back at her. She swallowed down the strange combination of reminiscence and irony in her, and nodded to herself.
When she knocked once and entered, Cagalli found herself facing a total of twenty-two men and women who stared at her. She did not usually meet this particular group of people, even if some had been her father's friends at one point and had visited the estate when she'd been a child. As a matter of procedure, their roles as part of the Council of Elders was a very hushed one to prevent present Emirs from trying to influence their decisions. As Cagalli gazed at them, she thought that some looked familiar, some looked older than she'd expected. Worst of all, she realized, quite a few did not seem to approve of her very presence.
Nevertheless, she took in a deep breath, bowing stiffly. "Cagalli Yula Atha is here to report to the House of Elders as ordered. I await your instructions, my Lords and Ladies."
As she straightened up, she stole a glance at the Head. He sat in the centre, the arc of people making Cagalli feel rather constricted. He made no sound, a still presence that seemed to be a bag of wrinkles stuffed into a dark suit, his hands folded over a walking stick.
She stood, waiting for the Head Elder to speak. Had she fallen below some standard they expected of an Orb Head, she wondered? Or had she disappointed them in some way?
But the Head Elder cleared his throat a little and spoke, and Cagalli was forced to focus on him. He was an ancient, speckled old man from the Lyadov House who had long given up his power so he could boss those with the power around. Apparently, the reedy, hunched man before her had been the Head Elder even during her father's time, and it made Cagalli highly nervous to know that she would have to try appealing to the man that her father had been so deferent to. Illyrich Lyadov had not been the key Emir of Lyadov for a long time, but Cagalli would not be surprised if he was still as keen on politics as he'd been in the past.
"Lady Atha," He said slowly, "Or should I say, Lady Cagalli."
She waited, understanding the implication of his addressing her by all the titles and the hats that she wore. She was not merely Lady Cagalli, the Head of Orb as Lord Uzumi had been, but Cagalli was also an Atha Emir. She was the key Emir and in fact, the only one left of the Atha House. Inwardly, she squirmed, wondering if it their considerations of her situaion boiled down to the fact that the Athas were going to die out and she was expected to restart the line or something.
"So you showed up." He harrumphed, thumping his walking stick. His action seemed neither approving or otherwise, but his voice, if somewhat grizzly and rough with age, was very clear and firm. Lord Illyich had no shred of compassion or kindness in his face, but at least, Cagalli tried to reassure herself, he would be fair if she made her case well enough.
"How could I not, Lord Illyich?" She made an allusion to the letter with the Council of Elders' crest that all Orb nobles had to recognize and act in accordance with.
He coughed once. "I might have confused you with your father."
Cagalli looked at him, a little confused.
"You see," He told her imperiously, "Where your father was concerned, this council would have to play cat and mouse games with him. I would set the date for a meeting on the behalf of this council. It would be no mean feat for my personal secretary, given the number of people and schedules we have." He raised a hand that seemed conjoined to a walking stick and thumped it on the table for emphasis. Those around him seemed quite wary of the stick, Cagalli noticed, for they flinched. "And your father, that sly fox that he was, stood us up on a total of seven times." He coughed, his mouth making an appearance in his rather thick white bead and his rheumy little eyes glaring at her. "Seven!"
"With regards to the decision of the Orb Head's marriage and requirement of producing an heir?" She said meekly, thinking about her father's defiance.
Lord Illyich actually rolled his eyes at her. "Duh."
"E-Excuse me?"
He held up a hand in that overwhelmingly imperious way and turned to the Elder seated next to him. His tone was conspiratorial. "My grandchild tells me that is the way to use the expression. Was I correct?"
The poor Elder next to him leaned closer and nodded, trying not to look too conspicuous.
Cagalli tried not to laugh. She was quite sure that her cheeks were turning red from the effort. But as cool as he pleased, Lord Illyich turned back to her and continued as if he'd never digressed. "I hope that it will not be the same with you, Lady Atha. I understand that you have suffered a traumatic period." He paused but offered no sympathy. His expression was as sharp as ever. "And my learned fellow Elders and I have decided that it is best for you to carry on with your duties to Orb as its Head."
"My Lord," Lady Sahaku spoke up quietly. "I would like to say something on behalf of Lady Atha here. She has secured a great number of triumphs for Orb ever since she became its Head, and for that matter, since she returned from Scandinavia. I request, my Lord, that you acknowledge her dutifulness."
Cagalli's eyes fell on her and with some surprise, for she had not expected Lady Sahaku or any Elder to interrupt the Head Elder at all. As her eyes met Lady Sahaku's, Cagalli saw that she had retained a great deal of that classic beauty with her pale skin and dark hair. Clearly, time had been kind to Lady Sahaku even though fate had not been. A small smile crept onto Cagalli's face, and she only remembered herself in time and straightened her expression hastily.
Lord Illyich coughed again, thumping his stick threateningly. "Now, let me make myself clear, Lady Atha. I am not saying that you have not been doing a fine job. But you know as well as I and all the other Elders do, that you have an obligation that you must fulfil. You are nearly twenty-six and the law will come into effect sooner than you know it. That is the purpose of your being here today."
Cagalli looked down, biting her lips a little. She tried to keep steady, as she'd prepared, but found that she had lost what she had recited to herself while in the car. At this point, she could only speak and hope that her sincerity would carry her through.
"My Lord, I assure you that Orb is of utmost priority to me. For that reason, I do not plan to abscond from my duties, including this one. Instead, I am appealing to you and the Elders to let me postpone the effect that this law has on me." Cagalli kept her gaze as firm as his, willing herself not to look away. Perhaps, she realized, she hadn't needed a script after all. Gone were the days of the eleven year old child who had stumbled and stuttered before her father, and in that girl's place was someone who wasn't afraid of making requests.
And ultimately, Cagalli knew that this was one. There was no point arguing against the law or to point our that her father had gotten away with it— that would only turn the Elders against her.
The old man in his wheelchair had coughed once, making a wheezing sound echo into the air of the room. He said nothing, but raised his gnarled old hand and waved it in the air, a bit like a tree and its branch rattling in the wind.
The Elders had a variety of looks on their faces. Some had suggested either contempt or condescending pity for Cagalli, some looked sympathetic like Lady Sahaku, and some simply looked curious. She had ignored them all, focusing on the main obstacle that she had to clear.
"And why, might I ask, Lady Atha?" He had said in a voice that reminded her of a hedgehog with amputated spikes. That, or maybe, a toilet brush. "Why ask for a postponing when you are bound by the Orb law regarding yourself?"
She had bowed her head, trying to be respectful to the old crab who unlike the others, seemed more neutral and willing to listen.
"My Lord, I am still recovering from the aftermath of the incident." Cagalli had said clearly, raising her eyes to look directly at him, knowing that he would falter with her intent gaze. "I am more than willing to comply with the law, hence my presence here today. But I ask for time, my Lord."
And indeed, the Head of the Elders had, although the other elders began to mutter amongst themselves.
She spoke once more. "At this point, I cannot obey the law even if I intend to. I have only just returned to work, and there are so many things that I struggle to regain my competence in, my Lord. I would rather abdicate than follow in my father's footsteps, my Lord, for he was an anomaly and I do not want to be one too." She made herself sound humble. "But my Lord, with all due respect, I simply cannot marry in this state and at this point. Save for my office, I can scarcely leave the house without feeling as if I am not safe."
Hiding the lies within the truth. She'd learnt that from him.
The old man thumped his walking stick loudly, causing the rest of them to hush immediately. "I understand." He looked at those around him. "That is not to say that I will accede to your request, Lady Atha. You have yet to find favour with my learned, fellow Elders."
She looked gratefully at him, aware that she was still treading on dangerous ground because he had still to go through the process of deliberation. Still, there was hope, Cagalli realized. As she watched them, the Elders began to speak, and Cagalli watched them eagerly, praying for the best.
"My Lord," One of the former Hamiliton Ladies spoke up gratingly, "Do you understand the complications that will follow if you allow the Princess of Orb to flout these laws? Delaying is the same as flouting!"
Another elder nodded. "Why set a dateline there if it can be pushed?" He shook his head. "This is unbecoming behavior!"
"Future leaders will be able to postpone their state duties, too won't they? Why have a law if it is not being enforced?" One turned to Cagalli with a frown. "Lord Uzumi used to get past the law when we were too lax about it. Are we to repeat the same mistake?"
"Maybe it was my fault," the Head Elder cut in. He nodded, thumping his stick in time to his nodding. "Maybe I was too lenient on that sly young fellow."
Cagalli wondered why she'd never quite seen her father as being sly or cunning or devious like all these Elders did. But seeing that her very presence had been the result of his persistent delaying and squirming ut from the reach of the law above him, she understood their concerns.
"My Lord, you cannot say that!"
"Yes, my Lord, he was the one who found excuse after excuse not to do his duty! And for that reason, you cannot allow this to happen again with his daughter!"
Cagalli flinched, but nobody was looking at her. They were all engaged within their own bickering.
"But you have to admit that it worked out well in the end." One Lady spoke up. "Even if Lord Uzumi was rather devious where the law was concerned, he still chose a fine heir."
" Maybe the law is too draconian in our times." The Head Elder muttered. "Maybe the age is far too young for any Orb Head to feel secure with the obligations at hand."
"My Lord, I agree entirely with you." One Elder was nodding. "According to the most recent census, most young women who are not even as well-qualified or with such responsibility as Lady Atha choose to get married at the age of about twenty seven to thirty years old. What more Lady Atha, who bears such a burden on her shoulders and has so much to consider?"
Cagalli felt a wave of relief, but she knew that she could not speak to sway the decision. She would only be allowed to watch.
"But what if Lady Atha never fulfils her duty?" Another demanded. "By that reasoning, one could push it until she chose to step down!"
"My learned fellow Elders," Lady Sahaku interjected politely, but with a glint of steel that had made the rest sit up, "I pray that you do not misunderstand Lady Atha in your eagerness to ensure the best for Orb. I believe that she does not wish to flout these laws and the rules that are in Orb's best interests."
"I agree, my Lady," One Lord who had been from the House of Lyadov spoke too. "It is wrong to assume that allowing one Orb Head to delay the effect the law has on her will allow the others to abandon their duties where time is of the essence."
"But the danger arises!" cried one Lord who previously been an Emir from Hamiliton. He faced the Head Elder with a huge frown on his face. "The floodgates are easily opened and not so easily closed, my Lord, the floodgates!"
"Personally," another Elder rebutted, "I do not see Lady Atha's circumstances as being common circumstances that any Orb Head has struggled with, thank Haumea. Her circumstances are that of great and personal suffering, and these have affected her substantially, no doubt."
"I agree with my learned fellow Elder." Another nodded. "She has never claimed to be above the law that governs the most wretched beggar to the most privileged leader. Even when she seized power in the coup she planned during the Second War, Lady Cagalli never held onto it longer than necessary. I would like to remind this council of her address to the people right after the Second War when she spoke out against Yuna Roma Seiran's poor decisions but still acknowledged that she had committed a wrong by using that coup to overthrow him and would welcome just punishment for it."
"Nonetheless, my Lords and Ladies," Lady Sahaku added, "The then-parliament could not find a punishment for someone who'd acted to the best of her abilities in the best interests of Orb. Do we now impose a duty on someone who is trying her level best?"
"I beg to differ, Lady Sahaku," One Elder said sharply. "The duty is not one that is being imposed, but one that is being enforced under us. Lady Cagalli signed the relevant declarations after winning the post-Second War elections. It is precisely because her election into the Parliament was constitutional and lawful that she is bound by the rules that protect Orb's interests. It was her that agreed to the duties; it was her who understood what was expected of her. To be backing out of that now is not behavior that the Council or even Orb should tolerate of its Head."
"But I think us Elders can agree that the law is not meant to be an iron hand per se, my Lords and Ladies," one more Elder spoke up. "It is meant to guide with ample flexibility for each person's circumstances. And in my humble opinion, my Lords and Ladies, Lady Atha has serious circumstances to deal with. "
There were murmurs again until the Head Elder spoke once more, addressing Cagalli this time.
"Put the case that we approve of your appeal, Lady Atha." The Head Elder said heavily. "When will you feel fit to have the laws take effect on you?"
She tried to keep her voice from shaking. "I cannot say, my Lord. I understand that having an indefinite postponing is not in Orb's best interest nor in mine, for that matter. And to that effect, I leave it to the Council to decide."
He nodded, and she was ushered out. She was escorted by the Head Elder's clerk to a waiting room on a floor below, and it seemed that time had either stopped or ceased to exist as she stood, watching the world below her move; with or without her. The bodyguard waiting outside the holding room seemed to be as jittery as she was, and she half-wished she could speak to somebody. She waited and waited, and looking down at the world below made her wonder if she was trapped in some way.
Only two hours later had Cagalli been informed of the Elders' decision. Even when she bowed and took her leave, she was not sure if they really approved of her or not.
And as she took the lift down to the main entrance, Cagalli was suddenly aware that the other Emirs and Orb officials were whispering and pointing quite indiscreetly at her. But she held her head high, her chin tilted just sufficiently to suggest that nothing could bother or hurt her. She gazed at those present, who numbered nearly a hundred, and it seemed to her that the best she could do in that crowded space and that suffocating atmosphere, was to lift her head higher and try to breathe.
She spotted Ledonir Kisaka amongst them, for he had been called back by the Elders to give his input, but there was a distance between them and she could do no more than to pass him. The mumbling in the place grew louder, and some turned up their noses when she passed. But then, there were some who stepped forward to bow to her and she paused, halting the clerk who was escorting her.
