Author's note: Here's the next chapter! Personally, I quite enjoyed writing this, but of course, I hope you enjoy reading it! Once again, thank you very much to one and all who commented! Do leave your reviews again after reading this one!

Chapter 42

12:00 a.m.

Midnight.

Kira took a long swig from his bottle, and settled back into his chair to think.

He was facing a computer screen and he could make out the ruffled, dishevelled pale blue hair behind it – Auel, asleep on the table, with his head in his folded arms. Beside him, Stellar was tucked in a chair, her feet bracing against the edge of the seat in what seemed like a precarious balancing act. But she appeared at ease, eyes closed, breathing calm and even. Sting was on the floor, huddled in a far corner and hidden in the shadows, away from the harsh fluosrescent lighting.

Kira was the only one awake.

And he was okay with it. Someone needed to keep a lookout. He had opted for the first shift so that the rest of the team could rest. They were tired, tensions were running high, nerves were frayed. No one had ever said kidnapping was an easy job.

Of course, the other reason he had volunteered, was that he didn't think he could sleep.

There was too much going on in his head. Too much. It was like being thrust into the mdist of a crowd, with strangers streaming past all around. All talking, all conversing. All speaking in a foreign language. A hard shove on the right, then another push on the left. Stumbling, tripping, turning around, ready to snarl at the next faceless stranger that bumps into you, then realising that you couldn't speak at all. That no voice was coming out of your mouth. That you were the only one who couldn't speak in this huge, unknown world. The only one.

For fuck's sake, shut up.

He pressed the bottle of water he held in his hand against his forehead so that the coolness of the water could soothe his feverish and thrumming head. Sitting up in his chair, Kira paused for a moment, hesitating, then reached for the mouse. He pulled up the web, and typed into the search box the name "Cagalli Yamato".

He got off onto a couple of false starts – Cagalli Yamato the banker, Cagalli Yamato the property agent, Cagalli Yamato the student – before eventually coming upon an article. It was an interview. Quickly, he scanned through it, amethyst eyes shifting as he took in the information. Most of the details, he had already known. These had been part of the preparatory work he and the team had undertaken before kidnapping Lacus. Age 22, blonde hair, amber eyes, 5'4", lean, athletic, single, studied the art of directing in an overseas university, born to Haruma Yamato and Caridad Yamato.

Nothing about a brother. Or a twin, considering that Kira and her were of the same age.

He browsed through the links but his search remained futile. Most of what he found were interviews, articles, film critiques and play reviews. Nothing special. Nothing that stood out or screamed at him in the face. Cagalli Yamato didn't appear to have a thing with the press. But then again, Kira figured that those who worked in the back-scenes tended to dislike the media. Directors, camera crew, light managers, whatever odd jobs these people had, they preferred working from the shadows.

Kira smiled. It was ironic. They were just like him.

Well, killing was both a science and an art too. The art of assassination, he liked how that sounded. He had studied. Just like any other normal student. Only, his classroom had been a cell, four cemented walls, no windows, harsh fluorescent lights and a polished whiteboard. The 'teacher' wore a lab coat, and there were burly men who stood guard at the door. A room with more than twenty other 'classmates', all cuffed, their necks encased in chains that were bolted to the ground, just in case one of the students succumbed to 'boredom' and decided to play 'truant'. It was in that 'classroom' that he had learnt all about the human body. That all human beings had eight vital organs – the larynx, spine, lungs, liver, jugular vein, collarbone, kidney and heart, that slicing the jugular vein didn't cause blood to spurt, that it takes less than five minutes for a person to pass out from a lack of oxygen, but that it actually takes more than seven for the heart to really stop.

Of course, nothing beat practical fieldwork.

The aesthetics, however, came from designing the perfect crime scene. How to clean up after a murder, or how to leave an intentional clue to lead the cops off on a wild goose chase. How to lay the body in a misleading fashion. How to fight without upsetting the furniture, to kill without making a mess.

It was an art. Like theatre and cinema. And he was the director. Just like Cagalli Yamato. Only, his stage was a lot bloodier.

