It began as a matter of practicality (or so he said).

Even with his best friend and former fiancée on his side and a whole host of friends at various levels of government, the fact remained that he, Athrun Zala, had turned on his nation and loyalties not only once, but twice. There would be no way to get around that, nor did he have the desire to have strings pulled for him. He had spent his entire life living in the shadow of his father, a father whose relationship with him had only gotten worse when his mother died at Junius Seven, and that shadow remained over the Supreme Council even in his death. That shadow haunted Athrun even more so, chasing him, demanding atonement that he could not give.

Everyone else moved onward with their lives, with their work, with their vision of a world of peace. Everyone but him. And so he remained hidden from the rest of the world for a month, trying to piece together what his own place was.

The only way he felt he could do something about the situation in the world, with what skills his broken self had left to offer, was to stay in the military – but not the one he had so faithfully (blindly) served before. The Earth Alliance was obviously out of the question; discrimination did not vanish overnight. And so, he concluded, the logical end was to appeal to the other nation he had ever affiliated with. Orb had influence, it had connections, and most importantly, it could give him a place where he felt could be home.

Never mind that, as a Coordinator, he probably could have done whatever he put his mind to… or he was supposed to be that way. Coordinators were still human, with all the same kinds of emotional baggage that came along with claiming to be a part of humanity, and that emotionality was telling him that his identity was etched into the fight for peace. Leave it to the heads of state to fight with words and paradoxes. He couldn't live that way. It reminded him too much of his father.

Besides, ZAFT had all the people they needed in the right places. And Kira, when he was told, seemed to understand his best friend's decision. At the end of their conversation, he told Athrun that he was glad someone would be there to look after his sister in his place. It wasn't as though they weren't just a shuttle ride away, but time would be a luxury, and they both knew it. Still, they both had to do what they could, or all their lost adolescence – and the lives of far too many – would be for nothing.

So he sold off a chunk of his assets in PLANT and left for the small island nation, determined to help how he could and escape his past. Two birds with one stone.

(There was a third.)

Despite being vetted by some of the higher-ranked and most well-recognized members of the Orb government and military, Athrun's appointment in the military certainly wasn't met without much opposition. He wasn't surprised; rather, he would agree with all of their doubts. How could they trust someone who was originally part of an organization jam-packed with people intent on destroying Earth, including his own father, and then a twice-defector who looked like he couldn't make up his mind?

And even after his appointment had been finalized and the paperwork had been signed and sealed, the ceremony and pomp were over and the new blue and white became his regular attire, it all felt uncomfortable. Four years ago, he never would have imagined him in the uniform of Orb, and not that of ZAFT. But now, it was his best friend in that outfit, and him in this one. How things changed.

Settling into his new home in Orb wasn't hard. He had gotten so used to living alone after all the years without real parenting that it was the month with Meyrin that was strange, the time they spent both sitting around trying to figure out what it was they really wanted to do – or, at least, he had. There were many nights where he would just read in silence while she made tea for two, and even though she had her own things on her mind, she never once interrupted him while he was deep in thought. Athrun was grateful that the younger Hawke sister seemed to intuitively understand his need for solitude.

(He once received advice that he should just talk about what was on his mind, or like a mad hamster he would probably just go in circles. But there were only a grand total of perhaps three people who would really understand.

Or even just one.)

In the end, Meyrin returned to ZAFT, at the behest of her sister. After being tried for their charges in PLANT, they had been acquitted, and so were welcome to return. She had asked Athrun about it, and he told her that it wasn't a bad decision, but ultimately one she had to make on her own. Still, he owed her a lot and wanted her to be safe; entry into the Orb military guaranteed her little and the stigma of not being a native, even if he hadn't said as much to her.

On the day Meyrin left, they had been sitting at the café in the spaceport together, enjoying drinks in their usual quiet. For the first time, she broke the silence.

"When we were going back into space, at the end of the war… Representative Athha asked me to take care of you."

Athrun looked up from his cup, surprised.

"I… I hope that I did that, in the end."

He didn't know how to respond, so he returned to staring at his slowly emptying cup until they were both done.

When he sent her off at the gate, Meyrin gave him a bright smile and thanked him for being with her. In the end, he couldn't find the right words to say, so he gave her a hug and said sorry (for being such a broken soldier who couldn't even have a conversation, although he didn't say that). He felt her tense up at the unfamiliar action, and he thought that perhaps this wasn't the right thing to do, so he stepped back, apologized again and thanked her for everything. She only smiled again, and waved as she went to board the shuttle.