Around those who'd bowed and remained in that position, their companions began to do so as well. Suddenly, more people were lowering themselves and the murmurs died away. She was still their Head; the Atha Emir who had the most say amongst the Emirs and the Head of Orb, and there was nothing they could do but to acknowledge this.
She watched them quietly as one by one, necks and backs were bent, for at the end of the day, there was not one person who could deny who she was. They knew as well as she did that she had emerged victorious from just the way she could hold her head high. Nobody required any announcement as to who she was and who she remained.
For as always, Cagalli Yula Atha, daughter of Uzumi Nara Atha, Key Emir of the Atha House, Head of Orb and the people's Princess had gotten her way.
And Cagalli kept her posture straight and her face expressionless so that the world would never suspect she was anything less than the Orb Princess. The whole hall was bowing; bodyguards, Emirs, assistants, some ministers amongst them, and people she'd once thought of as family; people who had bounced her in their laps and sang lullabies to chase nightmares away for the child. They were unable to protect her now, but she saw pride on their faces and knew that they thought she could fend for herself.
Inside, she was still trembling and desperate with worry, and within that strength and iron shell, she knew she was but a woman.
-166 days
The first time she had seen him since he'd left for the Plants, she had been entirely unprepared for his appearance.
The meeting with the Earth Alliance and Plant representatives had been weighing down her mind for weeks now, simply because Orb was not in the lead for once. Plant's economy had seen better growth over the last quarter, but Earth's had taken a downturn. Similarly, Orb's had seen a slight dip, and Cagalli was a little worried that there would be no surplus if the trend continued. It would be harder for Orb to convince others to continue the current trading agreements if it became the weakest link.
Moreover, there were plans the heads of the superpowers had been toying with— a trilateral training zone to build up a Galactic security force was an idea that had gone on since the First War. For all its brilliant, attractive benefits, Cagalli was skeptical of the good it would do for Orb to pump in its military resources into the mix. Orb's defence and military technology was without a doubt, the most advanced of all three superpowers' at the moment, and sharing it would be a disadvantage for Orb— galactic peace or not. If she ever chose to sell that technology on Orb's behalf, Cagalli decided, it would only be in the worst case scenario.
She had been moving at quite a quick pace, and she'd entered the meeting rooms that Orb had prepared within its Parliament House. As usual, with the entire crowd of the hundreds of officials from each superpower, she'd simply blurred their faces out, focused on the main points of the meeting, and waited for her turn to try to maneuver for Orb.
But it seemed to her from the start to the end that the limited media that had been allowed in to report on the superpower's bimonthly meetings were far more interested in something else. By the time she realized why the cameras seemed to be more concentrated at the Plant end of the room and at a particular row of seats, Cagalli did not have to take the stand to speak to see who was there. It was all she could do to keep her calm when she had to leave her seat to move to the head of the room and speak for Orb.
The truth was that she had not been prepared to see him there.
But then, the world had been entirely unprepared for that as well, for nobody had expected Athrun Zala to appear amongst the Plant representatives as the current Vice-Head of the Intelligence Council. He sat amongst his colleagues, quiet and grave, dressed in that white uniform revealing his status. His eyes were trained on his files, and he seemed impervious to the way the cameras were focused at him.
Next to him, Yzak Joule was in a similar uniform and taking down notes in preparation of Plant's impending turn to address. Like Cagalli for Orb, Eileen Canaver opened to set the tone on behalf of Plant. And as the military heads for both Orb and the Earth Alliance had done, the military head for Plant had to deliver a spirited argument in favor of the trilateral agreement.
Unfortunately for Yzak Joule and fortunately for the other military heads, Yzak had been bombarded with questions. The questions were neither about Plant's main stand or its reasons for believing that the costly trilateral zone was necessary. Throughout the last ten minutes, Yzak had struggled to stop the thinly-veiled questions that had nothing to do with Plant's decision. The questions directed to him seemed to refer to Athrun Zala even without express mention of the name, and Cagalli felt somewhat sorry for the increasingly irate Yzak Joule.
Even after Earth Alliance, Orb and Plant had made their primary views quite clear, the media had seemed less interested about the rationale behind it and had instead, trailed after Athrun Zala, demanding to interview him. He seemed to grow more aloof, staring at those who tried to rush at him. And yet, he said nothing and only grew more still. She would have no chance to speak to him; no chance to ask him about the painting he'd somehow kept. He had withdrawn from her as he had from the cameras and others' demands, and she had no right to try to reach him now.
With her own representatives, Cagalli left quietly, already separated from his world as a barrier of flashing lights formed across the room.
-218 days
One evening, Marlin came to visit, appearing right outside her office door as she'd been ready to go home. She had heard a knock and she'd opened it, thinking it was Aaron. But there Marlin was, holding up a pair of tickets to the evening's opening of La Boheme in the downtown part of the city.
"You know you want to see this." He said cheekily, almost as if they'd never disagreed in the past.
She found no heart to refuse him, for it seemed to her that she still wanted him as a friend.
Just for fun, they went incognito, deciding that they did not want the media's attention at all. But more than that, Cagalli knew he'd suggested it because he did not want anybody to catch a picture of them and to assume they'd gotten back together.
Their breakup had been highly publicized all over the world, and Cagalli had found it rather harrowing to have the world mourning over the loss of a couple that she personally had never been part of. Eileen Canaver had personally called up and apologized, feeling responsible for the way Cagalli and James Marlin had seemed to become distant after her disappearance. Of course, Eileen had been rather surprised when Cagalli had seemed entirely forgiving over the whole issue.
She found a pair of shades that she used while strolling down a winding street with him, and they laughed and made fun of the wigs they'd procured from their bodyguards. Cagalli had chosen a nondescript, mousy, long brown one. For Marlin, he'd swung the other way and poked a great deal of fun at the situation by going for a gangster, Rambo-style slick-back with too-tight pants that the slimmer Aaron Biliensky had lent him.
For all their ease, there was an awkwardness that had become more pronounced between them. And for all their friendly banter, she could see how he'd finally started to look his age. She'd put that in him, and seeing that had made her guilty enough to lose the inhibition of spending time with him.
All the same, Cagalli found that she still liked his company thoroughly. They enjoyed the opera tremendously, especially since the seats were particularly good ones. More than that, Cagalli experienced the thrill of having some colleagues and some very familiar faces stare at Marlin and her. Their faces held the obvious lack of recognition and puzzlement as to why these two random, obviously working-class people had managed to get top-box seats. That was far more entertaining than the opera itself, Cagalli thought.
For dinner, they caught a cab even though she protested about the exorbitant, weekend, rush-hour prices.
"Come on," He teased, opening the door. "It's not like you can't afford it. I dare you to blow your day's allowance on this ride."
The cab driver looked at the two ill-dressed, rather weedy-looking couple and raised a brow. Giggling, Cagalli had to take the dare. She paid for their trip however, stopping him when he tried to.
"I still owe you for that time," She told him bluntly, alluding to her stealing money from his wallet and catching a cab to the remand centre in Warsaw. He looked at her quietly, swallowed, and then nodded.
He took her downtown to a wonderful little bistro that saw longer queues than Cagalli had expected. It was filled with the swell of those trying to catch a bite on a Friday night, its clientele made of mostly struggling artists and poor students. They joined the crowd in paying very affordable, even low prices for huge helpings of smoked baloney, cream cheese, do-it-yourself-sandwiches, and a free flow of beer.
She picked at her food at first, a bit bemused and unused to the surroundings, but found herself settling in once she got her first bite of the tuna-mayonnaise loaf that she'd put together while jostling with a very merry bunch of people. The waitress was a bustling, matronly woman who spoke with a thick accent that Cagalli could not place, but all the same, what could be said of the service was excellent as it came mostly from the customer themselves.
Behind them, some student was hand-wrestling some beefy-looking fellow with tattoos to see who had to pay for the meal, and Cagalli ogled with fascination while eating her second sandwich. The blare of the overhead televisions showed who had just won the soccer match, and an amazing burst of sounds and cheers and some equally loud groans erupted in the crowded bistro.
There was a young waitress was on skates, and she was more efficient than Cagalli could ever imagine, doling out the napkins and the ketchup and similar items. Someone was running after her, trying to give her a slip of paper, but she ignored the person and went on doing her job.
By this time, Cagalli was on her third sandwich, and Marlin finishing his second. They moved to get more, taking the chance to look at the hand-wrestling match. The beefcake lost for some reason and roared in dismay, but then his friends around him laughed it off and Cagalli turned back to Marlin, who'd been watching her watch everything around her.
"Not bad right?" Marlin said thickly, his jaws occupied with mutton and lettuce. He smiled widely, his wig threatening to slip off, and giggling, she nodded happily. The entertainment was free, for she liked watching people, and the people here were fascinating to her.
"How did you find this place?" She exclaimed, grabbing another loaf and splitting it open. "It's fantastic!"
He leaned over conspiratorially and partially because that was the only way to be heard. "Well, to think that you work where you work and you didn't even know Orb had these places!"
She chuckled, cupping her hand to her mouth so he could hear her. "You're forgiven because you took me here!"
They had sandwich after sandwich, eating more than they really ought to have, and Marlin certainly abused Aaron's pants that night. The desert was an exquisite bread-and-butter pudding accompanied with a silky blend of coffee that seemed out of place with the non-pretentious, frankly delicious fare, and Cagalli realized that she'd laughed more than she had in a long time.
As they sat on high stools chomping through their meal with relish, the chatter and loud conversations swelled around them. Someone began to do an Irish jig, and Marlin ended up having to join in. He did the jig perfectly, although his wig faced the danger of being displaced. With the other patrons, Cagalli cheered and clapped him on.
Privately, Cagalli wondered if this was something that she'd experienced and missed since a long time ago. As the goodwill increased around them and the merriment grew quite in volume and intensity, they proposed a cheer to each other. They ended up swigging down three whole mugs each, quite contented and very, very full.
An hour later, they were walking down the streets that she recognized, for she had driven in these—the same streets that had been rebuilt after the Second War by her orders. For once, she could feel the air on her face and her hands were not preoccupied with the wheel, and Cagalli laughed and laughed at every joke he told, a little tipsy but very happy.
But she sobered when he caught her face in his hands, whispering that he was sorry for what he'd said in the past.
"Why?" She said softly. "I never blamed you, Jimmy." He expression crumbled and for a minute, the streetlamps that flickered cast a light on how broken she looked. "It was only fair for you to try to hurt me after I did that to you."
"I never imagined that you had fallen for your captor," He said ruefully. "Until you admitted it to me, of course. I nearly died of a heart attack."
Cagalli shook her head, reaching out to steady herself with the lamppost. "I don't know if I did fall for my captor." She laughed unsteadily to herself, shaking her head. "I still believe that Rune Estragon doesn't exist."
He caught her as she nearly lunged forward, holding her steady as they tried to proceed down the street to find a taxi.
"Same difference." Marlin said glumly. "There's only one person and his name is Athrun Zala." He threw her arm around his shoulder. "I knew you were hiding something from me. And you promised to do as I said during that crucial trial. We could have totally nailed it. And because we didn't, you still have the Interpol and other people questioning your motivations for being a cooperative captive."
"But Marlin," She said gently, poking what she thought was his cheek but turned out to be air. She laughed, and they both knew it sounded like a cry of pain. "He is innocent. I couldn't let his record be pulled out and his past being there for the world to scrutinize, as if he was some animal at a zoo or some weekly-feature for primetime entertainment. "
"I know." He said darkly. "But not in my books."
She shot him a questioning look, and he conceded, throwing his hands up and then regretting it immediately because Cagalli fell forward. He caught her in time. "Fine, fine, I'm bloody jealous!"
"Oh Marlin," Cagalli sighed, hiccupping a little. "I'd always love for you to be like this."
"I hate it when you say that the way you do," He muttered. Then he laughed, hugging her. "Come on, let's get us back." He studied her. "I think I better get you home—I'll get the taxi to send you back first."
"But there's so much time left." She begged, not quite sober. "What am I going to do with all that time?" She grabbed his shirt by its collar. "I don't know how to spend it—,"
There was a plea in her voice that made him want to hold her and prevent anyone else from having her. But comforting her seemed to be the only thing that he could do for her, for it was certain between them that they could not go beyond that.
While Marlin wasn't quite sure what was going on with her and Athrun Zala, he sensed it was unlikely that she would move on in every sense of the word. She was older now, but he realized she'd been trapped in the past for a long time. Even when she'd left the courts, he knew something had died in her.
"Cagalli," He said quietly, "Is everything going okay?"
"Of course! I am doing well, you know." Cagalli said brightly. "With or without—," She swayed on the spot like a plant that wasn't quite well rooted. She lifted her hands, swaying them to the beat that only she could hear. She laughed loudly, pointing randomly at the sky, both of them quite incapable of moving down the street. "See? I made the Head Elder do what I wanted— they think I'm suffering from some ordeal when I'm not— they think I'm weak but they don't realize that I'm like my father—," Her face scrunched up like she was about to cry. "I don't need anyone! I never, ever, get beaten—,"
"I know," He said carefully, trying to think straight with the alcohol suddenly surging in him. "But you can do better than that, can't you?"
"Jimmy—," She sang, "Jimmy—,"
Marlin cursed quietly under his breath, holding her to him as she suddenly sagged. "Remind me again why I never thought you'd be the crazy drunk when you were obviously hiding all that pain somewhere."