Fifteen years ago… Stellar had said. Perhaps it was too long. After all, the world was changing fast now. Every day, new information took over the old, pushing it aside ruthlessly. There was no more place for the old and ancient. No one was concerned anymore about the brother of a theatre director who went missing fifteen years ago.

That is, if she really had a brother.

Kira pondered for a moment, then decided to try another search. Maybe someone who didn't work so much in the shadows. He keyed in the name "Lacus Clyne", and found himself staring at more than a thousand hits. On every page, he found stunning photographs and posters of the pink-haired actress, and information that he already knew. But nothing else. The paparazzi were more interested in trivial stuff like her love life and her favourite food and what not.

No mention of a "Kira Yamato".

This time, he keyed in the name itself. And turned up empty-handed. Kira Yamato the student (again), Kira Yamato the musician, Kira Yamato the general, Kira Yamato the professor, even Kira Yamato the plumber (who promised that all clients who hired his services this week, were guaranteed a discount). No "Kira Yamato" the missing boy, or "Kira Yamato" the brother of Cagalli Yamato.

What shit was he getting himself into?

Kira closed the web browser with a swift click of his mouse and leaned back into his chair, ignoring the soft squeaks and protests of the springs. The rest of his team slept on.

Why was he so intent on finding out who "Kira Yamato" was? Or his relationship with Cagalli Yamato? Strictly speaking, it didn't concern him. It didn't matter when he was brought to the facility, why he was in it, who sent him there, what happened before the facility. None of it had mattered before, and none of it should matter now. He could simply walk away from all of it. Make sure he got the serum, sent Lacus Clyne back into her father's arms, and everything would go back to normal. He would go back to his living hell because it was where he belonged, it was where he thrived. He didn't need to know what his identity was. He already had one – Kira Hibiki, Rau Le Creuset's best assassin. What more was there? What else could he expect?

Salvation?

Kira nearly laughed out loud. There was no saving, no help. There was no way out. No one had ever left Rau, not unless he or she was dead. The world was a living hell in itself. Did it then matter if he was Kira Yamato or Kira Hibiki?

Kira glanced towards another lit computer screen. This one had a grey image on it, footage from the hidden camera that showed Lacus Clyne curled up in a corner, legs tucked in, one arm pillowing her head and the other curled around her as she held the jacket close. Goddamn it. He was on a mission, a task given by Rau, and for any mission to be successful, you had to have no distractions. That was a rule of the game. Yet, here he was, meddling with Cagalli Yamato and her brother Kira Yamato, whom he wasn't even sure existed.

Then again, how could he possibly explain his own recurring dreams?

Fuck it. It didn't matter. Kira took a deep breath and tried to slow his breathing. It didn't matter. One step at a time. His priority was to get his hands on the serum. The rest, he could deal with later.

Rummaging under a heap of coiled wires, he found Sting's laptop. It took a while to get the device going and when he had eventually gotten into the system, he found what he was looking for – the three encrypted folders. It was easy accessing the files because he knew the passwords. Inside each folder, Kira found separate documents, each labelled under a different name – Cagalli Yamato, Lacus Clyne and Athrun Zala.

Before each mission, Rau's coordinators had advance teams sent out to scope the situation. Their findings and reports were usually sent back in encrypted files. Lacus Clyne's file, according to the details on the screen, had the largest memory and held the most information, because she was the target. Kira had run through it all before the start of the mission and he was certain that there had been no mention of a "Kira Yamato".

Neither did Cagalli Yamato's file. Cagalli's information had taken up the smallest memory. The advance teams hadn't collected much information about her. She wasn't the primary target; it hadn't been likely that she would be implicated. The information provided had been sufficient enough just to make it clear that the blonde woman was close to Lacus Clyne and therefore could appear on the scene. In which case, Kira's team had been given free rein to cut her down if she got in the way. Which they did.