They each had their own role to play. Athrun simply thought that Meyrin's was not at the side of a broken man like him, who struggled to make up for something he could not.

"Is the Chief Representative in?"

"My apologies, Commander, but she is currently in a meeting with the Minister of Foreign Affairs," the secretary replied. "What is the nature of your visit today?"

Athrun replied that it was nothing major, just his joint progress report with Chief Engineer Simmons on the latest research at Morgenroete, and a request for the Chief Representative to schedule an appointment to discuss the report when she was available. It was the same situation he had encountered for the last two months, and he had gotten used to it. There were simply too many things that needed to be done, too many people to meet and documents to sign, and all he was doing was adding to the list. Even meetings, when they did happen, were brief and discussed only the necessary.

He sometimes had escort duty in accompanying Cagalli on various diplomatic trips, but as a commissioned officer and not an actual bodyguard, he had little proximity except for official international appearances, and the rest of the time would be spent completing his own duties as a commander. When he wasn't discussing reports on isolated incidents around the Earth or aiding in instruction at the military academy, he was at Onogoro, giving input on the ongoing research at Morgenroete. It was driven more by personal interest than his assigned duty, but he was given clearance to help nonetheless. He threw himself into his work, because he felt that he had little else.

Two months since arriving, and he had yet to actually have a conversation with Cagalli.

Perhaps, he thought as he returned to his office, he was having unrealistic expectations. In his previous life as a personal bodyguard of the representative, they spent much more time together than she would with most military officials. Now, he was just one of them, and didn't have any special privilege about him that would grant him any more attention than the others.

(Maybe he did, before. Or maybe he was wrong about that, too. He certainly didn't have them now.)

He slipped on his headset, tilted the microphone to his lips, and began to speak.

"Interface. Open schedule," Athrun commanded, watching the monitors in front of him change in response to his orders. A calendar slid onto the left screen, with lines of various colours written into each day. "Change to weekly."

Scanning over the list of events for the week, he said, "Open file AF75-03." A document appeared on the right screen, outlining the recent developments regarding the rebellion in the eastern area of the Atlantic Federation. It was only one of several that Orb was currently gathering reconnaissance on, and although all officers were to remain informed of the situation regularly, his placement and involvement with diplomatic affairs meant that he reported to the Chief Representative directly. All the more pertinent, it would seem, since the PLANT-Earth summit at the end of the month was set to take place in Washington. Orb would be attending as an observer, and this week's meeting was to discuss its involvement.

Athrun wondered if it was safe, but knew his opinion alone would do little. He would just do what he could (this time, without leaving her side).

He stared down at his cup of black coffee, his reflection staring right back. It had been a long time since Athrun had gone out for coffee; the relationship he had with most of his subordinates and peers was collegial, but extended very rarely beyond work, and he still felt that the weight of his surname hung between them. He visited his old friends – if he could use that word to describe them – every so often at Murrue's house by the sea, although Andrew would insist on making the coffee for everyone. Even after all of these years, the legend he heard about the Desert Tiger and his drink of choice still held up.

Whenever he did go to the seaside home, though, Cagalli wouldn't be there. She was busy, he rationalized. The Chief Representative had more important things to worry about.

(Things which didn't include him.)

The sound of someone pulling out the chair across from him made him look up, and he saw a brown-haired man sit down in front of him. Like himself, the new arrival was dressed casually, a change from their usual uniforms. They could have been just two friends meeting up for a drink, and that they were, but the civilian dress hid the fact that they were not just normal college students, but both officers of their respective militaries.

"Hey." Kira gave him a smile. "It's good to see you."

"Same."

Whenever duties had brought one of them to the other, they would find time to catch up, brief moments during which they could grasp onto their friendship that had carried them through so long. They communicated frequently, and often Lacus would also share the video screen with Kira, but there was still something to be said for the moments when they could actually meet face to face. It was for the comfortable silence in which they could enjoy each other's company that they really met, a state of just being that eluded them so often.

Athrun quietly sipped his coffee while Kira scanned the menu, quickly deciding on his drink of choice and flagging down a waitress. "Cappuccino, please," the brunet said with a smile, and the waitress jotted it down on her notepad and nodded, giggling slightly.