In the morning, she woke up and screeched. In the room next door, Marlin woke up with a terrible shock and bumped his head quite successfully on the bed's headboard.
"Marlin!"
"What? What?" He demanded, rushing over into the adjoining room. Without his shirt and too tight pants, he gave her another reason to yell blue murder. He shot out of the door to regain some decency, and when he got back, she had leapt out of the bed and was looking nervous.
"What happened?" Cagalli demanded. "What am I doing here?"
"Oh relax," He said wryly, ruffling his hair absentmindedly. "You slept like a log. I decided that I couldn't have the cabbie send you home, because I wasn't sure you'd be able to get past all those security locks of your own gate in your state." He shook his head knowingly. "Now I know why you don't party on Fridays."
"Eh—," She looked at him groggily, and then looked at the extremely crumpled state of the clothes she'd borrowed. "Right. The cab. Yes." And with growing realization, Cagalli said, "Ohhhh."
"Ohhh." He repeated, nodding. He laughed once. "I hope you had fun yesterday."
She got up a bit unsteadily, trying to find her shoes, peeking at him through her fringe. "I didn't puke, did I?"
"Thank God, no." He gaped at her. "Have you ever done that to some poor sod?"
"No!" She shook her head frantically. "I didn't want you to be the first."
As she tried to neaten her appearance in vain, Cagalli looked at him and smiled suddenly. Her smile warm and sincere, but suddenly, he felt like a fool. He had tried so hard for her, but she was still free to sail away wherever she wanted to go. After all, Marlin thought, she had never belonged to him.
"Thank you for doing so much for me." Cagalli said quietly. Her awkwardness increased. "It's a favour that I will repay some day."
"Did you think I was settling old favours?" Marlin said tightly. "I never owed you anything. But I wanted you to. I wanted you to accept me in return. I still do, in fact."
She shook her head, her face wan. "I'm sorry. I don't know what it was that held me back from loving you as more than a friend—even now, I don't know."
He looked weary for one second. And the boyish grin seemed to falter. "I thought so. But that's why I came to find you myself. For closure."
Hesitantly, their eyes met.
"The only thing that kept me going in that trial was the desire to protect you." Marlin said with a sigh. "I would have killed him if he had hurt you. Of course,-," He rolled his eyes. "You didn't tell me that you were lovers until the trial was over."
Cagalli looked down at their feet. "I couldn't be entirely honest. If I had told you, you wouldn't have fought to find out the truth. I had to help him prove his innocence, somehow."
"You did it at my expense," Marlin said wryly, folding his arms as he regarded her. "And you gave me the biggest, bloodiest shock of my life. I thought you'd gone crazy in that trial, defending him like that. I mean, this is the brilliant, overachieving son of a genocidal freak— that's why he was accepted back into Zaft even after that internal trial he went through back in the Plants."
She looked at him. "That's the way he seems to the world. Nobody really understands him, Marlin."
And Cagalli realized that could not claim that she did either.
"Well, whatever the case is, you can't blame me for thinking that he was a chip off the old block, eh? I got the shock of my life when you revealed you had basically shagged him like mad."
She hit him on the arm embarrassedly, half-glad they were talking so candidly and half-wishing that she didn't have to remember the trial that she'd been through. "Marlin!" Cagalli had the grace to colour. "I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't attracted to him."
"Ouch, ouch," He said cheerfully. "Okay, okay, I'll leave it at that." His expression sobered a little. "But I'm still a little confused about his decision."
"About?"
"About how willing he was to have the world think he'd done wrong things."
"Maybe he didn't have a choice—maybe there wasn't evidence to get him out of the mess." She cleared her throat a little.
"I did give that some consideration. But he still had a card he could use," Marlin said thoughtfully, "He could have used the relationship he had with you to worm his way out."
He watched her stare blankly, thinking about what he had said. But he shrugged. "Maybe he was more of a person than what I assumed about him. Maybe his old employers saw something they could still use in him." Marlin looked directly at her. "Maybe you found something you could identify with in him."
Cagalli shook her head, this time trying to focus her thoughts. "Think what you like. It's over. It's done. It was—, I don't know. A fling of sorts."
"Pretty weird situation to have a fling," He observed. Cagalli decided not to comment that it was even weirder to be standing in some hotel room having a talk about her psyche when they were both in terrible states and nursing slight hangovers. He paused. "It really wasn't Stockholm's syndrome right?"
"No!" She said vehemently, thinking of all she'd been through and what she'd been forced to play at during one point of the proceedings.
"Well, I have to admit he's pretty darn good looking." Marlin said grudgingly. "And most girls would go for pretty boy Zala."
"Good grief, Marlin!" Cagalli laughed despite herself, sinking down onto the bed and gazing up at her friend. "I can't believe you called him that!"
"Yes, he is a pretty boy, say what you like." Marlin retorted. "If Aaron thinks so, it is so. I can't believe you went for pretty boy Zala. But couldn't you have waited for me to go rescue you? Couldn't you have let me near you at least once?"
"Marlin!" She laughed, wanting to hug him and giving into that urge. It felt good, Cagalli thought, to have this release and to have this honest talk between both of them. But still, it disconcerted that they were making jokes out of everything. That normalcy itself was so disconcerting.
"I know, I know." He said wistfully. "But you've got to understand that I feel like a complete idiot for ignoring reality when it was staring at me in the face."
"And what's that reality?" She said in surprise, pulling back and looking at Marlin.
"That you love that lucky bastard." Marlin said simply. "I don't think you've ever told me that you loved him as honestly as you could, but I can see that he's put a mark on you that will never dissolve."
She shook her head. "I don't know."
Marlin watched her quietly. "Isn't he coming back to Orb?"
As far as her memory served her, she could not quite remember what happened after that. Vaguely, Cagalli could recall that she had thanked Marlin for everything and left, taking some cab back to her house. What she could remember however, was the pain of hearing his words and having them ring in her consciousness.
In the cab, the wig lopsided on her head, she was crying for something. She was crying out for everything to stop and to leave her in the past.
Even weeks after that meeting with Marlin, she could remember the old agony. Even by herself, she knew what it felt like. It was as if the surgeons had not removed the whole bullet that had been fired into her chest. She could still feel it throbbing—a lead weight too close to her heart.
-292 days
The second time she had seen him, she had known that he would be there.
When she'd spotted his name on the guest list for the autumn soiree that the Earth Alliance always held in honour of peace, Cagalli had felt something in her twist and turn.
She wasn't even sure if she had been pleased or excited or nervous or anything at all, but she'd ended up thinking about the soiree for the entire week.
Her schedule-planner had found a problem trying to fit the soiree and had told her so when he'd passed her the invitation. But staring at the names the card held, Cagalli did not hear half of what he was saying.
"There's that meeting with the Ministry of Defence's head and the Orb military's Heads, Ms. Atha, so I think we can go ahead and skip—,"
"No." Cagalli said abruptly, shutting the invitation card but not giving it back to Tim, who had stretched his hand out expectantly, all but waiting for her signal to dump it. "I'm going for this one."
"Ms. Atha," her schedule-planner, Tim, had said in surprise, when Cagalli had informed her that the soiree could be fitted in. "You used to skip this one all the time! You always commented that the Earth Alliance's planning was too fancy-pantsy and that you'd have to waste time flying to those locations the soiree's set in every year!"
Cagalli had shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "I suppose I skipped one too many times. I can't not keep up with appearances now. Besides," she tried to rationalize, "It's held in Venezia this year. I might as well go—it's lovely at this time of the year."
The clerk was looking strangely at her, his glasses almost sliding off his nose.
"And it's also just hours away from Milan." Cagalli added hastily. "Where I have to go this Thursday anyway. It doesn't make sense to rush back to Orb for the meeting with the Ministry of Defense on Friday." She waved her hand in an incredibly uncharacteristic, absent-minded way. "Put it to— to Monday, maybe."
"Yes, Ms. Atha," The clerk said haltingly, trying to appear less than astonished. "The flight to Italy has been booked already. The chauffeur will get you to the airport by nine in the night, and arrangements have been made for you to go straight to the hotel where the Orb-Italy conference will be held." He opened a book swiftly ran a finger down a long list of numbers. "I will make the arrangements to cancel the flight back to Orb and book an internal shuttle to get you to Venezia."
"It's just hours away from Milan," She repeated, almost to herself. Then she snapped back to attention. "Right, I'm going back now. Thanks, Tim." She headed back into her office, looking a little flustered.
Later, Tim remarked to his girlfriend who worked in the Ministry of Education department, "I've never heard her say 'just' and 'hours' in the same sentence before!"
She had her hair trimmed that week and she hadn't protested when Aaron had pulled her along for his weekly manicure. If he had been surprised by her lack of protest, he hadn't remarked on it. As good friends often knew, Aaron was entirely aware of why she had been in such a good mood, but he very wisely kept any comment to himself and pretended to be ignorant. Cagalli had even ended up indulging in one herself. Aaron had suggested a brilliant crimson instead of the neutral shade she usually would have picked out, and for once, Cagalli did not complain.
When Aaron sent her off to Italy, he'd gone through the usual procedures of briefing the bodyguards once more. And as she'd been prepared to board the jet, he'd grabbed her and pulled her into a bear hug. He'd whispered, "Be safe," and she'd nodded, unable to speak.
As time had passed, Cagalli had felt lesser and lesser fear and insecurity, although panic seized her at times whenever she thought she had gotten lost in a foreign place, or when she was alone for too long. This was the first time she'd left Orb after getting back from Poland, and at points, she felt incredibly insecure without her bodyguards right in front of her.
On the evening of the soiree in the Earth Alliance territory, Cagalli found herself spending an obscene amount of time preparing for the soiree. Her hotel was a quiet, luxurious one in the heart of Venezia, and it had a breathtaking view of the sea and the town-square of St. Marks. It seemed that the locals in the town square were excited about the fact that the Earth Alliance was holding a grand event in Venezia, despite their lack of invitations. The musicians seemed to be out in full force, for many had ended up visiting Venezia if only to catch a glimpse of the famous autumn soiree that had been held since the First War.
From where she was in her room, bent before a mirror and staring at her reflection, Cagalli heard the strains of music and smiled softly to herself.
She'd taken a red gown, an auburn one, and a cream-coloured one along with her. She could not recall a time when she'd brought along so many. But for this trip, she'd packed everything herself, bringing along things she could not even recall ever packing before. And even then, she'd taken an hour to decide which dress she wanted to wear, changing in and out until she nearly drove herself crazy. She'd tried on the red, thought it to be too flashy, then gone for the cream. That one had made her look somewhat washed-out, and she'd changed into the auburn, then back into the cream, and then the red one. Then she'd finally decided on the auburn, and now she studied herself, wondering if it looked a little too plain.
Of all the colours and textures, she had somehow picked out a simple auburn silk piece— rather conservative and with a colour that seemed more muted than brassy. She'd put on a bracelet first, then a pair of lovely, crystal earrings with a matching, waterfall like necklace. But then she'd felt too unnatural and had taken them off. In the end, she'd elected to wear no other accessory except the earrings and a ring around her neck, hiding its glint within hidden in the folds of her dress.
As she decided whether she ought to put on a little more rouge, or whether her lips were too red, the hotel phone rang and a bodyguard informed her that the car was ready to go. Answering quickly and guiltily, Cagalli realized that the bodyguards were waiting in the lobby downstairs, and she slipped on her shoes, all too aware that she had never delayed them in the past.
In the car, she was struck with fear and a terrible nervousness as to whether all the guests would show up. Would he? One of her bodyguards commented that she looked beautiful, but when Cagalli checked her reflection in the car, it seemed that she looked far too plain and far too understated to stand out to anyone in particular.
When they reached and she was escorted out, her hand seemed to be clammy in the escort's who opened the door for her. Worse, her smile felt weak in the light of the cameras' glares and the cries from those who could not pass the cordons. The music from the viols seemed faint and faded in her ears as she moved down the carpet and up the stairs. Truth be told, she heard only the beating in her throat and ears as she stared and looked out for one face. Much later, she wondered what had injected that hope in her.
Before dinner started, she found herself paying no attention to the Head of the Earth Alliance as he made his opening speech. And when she was called to give her own after Eileen Canaver had made hers on behalf of the Plants, Cagalli found herself looking for his face. When she spotted him quite suddenly, she paused, and it was with some difficulty that she finished her speech. The escort who led her back to her table complimented her while the applause broke out, but Cagalli heard neither his words nor the thunderous clapping as the soiree started.
Over the course of dinner, she found the opportunity to pass by, pretending to go to the punch bowl but really having her eyes glued on someone else at the next table. Before Cagalli could get to complete her pretence, Eileen Canaver had pulled her over to her table and engaged her in conversation. Instead of simply exchanging the usual words, one of the Plant ministers began to discuss some policy and required Cagalli's opinion. She found herself explaining quite distractedly, not really caring and not really comprehending what was gong on.
Yet, something about the discussion must have appeared highly interesting, for the adjacent table that she had been looking at was suddenly half-filled. People came to the table that Eileen, Cagalli and some others occupied, and for one moment, she thought that he would come too. More and more people came, engaging in the same conversation that Cagalli ended up repeating for their sakes.
But at that adjacent table, one person remained firmly rooted in his seat; that is until he left.
Cagalli did not see him leaving, for she had been compelled to face Eileen who was saying something. When she tried swiveling to look for him, she did not see him dancing or getting a drink. In the end, her neck was craned and aching slightly from her efforts to keep her eyes on the person talking to her while trying to look for him. Try as she did, she could not spot him, and it seemed that he had either disappeared into the swell of people or had never been there at all.
