This part is inspired by Keldian's song Never Existed.

Chapter edited by Hall1990 (hugs!)

Dedicated for dear readers who voted for this story :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam SEED or the clone aka Destiny.

PART I: Not a hero anymore

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The weather was simply beautiful. Azure blue sky with few a fluffy, sheep-like clouds; lazy wind, hot and blazing sun. Seriously, nobody would hate weather like this.

Except maybe one angry individual, who was currently kneeling on a roof and apparently making… holes in it.

The mighty Athrun Zala was stripped from his T-shirt, sweating heavily under the sun. The famous Justice ex-pilot was as pink as his Gundam. Some people could think, that the wise genetic engineers accessorized Coordinators with skin immune to sunburns. Yes, they did. What they didn't predict, was the birth of a Coordinator who was crazy enough to spend weeks under the hot, frying sun. There was no skin in this universe that would not suffer from it. So Mr. Zala, who had a perfect white and soft complexion, that could make every girl green with envy, was tanning like a tomato. Or like a crab.

A big, pissed off, sweaty, bruised hands, sore back kind of crab, who was angrily hammering and cursing loudly.

He could be the brilliant pilot and mighty Coordinator, who could add 2084365 and 3834936 in his head in a second, who could gain the perfect score on the shooting range with his eyes closed, but operating a hammer? He might… lack experience in it.

The tool hit the roof, missing the nail. Athrun glared at it with well deserved hate.

"Yes, Zala, what a fantastic idea. Bang!" He growled, hitting finally the nail. "Let's leave everything behind, bang!. Your life, bang! Your WELL paid job, bang! Your social status, bang! Your friends, bang! Just to figure out that you can't, bang!, fix a freaking roof, boing?"

"FUCK!" He yelled when he accidentally hit his hand.

Athrun dropped the hammer. The tool hit the roof, slipped and fell off. After two seconds it collided with something resulting in a loud crash…

Hmm, did he park his car there?

He took a deep, calming breath and looked at the beautiful view spread in the front of him. Mountains on the horizon, green forests around his house, a lake and a pier ahead of him, his vegetable garden on the left.

"I'm not pissed off." Athrun said flatly, massaging his throbbing as seven hells hand. "No, not at all. I'm calm like a fucking breeze caressing forsaken, dumb as hell, branches. Totally. Fuck you very much."

Maybe it wasn't so weird that Mr. Zala was talking to himself. It didn't have to mean he was in a poor mental condition. People sometimes talk to themselves when they're alone, yes?

The problem - Athrun wasn't alone.

Ten meters below, to his oblivious self, Miriallia Haw was watching and listening to him with her mouth wide open. While he was still trying to communicate with the damned universe, she fished out her phone and dialed a number.

"I've found him." Mir said with a hushed tone. "He's getting worse."

I don't want to be a hero anymore.

Athrun could recall the exact moment when this thought exploded in his brain.

It happened in the middle of the first international anniversary of The Second Bloody Valentine War. All the most influential leaders, commanders, war veterans, celebrities, attention whores and journalists were present.

Apparently, he was the hottest topic for the damned media. The day before PLANT announced officially that he was chosen as the ambassador in Orb. He started in few a weeks. The media went mad about this news, speculated about the decision and his motives. Was he a proper person for this position? The resentments on both sides of the conflict were still fresh, peace was strong but strained.

Was Athrun Zala ready for this?

Tabloids dug up rumors about his Alex Dino alter ego and old, possible (affirmed by some sources) romance with Representative Athha. It literally broke all kinds of social media. It looked like the world's population was divided into two camps. One saw him like the perfect suitor for the world's most famous Natural princess; the second rooted for a handsome and popular Scandinavian prince. The journalists literally occupied Athrun's every free moment, overwhelming him with questions and he was polite enough to answer them all.

Yes, he is ready to take the position of PLANT's ambassador in Orb. Yes, he's spoken with Representative Athha. Yes, they have been friends since the first war. No comments about that.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her dancing with that Scandinavian bastard. Four times.