After the happy girl had returned with Kira's cappuccino, leaf pattern drawn on the milk foam, the two of them continued to enjoy their caffeinated drinks wordlessly. The peace from simply drinking coffee in a quiet café was a pleasure that they hadn't really had the time to understand or enjoy yet; that was the price they paid for being war heroes at the age of sixteen, and military commanders at eighteen. So naturally, they treasured the time they had.

This continued for another minute, each left in his own thoughts, until Kira broke the silence.

"Have you talked to her yet?"

Athrun knew there wasn't any point in playing dumb, since Kira knew that he knew who 'her' was. "No."

"It's been two months," Kira said, frowning. "Three, if you count the one before you joined. You honestly haven't had time?"

"It just never works out schedule-wise. She's busy with many more things than talking to one military officer." Athrun shrugged.

His friend said nothing in response, although Athrun was sure that Kira would insist that to her, he was more than just one of her many military officers. Perhaps like the subject of their conversation, this didn't need to be said, just anticipated. Ultimately, he knew that Kira was simply concerned for his sister and his best friend, and he could get fiercely concerned and protective.

Taking another sip of coffee, he realized that even if he had been able to meet the Chief Representative, he didn't know what he would say. 'I'm sorry' was the first thing that came to mind, but it was a rather useless statement at this point, since mere apology would not undo what had been done… and they had already tried that. Even if he tried to make up for it, he knew that things would not pan out to the way they were before. They had both changed too much for that, so he would just start with what he could do: supporting her in the best way he knew.

Kira seemed to understand, since he continued drinking his cappuccino, not broaching the question again.

Green eyes scanned the entirety of the main hall, looking out for any potential signs of danger.

Athrun didn't doubt that there were at least thirty others in the room doing the same thing, if not more, considering how heavily guarded the area was. This was a conference involving the world leaders in one of the largest capitals, so naturally the security was extremely high, but the soldier in him was already looking for escape routes and suspicious individuals almost immediately after he stepped into the room. Seeing nothing that caught his attention, he relaxed – but only slightly.

Next to him, Cagalli was reading over her papers, preparing her speech. As one of several neutral nation states present, Orb was asked to mediate several assemblies over the course of the summit, and to open it with a welcome speech by the Chief Representative. This was the first international conference of this scale after the Second Bloody Valentine War; it would not be an understatement to say that the eyes of the whole world were watching. And Cagalli was aware of that very clearly, Athrun thought, as he watched her determinedly reviewing her notes.

"Representative Athha, it's time," a man in a suit whispered as he approached Cagalli, ushering her to an aisle along the wall. Athrun quietly followed, and took his place two paces to the right and behind of Cagalli at the podium, as the acting military second-in-command present.

Although used to it by now, he was never very comfortable in front of crowds, for multiple reasons. Unlike his ex-fiancée Lacus, who held a natural skill at conveying her thoughts to others and a talent for calmness, he was more inclined to listen than to talk, to receive orders more than to give. In some ways, perhaps the traditional military structure that Orb had befitted him better than the slightly blurry distinctions he experienced in ZAFT. But here he was, standing in front of a large crowd of ministers and heads of state in Washington, glad that he didn't have to say a word today.

He focused his attention on the seated crowd, Cagalli's words vaguely registering in his consciousness. With all the stage lighting, it made it difficult to spot anything suspicious, and forced him to concentrate more. He would not let his guard down; bodyguard work was nothing new to him by now, and he refused to make a mistake. Not when this was something he could do.

(Apologies wouldn't do, and words were empty. His actions would speak louder, he hoped.)

Finally, the opening speech was over, and Cagalli lowered her hands to her side, giving a polite bow to the audience. As the crowd applauded, she turned to exit from the left side of the stage. Athrun made to follow her. Careful to keep close but stay two paces behind, he cast a glance out at the figures below, with their cameras flashing. But something didn't look right.

Discreetly looking out again, there was a glint where there hadn't been one before –

– immediately, he sprung into action.

"Cagalli, down!"

Athrun grabbed Cagalli by her shoulders and turned them both away from the stage, shoving her down and throwing himself on top. Only a split second later, a gunshot rang through the room. He could hear the bullet passing by, missing them narrowly; he rolled the two of them off to the left, rather unceremoniously shoving Cagalli down the small set of stairs and then following suit. It was only when he landed on the ground on his side that he felt a shot of pain run through his side. He touched it with his hand, lightly. Blood.