Then a thought struck her and she excused herself, making sure that nobody followed her before she rushed to the gazebo. She located it, sure that it was the only place which was rather isolated and therefore a place that someone would be waiting at. She found herself moving swiftly, her feet aching in the shoes that she was not used too, her hands gathering her skirts in order to climb the stairs leading to that tiny, shrub-covered pavilion. Magnolia flirted with the air and there were some low-flying moths that rose in a flurry from the tall grasses.
But she found nobody there.
-349 days
When she had been a child, she had wondered what lay beyond the gates with its foreign sounds and its delicious mysteries. The sounds of cars passing, the laughter of children possibly older than her- even the cat that disappeared for days had the privilege of the world beyond the gates. But now Cagalli knew, and she knew that no matter where she went, there would be gates she could never scale and gates that she could never destroy around her.
At times, she would wonder if she could unlock those gates, and at times, she would wonder if she had been a fool for loving someone who would have to leave. But more often than not, when Cagalli happened to come across an article featuring him or perhaps a telecast of a statement that he made on behalf of Plant's Intelligence Council, she would know exactly why she had allowed herself to be hurt.
If efforts were tantamount to penitence, Cagalli was forgiven, for did try to move on. Moving on was not her choice but a new duty, given the successful postponementof an impending engagement. She allowed herself to be kissed at times if it was a peck on the cheek. She came to hope that a camera would capture the moment so that some kind of notice would be served to the Elders and so that Ernest Rohm would not show up at her office.
She dutifully dolled up for the necessary occasions to remind the Council of Elders that she was still capable of following their wishes and showed a little skin for the media's sake. She danced where necessary and refrained for most part, preferring to seek out pets that had been brought along to soirees.
The only problem was that efforts— specifically, hers— never amounted to success.
She found herself attracted to certain men who made it a point to be forthcoming with her. If someone she took notice of gave her a flitting glance, she would not think much of it. But if he did more than that, she made it a point to reciprocate. Like them, she was attracted by all the wrong reasons— reasons that led to notice the gaping chasm of her life. She never went beyond prolonging a conversation, however; she was too absorbed in dissecting and analyzing why she had even been attracted to others. And most of the time, she was miserable to realize that the answer was the problem in the first place.
-378 days
"You don't say!" Vino exclaimed, holding up some online article that he'd printed out and was currently shoving under Meyrin's nose. "Does this mean that the Orb Princess will get to be an old maid if she wants to be one?" His eyes widened excitedly and he seemed to vibrate with tension. "But she's so pretty! She's kinda hot too! Yolande thinks so, and Yolande's got the best taste, even if he is a bit of a leg-fetish guy—,"
His rhapsody was cut short by Meyrin's cupped palm over his mouth.
"Vino!" Meyrin said embarrassedly. "Please don't let anyone hear you talking like that in public." She let go very slowly, as if prepared to stopper her friend's mouth with her fist if he continued. "And frankly Vino, that's pretty old news."
"Hey!" He pouted, making her laugh. "Just because you're working with the high-up politicians and get to hear all the news first doesn't mean you can look down on me like that, Meyrin!"
She shook her head, taking a bite of a sandwich. "Nah, it's not old news even by that standard." She pointed at the date where the article had been released. "It was released a few months after the end of the court trial. That makes it—," She paused in realisation, thinking about the glimpse of Athrun Zala that she'd caught two days ago when he'd visited the branch of the Plant Ministry of Foreign Affairs that Meyrin worked in. "More than a year ago."
"Well then," Vino said disappointedly, beginning to turn back to his ice-cream. "I guess it is rather old news." He licked the cone pathetically, hunching his shoulders in a semi-sulk. Then he thought of something and brightened up. "Hey, have you heard about Athrun Zala's promotion?"
"Old news." She told him straightfacedly. Two butterflies darted behind Vino and disappeared behind a bush.
"He's cool isn't he?" Vino's eyes sparkled in his peaky face, and with some difficulty, Meyrin forced herself not to think of his old nickname, 'Tomato-squirt'. "I say, he's going to be working for the Intelligence Council—how funky is that?" He pulled his knees up, not caring that his sneakers were now on the park bench. "Say, do you see him since you work in politics too, Meyrin?"
She thought of the glimpse of Athrun Zala that she'd caught a while ago. He'd been at that particular branch of Foreign Affairs that Meyrin was working at, and she had not been able to speak a word to him. He'd been far too busy and too tightly surrounded by bodyguards, as had been some of his other colleagues from the Intelligence Council.
"Not really." She told Vino. "We're too busy to talk most of the time, you know. And he's in the Intelligence Council—it's not part of the Foreign Affairs divison." She paused, thinking of the proposal that Athrun Zala and a few other members of the Intelligence Council were to be part of. "Well, not really, even if there are some overlapping areas of work."
"And here I was, coming to visit you in Aprilius during my training break, hoping to have some nice conversation starter." Vino sighed, looking like a poor little puppy that couldn't get its owner's attention.
Meyrin giggled, leaning back against the park's bench. "Oh come on, that's not even a good conversation starter. No controversy whatsoever."
"That's true." He mumbled. "I bet nobody protested against the Council of Elders' decision regarding Cagalli Yula Atha."
"Of course not. Why would they? It seems fair."
Vino put his arm around her affectionately. "Say, Meyrin, speaking of fairness, will you buy me another of those cones?"
She raised an eyebrow. In the park that was near to the office that Meyrin spent a great deal of time in, there were much younger Coordinator children staring at Vino, who seemed to be a too-tall, slightly weedy looking child himself. "Why would you need another?"
"I like these," He whined. "We're best friends, remember? I don't get a chance to eat ice-cream much in the barracks, so buy me another, okay? You're the one who's making your mark in your work; I'm just some poor grease-monkey."
"Excuse me, Vino, you just got promoted recently!"
"Yeah, to senior grease-monkey!"
She laughed, unable to be anything but cheerful with someone like that. "Alright, alright."
-406 days
"Good morning, Mr. Biliensky!" His personal assistant passed him a stack of files and a cup of coffee that he took with a quick nod and without a bat of an eyelid.
"I want those in by today, Saffie, " He called over his shoulder. "No more delays, got it?"
"Got it, Mr. Biliesnky!"
He tucked the files under his arm, downing his coffee with the efficiency of a machine. There were at least ten people in this narrow corridor, their discussions and their mutters making it feel like there were thirty people in here. But that could not be helped—this was the main corridor in the Parliament House on level three where every worker had to sign in before moving on to their offices.
Someone passed him. "Morning, Mr. Biliensky. I like your tie."
"Morning, Ron." He returned. "Glad you do—I like it too."
As Aaron moved, Ronald Hareesh, the clerk to the deputy minister of foreign affairs and a dozen others thought that Aaron Biliensky seemed ready to take on the world. Aaron Biliensky had already tossed the cup into some bin and was pouring through the files while on the move. He barely looked up from those to look at anyone, already increasing the speed of his walking pace.
There was quite a lot to do this morning, Aaron thought vaguely to himself. Cagalli would need to look through the latest amendments of the bills. The parliament debate about certain amendments in the Companies Act would be coming up soon and she had to get those done. As Aaron understood it, the Emirs from Lyadov were quite firmly against the idea of removing protectionist measures, and Cagalli was not going to have an easy time.
He got into the lift, waving to someone he knew just before the doors closed. The lift was jam-packed with people reporting for work, and Aaron knew it would be jam-packed for the next hour. No wonder Cagalli always drove and arrived two hours early every morning. Other started at nine, but she started at eight.
On the fifth floor, he got out, intending to pass these files to someone else to approve.
"Morning, Aaron!" One of his lunch buddies from the Home Affairs Ministry called out, and Aaron waved as a manner of greeting, not slowing down as he marched past those who were moving along the general corridor.
Bradley Cole from the Economic Development division slapped him on the back as he passed. "Yo."
"Hey-," Aaron swung back, stuffing half the files into Bradley's arms. With the remainder of those, he kept his feet in the direction they'd been set in, not slowing his pace at all. "I need those files I passed you yesterday about this millennium, Brad."
"Yeah, I'll get them over by lunch time!" Bradley's irreverent voice and cheeky face disappeared as Aaron turned a corridor. While moving to another's office, Aaron flipped and sped-read while travelling on a route he knew so well that he didn't even have to look up to know where he was going.
"Good morning, Mr. Biliensky." Someone piped up timidly.
"Morning." Aaron said haphazardly to himself, drinking his coffee, balancing a file with the crook of his elbow and marching past the new clerk who was apparently interning with someone from the Home Affairs decision. Was her name Nora or Norleen or Dora or something like that? He shrugged inwardly—he'd been introduced to her by another colleague the other day, and frankly, she had been too normal for him to remember her.
As he strode past her, he would have moved past without stopping. But at the last minute, he caught sight of her gently tousled, new hairdo. The fringe was slanted, layered, very wispy, and highly flattering. There was also a nice, daring streak of honey-dye to highlight it, and that made Aaron's head turn for a second. A smile leapt to his lips as he whirled around, observing her hairdo. "I like that 'do, Dora."
"Thanks!" She paused, turning back to him and grinning. Thankfully, Aaron had gotten her name right. He congratulated himself on it, giving her the thumbs up and preparing to add speed and zoom off to discuss certain amendments with the clerk he was looking for.
"Oh, and the name's Noreen, by the way!" She said sweetly. "Noreen Jalaprine." He blanched and offered a weak smile, knowing his boo-boo was too big to cover up. Next time, he noted to himself, he would have to avoid using names of people he wasn't sure about at all. "Sorry, dear. You looked like a Dora to me."
"It's okay you know," She told him cheerfully. "It's not like I'm Ms. Atha or some big shot whose name is plastered all over the news." She jabbed a thumb randomly at some communal news rack that the fifth floor of the Parliament house had. They shared a chuckle, although the bitchier side of Aaron was wondering whether her parents had been on crack when they'd given her a name that read together with her surname like a brand of canned vegetables.
"Well, I'm off, Noreen." He said conversationally, quite intent on ending the very conversation she seemed keen to continue.
But as he nodded to her, he noticed the rack of newspapers and magazines that made him halt entirely. His eyes widened, and he abandoned his files into a nearby chair and strode over to the newsrack.
Noreen noticed him staring hard at those and came closer. "Mr. Biliensky, is everything fine?"
Aaron turned to the young intern. His voice was no longer chirpy but harsh. "No, it's not fine. These are outdated. Get these off the rack, now."
"Wha-?"
"I want these destroyed." He moved to the rack, ripping off all the magazines his hands could get his hands on. He dumped them into the waste bin, grabbing the remainder from the rack and stuffing them in. The bin was filled with them to the point that the news seemed to be overflowing from it, and vehemently, Aaron stomped them in to get everything to fit. "Clear this bin. Then go to the seventh floor and the top floor. I want all these magazines cleared. All of these, do you hear?"
"I don't understand!" Noreen protested, taking the bin that he'd forced into his hands and peering at him. "These are barely two days old, Mr. Biliensky! I heard-,"
"Don't question me, Dora." Aaron said sharply. He stalked back to the chair, getting his files in his hands again. "Do it fast."
The girl shrugged, taking it from him and then gathering the bundles of magazines and papers into her hands, crumpling a dozen or so pictures of the same person. She looked at Aaron, her expression puzzled.
"I know it's none of my business, Mr. Biliensky," the intern said softly, "But wasn't Ms. Atha and he—,"
"You're right, Dora." Aaron told her, turning away. "It's none of your business."
He moved off, leaving her staring at what she had been asked to dispose.
-409 days
If she'd been aware that time was making her colder to the world, then seeing a report on him attending some function with someone hanging off his arm had been the moment when she been unable to ignore the distance between them.
As she flipped on the television now, Cagalli caught sight of him again. His eyes were focused generally and almost casually on the primetime interviewers, and his enunciation was as clear and precise as she could recall.
Cagalli's hand moved to the control quite automatically, except that this time, she decided not to turn away. The interviewers were asking questions about the latest collaborations between the Intelligence Council and Plant's Ministry of Defence.
As Athrun answered, Cagalli understood how natural it was for the female interviewer's cheeks to be slightly pink and for the male interviewer's expression to be that of slight distrust but similar awe. There was that magnetism to him; that strange draw of power and charisma that radiated from his person.
In that white uniform that seemed to become him, Athrun looked composed and as steady as he'd always seemed in still pictures. He was the picture of calmness and rational thought, and his answers never seemed to hide or give away too much. And yet, Cagalli knew that when the interview ended, those asking the questions and those watching would know little more than when they'd first asked.
She knew from personal experience.
Perhaps Athrun had been sent to take this interview to tear down the allegations of Zaft building up too much power for its own good. After all, he dodged and deflected the trickier questions without much effort, and his use of rhetoric was both ambiguous and satisfying at the same time. When the questions turned personal as to why he'd been selected to become a Vice-General, he'd merely granted a small, insincere smile that had signaled the interviewers to remember their place.
Wherever he was and whoever he was with, Cagalli decided, Athrun Zala was doing fine.
A sudden anger rose in her and she tried to press the button of the control. But the strength of her temper seemed to leave even as something burned in her, and she could only watch as he performed his script.
"According to the statement, you have been alternating between Plant and Scandinavia for some time. Can you share some thoughts on this? With reference to your work, of course."