After the war they were occupied by their responsibilities, trying hard to keep the world in one piece. There was no time for solving personal issues when the world was falling apart around them, was there? They both were avoiding talking about their problems like the plague. They were on friendly terms and Athrun was sure it was going to change for the better after his arrival to Orb, he hoped, while talking to a journalist and watching Cagalli and Sven dancing. For the fifth time.

And then, the attractive, brown eyed and green haired journalist asked, "So, after a year, how are you feeling as the great hero?"

Athrun opened his mouth to throw her a typical, meaningless answer but no sound came out. He didn't know what broke the barricade and caused an avalanche of thoughts in his brain. The word hero? The view of Sven's hand on Cagalli's small back? Or maybe the journalist's green hair reminded him of Nicol? All of this?

He felt like something crackled suddenly inside his head and fell into pieces like a broken glass.

Athrun closed his mouth and frowned. Him? A great hero? Who the fuck she was kidding?

Let's see. The First War. He lost his friends (Miguel, Rusty, Nicol), he killed someone's friends (Tolle and how many other and nameless people?), almost killed his friend (Kira) and tried to attempt suicide (how many times exactly?). His father? Kinda didn't listen to him and then died in front of him like a parody of some twisted Greek tragedy. He also betrayed his nation, he had a good reason, but technically he was a traitor. And then he almost blew his ass up (ok, along with a big, evil cannon but whatever) and was saved… by a girl in a pink Gundam. Adding to these, the surprise of his life, when Lacus dumped him for his BEST friend - it didn't look like a heroic fairy tale.

But ok, he killed but he also saved lives, he was a kid back then and he has learned from his mistakes, right?

How about fucking no. Remember the second war?

Firstly he betrayed Orb and then ZAFT again (was that making him a triple traitor? Wow, he was good at it), because the guilty conscience was eating his ass. He got manipulated by Durandal like a brainless puppet on a string. Again. He was emotionally unstable and got his ass kicked by Kira… and then Shinn (no comments). He almost got Meyrin killed and he didn't save Meer. He failed his friends and he hurt Cagalli. He knew she understood his motives but did it change the fact that he screwed up? Was there a single moment during the second war when he was not manipulated? By Durandal, Meer, his father's ghost, even Lacus?

Oh yes, a great hero, indeed. A man who didn't know who he was anymore or what he really wanted. Under that stinky pile of crap, guilt and doubting in his own abilities, was there Athrun Zala or just an empty shell, run by the desire of meeting other people's expectations? He wasn't sure anymore.

How he could be a hero and a leader, if he didn't know that?

Well, he couldn't.

It was also good that he helped to end two wars but he was also a persona non grata. In PLANT because he was a traitor after all and in normal circumstances he should have had a trial. But well, after the wars, PLANT needed heroes more than traitors and murderers and wasting his heroic potential (and cute, photographic face) would be a shame. Though, there was a loud group of angry people who demanded a punishment for him, and seriously, he couldn't blame them.

As for Orb, maybe he didn't betray the country (he's never been a citizen) but some speculated about his Alex Dino alter ego and his influence on the blonde representative. For some people who loved conspiracy theories it was a typical example of a stinky spy affair with him trying to seduce their beloved princess. He just tried or succeeded? Who knew? The speculations were running wild and he couldn't blame anyone. But he stopped watching the news.

He knew that kicking his ass far away from PLANT was a compromise. Away from ZAFT, gundams and chairmen he could not fuck up again, right? It could also stop the PLANT's media from chewing his ass for awhile (he hoped). In ORB he would not hold real power, only a representative position. Everyone should be happy, yes? No. Athrun was sure that his every meeting with Cagalli, official or personal it didn't matter, would stir an avalanche of gossips and speculations. Was he a heartless and cold bastard, who tried seduce the princess, or was he a harmless and romantic fool? Orb tabloids were going to have so much fun in inventing new labels for the new ambassador (out of the frying pan and into the fire, huh?).

Cagalli shrugged it off, saying he should not have been worrying about idiots. But she was going to stand in the middle of the shitstorm of speculations, accusations and gossips. Did he really want to add this to her already full plate? He wanted to help and protect her but… did she really need that? She was ruling the country on her own, like a fearless Lioness, loved by her nation. But the critics were there, ready to point her every mistake or a failure.

