The true heroes are the ones that history does not remember.
Yzak Joule knelt down in front of a gravestone that had become all too familiar. He carefully lowered a branch of balsam to the ground in front of it and stroked the marble. His motion was fluid, practiced.
He wished he could become as used to the pain as he was to the motions that came with it.
"Shiho."
He whispered as he traced the name on the stone. The hand in front of him was no longer that of an ambitious youth, but of an experienced man.
Twenty years had passed since the end of the Second War.
The world was experiencing the longest period of undisturbed peace in the history of humanity, thanks to the tireless efforts by Lacus Clyne and Cagalli Yula Athha. The War had faded into a distant memory, and the younger generations born after the War only knew it through the print in their history textbooks.
It was a different world, a different time, from the troubled one of his youth.
He smiled, knowing that it probably didn't extend fully to his eyes. It had been twenty years, but he was still too heartbroken to truly smile. He also knew that he probably looked older, more wary, than others his age. He was not alone. Sometimes he would pass by another who looked just like him –the eyes always gave it away. Men, women, aged beyond their years by some terrible loss that they could not undo. Sometimes they nodded, or sometimes a simple look was enough, but they would acknowledge each other and their loved ones who would never return. Then they carried on with their broken lives as best they could.
He was one of the lucky ones, he supposed. He was able to restore some resemblance of a life after Shiho had gone. He knew many others who never did.
Yzak closed his eyes, picturing the beautiful, impossible brunette who still held so much of him in her cold, unmoving arms.
Whenever he visited her grave, there always seemed to be too much to say and he could never find the right words. So instead, he simply repeated her name, trusting that Shiho would be able to pick out the unspoken words from the sweet syllables of her name.
"Shiho."
He opened his eyes to see a pair of sparkling amethyst eyes and long brown locks. His heart stopped beating for a second before he remembered that it wasn't her. It was silly, really. The girl in front of him was barely seven, her features too round and soft, her hair too red. The eyes, he concluded. It was always the eyes.
"Uncle Yzak!"
Her bell-like voice made him laugh, and he surprised himself by how genuine it sounded. This girl was probably the biggest single help he had received over the years in making his world livable again. He reached out his arm and ruffled her hair. She pouted, and Yzak made a mental note that she was growing too old to enjoy being treated like a baby.
"Daddy said that you would be here. You're going to be late for the ceremony."
She said matter-of-factly while tugging on his arm, the same way he'd seen her mother do to her father countless times. He laughed again. She was a little angel, really. Sweet, charming, and most of all, innocent. A child born into a world where peace was the norm, a child who did not know the despair and bloodlust that accompanied war. She was his hope –hope that everything they fought for had not been in vain.
"Where is your father?"
She turned around and pointed at two familiar figures in the distance.
"Over there!"
Dearka and Miriallia waved when they saw him looking their way. Dearka quit ZAFT and moved to Orb as soon as the aftermath of the war was more or less contained. The two had been happily married for over fifteen years, with three beautiful children: two teenage sons and the baby daughter with the amethyst eyes. Yzak stood up slowly, and gently patted the girl's shoulder.
"Why don't you go ahead? I'll be right there after I say bye to Shiho."
She looked at the smooth gravestone and nodded hesitantly before trotting off to her parents. She was still too young to understand why her parents and Yzak treated a white rock like a person, but she picked up on the heartbreak in her godfather's eyes and the silent respect in her father's.
"Do you see her, Shiho?"
He returned his gaze to the marble and ran his fingers over the comforting coolness.
"The world has changed this time. We did something right."
He could hear the crowd gathering somewhere far away for the twentieth memorial service of the war. It was originally a quaint ceremony that was Chairwoman Clyne and Chief Representative Athha's idea. Over the years it had evolved into a grand, diplomatic event held in the PLANTS and attended by every chief-of-state in the world. Yzak brushed the dust off his dress uniform and checked his watch. It was time to go.
"I used to think that I was just waiting to die, to see you again. But I want to see her grow up, Shiho. Make sure that everything stays right, so that she can have everything that we couldn't have. Can you forgive me for making you wait a few more years?"
He thought he heard a familiar chuckle in the wind.
"I miss you."
With a final stroke, he turned around and started to walk.
Today marked the twentieth anniversary of the end of the Second Bloody Valentine War.
But Yzak still remembers.
And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of this fic.
Just a few clarifications, in case I wasn't being clear enough. The little girl Yzak is talking to is Dearka and Miriallia's youngest daughter (Dearka has purple eyes, and Miriallia is a brunette... hence her physical appearance. Because genetic obviously works like a simple addition problem). She is also Yzak's goddaughter (and Shiho is kind of an absentee godmother in this household, I suppose). The couple has two sons who are considerably older than her. My thinking is that this lucky girl is probably spoiled rotten by her doting father, her two brothers, and an over-protective godfather. I left her nameless because I felt the fic stays a little more genuine that way. If you know what I mean.
Of course, if you want to read the story of how Dearka and Miriallia got back together after Dearka moved to Orb, please check out my other fic,
Loose Ends.
Thank you all so, so much for supporting me through the years. Yes, years, since that is how long it took me to finish this. I feel like it is by far one of my strongest fanfics, and it would not have been possible without each and every one of you. Thank you. Again, and again, and again.
Reviews are always, ALWAYS appreciated as well.