She watched him issue a curt nod. "It's been a fulfilling time and a very exciting experience for the new developments within security forces and diplomats."
"That doesn't tell anyone anything, does it?" Cagalli muttered. She continued watching, even thought she should have been smart enough to turn away.
"We understand that you represent Plant's Intelligence Council but act as a military trainer for Zaft elites, Vice-General. Can we understand how you balance both jobs?" The male interviewer looked at him interestedly.
"These are intrinsically related," He said briefly. "The Intelligence Council is a major part of the security of Plant and Zaft, to that extent, serves the same role although in a slightly different way."
"Can the viewers understand where exactly is this place within Scandinavia?"
"That is classified information." There was that firmness to his voice that she recognized, and his lack of apology made it quite clear where he thought they had stepped over the line. "Scandinavia's Head, Erik Strumsson, kindly allowed Plant to continue its training within the place and has been working with the Head General of Zaft to strengthen bilateral ties."
"As I understand this, Vice-General," The other interviewer probed, "You were assigned to manage this training area. Given that you were once an Intelligencer for Plant that was posted to Scandinavia, how do you face the suspicion that the Scandinavian authorities must have?"
Athrun Zala's answer came without hesitation. "Regardless of my past duties, this an area that signifies a common understanding and mutual benefit for Scandinavia and Zaft's military skills. Area Thirty-Seven is nothing more and nothing less than the result of the High King Erik Strumsson and the Plant Supreme Council's common understanding."
They continued to probe him about Area Thirty-Seven, a cluster of islands as it had been alleged to be, but he skillfully deflected their questions until they were quite convinced that he would not say anymore about the place and for that matter, himself.
No matter how much he was surrounded by these cameras and with microphones shoved under his nose, Cagalli decided, and no matter how many conspiracy theories were published in books month and month for these past three years, Athrun Zala would always have that cold politeness; that control and unmistakable enigma that the media would never penetrate.
She'd heard reports that some people had damaged his modest apartment by somehow getting through security, and it was rumoured that it was an inside job because some other Zaft officers hated or envied him. It made sense to Cagalli, for he had never bothered to be more than polite and coldly courteous, and few people would try to understand him when he appeared so aloof.
Even now, there was that wall between him and the interviewers. He had no clear habit; no clean sign of nervousness; no will to pander or even to reject the affections of the media that he'd gained recently.
From his childhood experiences, Cagalli thought, he must have realised that people's affections and dislike could change and alternate within hours. With some misery, she recalled the trial and realized that she would have cemented that belief he had as well.
Cagalli stared at him, looking at how he did not seem to have changed at all, even if he had slight dark circles under his eyes and his mouth seemed more inclined to frown as she saw it. He had somehow grown older, but then he seemed to have become a person that had settled himself into a background that he could mostly blend in with. He did not seemed to have changed; only flourished somehow.
But much had changed, and Cagalli was certainly aware of it, despite Aaron's efforts to keep any news of Athrun Zala away from her. She had caught Aaron stuffing magazines into a bin the other day, and she'd waited until he'd left before going to look in the bin. There, she'd found magazines that she lifted and looked through.
The news was going around that he'd been together with some other general's daughter, whom she'd seen in the photograph just recently. Cagalli had gazed at the smiling, pretty girl with the classic oval face, those large, emotive grey eyes and soft brown locks. Her dress revealed a great deal of her figure, and Cagalli had looked at her and wondered if Athrun was treating her well.
From another magazine, she'd heard that the soldiers all looked up to him. She'd heard that he had succeeded in presenting the new plans for Zaft to the Supreme Council- the same plans that his superiors had drafted out.
Nothing could deter him. Nothing made him speak even when the cameras had been flashing in his face and his hair and cheek was stained with a tomato that someone had lobbed at him- or even a cut on his chin when it was rumored that his visit to Scandinavia had drawn out quite a few angered people.
Looking at that cold, firm face, she knew that nothing would be capable of getting in his way. It was precisely why he was perfect as the Zaft's spokesperson and precisely why approval or contempt had no effect on him.
She watched as the interviewers and Athrun Zala talked, expecting to feel emotion; expecting to feel some kind of pain or anguish or even betrayal at the way she still dreamt of him returning to hold her and take her hand in his. But she was proud of herself for only feeling a dull ache in her chest— a dull ache that hurt less every day because she was learning not to feel.
On television, Athrun Zala's eyes moved. He was no longer looking indifferently at the interviewers. His gaze was suddenly focused at the camera, and there was a sudden vulnerability in his expression. Despite her better judgment, she looked at the image of him staring back at her and knew that his moving on could not cause her more agony than seeing him like this.
In that moment, Cagalli knew she could not withstand anymore and the finger on the right button finally moved to spare her the pain of recollection.
-433 days
Ernest Rohm was the kind of person that Cagalli was wary of but respected all the same. He was one cool customer and very, very clever. Strangely enough, he never gave off an air of overwhelming power even if the authority his posture carried was very clear. But then, that made him as lethal as he was. As the assistant to the Head Elder of Orb and the spokesperson the Council employed, he was used to dealing with the media and especially the more difficult of Orb nobles.
From his appearance at her office, Cagalli understood that she was one in his eyes.
"Your Grace," He said courteously, ignoring the tea that she had asked someone to bring in. "I will keep my visit short because you are a busy person."
She understood what he was saying— he was a busy person. She watched him across her overburdened work table, the lights in the office reflecting off his glasses and the pale blue hair and sharp red eyes. An albino in appearance, Ernest Rohm could make even the most high-handed, high-strung Orb Noble feel slightly uncomfortable.
"Your Grace, the Council of Elders has sent me to remind you that their decision is not one that you can merely take for granted."
"No, no, of course not." She felt a tiny tremor in her. Frankly, she did not know what Ernest Rohm had been instructed to say, although a great deal of instinct had tuned her to what he might be likely to. There were allegations in the newspapers recently that she had simply wrapped the Council around her finger and escaped her obligations.
"Your Grace, I have been sent in light of the reports that you chose to turn down invitations to quite a few galas."
She could remember. She had spent all those weekends cooping herself up at home, and she was aware that her refusal to turn up at certain functions had made the Council of Elders annoyed. "I was busy, I—,"
"Of course." He said directly, cutting off. His already thin lips pursed a little more, and for that second, she wasn't even sure how old he really was. "Of course." He nodded once at her in a way that made her understand exactly what he was getting at. "The council sent me to remind you that the postponement is not meant to be a delay but a chance for you to recover."
"Mr. Rohm," Cagalli said quietly, "What do they want of me?"
He did not blink. "They ask that you use your discretion wisely."
She looked at him, swallowed, then said, "Of course."
-458 days
"All rise."
The judges bowed, as did the parties, the counsel and the members of the public who'd managed to get seats in the viewing gallery. There were plenty more waiting outside, but courtroom twelve of the Orb Supreme Court was packed.
The judges took their seats, and the leading judge cleared his throat a little. "I will now read out the summary of judgment regarding suit no. thirty-eight, Atha v. Magnus Printing and Publishing Corporation." Next to him, his legal clerk was typing furiously.
"The appellant raised the point contending the constitutionality of the control of the media in Orb. With regard to this, the Orb Supreme Court has considered the arguments the respondent's counsel offered, particularly Article Five two and Seventy-three one of the Intergalactic Declaration of Human Rights."
The reporters were scribbling like mad.
"The articles respectively state that all humans have a right of freedom of speech and the right to demand truthful governmental procedure respectively. The appellant has offered case law from both Plant and Earth Alliance jurisdictions to argue that the freedom of speech will be tempered if Ms. Atha's claim is to succeed and that is why her claim is unconstitutional. Moreover, the respondent argues that the very control the Orb Parliament has over the media with the presence of the Media Control Act is unconstitutional."
Gerard Locuqantine, Cagalli Yula Atha's legal counsel, looked at his hands nervously. For all his seasoned style and court practice, he was near to breaking point. He could not bear to look at his client, who was seated next to him. He was aware that behind him and mere meters and a glass barrier away, there were plenty of reporters from the local and international communities. While photography was not allowed, the caricaturists were working overtime to sketch the parties' profiles.
"We have decided that the authority the appellant cited cannot be directly applied to the situation at hand. The right of freedom of speech is firstly, rooted in the context of preventing genocides and to allow discourse. While the respondent would argue in the sole context of the second point, Orb has only ratified its laws according to its needs. We are, at the end of the day, a superpower that welcomes both Coordinators and Naturals and free speech is not a right but a privilege tempered by good faith, due diligence, and above all, moral responsibility."
Once again, the reporters present were working overtime, as was the caricaturist in the corner.
"To this end, we find that the appellant has exercised little of the necessary. With regard to the right for all citizens of any state to demand truthful government procedure, we hold that the very fact that the appellants have been allowed to bring their claim is in itself, truthful and even generous government procedure. If anything, the context of this particular right is in the light of the previous bloody Valentine Wars where exaggerated figures were used to cajole citizens into embarking on war even though this may not have been necessary. Here, the respondent gave blown-up, even grossly inaccurate depictions of Ms. Atha which was no more truthful or convincing than the lies a child would tell. The respondent never ventured to hide the past event, painful as it probably was for her. In any case, details of the past event are not part of government procedure, given that the relevant information has long been disclosed to the public after the court decision regarding that case. For these reasons, we have rejected the arguments the appellant has made."
There was a titter from the viewing gallery. The reporters were scribbling madly and the public viewers were whispering loudly. The bailiffs themselves were talking. Frankly, Gerard Locquatine was sweating himself dry. While he was rather experienced and had more than a few grey streaks to prove it, Gerard had been on tenterhooks the whole morning and even within the three-day trial. The week of adjournment for fact-finding had been very stressful, and Gerard Locquantine was entirely exhausted at this point. His firm had handled high-profile defamation cases before, but dealing with someone like Cagalli Yula Atha and perhaps her advisors was another area altogether.
"After considering the merits of both the appellant and respondent's arguments in this Supreme Court," The judge looked up from his documents and frowned a little. ""I will affirm the judgment of the Orb High Court and hold in favor of the respondent."
Gerard Locuqantine could have pumped his fist into the air. The chatter from the viewing gallery broke out, although it was mostly numbed by the thick glass panel separating the parties and the public.
Triumphantly, he turned to look at his client, expecting her tense silence to melt away; expecting the usual congratulatory handshake or the compliments or the gratefulness that the successful clients heaped on him on a rather normal basis. Usually, when a person sued and won, Locuqantine could expect a nice thank-you dinner.
She was only staring ahead.
"Counsel for Ms. Atha has shown that on the facts, Ms. Atha certainly did not conspire with the alleged intelligencers from the Plants. Nor did Ms. Atha fraternize in any sense of the word, with a certain intelligencer. As a matter of policy and international agreements, to have the intelligencer's name mentioned will be another issue for the respondent to deal with should Plant choose to pursue this matter. With regard to Ms. Atha's, the appellant has failed to prove that the allegation was more than malicious hearsay and at the root of it; rumors. Therefore, the judgment in the lower court for Ms. Atha has been affirmed. "
Gerard was still staring at his client. Seated next to him in a clean, well-pressed dark suit, she looked rather human. He hadn't noticed it at any point because he'd seen her so little in person, but Cagalli Yula Atha seemed to be younger than he'd ever realized.
It was then that he wondered if she'd been his client or her advisors had been his client.
Even though Gerard's winning strategy was often to interview all witnesses and his clients very thoroughly, he hadn't been able to speak more than twice and briefly with his client. It was mostly her advisors giving Gerard and he suspected, Cagalli Yula Atha, instructions. It was mostly their demands that directed his service. Each time he had met her to understand the facts of the defamation case better, he'd ended up being none the wiser as to what she felt about the allegations that formed the basis of her claim. His own client was an enigma. As the adage went, the lawyer's worst enemy was often his very own client.
"And thus, the appellant will have to subsume the respondent's legal costs and the same punitive damages that the Orb High Court awarded to the respondent will also apply. The injunction preventing Magnus Corporation from printing the book containing the unsavory allegations will also be granted. Court adjourned." The three judges stood, ignoring how pale and feverish the head of the printing company, that is, the appellant, looked.
"Your Honour!" The appellant was on his feet, despite his legal counsel's efforts to restrain him. "That's not fair—basic damages are bad enough given what she's asking for—,"
The leading judge frowned. "Are you contesting the final judgment of this court?"
The appellant was babbling now. "But it's true! Even this court—," He looked around angrily. "It's afraid of the Orb Princess! That's why this is the outcome of the case! This is a kangaroo court, it is!"
One of the three judges spoke. "The appellant will be held in contempt of the court. As my learned fellow judge has said, court is adjourned."
"All rise." The bailiff rapped smartly, cutting the appellant off entirely. They all stood and bowed as the judges did the same and moved off to their chambers.
As Gerard collected his things, sweeping his papers into a bag, he wanted to ask her how she felt about winning.
But she had begun to walk towards the door, and as she moved out, he glimpsed her bodyguards swarming around her to fend off the reporters.
Gerard knew in that moment that there was no concept of winning or losing for his client. She'd won this case and the injunction and order to cease printing was executed, along with damages and an apology from the appellant. But now others would talk behind her back and say that she'd frightened the court into ruling in her favour.
Outside the courtroom, the leaves were falling in swirls and almost violent clips of air and dried paper-like shapes. The media were allowed their cameras here, and the lights would have blinded her if she had not been used to it. As she shook her head, refusing comment, trying to move where the guards were directing her, she felt her hands clench. The appellant was also surrounded by the media, except that he was talking.