And no, he wasn't the favorite of Orb's elite and aristocracy. They have never failed to mention that Mr. Sven Eriksson was a perfect gentleman, brilliant leader, charismatic peace lover, human rights defender and oh well, a Natural from an old and prestigious family. As for Athrun and his fucked up CV, he didn't even hope to get an invitation to the "Candidate for Representative Athha's husband" interview. And well, he couldn't blame them.

Conclusion? He wasn't a hero, he simply SUCKED at being one. So, maybe it was a perfect time for retirement and being true to himself? The world wasn't ready for his screwed up heroism. Hell, he wasn't. Haumea knew what he would blow up if another war broke out. He snorted darkly at that thought.

The journalist glanced at Athrun confused. He was silent for some time, staring coldly into space and making some creepy faces.

"Erm, Mr. Zala? Everything's fine?"

He shivered and looked at her with empty, tired eyes. The sound of the broken glass was crackling in his head loudly.

"You asked how I feel as the hero. Well, I feel like a big pile of crap. Excuse me." He smiled sardonically and left her speechless.

Athrun came out of the ballroom without saying goodbye to anyone, got into his car and drove back to his apartment.

The note, in which he resigned from the position of the ambassador he sent to the Chairman the next day, was short. The mail he sent to his friends was even shorter.

I need some time alone.

And he disappeared into thin air.

Speculations about the ex-Justice Pilot, don't fade away. It's been a week since Athrun Zala's resignation and there is still no trace of the famous hero. The last interview with him is the most watched video on…

Kira sighed and turned the sound off. He's already seen the interview more times than he could count and the last part always made him shiver. During the interview Athrun turned from the person he knew and loved like a brother to someone who Kira couldn't recognize. And it made him concerned for his friend like nothing else before.

"We need to find him." He said to the people gathered in his and Lacus' mansion.

The Pink Princess smiled to him, Miriallia shrugged; Dearka scratched the back of his neck, avoiding looking at the Natural girl.

"Why? The bastard wants to be left alone. I don't see a problem here." Yzak's face on the monitor scowled (along with Cagalli, he connected with them by the videophone).

"We can't leave him alone Yzak, he is our friend and he needs our help." Lacus calmly looked at the silver head. "You saw the interview, when was the last time you heard him saying he wasn't fine? Athrun's always fine."

Yzak rolled his eyes but said nothing.

"He is not here in PLANT, I thought maybe he settled somewhere in Orb?"

Cagalli didn't comment for few moments. "I don't know, even if, he didn't contact me and I didn't look for him." She said simply.

Kira furrowed his brows, he couldn't read his sister's neutral expression. He'd stopped getting what was happening between her and his best friend some time ago. It was… too complicated for his liking. Too bad their relationship didn't go so smoothly like his and Lacus'.

"Well, we think we should start looking in Orb."

Yzak snorted. "Do you really think it's going be so easy? Zala obviously doesn't want to be found, so leave him alone, for fuck's sake! I have enough of this bullshit, I'm not wasting my time on this bastard." He ended the connection.

Kira made a face. He didn't know what exactly he expected from Yzak, a little cooperation maybe? But not this.

"Joule's right."

The Freedom pilot's jaw fell wide open. "Cagalli?!"

The Orb Representative shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry, I need to go. I'm meeting with the Scandinavian delegation." She waved and also ended the connection.

Kira and Lacus exchanged grim looks. Scandinavian delegation? It seemed the things were getting… serious. They sighed and focused their eyes on Mir. The photographer winced and raised her hands defensively.

Gods, did they know they looked really creepy when they were smiling like that?

"Ok, don't stare at me. I'll look for him, I have nothing else to do and I'm sure a fresh picture of him will make me rich."

"Oh, I'm sure Dearka will help you."

Elsman spit his tea and coughed violently. "What?" He squeaked, taking a glimpse of Mir's darkening face.