Wincing slightly, he quickly drew his gaze back up from the ground, watching as screaming people ran in front of them and out of the room. If Cagalli's assailant were to shoot now, there wouldn't be a clear shot and it would be likely to hit other people. The shot came from the opposite side of the room so the likelihood of another attack was low at the moment, if the person was alone, but he had no way to assess the situation right now. He spared a look back down at the blonde on the ground next to him, who caught his gaze with her own confused one.

She was all right. Good.

A few moments later, squads of guards rushed into the room to protect the Chief Representative, but by then the assailant had gone.

He woke up to white lights and the hum of machines.

Athrun blinked, a temporary forgetfulness casting a shadow over his mind. Slowly, the events of several hours ago came back in flashes – a crowd, a gunshot, the sound of panic. He sat up in his bed, wincing at the sting of a wound he just remembered he had, his right hand carefully reaching for his side. Underneath the hospital robe he found himself in, he could feel the covering of wrapped bandages.

That was right. Someone had opened fire in the conference hall. What was security even doing? How could they let someone in like that? Not to mention that the wound he had suffered was worse than he had initially thought, and so he had been rushed to the hospital and told to rest. He didn't know anything about the current state of affairs…

Before he could plan his next course of action, the door opened.

"Athrun!"

And in came Cagalli, a surprised but relieved look on her face. She walked over to the chair next to his bed and took a seat.

(Once, she might have run over to his side, but not now.)

"Cagalli," he said, a little more weakly than he had intended. "How is everything?"

"Everyone tried clamping down on the press, but that didn't work out. Otherwise, we're proceeding as if nothing happened, minus the extra security." She sighed. "The Atlantic Federation assigned another five bodyguards to watch over me after what happened – to cover for themselves, I guess. Do you know how much I had to do to get them to wait outside?"

He chuckled, in spite of his current situation. It had felt like a very long time since he had heard her talk like that. She noticed how he was enjoying himself and quietly grumbled a complaint while glaring, before falling silent and looking away. It stayed that way for a few moments.

"… you know, this feels familiar, sitting here," Cagalli said. "You're always the one in bed with all the injuries."

"Yeah," he answered. "This injury… reminds me of when we first met."

At that, she reddened slightly, as though she too remembered. He never forgot.

"I'm glad we got time to talk like this, even if it had to come the way it did," she continued, after a pause. "I'm sorry I've been so busy that I couldn't even meet with you."

"It's okay. You have Orb to rebuild… and I want to help with that."

Cagalli looked away, again. "I didn't even get to ask you why you came back, really. I can't help Orb if I don't know my own people, and I guess you're one of them now."

"Because I owe the world that much."

"If it's because of what your father did – "

"It's not. I'm past that now." Athrun took a deep breath. "I've done my own things that have resulted in destruction, and if I could just apologize for it, I would. But the world doesn't work like that. Words are cheap. Even if I tried to make up for my mistakes, I'd never be able to. The fight for peace didn't end with the end of the war – it never will. So I'll just do what I can."

"Athrun." He saw her gaze soften, and he decided to finish his thought.

"And because I owe you that much."

He left what he meant unsaid, because they both knew. For a few moments, he stared right into her eyes, until she turned to look at the clock hanging on the wall.

"Shoot, I have to go," Cagalli said, getting up out of her chair and making for the door. "When you're checked out of here, report to me, okay? I need some reason to get the extra guards off of my back… and you did save me, again, so I can probably convince them I'll be fine."

Athrun slipped off the bed and followed her, grabbing the door handle for her. He was about to open it when she stops him with her hand on the door.

"You don't owe me anything… so let's just say we're even and go from there. Or else your hamster brain will just start thinking too much again."

She let go of the door and he pulled it open, watching as she went off with the bodyguards. He laughed quietly; she was right about them hounding her. Perhaps he would have to discharge himself faster and help her out a bit. Not because he owed her anything, but because he simply wanted to. Wasn't that the point of choosing your own future?

Even so, he thought, if he looked back at his choices from the last few months… he still wouldn't change a thing.

(Because even if he wasn't seeking redemption, he would have sought her anyway.)

A/N: I chose to go with Athrun's rank in the HD Remaster ending rather than the Special Edition 4 one for various reasons that I won't go into here. It doesn't change the point of the story that much, anyway?

Originally, I wrote this with a stronger A/C bent in mind, but partway through I realized that that wasn't the complete point that the story itself was trying to iterate, so I apologize if it comes across as disjointed. It's still there in the end, although the degree to which it goes is open to interpretation.