"It's true!" His voice was a cry. "I had a reliable source! One of the nobles from Orb! Within the courts— he saw the proceedings; he heard exactly what she said!" His eyes were wild at the prospect of his printing firm going bankrupt to pay off the damages. "She said she'd asked Athrun Zala to send the letters for her!"
"How can that be?" One reporter was calling. "Who's this source?"
Another was yelling, "Are you even reliable? I mean, you say you have this source, but why hasn't any other person who was allowed in the court saying anything?"
"It's some court secret, right?" Some others were comparing notes.
Cagalli only spoke when she'd gotten into the car, heard the car door close, and ventured to open her eyes as the car sped off.
Her aide for that day, Sarkis Rondeau, noted that she was pale but did not comment. That was not his role. He drove on, trying to move on even as plenty of reporters tried to cling onto the car. Her silence unnerved him, and he snuck glances at her in the review mirror. Her chin was tilted in apparent defiance, but he saw that her eyes seemed to have changed.
And when she finally spoke, he found her voice unrecognizable. "Find out who breached the Official Secrets Act for me."
"Yes, Your Grace."
-488 days
When she met him again, enough time had passed for her to learn not to expect.
She would never expect him to look at her or to even see her, and the nature of their meetings supported that. Their meetings were mostly coincidental and infrequent, and it seemed that each time she saw him; they were more and more distant. Sometimes their eyes met each others'— cool and testily; sometimes with the kind of blankness she was grateful for, and sometimes with a light unwillingness.
Each time she saw Athrun Zala, the distance grew between them. It did not matter whether she saw him in person or on some broadcast. To see him in person simply meant that she would catch a glimpse of him in some random walkway or some little corridor of some building the both of them happened to be in. It was as infrequent, as unplanned and as fleeting as catching a glimpse of that face on some channel that she would switch away from.
But it would be better, Cagalli thought, if they had lived where there was no way of meeting or hearing about each other. That would have been more bearable than walking in this way—past each other, past their entourages, facing the opposite end of the corridor that the other had come from. Living where he did not exist would be better than seeing pictures of him in magazines or perhaps his face amongst others' on gigantic screens of buildings one street away.
Still, between all these chance meetings, Cagalli learnt how to hide herself away from even those who cared. Kira tried to visit her once a fortnight with his family, and she would make preparations for his visit each time; buying fresh things for the refrigerator, the house and even the tables. Every time he came, she would ensure that the flowers were freshly arranged, the place looked in order, and she looked as if she was getting on fine. She would laugh with Lacus and play with her nephew, and those around her would think that she didn't wake up with a tear-soaked pillow at night.
A month ago, she had been compelled to attend a Derby race in Europe. She'd donned her dress and gloves and a hat that weighed her down but looked infinitely more austere than any of the others present. She'd grown tired of watching each country's racer whip the life out of their finest horses, and she'd visited the stables and asked for permission to see some horses.
But even when she'd been ready to step into a stall and look at the supposed champion of the previous race, Moonbolt Rex III, she had caught sight of him in an adjacent stall. There had been so little of that sophistication she'd seen; so little of that polished elegance and cultured façade she'd seen him wielding with the equally jaded looking lady who'd hung off his arm today.
He'd looked up from where he'd been half-stooped and apparently talking to himself. He had been feeding the colt hay like a common farmhand even while dressed in his suit, his expression boyish and unguarded and his gloves stuffed irreverently in his pocket so he could stroke the young animal.
A smile had nearly found a way onto her lips.
He'd been as startled as her and he'd opened his mouth to say something, but she'd turned and fled for a reason she could not quite put her finger on, let alone articulate.
And today, she had caught a glimpse of him in the corridor and he never did stop to look or speak to her. But it didn't matter, for she was both glad that he didn't, and glad that she had gone past the point of wanting him to turn back. With her entourage, she would move in the direction of Orb's representatives, and he with his colleagues to the Plant representatives.
They never faced each other directly, for she was the main representative and he just one of the many from Plant in that situation. As it was, it ought to have been enough to watch him walk by; it ought to have been that Cagalli could lift her head and look at him without wanting him to even spare a glance for her.
It didn't matter that they'd once been pressed close to each other within the confines of a four-cornered space with no way to hide their secrets and with only the symmetry of their bodies to guide their comprehension of the world.
The way they'd once told each other of the pets they'd wanted or managed to keep and the way they'd laughed over his childish cat drawing had dwindled into the distance. It mattered little that they'd once been bound to each other by their very lives and their very dreams, but it mattered more that they moved past each other without sparing a glance. All in all, the fact that they lived in the same galaxy mattered no more than the past.
It only mattered that time had passed since then and that there was something slightly broken about her and something passive and cold about him that had become part of their characters.
-491 days
In the Joule Estate, Ezalia had just received her visitor. The butler closed the door, giving the friends their privacy, and with great joy, Ezalia stood up, holding Kitani Harumi's hands gladly in hers. "It's good of you to come by."
"I promised you I would." Harumi said quietly. "I had a chance to come here to the Plants for a bit."
Ezalia had heard that there was trouble brewing in some Earth colonies. Apparently, the old conflicts were brewing again because there had been a bit of a bearish economy lately. Tensions were high in areas were the inequalities between Coordinators and Naturals tended to be clearer, and Harumi was facing difficult controlling both businesses underground and in legitimate circles.
"Are you planning to withdraw your businesses from the Plants?" Ezalia said directly. Between the two friends, there was no need to mince words.
"I don't know yet." She smiled at Ezalia. "I suppose if I do, I will need your help."
"Well, you won't be doing business right now." Ezalia said pertly, putting away the sober thoughts away. "You're going to have to relax in the Joule Estate." Her smile grew. "You haven't seen Petra yet, have you?"
"That's part of the reason why I came, Ezalia. I heard she takes after her mother."
"Maybe the face," Ezalia considered. "But her personality is definitely more like her father's."
"I'll have to see about that."
Both women grinned, although Ezalia knew it was likely that Harumi would be off sooner than Ezalia expected.
"And how is Ko?" Ezalia inquired.
"He's fine," Harumi said hesitantly. "He likes Orb and he's doing well in school. He likes the beaches in particular, I think." She shook her head. "Maybe he was more attached to the last home than I realized."
"Still, it's good that he's found something that he likes." Ezalia said. She gazed at Harumi. "You miss him, of course."
Harumi sighed. "As a mother, yes. I would drop everything to go with him to Orb, but I'm afraid that's not something I can do. Besides, he has to learn how to stand by himself. But thanks to you," She looked at Ezalia gently, "He's in a proper school now, being with other children; being in a place that doesn't care about his heritage but only his intrinsic worth."
"I think he's safe." Ezalia nodded. She thought of something and frowned a little. "Harumi, does the Orb Princess know that he moved to Orb?
Harumi shook her head, turning away a little.
"But why not? Are you afraid that she'll look out for him and he won't be as independent as you hope?"
"Partially that, yes." Harumi sat down slowly, shaking her head a little. "But mostly because I don't want to remind her of the pain that she never deserved."
-495 days.
That morning when Cagalli read the papers, she saw that Denmark had set the next Wednesday as its Independence Day. Sweden's sovereign, Erik Strumsson, was pictured shaking hands with Denmark's first independent leader in a long time. Freja Magdalena had made a rare public appearance, looking remarkably well and at ease by her husband's side.
As her routine permitted her to, Cagalli set aside the papers, putting her thoughts away. She drank the last of her coffee, put aside the remainder of her breakfast and washed up, getting ready for work.
-499 days
The Plant Ministry of Foreign Affairs was a building that had been designed to appeal to the layman on the street. The key ambassadors' secretaries, foreign representatives, as did the mediators and the minister worked in a white-washed, welcoming place that faced the best of Aprilius City. But in the Galactic Relations Department, Lacus Clyne had long learnt that the structure was pure, hard steel. Beyond the glitz and sugary speeches Mediators were associated with, there was always a power that each member of the Plant diplomatic community yielded.
Yzak Joule nodded to Lacus as he passed the file over to her. "It's completed, Mediator Clyne." "Do you think any amendments are necessary?" She asked concernedly. "I'm not quite satisfied over the handling of Sarkus Hannieson's repatriation, and if we don't get this bill right, I'm not sure Mr. Hannieson would have faced all that trouble for anything."
The department had worked hard to complete this on time, and she felt relief as Yzak shook his head. "As far as I'm concerned, this is sound."
She nodded, but she did not indicate that Yzak could take his leave. In fact, Lacus seemed to be keen to say something even though she was pausing.
"Are there any more clarifications that you have to make?"
"No," Lacus said quietly. "But I'd like to clarify certain things, Head General." Yzak looked at her, sighing a little. "I expected you to say that, Mediator."
"Lacus." She said softly, with that touch of insistence.
"Lacus." He agreed. Growing up with this woman had made it impossible for her to seem like a stranger, even if their views had differed since they'd been children practicing hopscotch or the best way to use the skipping rope.
"I don't understand." Lacus said quietly, shaking her head and looking at Yzak where he remained in the guest seat. "Why is the Intelligence Council allowing him to take on more and more responsibility and—," She found herself afraid to say it. "—power?"
"It's not a promotion, for sure." He said with the nonchalance he had learnt to develop over the years. "Even if I suppose he was always gunning for it."
"I know you want me to tell you about him." Yzak's expression was sharp. "But you probably see deeper than what I am allowed to where the decision is concerned. A year ago, he was a mere Intelligencer. An elite Zaft solider yes, but a basic pawn for the Secret Intelligence Council. And now he's part of the Intelligence Council— the vice-chairman, no less, despite his record and the hiccups of the past. But I didn't vote him in, Lacus, the others did. It was a nearly unanimous vote."
"Do you think that," Her expression was worried. "Eileen Canaver wants to keep an eye on him? As an intelligencer, he would have too much freedom in his isolation. As a member of the council, he can't do very much with the administrative tasks he's been put too."
"Maybe there's that." Yzak agreed. "I suppose it's basically that."
"But I wanted to know how he's been." Lacus shook her head. "I just thought that it was uncharacteristic of Athrun Zala to play into politicians' hands."
He was silent, and Lacus hastened to explain. "He doesn't keep in contact with me or Kira anymore."
Yzak moved a hand over his face. "I thought so. I can understand why he's cut off his contact with the people he once saw as his closest friends."
"Why?"
"Sometimes," Yzak muttered. "The easiest way to get to the top is to focus on the pinnacle and forget everything else."
"The top?" Lacus' brow furrowed. "Are you referring to—," "His ambition these days, yes." She gave a little cry. "I thought it was just the nature of his job!"
"How could that be?" Yzak demanded. "He agreed to it in the first place. There is something pushing him forward, Lacus. Understand that and give him what he needs to continue in the path that he's chosen."
Lacus' voice was small and somehow very sad. "What if the path doesn't lead him back?"
"But maybe that's what he wants." Yzak said firmly.
-516 days
That evening, Leon's favorite cartoon was interrupted by breaking news. Harraldsson had died in his sleep as a Galactic criminal even while the room he had occupied in the hospital had been guarded by fifteen men.
-565 days
Krakow was a place that she wanted to visit when she was old, Cagalli decided. It was a place that was best visited when she had found her true place in the world.
But until then, Krakow was at best, a place that reminded her of different things at different times; a place that seemed like all the others because she could not immerse herself into it.
The last meeting that she had was in the morning, and the next one would be in the late evening. The officials here had insisted that she visit their high-end tourist places and she'd only managed to get out of it by claiming that she had some other business to settle. In reality, Cagalli just wanted to be alone.
In the meantime, Cagalli chose to visit the artsy little streets and to browse in the swirling palettes of the local craft markets. While the two guards trailed from afar, Cagalli had bought some trinkets for the colleagues.
Also, she picked out a delightful wood horse for Leon who had been early to start walking and speaking. For Kira and Aaron who shared the same sweet tooth, she'd gotten them local treats, and she selected a range of beautiful silk scarves for Lacus.
By the time she got back to the hotel, she knew what she had to accomplish in Krakow. She smiled at the bodyguards before sending them off with presents, locked the door of her room, and then took a long, hot shower, pretending that everything trickling down her face was from the tap.
-600 days
"Quickly! While the sun's good! Oh, come on, Shinn, get that set up before the sun goes!"
"Why do I have to be the one who's setting up the tripod?" He grumbled, holding up the camera as Luna grabbed her sister to her, smiling that gamine smile of hers.
Meyrin adjusted her hat, smiling at him. "There's a reason why menial is spelt as m-e-n-ial, Shinn." Almost cheekily, she winked, and Shinn had to laugh at both of them. He bent a little more, adjusting the spine of the tripod so he could balance the camera at the right angle that Lunamaria had insisted on.
"Come on, come on!" Luna was behaving like a child, which was entirely understandable when Shinn considered that on most days, she was heading a squadron and had to behave as a responsible adult would. "I don't even get to come here even though I live in Panama, so let's make the most of this!"
"Yeah!" Meyrin chimed in, "I haven't had a holiday in ages, so don't waste this photo-opportunity, Shinn!"
"Roger, roger," He said wryly. "I'm adjusting the lens now." He snorted to himself. "And don't speak as if you're the only one who's been working like mad!"
"Yeah, yeah," Luna chanted. She giggled to her sister. "His students are horrible little monkeys! Apparently, they don't take orders very well."
"They aren't soldiers, you know," Meyrin chided Shinn while he tried to get the tripod ready. "They're just kids, so you have to lower your expectations! I mean, it's a school you're working at, not the barracks!"