Lacus raised her eyebrows. "Is there a problem? Something's wrong between you two? Again?"

"No, there is nothing wrong between us. Absolutely nothing." Miriallia said coldly and Dearka gulped.

"Uhmm, yes, nothing. Plus, I have no time to spare. Seriously, I work my ass off. Yzak is a slave driver." He laughed awkwardly.

"I know." Lacus smiled and tilted her head. "That's why you are on leave, starting tomorrow."

Dearka stopped laughing. "I am?" He asked slowly, sensing troubles in the air.

"Yes, Yzak should receive documents any moment now." She elegantly took a sip.

Dearka turned pale. Mir was going to kill him. Lacus and Kira were going to kill him if he said no. And…

His phone started to ring angrily.

And Yzak was going to kill him.

Yay to be him!

"Are you sure you want it, kid?" The real estate agent asked.

They were standing in a front of a big, single-story house, with a spacious porch and a big, overgrown garden and orchard. The house needed a general overhaul but was ready for a new locator (if he didn't mind a leaking roof and some other things). The whole place was abandoned, off the beaten track (30 minutes by foot to the nearest small town), surrounded by forests and slowly rusting junk (last locators moved out very… quickly), the lake was shining in the morning sun. The place was ideal for some kind of a modern hermit.

"Yes, it's perfect."

The old agent took a critical glimpse at the buyer. He was young, was wearing some stylish clothes and looked like he was a perfect model for a fashion magazine. Or someone for a political meeting, not that the agent cared. His client's private and famous life was not his matter and he was not going to stick his nose into someone's business. He was simply concerned about the young man. At first, when the blue head entered his office and explained what he was looking for, the old man was sure the lad was simply bullshitting him. But then he watched the news and concluded the guy wanted a remote place to shot his pretty head.

The agent was old, living alone with his wife and was patiently waiting for retirement. One thing he really didn't need now, was a famous cold corpse in one of his sold houses. But it was not the only reason why he was concerned. He felt some weird kind of fatherly feelings towards this kid. Maybe because of the big, tired eyes too old for such a young man, maybe because of the sad smile or the calm melancholy that was hovering around him or maybe the agent was getting too old for this business. But he was damned sure it wasn't a place for this kid.

He coughed. "We have bears here."

"I have a shotgun." The guy said flatly, looking curiously around.

"The last locators said there were some strange noises at nights and this house is uhm, haunted." The agent tried his last card and raised his brows, when the lad chuckled.

"So, me and the house are going to be a perfect match." The kid finally looked at him.

His eyes were old, but there were some lively sparks too, when he smiled for the first time.

The agent sighed a little relieved. Maybe it was a perfect place for the kid after all.

Or not.

The first night was a fucking nightmare. Not because the house was haunted, but because it was full of sounds. Leaking tap, ringing old pipes, creaking bed and wooden floors, howling wind in the chimney, the sounds of trees branches scraping the roof and windows, mice scratching insides of the walls, annoying as hell buzzing of the mosquitoes.

But much worse was the overwhelming sound of desolation that was ruling the world outside his window. He was a Coordinator and he was used to the sounds of civilization. The humming of electrical facilities, roars of the cars, noises of the cities and people on the other side of the hotel room's walls.

Here he was perfectly alone. Other human beings were 5 clicks away, but it felt more like he was the last person in the universe.

It made him a little uneasy (not afraid of course, he was the fearless Justice ex-pilot) but his gun was lying near him, just in case of bears and other creatures.

Sitting on his bed, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, for the first time in his life he started to doubt his sanity.

When he left the ballroom he was sure of one thing – he wasn't fine for a long time. He has spent so much time on trying to make others happy that he could not recall what he, Athrun Zala, really wanted. He didn't want to be a soldier when he was a kid, not before the Bloody Valentines. Aside of building annoying toys and repairing things, what was his dream when he was a kid?

"Fishing." He murmured starting the car. "I wanted to learn fishing."