The last file was that of Athrun Zala's. Kira opened it with a tap of his keyboard and small condensed words began to fill the screen. The first half of the report contained information on his team. The Special Unit. Created to deal with emergency situations and tough cases that the average policeman or officer couldn't solve. Because of that, the team was outfitted with the cream of the crop of each department, and of course, it was headed by the best of the best.

Line after line of words ran across the page, and on the right, a series of photographs formed a vertical line, each with the face of a member of Athrun's team. Kira skipped those because he had heard Sting read out the details. He scrolled downwards with his mouse until he came upon the picture of the blue-haired detective.

Time to find out more about his nemesis.

The advance team had delved into Athrun Zala's history in an exhaustive manner. His details ran on for pages and pages. First came a list of his accolades, which Kira merely browsed through because he didn't expect anything less of Athrun Zala. Indeed, the detective had amassed an outstanding list of awards – in his time at the police academy, he had been the 1st in marksmanship for four consecutive years, 1st in hand-to-hand combat for three and he was the youngest student to top his graduating class; as a member of the police force, he had attained five medals, was plucked right out of the academy into the Special Unit and was promoted to its head in just a short span of four years.

The best of the best.

There were commendation letters and certificates and for a second, Kira marvelled at the proficiency of the advance teams. Then came the background checks on his family history.

Athrun Zala had been born to then Head Commissioner Patrick Zala and his wife Lenore Zala. The apple didn't fall far from the tree, thought Kira, since both father and son had found themselves in the police force. But Kira changed his mind when he read on to the next paragraph. Patrick Zala was rumoured to be a crude and harsh superior, who was hard on criminals and subordinates alike. Eighteen years ago, when his son was merely four, Patrick Zala had been accused of corruption and bribery. Attempts to arrest him led to a dramatic, full-fledged car chase that spanned across the city, resulting in an accident that saw the death of his wife Lenore Zala, who had been in the passenger seat of the car he was driving. Patrick Zala, however, escaped, distraught with the death of his wife, until the police eventually cornered him in a kindergarten, in which young Athrun was enrolled. To escape, Patrick Zala had used his own son as a hostage and fled to the airport, but his disguise was exposed. It was then and there that Patrick Zala had disclosed the last bits of his plan. He had had explosives planted in four commercial buildings scattered across the city. The news had sent the police force into frenzy and as the Assistant Head Commissioner and senior detectives scrambled to organise their manpower, a foolish junior detective had fired a shot. A shot that narrowly missed Athrun Zala and caught his father in the heart. Even in his dying moments, Patrick Zala never did reveal the locations of the explosives. He died at 6:58 p.m., and that night, the city rang out with the blasts and pained cries of those who lost their loved ones.

A nightmare that the city would never forget.

A nightmare that a little boy would never forget.

Besides the information, there was a snapshot of Patrick Zala and his wife, and a little bundle of wrapped cloths that Lenore Zala cradled in her arms. From the deep blue hair peeking out of the edge of the blanket, Kira figured that it was Athrun Zala.

The rest of the report had newspaper articles covering the catastrophe, as a city struggled to recover from one man's brutal acts. There was no mention of the little orphan in those papers. But the advance team sealed that loophole with copies of the adoption papers – Siegel Clyne, a friend of Patrick Zala's and one of the world's richest men, had adopted Athrun Zala. It was he who supported the orphan and gave him an education, a home.

And Kira knew what all that meant about Athrun Zala. The man was different. Kira had sensed it the moment he set eyes on the blue-haired detective leaning against the front doors of the Clyne Mansion, his bright emerald eyes sweeping the crowd. This man wasn't like any other, and it was because of one simple reason – he had learnt what it felt like to lose. To lose his parents, to lose his home, to lose his childhood, to lose everything. And that was what drove him to fight, and to win. Because he didn't want to lose again.

He wasn't all that different from Kira.

Kira fought to win too. Because he had killed enough to know what it felt like to lose a game of life and death. With Lacus Clyne in danger, Kira knew Athrun would throw in all his cards. Winning was the only option.

Author's note: There! Finally, I've got Athrun and Kira's brief backgrounds laid out into the open! So, what do you think? Remember to review, review, review!