"Seems to me that nobody takes physical fitness classes that seriously anyway," Lunamaria mused. "Even in Zaft, we were quite lax after we graduated." She laughed. "Especially me."
"Lucky you," Meyrin took her turn to be envious. "I hate your metabolic rate."
Shinn tried not to comment. He focused on the task at hand, trying to steady the tripod.
And as he put the final touches to the tripod, he looked through the camera, staring specifically at the background that Meyrin had chosen. Panama was really quite gorgeous, he supposed. It had all these touristy, sunny spots where the seas darted at the bases of the cliffs and roared voraciously; hungry for wind and boats that dared ride its waves.
A gust swept by and the girls shrieked nosily. Shinn averted his eyes, trying not to laugh. Once upon a time, he'd teased his sibling over her awkwardness and some extremely unfortunate accidents regarding skirts and the like. Having dealt with girls in the past, he was more than equipped to know not to comment on what he'd witnessed.
In the meantime, Luna growled. "My hair's a mess now!"
Meyrin held up her fingers in the victory sign. "I'm glad I was wearing a hat anyway."
"Lucky you," Luna said enviously.
"Done!" Shinn said pointedly, forcing them to drop their little side conversation and look back at him. "Get ready—one, two, three—!"
As he pressed the button, he blinked, looking at the sea through the lens. Those seas stretched far and wide, and Shinn wondered where and when those would end.
-614 days
It came to a point when she willingly kissed an American diplomat who'd been particularly close to her. He had a thrillingly tender voice whenever he spoke to her and fine hands with beautiful fingers but wrists like steel— hands that were calloused by his gun and fencing practice, as he admitted to someone who inquired during dinner. Frankly though, she didn't have to hear him say that for her to recognize those hands.
Over the course of the meal, she noted that he had a frame that was both inclined to a cat's gait and yet, a man's sureness as he gestured animatedly. He was young, charming and spirited, and his name was not one that she took notice of at all. He had longish hair that framed his face, and she caught herself wondering if his women ran their hands through it.
Throughout the dinner when they were first introduced to each other, she listened to him trying to convince someone else that the current economic policies needed no reforms. While Cagalli didn't agree with the substantive aspects, she thought he was a very agreeable, fine, young gentleman who had a promising career in front of him. While he was only a minor diplomat, a gut feeling told her that he was far more ambitious than he let on. And while he was a little more roguish and flamboyant than she was used to, she thought it was interesting that he seemed guarded when he was not being engaged in conversation.
Later that evening, she made the mistake of walking too near the edge of the area where people were waltzing. Before she could get to the table where she'd intended to speak to an official from the Earth Alliance, someone tapped her on the shoulder and she'd turned around to face the diplomat she had taken only slight notice of during dinner.
He bowed to her, straightened up, and then proceeded to press her close to him without asking or even faltering as most of her dance partners would have. She had neither the intention of dancing nor getting to know anybody at all, but she had found no time to refuse. And as he pulled her into the diamond grids of pairs, his scent was clear and she found herself thinking flesh and the sinews of a body propelling itself forward and cutting into the air and water.
Maybe it was his lack of hesitation or the way he had assumed right from the start that she was no more than a person than he was. Or perhaps, he saw that Cagalli Yula Atha had looked lost that night, and that she'd certainly not the infallible individual that her reputation suggested she was. Maybe it was how he had sensed during dinner that she was attracted to him as one human to another. Or maybe, it was simply that he had little regard for her title that made Cagalli take even more notice of him.
Whatever the case, she found that she could dance willingly. Whether it was with him or whether it was for reasons independent of this man, she found herself wondering if there was possibly a day when she would have to try to recall Athrun Zala and what he had been like to be with. Perhaps, the real underlying reason for tonight's break in her pattern of isolation and monotony had been the way she found that her heart did not ache for another when he smiled at her.
And when her dance partner whispered that he felt warm and wanted to escape the crowded setting, Cagalli took his invitation. He'd dismissed his bodyguards, as had she, and he'd driven her to the edge of Shanghai to see the nightlights. Under the looming lights that struck out any chance of seeing stars, they counted roofs and discussed politics and their true opinions. He seemed easy-going with an enviable energy, and even the car seemed less ostentatious in the night and as a leaning board for both of them. She was impressed with the way he could express himself so fluently and without fear of criticism at all, and she wondered if she had ever been like that in the past.
Out of a polite curiosity, she asked about his family and learnt that he had a younger brother who was studying to be an artist, and that his parents were rather like hippies. When he returned the question, she laughed and said that whatever he had heard about Uzumi Nara Atha was the case. He'd seemed taken aback and she'd laughed more. And of course, the questions turned from pets to hobbies, to the number of garden gnomes in their estates, and inadvertently to whether he was seeing anyone.
"You first." She requested. She did not ask out of anticipation but merely out of an instinct to protect herself. Cagalli was also slightly inquisitive as to whether he would say yes or no, and whether that would be a lie. But more than that, she did not want to offer information about herself that made him know more about her than she did of him.
He laughed merrily, rubbing his head as if slightly puzzled. "She dumped me a year ago. She said I was too tall to kiss her properly."
She laughed, wondering if he was lying about being dumped, being single, being too tall, or being unable to kiss and thus giving the girl a reason to split from him.
In any case, he bent over, whispering her name instead of her title, and she decided his presumptuousness was fine with her. It didn't matter that she hadn't specifically asked him to drop her title. Nor had she told him that she was attracted to him or given any clear indication. More crucial was her failure to tell him whether she was seeing anyone or not. But as his lips touched her cheek gently, then travelled to the lips, she knew that he didn't want to know. He didn't need to know.
And for that precise reason, it was the only kiss that she willingly shared with anyone since the time that she had left the courtroom. He drove her back to the hotel she was putting up at in Shanghai, and he'd told her that he would call even though she hadn't given him a way of contacting her or asked him to.
She thought that he was merely flirting around, and she was sure that her general lack of enthusiasm was off-putting. Someone like him must have been used to seeing forthcoming, attractive women, and while she hadn't been a cold fish, she hadn't been a lovesick puppy either. But he surprised her by calling, and when he asked if he could see her, she knew that some part of her had yearned for him to show that he wanted to be around her.
And eventually, she knew why.
-694 days
She found her heart beating at the flowers he sent her a few days later and she knew that it was not with excitement that a girl would receive a potential suitor with but the heartache and remembrance of another. And yet, part of her wanted to remember that pain of having tears mix with the shower; the only time when she dared to cry.
She let herself be taken out by him for coffee and she didn't resist when he kissed her again during their third meeting. She did not like him beyond a certain point, but she was afraid of being alone. He took her out for dinner a few times and she never did more than make him talk about himself and what he thought of Orb. She was highly indulgent with him; smiling and laughing at his jokes and encouraging him to talk while she listened. It was better than making herself talk, Cagalli thought, for she had nothing to say about herself that mattered anymore.
He was a very sweet person; one who made himself available and one who never demanded much or brought up anything she would have clammed up about. He liked to go riding, and he brought her to some valleys where they spent some hours laughing and racing. But throughout it, she knew that she was doing him a wrong.
He bought her so many things that she did not know how to refuse- beautiful scarves, cashmere coats and the whole gamut. She would wear those for him because he seemed to find much joy; a simple, uncalculating appreciation of her effort to thank him in this way. At his prompting, she agreed to meet his parents and his baby brother, and they seemed to like her well enough beyond the fact that she was the Orb Princess.
Despite all his sophistication, he behaved like a child in that he didn't seem to expect anything in return. It made her want to try harder. Beyond that, she loved to listen to him and the way his hands would sometimes flit in the air as he talked passionately about sports or the aquarium he wanted to bring her to. There were little things that she didn't agree with but never found necessary to disagree with. It wasn't that she was on a rebound or a recovery. There was a period if her life that had darkened in the inevitable way that the finest silver would tarnish by virtue of its pure nature, and there simply wasn't a way of getting over that in her situation.
For her, the only way she could function was to simply try and forget that she had ever lived and loved once.
-721 days
For some reason, he'd specifically flown to Spain where she had been asked to oversee some decision-making on behalf of Orb and the Earth Alliance to meet her. Even though she'd protested at the way he would be neglecting his job, he'd insisted, and he'd taken her out for dinner.
She slept with him eventually and she enjoyed it sufficiently to thank him for his time in the morning. It was not as awkward as she thought it might potentially be, but a rather efficient, inadvertent stage for both of them. He was three years younger but he seemed sufficiently and probably more experienced than her.
It had been the usual procedure of a man asking his date if she would like to visit the apartment that he'd rented for his stay. She had agreed then, and she'd offered to make coffee for both of them. While she had began to boil the water, he'd come into the kitchen, taken her in his arms from behind, and switched off the kettle. She did not protest, and he'd laid a kiss against her neck. Maybe he mistook her granting him access as proof that she was willing to move into another stage of a relationship, but she did not find clear objection to that. His bedding her was a matter of consensual want, although it had been sparked off by an almost predictable pattern of him bringing her out for dinner.
On a purely physical level, it had been satisfying to have someone's warmth and to have someone fulfill her. On an emotional level, she was not sure what to feel. He had been thoughtful and attentive, gentle and going so far to be meticulous and dimming the lights and helping her feel more than comfortable. But she didn't know whether it was enough, because her being with him hadn't changed any the emptiness.
Yet, she did not hold a grudge against him anymore than she held a grudge against those who had hurt her. It seemed that her failure to find any real feelings for him was neither of her intent nor his mistake, for it seemed to Cagalli that she had already gotten her chance at happiness. As Aaron had once remarked, that chance didn't even come for everyone, and it was good enough that she'd gotten hers.
-899 days
She liked him well enough even if she never found a need to understand him in his entirety. She could not bring herself to introduce him to Aaron or anyone else. She could not bring herself to invite him into her house even if he turned up in Orb and took her out. That estate had gates nobody could really climb or enter save for its owner, and even if she despised it at time, Cagalli still felt as if it was the estate was the one thing that truly belonged to her. But he treated her well and he was always so generous that she felt guilty at her inner insincerity.
Perhaps that compelled her to take his invitation to visit him in New York. She visited and she hated it. She hated New York because she could somehow identify with the place even more than her own country and the city that she lived in. She could see New York for its endless hurrying, its glitzy, empty lights, its soulless core but solid foundation, and she understood that for all its pedigrees, for all the myths and success stories surrounding it, it was completely devoid of sincerity.
For a whole week, she carried out her meetings and attended the necessary conferences. The bodyguards followed her around warily, for they were even more vigilant in foreign places. In the evening, she would take her dinner and a bath, reading in bed and waiting until the hotel clerk gave her a call to inform her that she had a visitor that she'd been expecting. That would be the signal for her to dismiss the bodyguards outside her door, then waiting until the doorbell rang and she checked it to confirm who it was. He visited her suite apartment every evening for them to fuck themselves senseless, and she welcomed him with little greeting but a hunger that surprised him. But he did not know that New York frightened her; that New York knew her and reminded her of herself.
He came with flowers or gifts almost every day but she threw those back, unwilling to take more than what she was giving him. Deep inside, she knew why she was keeping him with her, and it pained her to see that he thought that they were making an emotional connection. He told her one night that he wanted her to treat herself like she was worth everything and more, and in that moment, she had to bite her lips to stop herself from crying at the memory of another.
He would beg for her and when they were done, he would hold her and tell her how lucky he was to have met her. It always touched her but it made her colder yet, because the fear of the past made her withdraw. She refused to wear a rather magnificent stone he had given her and forced her to hold onto. It seemed like a cruel joke that the gift had been a dazzling ruby encrusted in silver tendrils— a weight around her neck when she had taken off the tiny weight that should have been on her at all times.
Sometimes, when he'd had a little too much to drink, he would hold her in his arms and beg her to tell him the secrets of her past and why she always seemed to be so far away when they were supposed to be closest to one another then. He would ask why they had to keep their relationship so secret, and she would tell him all the old lies and the old excuses about their positions in their countries. Those grew thin over the months, and he seemed to accept them only at face value. But then, she could never tell him why she would show him a little skin and then keep it all when she was undressed. She never quite understood that being with him was a way of hiding herself in the first place.
He would always fulfill his physical needs but nothing more than that, and it frustrated him. She knew this, but she had no choice and he had no say. Besides, no matter how she abused him with her silence and coldness outside their sex, he always returned to her.
Before she left New York, he brought her for a jazzy little dinner, fished out something with a fork from his drink, got down on his knee and proposed after she somehow missed the ring in her drink. She had accidentally switched drinks with him, almost as if it was a higher authority's intervention and warning that it would have turned out miserably anyway.
The violinist approached the table, playing a tune that had struck her as being familiar and somewhat staid during dinner. But at that point, the tune was maddening and incredibly harrowing, given that the violin was right at their table. Everyone in the restaurant paused, wherever they were in the restaurant, their eyes on her. Some people were already applauding. It was enough to pressure her into agreeing, but it was ironically his hopeful, trusting eyes that told her that he didn't deserve anymore pain than she had already inflicted on him.
So she told him there and then that she needed more time with all the intention of breaking it off, watching his smile fade and his eyes grow dull. But then, he'd been the perfect gentleman, calling for the bill and behaving with impeccable manners. He'd asked to send her home and of course, she did what she had to do and they ended up in her bed once more.