What a stupid and pointless dream of a child. Fishing. Good joke. Mighty Athrun Zala sitting with a fishing pole in one hand and a beer in the other hand, happily catching fishes when the world was falling apart…

The problem was, the world was quite fine, for now at least. Was he really so stuck-up to think the world would implode without him on a sentry duty? Yes, he was, he thought and then chuckled. What about failing his friends? They were all in a much better condition than him. Maybe instead of worrying about them he should have stopped failing himself?

The broken glass in his head was cracking loudly.

When he entered his apartment a plan with a code name "Fishing" was almost formed. He needed to stay alone for some time. Away from the world and his friends. As much as he loved them, their concern would only bother him and the whole plan would ended with him trying to make them not worried. And that was not an option.

And that's how he ended in the middle of nowhere, in the old house full of mice, spiders, mosquitoes and his fucked up brain hunted by the past.

What he didn't know at that moment, the house was really haunted by a ghost. But oh boy, he was going to learn about it in the very near future.

"You have… a nice view here."

Athrun smiled a little, because it was the only nice thing she could say about the place. They were sitting on the porch on the back of his house. The mug she was holding was chipped. Sugar was in a metal can because he didn't have a jar. The coffee table was wobbling. Grass outside was happily growing like a savannah. From the tall grass here and there, some old rusty junk was popping like mushrooms. The orchard looked like an enchanted scary forest.

And Zala was red as crab, disheveled and with a two-day growth. Miriallia Haw has never seen him like that in her life.

Athrun smiled, watching her. He was really glad that she was the one who has found him. The awkwardness that was caused by killing her boyfriend, has never disappeared and usually they were silent on their rare meetings. And he was thankful, because if it had been someone else, he would have to talk about himself and he really didn't want to. With Miriallia they could just sit, sip the awful tea (yes, he sucked not only at being a hero but as a hostess too) and watch each other like hawks.

She looked good but a little… annoyed? Angry maybe? He couldn't be a reason and there was only one person who could piss her off. In normal circumstances he would not ask and stick his nose into her life, but hell, he was trying to wave sayonara to his old self, yes?

"What did he do this time?" He asked.

"Who?" Mir asked confused.

"Dearka."

She raised her brow elegantly. "Elsman? Why in the world he would do something?"

Athrun just kept looking at her skeptically for a few minutes.

"Nothing. He did absolutely nothing." She finally said, having enough of his mocking stare.

Since when could HE of all people, look at her like that? Lacus and Kira had some new creepy competition. Freaking Coordinators!

Athrun took a sip. Was it just him or did she sound disappointed that his blonde friend did nothing?

"Well, that sucks." He said.

Mir blinked surprised. "No shit." She said before she could bite her tongue.

Then she looked at him more closely. He was different, but his careless look was not the only change. He was calmer and more relaxed than she remembered. Don't get her wrong. Athrun Zala was known for his calm personality and keeping his feelings in check but now… Athrun didn't try to look relaxed, he really was and that was something new.

"So, what should I tell the rest?" Mir asked him.

He tilted his head, like he was listening to something she couldn't hear and finally said "That I'm as fine as I can be."

Long after she had left his house, Mir realized she didn't take his picture.

Damn it!

In the small (population: 2098), drowsy seaside town only two kind of people have been living. The first one were old people, who have been living there all their lives and didn't give a flying fuck about the world. The second were losers who wanted to escape the world.

The arrival of a new guy who bought the old, haunted house above the town was a local sensation. He was stalked by the watchful eyes every time he appeared on the street, heading for the weekly shopping. Usually he was buying food, beer (was he an alcoholic?), someone saw him walking with a new fishing pole.

Some trucks with buildings materials were seen turning to the road leading to his house. It wasn't so surprising after all, the house was screaming for a general overhaul. It seemed the guy was going to stay for longer. Some people made a bet about how long he was going to survive in the haunted house. He had to be tougher than he looked.

The Coordinator was polite, always answered for the greetings but never stopped for talks and didn't make friends. People got used to him and he stopped being the local sensation after awhile.

But then someone took a closer look at him, put two and two together, checked Neowikipedia and well, then shit hit the fan. The anonymous Coordinator became THE Coordinator. Someone called the media. Next thing they knew a famous journalist was knocking on his door. Then, The Coordinator opened the door and before the journalist could open his mouth, he said smiling:

"I believe you are on my private property." Then he unlocked the shotgun that he was holding. "I'm counting to three. One…"

The journalist and camera crew got back to the car in a freaking two seconds. After the video was broadcasted, the whole world and the small town could spend some time on wondering if Mr. Zala suffered from PTSD.

The CRAZY Coordinator didn't seem to care. He was coming down for his weekly shopping like he didn't point a gun at the most famous journalist on the planet.

And then he repaired the "broken since always" clock on the town hall. Fixed granny's Meg unfixable washing machine. He made a Haro for Dean's granddaughter and got fifty orders from every grandparent in the town. He was spotted talking with a group of fishermen (later they said he was a quite normal guy). Simple as that he became THEIR Coordinator and guiding the nosy journalists and paparazzi to local swamps instead of his house became a local hobby.

Nobody was going to fuck with Their Coordinator.

He opened the door half expecting a journalist (though they weren't appearing on his doormat lately).

"My beloved, crazy friend!"

The blue head shut the door into Dearka's face without a second of hesitation.

"Athrun, hey! Don't joke like that. Seriously!… Don't be mean!… Hey, come on!"

Elsman was crying under the door for some time, knocking and moaning. Then he sat on the wooden steps and sighed miserably after every ten minutes. Finally he got up and searched for a good place to take a pee. Then he noticed Athrun, who was sitting on the pier, fishing in the lake. The asshole used the backdoor to escape.

"Since when are you a mean bastard?" Dearka sighed and sat near his awful friend.

"Since the first paparazzi I threw to the lake." Athrun said flatly.

Elsman wanted to laugh at the joke but one glimpse at Zala's serious face and the laughter died on his lips. Athrun wasn't joking.

They sat in silence for a while but keeping his mouth closed wasn't one of Dearka's virtues.

"So, fishing, huh? Shouldn't have you caught something already? No? Hmm… Nice weather. But damn, man, you are living in the middle of nowhere…"

Athrun sighed painfully. "What are you doing here, Dearka?" He cut the monologue because his head was starting to throb.

"What? I'm visiting my pal, obviously! Jeez, why are you so suspicious?"

Zala slowly turned his head and pierced Dearka with a cold stare. The blonde head started sweating.

"Ok, Mir kicked my ass from her apartment and I didn't know where to go. I'm on a leave again and if I come back to PLANT Yzak will force me to work."

Athrun sighed, drown his hand into water, fished out two bottles of beer and gave one to the blonde Coordinator. And he braced himself because apparently Dearka wanted to talk.

"Seriously, I don't know what is wrong with that woman. I didn't do a thing, I swear, I was behaving but suddenly she said she has had enough and threw me out! Can you believe it? " Athrun could, but said nothing. "She did the same thing when we were looking for you. Everything went smoothly and BANG!, she kicked me out. Without a reason! Go and figure it out alone, she said." Dearka imitated Miriallia's voice. "What the hell is wrong with her and her hobby of kicking my ass out of her apartment?"

"Why won't you marry her?" Athrun said flatly, staring into space.

He needed to weed his garden today. And he promised to make another Haro. Deep in his thoughts he missed the shocked look that Dearka was giving him.

"You… you think she will stop throwing me out if we were married?" The blonde asked dumbly.

"No, I don't think so. The point is you are going to have your own fucking keys, so you can come back after she chills out." Athrun sighed, wondering if Elsman figured out finally that Miriallia was just sick and tired of his "doing nothing style of life" and waiting for his move.

He doubted that but Dearka shut up finally, slowly munching information in his brain.

The fishing pole budged suddenly. Athrun, with an experienced move, fished out a trout from the water.

"We have supper." He said.

Dearka stayed only for two days, because he couldn't live without television (thank Haumea…).

"Dude, what the hell happened with your TV set?" He asked, looking a little horrified at the destroyed facility. The monitor's glass was broken by a… bottle of beer.

"Shit happens." Athrun said simply, ignoring Dearka's suspicious glare.