That night, he seemed to lose his confidence and he floundered as she undressed them both in a comfortable, confident, almost efficient way, like a nurse at the soldier's infirmary. He was still hesitant when she finished stripping him and took him to her, and she could tell that he was unsure of what to do with the strange crossroads she'd put them at. But she forgave him, if only because she wanted him to forgive her indecision all that time back when he'd taken her as a dance partner, and how she had broken him in some way by not protesting.
When he settled into the routine, he became more aggressive than she was used to him being, as if he had something to prove now. She woke up in the middle of the night to find him by her side, his arms thrown around her like a needy child. But she unwound those and wondered if she had made a mistake. And then she closed her eyes and went back to sleep, willing herself to forget the world in that moment. Yet in the morning, he asked her why she had mumbled something about a wooden puzzle in her drunken stupor. And it was then that she knew she could not stand to see him ever again.
So she never told him, and he understood enough not to ask her to marry him again. They never spoke to each other after that, although he was always courteous when they met- granting her at least a wan, half-hearted smile that mirrored her own. He wrote her a birthday card some time after that, and in response, she gave him a magnificent watch for his birthday. Of course, she found that she had to first make inquiries through her secretary as to his birthday date.
After that, she refrained from drinking entirely and from even allowing herself to be attracted to anyone. Still, she found herself taking particular notice of a remarkable shade of green the coffee girl's eyes were and even one of the minister who had a wry sense of humour and finely shaped lips. But Athrun Zala never wrote or even sent a card for her birthday or made a call to anyone—not even Kira or Lacus. It was as if he had vanished completely, except that his face would be plastered all over the headline news and on the gigantic screens featuring the newest Zaft developments.
For those reasons, Cagalli did not step out when she could, and she never chose to look at all that reminded her of her pain. But she found herself searching for him subconsciously in crowds; looking for him in the people that surrounded her, yearning for someone to help her forget him but always finding herself attracted to people that reminded her of him in the first place. That was the influence he still had over her, even when he was not physically present at all.
For that, Cagalli never forgave him or herself.
-992 days
Those memories were best thought of as a distant, faded period in which they'd chosen to be fools. For that matter, she was prepared to write that period out of her life. She was sure that she had moved past the days of believing that there was still some way to undo something, and she was sure that she'd passed the line dividing the past from the present.
After all, she had watched the flash of recognition in his face as he turned with that automatic, unthinking habit of putting his hand forward for the next dance partner, almost like he was a part of a factory system's conveyor belt. She had watched him enter with someone hanging off his arm, his smile slight and his partner's dazzling.
For a minute, she had wondered if she was not present but was looking at the pages of a society magazine. She'd seen one about a month ago, and there'd been a small write up about the Generals of Zaft meeting for a conference and then a dinner event similar to this one. Amidst a small photograph, the Vice-General of the Intelligence Council's silhouette and face had been clear.
In that picture, his face was grave and eyes piercing as he nodded to those around him. He had looked mostly the same in that picture—hair a little long the way she remembered it, expression sober and mouth pursed slightly in the way that she had loved. But he had not been looking at the camera or at anything in particular, and she knew that he'd been lost in thoughts when the lens had closed in on him. He would have looked even less readable if he'd been aware of the camera.
When she'd first seen the article, Cagalli had stared long and hard at the list of some of the guests, his name amongst those. Then she'd stared at the escort accompanying Athrun Zala, who'd been caught in the picture too. The lady was apparently the daughter of another Zaft higher-up and she had an air of sophistication and classic beauty that Cagalli personally liked but despised in that very moment.
Truthfully, Cagalli's mood should not have been affected by the article that Aaron had attempted to hide from her. Even now, she should not have looked at Athrun Zala and felt that tiny squeeze of pain. To be haunted by him was not something she was unused to. It had lasted seven years when he'd disappeared. Why not these three years ever since he'd left?
His face was everywhere— his voice radiating from interviews and statements he handled every week. Zaft was expanding and the Intelligence Bureaucracy had attracted a great deal of media coverage with or without Athrun's Zala presence as its head. As she had passed by shops with the latest electronic gadgets and the slimmest flat screens with the highest definition, it was uncommon if she did not see some news featuring him.
But that night, as she gazed at him when he entered, it occurred to her that even the pain was fading into numbness. That night, when she danced and for some reason, there was a moment when the partners were switched, that jolt of shock and realization at turning to see someone familiar was nothing more than that.
But that died and he was regarding her without any clear expression. He had bowed to her that evening because they'd somehow ended up as dance partners when the conductor had switched a song.
She could have taken his hand, waited for the familiar sphere of music, and then whispered all she wanted to say to him that she'd failed to for so long.
But it occurred to her that the quiet, unsmiling countenance she'd thought of for so long was vastly different from the politely controlled, courteous expression the person before her had.
And Cagalli decided there and then that if he was too polite to refuse to offer her a dance, then she would do the correct thing for both of them.
So she curtseyed back with all the dignity she could master, her eyes firmly set at the space below his eyes, and then left.
-1002 days
The sun was making its way back, burning slow and luxuriously, spilling its excess light in tangerine and corals over the ocean's face. In the distance, gulls quarreled and the rolling of the waves was endless and tireless in its quiet erosion of the coastline. The orphanage was a distance away now; a speck that seemed to grow less and less significant with the number of steps that one took on the beach.
Markio was back in the cottage, talking to Lacus. The children plotted amongst themselves to surprise her and Kira with flowers, and some of them agreed to find a vase to arrange those in.
Because the orphanage was near the sea, the effects of the early autumn were not clear and tiny pink flowers spread like flirtatious kisses over thatches of grass near the coastal inlands. Markio had asked them to stay because they had guests, but the children were feeling restless and wanted to take walks on the coast. While the adults were distracted, the children snuck out. Some of them had also run off to continue with their games near the rocks, some of them had gone to find tidal pools with their tiny creatures, and some had promised to find the rarer sea-lilies that Lacus always clapped her hands at.
They tread on sand; some with bare feet, some with shoes that they wore loosely. Some played with the water and some screamed in joy; children that didn't know better than to be children.
Kira envied them sometimes.
As it was, Kira had come out with them, finding himself more tired and drowsy indoors. Perhaps, it was also his unwillingness to see how weak and old Markio had become. Like the children, Kira had come up with some random reason to excuse himself—he'd said that he would look after the children. After clearing the last of the tea that Lacus had made for the children, he left the cottage, tracing the footsteps of the children, who'd run off in the distance.
To this extent, the children knew Kira was keeping an eye out for them. They continued to play, knowing he was following behind him, and they never looked back to see if they'd dropped anything at all.
The air was a bit more sultry than Kira would have expected, and he watched as the children scampered more quickly than him. Two of them had come only this year, and five had left the orphanage the last month Kira had visited. Some of them had come when they were barely four, but now they were running as if they sensed their years were slipping away.
Some of the boys that Kira had once carried on his back were shouting in laughter—their voices deep and gravelly; rocks exposed to the elements. Some of the girls that had once begged for piggy-rides had fuller lips and more defined features and a few seemed to shy to speak to him anymore. Inola bumped into Kira as she ran to catch up with her friends in the distance, and she apologized with a blush that bloomed on her face when he helped her up and checked her knee for any injury.
Above the beach, the cliffs loomed high and opposing to the wind, and few cars were heard above the waves; if any cars came here at all. He took his time to make his footsteps on the moist sand- darker than the other parts of the beach because of its proximity to the waves. There were others' footprints before his, but the sea renewed the canvas that Kira stepped on.
A few metres ahead, Tommy and Makura were arguing about something, and Makura made fun of Tommy's freckles. He sulked, running off with a pail that seemed full of saltwater and little else. She chased after him, shouting about the spade he'd left behind.
There was a starfish that had washed up, and Kira picked it, bending with all purposes of lifting it up to hurl it back into the sea where it would survive. Some children who were nearer to him saw what he was doing and hustled around him, looking at the creature he'd picked in his hand. The others who hadn't realized that their companion had stopped continued to run into the seemingly endless stretch of coast.
But a Kira gently took it from his palm, the other children who hadn't turned back suddenly cried out. Their excitement was loud enough for Kira and those around him to notice and they all looked up.
"You're back!" Rocco, who was taller than Kira could ever remember, looked up with a grin that split from ear to ear. And without hesitation, he ran up towards the figure in the distance.
"He's back! He's back!" The others rushed forward too. They forgot about Kira and the starfish as they scuttled away. And Kira watched as the children crowded around; oblivious to the starfish that Kira was still holding in his hand.
Their eyes met, and from where he was, Kira offered a small smile. Like the starfish he slipped back into the ocean, the smile was returned.
By the time the children grew less excited about a newcomer's presence and ran off further to the coves to pick shells, the later part of evening had set in. The sun was surely behind its curtain now, and what was left of the daylight that reached them both came from the sea's mirror. They had to turn back to the cottage, and once again, the children ran back first; too energetic and far too excited with their finds to walk at a leisurely pace.
The golden dabs and strange, moving ripples of light in the peach skies made Kira think of the inside of a shell that he'd once picked and given to Lacus. She'd put it to her ear delightedly, for one was supposedly able to hear the ocean, and now, he heard the sea's song around him. The waves continued to lurk back and forth, their whispers filling the growing darkness with meaning and secrecy.
Again, Kira walked at a far slower pace behind the children. The two pairs of footprints seemed shallow on sand that the sea continually washed over, and it seemed that nobody had come here at all.
One child lagged behind the others, and for this reason, he found a hermit crab. Eager to share his find, he began shouting in the hope that others others would run back to him. But the others were too far ahead for him and did not turn back, no matter how loudly he tried to raise his voice above the waves. While he was distracted, the hermit crab scuttled away in the direction that the child had come from, and so he found nothing when he turned back to the spot. He looked around and saw something moving on the sand about some distance away.
"Hey!" Yuta called, waving and jumping. "Help me catch it! It's running towards you!"
The two adults seemed to be deep in conversation, and Yuta frowned. They hadn't heard him.
He turned to look where the other children were far in the distance, and he made a sound of annoyance. He began to scamper in the direction where the crab had scuttled, a bit upset that neither the adults nor the children were paying him attention.
As he came closer, Yuta saw that the two were talking. He almost ran towards them, annoyed that they hadn't helped him catch the crab. But then, Yuta saw that the crab was hiding behind some weeds. Happily, he scooped it up in his pail, getting ready to run back to the other children. But curiosity tugged at him, and he looked back and watched the adults in the distance.
He watched as Kira opened his mouth to say something. Surely, Yuta realized, there was hesitation in Kira's face. And as Kira spoke, the waves crept upon the sands, washing the grains and then receding, lurking back in its constant patterns. Above, the last few birds circled and a stray one swept over their heads. Harsh gull cries echoed in the air and the air seemed less sultry and a bit chillier for a minute.
For dinner, there was an extra plate and cutlery that Lacus set out. But the food on that plate was not touched much, and there was a leftover slice of pie that some of the children helped to bake. While the adults talked, or so it seemed, the children played jacks and whipped tops to make them spin. They were eventually forced to take their baths and to go to bed, but some of them stayed up to talk and play shadow games with their hands, as the children were prone to doing in the course of falling asleep.
Naturally, the conversation for two children shifted to the adults.
Jun asked Yuta, "What kind of car is that?"
"Don't know," Yuta said blearily. He rubbed his eyes with his small, chubby hands. "It's really big though."
"It's more than big," Jun said in admiration. He was nine years old and two years Yuta's senior, and his side of the room was plastered with pictures of ships and other vehicles that he liked to cut out from magazines. "It's a fantastic car! I knew it was him when I heard the car above us at the cliff."
"Don't lie," Yuta pointed out. "You can't hear anything from the cliffs when we're at the beach."
"I'm not lying!" Jun protested. "It was a loud engine. Loud, I tell you!"
"Not from that car," Yuta countered. "Not as loud as you say. It's quiet— Markio says he comes in the evening at times; or the night. But we don't hear the car, do we?"
Jun nodded, and then realized that he'd conceded his case. He raised his eyes to Yuuta's, hoping for a change of topic. "What were they talking about at the beach?"
"I'm not sure." Yuta admitted. He yawned, feeling a little sleepier than usual because of how hard he had played today. In a jug next to his bedside table, the hermit crab tapped against the glass and Yuta sat up to peer at it. He began muttering things to himself, bleary with his sleepiness. "Kira's very quiet when he talks and I heard only a bit— I was not very near and the waves-," He interrupted himself with a gigantic yawn, "But I think he asked about Torii."
"Torii?" Jun said in astonishment. "But Torii hasn't moved in ages!"
"That's what Kira asked him about." Yuta told his roommate, cupping a yawn. "He said something about it finally stopping entirely."
"And then?"
"Kira asked whether he would come to repair it." Yuta stuck a hand into the jug, trying to provoke the tiny crab.
Jun pouted. "Lucky! I wish he could come more often like Kira and Lacus. Maybe he'd let me drive his car when I get older."
"I don't know about that. He doesn't come here much anymore." Yuta said absentmindedly, still lying with his hand beneath his chin and allowing the moonlight to look at the tiny treasure he'd taken from the beach. "I wouldn't know if he'd even go to repair Torii for Kira."
Jun's eyes widened. Clearly, Yuta's sleepiness was not that infectious where it concerned the hyperactive Jun. "Why not? Didn't Kira ask him to? What did he say, Yuta, what did he say?"
The hermit crab's tiny limbs propelled it on a rock, and it settled into its shell for the night. Yuta too, turned to lie on his back with a tiny sigh, looking sideways at Jun sleepily.
"Well, that's precisely it. He didn't say anything."
-1109 days