He was not going to talk about one beautiful evening when he was watching news and there was a commentary about Representative Athha and Prince Eriksson late meeting in the restaurant. In one moment he was holding his beer, in the next it was breaking on Mr. Eriksson handsome face.

No, he was not going to mention that. And he was not going to say a thing about how he left his house a second after and jumped into the lake. Too cool his head of course, nothing else. He had a strange feeling that Dearka would jump to stupid conclusion if he heard this, so he didn't say anything and kicked Elsman out of his house.

A week later he got Dearka and Miriallia's wedding invitation.

Along with getting his house together, the sounds of broken glass inside his head was slowly fading away.

In the beginning, the natural sounds that were closing him from every side were unnerving him, so he bought a stereo with awesome speakers, collections of classical rock discographies (Wagner and Chopin didn't fit the smell of paint, sounds of tools and his cursing) and played it during his work.

Later, when he started repairing and painting the outside walls, he moved the stereo out and just pushed the play button. The harsh sound of a guitar solo resonated above his house and lake. And he didn't have to worry if it was bothering someone, because there simply was no one there. He was alone and he could do whatever he wanted.

It was a really nice feeling.

Some days later, when he was painting the porch, he realized he didn't have music on. There was only him and the sounds of the wind. And he was ok with it.

Athrun slowly got used to the surroundings. He stopped jumping on every suspicious sound, stopped locking the door at nights and he wasn't sure where he put his gun. Whatever. At nights he was dead tired and he was falling asleep a second after his head hit the pillow. No nightmares or ghosts from the past haunting his dreams. Finally.

Living in an exile exposed one unpleasant weakness in his character that could end with his… death. Namely, he couldn't cook. Athrun and cooking equaled disaster (for his kitchen, for his stomach and for his toilet – unleash your imagination here… or maybe better not). After three months of eating combat rations, sandwiches, food from cans and ready-to-eat shit, he would kill for something normal.

After spending years on being the spoiled Coordinator that was eating in the best restaurants, his first cooking attempts were… at least disastrous. Cooking books for idiots, cooking programs, videos on internet – nothing helped, he simply sucked at it and his digestive system would need hospitalization, if his skills would not improve. Apparently he was lacking something but he didn't know what exactly.

But then Andrew Waltfeld appeared like a desert tiger from nowhere on his doormat and saved his suffering (literally) ass. Athrun had no fucking idea how the veteran soldier knew he needed help, but he wasn't complaining that someone showed into his (more or less) ordered life and stayed there for a month. Athrun just sat, watched and listened to Andy, who during his years of being the notorious bachelor, mastered the magic skills of the frying pan and boiling water.

It emerged that Athrun simply lacked "imaginations, the pinch of insanity in his cooking and he stick to the recipes like a fly to a dog". Whatever. Athrun really couldn't get what the ex-soldier meant. Recipes were like orders, right? You needed to stick to them, no matter what. If they said 3/5 kilogram of flour, you added exactly 3/5. If they said you should bake it for an hour in 180C, you did it. Simple? No. Apparently cooking was a little more complicated. But after a month of Andy's teaching he knew how to prepare the simplest dishes (without poisoning anyone).

When he finally presented his fresh made pancakes that smelled (!), looked (!) and tasted (!) like pancakes, he felt like his housewives skills have reached the top.

The next day Andy vanished and surprised Athrun noticed that he was missing the old commander. He especially missed the times when they were together repairing a small sailboat that was left by the previous locators. Sometimes, they didn't talk, just silently worked side by side. Sometimes, Andy was humming or talking about stupid, not really funny stories. Sometimes, he let Athrun talk and Athrun talked about everything that was eating his ass. And sometimes, Andy simply patted Athrun's shoulder and said simple things like "Good job, kid" and Athrun remembered the long and lost past, these few, precious memories he kept about another man. That made him warm inside.

A rare and strange feeling, but he liked it.

END OF PART I

Thank you all for reading! The second part will be posted on this Friday.

AN: If you are a Murphy's Law reader… SHAME ONE ME but please be patient D: