Title: Unbroken
Author: Jusrecht
Pairings: Shinn/Cagalli, hints of Athrun/Cagalli, Shinn/Luna and Shinn+Athrun
Summary: Sometimes love just comes your way, whether you want it or not.
Warning: First o all, this fic is long. Read that LONG added with the prefix 'intolerably'. Second, there are some allusions to male/male relationship, so people, beware. Grammatical errors also are to be expected because this hasn't been beta-ed. Another warning, I don't claim to know the military structure of ORB so if I have it wrong, I apologize. Lastly, in this story a major character in Gundam SEED – and Destiny – is, to be blunt and honest, dead and I don't recommend this fic to people who positively adore a happy-ending AsuCaga, so guess who the unfortunate soul is and choose to grab the risk or leave immediately. That's all.
Disclaimer: Every character appeared and mentioned here are not mine. I only own the plot and situation.
Notes: This is a fast-paced story of a pairing which is ever so intriguing for me. Here, Shinn is an emo-boy, like he is in Destiny most of the times, and Cagalli may appear a lot cooler. Consider it a warning. One more thing. I was already halfway in writing this when it suddenly struck me that ORB might not have four seasons. I'm not sure about its position but let us just pretend that it does, or else this fic will be simply impossible. This fic is already impossible enough without that one aspect though, so... Anyway, enjoy!
He meets her on a bright day of summer.
The park is quiet, afternoon air stagnant with heat that clings onto his skin while insects hum softly in the background. Life has been particularly vicious to First Lieutenant Shinn Asuka on that day, beginning from his early start when he realized that his fridge contained nothing remotely edible. Later at work, he couldn't find his report on his last mission on the desk where he had left it the night before and the Head of Joint Chiefs had not stopped to badger him about it. And to top everything else, just before lunch break, his cell phone had rung and Lunamaria's voice drifted through the line, shy, hesitant, but unmistakably happy when she told him about the marriage proposal she had accepted.
It shouldn't be a problem. He doesn't love her that way anymore. It was exactly the reason why they broke up three years ago and none of them has ever thought that it is a wrong decision to make.
But it still hurts.
"Shinn."
Cagalli Yula Athha isn't a name you can coalesce with the sense of gentleness and yet her voice peals softly when she speaks his name. Her head is tilted slightly, surprise lightly coloring her placid countenance, and the white colour of her uniform glimmers under the scattered, diffused sunlight despite the shade of the tree she is sitting under with knees drawn close to her chest.
His first reaction is, of course, an offensive retort.
"What are you doing here?"
He is expecting a flash of anger in her eyes or a fist flying straight to his face, but neither answers to his expectation. She raises her eyebrows and the reply comes in a rather unperturbed manner.
"Enjoying the good weather."
For one reason or another, he suddenly feels much more offended than before. His hands coil into tight fists and the package of sandwich he has just bought deflates under the pressure, ham, lettuce, and sauce clashing together and turning his meal into though colorful, a much less appetizing jumble. Shinn hisses when red-white sauce leaks onto his palm, leaving a sticky mess which he obviously cannot lick clean with her staring at him with those eerily calm eyes, and has to content himself by cursing the wrapper along with the bakery in four different languages.
Cagalli remains unruffled throughout the disastrous chain of events, only the faint twitching of her lips betraying what amusement she may feel. He shoots her a dark glare, but she only waves vaguely to the space next to her and says, "You may want to sit down to eat that."
The plain invitation almost sounds like an insult to his ears, and his blood, dyed with thick anger and possessiveness, once more seethes in his veins. This place is his sanctuary, his safe haven to find peace and solace when he needs them. Here he can pretend that he doesn't live in ORB, doesn't work for a military which has played a part in tearing apart his life and family, and he can – for a little while – stop thinking about why despite all that he still ends up at ORB. The decision came to him through a muddled mind and yet he has done nothing to fix the error until now, not while he is still unsure whether it is truly an error. It bears too many contradictions, guilt, and self-reproach, and sometimes these warring sentiments are too much for one person in a particularly bad day.
But here she is, the strongest reminder to everything he wishes to forget for the moment, sitting around as if there is no country she has to lead through war and peace. Her schedule should be tight enough to prevent her wasting her time in a place like this and intruding upon other people's private places – though the latter is rather a moot point when observed closely. It isn't as if no one but him has the right to be there.
Painfully aware that he is losing an argument with himself, Shinn sits down with a huff and snaps at her, "Don't talk as if you own this place."
"This is a public establishment," her reply is careless, uninterested.
Right. A moot point.
Shinn takes a large bite of his sandwich with unnecessary viciousness, glaring at the grass squashed under his feet. It is pretty obvious that she is not going to leave and in that case, neither is he, if it's only to show the world that no one, not even the Head of Representatives, could make him leave this place he treasures so much. Inwardly he curses his bad luck. Among countless other – and better – spots this park can offer, the reason why she must choose this one is lost to him. Sure it is comfy and sheltered from the scorching sunlight, but there is no merit this one has which others do not.
His reason though, is pretty obvious for him. He cannot see ORB, not even a glimpse of it from this place, and that is why he can pretend. There is no ORB, no ZAFT, no flame of war flickering into wakefulness, no Stellar or Lunamaria. Only him and the lines of trees and the gentle wind and silence.
In that small park, peace exists.
Which obviously cannot prevail with men in black suits watching him closely, almost antagonistically from behind another line of trees not far from where he sits. He glances around, expecting to see more horde of bodyguards the great and important Lady Athha cannot go without.
But she raises no further argument and looks away from his silent glare. Shinn opens his second sandwich, trying to ignore her presence and finds that it is as ignorable as his prickling annoyance which only swells in the silent heat. They used to argue, though over what he can't seem to remember despite it occurring like probably thousands times already since he enlisted. She used to come down to the military base during her spare times and they would meet by chance, and always a dispute would ensue with him usually suffering the loss in the end. Perhaps it has something to do with her being a politician and thus, cannot help but to possess a certain skill in holding a debate.
Not that the knowledge made her presence become more bearable. The mere sight of her angered him and she pretty much didn't help with her persistence to counter every snarl and retort he made. If it wasn't for Athrun – and the risk of a capital punishment for attacking an eminent public figure, not to mention, the most important person in ORB – he doubts he could refrain himself from strangling her.
Now he finds out that a silent Cagalli is much less bearable.
Shinn frowns at the thought and forces himself to concentrate in chewing and swallowing his meal. She remains still and he soon finds himself glancing at her repeatedly from the corner of his eyes, feeling much more at ease in the company of her sharp mouth than this meditative silence. But he cannot pretend that he doesn't know why she doesn't pummel him with a barrage of expletives anymore.
He knows. He remembers. And it hurts him still, but he cannot help but to watch her as she stares past every splendor the quiet park in a summer afternoon may offer, her gaze not yet moving from a distant spot which he knows doesn't exist.
He has always watched her, yearning to speak the words of apology which aren't there, either silenced by his pride or the mishmash of emotions he always encounters when he sees her. He has always been so rude and this silence she has born so constantly since more than one year ago almost serves as a reminder for him, that he has prejudiced her in the worst possible way. The fact that he hates and loves ORB doesn't change, but time which has passed and the wisdom which comes with it shows him that he hasn't given her a chance to see her beyond the name 'Athha'.
It still hurts him and so he has always watched her silently, torn between pride and guilt.
He had always watched him too, but it doesn't matter now.
Shinn finishes his sandwich and leaves without a word.
When he finally apologizes to her, it's on a windy day of autumn.
Shinn has met her at the same hour, at the same place more than he bothers to count. Sometimes they exchange short sentences – from her part – and angry snaps – from his part – but more often she will sit in silence, staring into space while he takes bite after bite from his lunch and usually manages to irritate himself further. He hates this silence, hates to sit with her while trying to enjoy his meal, hates Lunamaria and her upcoming marriage, hates everything else and the world in general. Lately his bad days have increased to almost every work day and yet he still returns to the small park to find some peace despite the risk of having a very disagreeable companion.
He chooses to dismiss the faint disappointment he feels every time he doesn't find her – or any man in black – there as nausea from eating too many sandwiches. After all, the only other possible explanation insinuates a level of absurdity no sane man can stomach.
In the end, he can only watch her and think of the apology his mouth refuses to articulate. Or in other words, he is twenty-two years old and unable to express his long-suffered remorse. Somehow it sounds really pathetic.
If only things haven't gone wrong. But he has given up dwelling in the past, knowing that it is of no use, and now is staring at his pastries, demanding himself to explain why he bought five instead of three as usual. There is only one reasonable explanation, which he finds not reasonable at all, and so he looks up to find her still staring at whatever she has been staring at for the last five minutes, and growls, "I begin to think that you do nothing but sit here all day and neglect your work."
Cagalli turns to look at him, forehead creased and quite obviously bored with his relentless attempt to break a war between them. The reason should be obvious, but of course all is lost to an annoyed Shinn Asuka.
"For your information, I also have lunch breaks," is her unsympathetic reply.
"I don't see any lunch," he retorts snappishly.
The first smudge of irritation flashes across her countenance, but it is too brief and thin to be perceived clearly and soon has disappeared, replaced by her usual lack of interest. Scowling, Shinn decides that the situation has become even less amusing. Being all cross and touchy alone isn't fun, especially if his partner in conflict seems so calm and indifferent – and looks as if she doesn't care what becomes of the argument. It almost feels like he is being laughed inwardly at.
"Taking lunch breaks doesn't necessarily mean I am eating lunch," she finally says, her voice not vibrant enough to let him distinguish what kind of emotion reigning behind her uninterested facade.
He glares. "But you never eat anything."
She looks at him oddly and Shinn suddenly feels his face growing hot with more than just anger. At this rate, he will surely lose another argument – and horribly so. She used to be less imperturbable and obviously far more easily provoked when he tried to start a fight. Her irritation would burn him, lending fire to his infatuation, and it made victories feel sweeter although losses also more bitter than ever.
Those small quarrels were a diversion he, though not exactly looked forward to, did not mind to take part in sometimes. Living in ORB has its tolls, especially for him who not only loves but also hates the country fervently. But Cagalli no longer is the girl he always bickered with. She has matured, developing into a lady with a temper fit to lead a country and to bear the name 'Athha', and yet he cannot help but hate still that one moment which has completely changed her.
If only it didn't happen.
Shinn frowns, refusing to follow that line of thought any further, and turns his attention to his untouched meal. The question why he bought five has yet to be answered and the pastries are looking back at him as if demanding for explanation. He glowers at them, ready to give in to the idea of donating them to the security guards in his office who may have to spend long dreary hours of night watch, when another idea walks leisurely into his mind, as if not aware of the havoc it will create a second later within aforementioned mind.
His initial reaction has been violent – as usual – before common sense eventually takes over and elaborates to him in a very patient manner, why it is actually a very sensible idea. Shinn snarls, objects, threats, and gripes, but the idea still prevails in the end and even he has to admit that there are – though minor – beneficial consequences in carrying it out. After all, why not? If he doesn't look too closely, there is no real harm in doing something so...altruistic.
If he doesn't look too closely.
And so hurriedly, as if afraid that wits will leave him, Shinn shoves the box under his companion's nose and mutters – fast enough for him to hope that whatever he says is unintelligible. "You can have one."
Cagalli raises her eyebrows, clearly surprised, and is speechless for several long minutes – or so it seems to Shinn – before then replying tentatively, "I should not. You seem really hungry."
He grits his teeth. "No, I'm not."
"I really don't need it," her voice is firmer, tighter, and the frown which starts to develop on her face convinces him that this is just another battle she doesn't intend to lose.
Neither does he, in that matter.
"Why can't you just take one, damn it," the words surge out of his mouth in a violent tide, deep irritation fueling them. "Why do you have to make everything so difficult? Okay, maybe sometimes I act like a jerk to you, but..." He stops, not knowing what to contradict the earlier part of his unfinished sentence, and eventually settles on scowling darkly at her. "Just take it, okay? You look even thinner than the last time I saw you. Do you want to starve yourself to death or what?"
His outburst is suspended in the air like a lingering taste of the forbidden fruit, thick and unpleasant, and she now stares at him with more than just plain astonishment. Something in her gaze suddenly makes him afraid that he has struck a nerve as the wind blows cold whispers into his ears. It isn't entirely improbable, now that he thinks of it, although it may not be done consciously. He isn't afraid of her anger. It is something else entirely which alarms him, something which surprises him with its capacity to make him feel much more than just uncomfortable.
But the look vanishes from her face and she reaches into the box, picking up a slightly flattened piece of meat pie. "Thank you."
What he is attempting isn't exactly an apology but he still breathes out in relief, even though the sentiment is quickly washed away by another wave of irritation, this time originated by deep embarrassment. Stupid thoughts. She has too much, is needed by too many to want death. She cannot, should not wish for death in the state she is in.
Shinn cringes as he reaches for one of the remaining pastries, wondering why to die sounds like a privilege in that case. The thought makes him feel guilty and he takes an unnecessarily large bite, trying to swallow his uneasiness along with the chunk.
But of course Athrun...
Athrun.
The familiar pang slowly writhes into life, but once more Shinn refuses to look that way. He takes another bite from his pie and contents himself with the thought that she did accept his offer.
It's a start enough.
From that day, he always reminds himself to buy a little more than he is capable to eat. Not to share anything with her, but who knows, who knows if she can make him very extremely angry and so, obliges him to have more calories to fight back. And she does have to eat if he wants her to trigger a fight. There is no fun at all in fighting a spiritless opponent and she has fallen into that mood only too often lately.
Nothing altruistic, really.
Autumn slowly creeps away and winter comes quietly but unstoppably, lacing its cold, white fingers with everything around him.
It has never been cold enough in ORB but Shinn, after spending several years at PLANT during his service in ZAFT and used to its carefully simulated weather, still finds the winter in the island of his birth quite challenging. However, it isn't anything that can beat the soldier in him and prevent him from doing his daily lunch ritual.
The day is cold on 22nd of December, light snow fell throughout the morning and has just stopped a few minutes before he goes out to buy lunch. The streets are rich with colours, stores lavished with red and green and gold, and Shinn cannot help but to feel cheerful when he breathes in the cold air, allowing the wind to tousle his already chaotic hair and freshen his work-bent mind. With Christmas just around the corner, everyone is in high spirit. He simply cannot maintain his sulking mood despite the argument which rose just this morning between him and – once more – the Head of Joint Chiefs.
He never had this problem before with said head's predecessor.
Shinn joins the short queue in front of the sweet bun vendor, drawing heat from two cups of mocha latte he has just bought into his exposed palms. He purchases a bagful since most likely – from experiences – she won't bring anything. Even if she cannot make it today, there are some homeless who will only be too grateful to have her share. Or perhaps he will be hungry enough.
Finding the thought unlikable, he focuses on his feet to bring him to the park in hurried steps, careful of the beverage nestled in the crook of his left arm. The place no longer remains only as a shelter he will seek on bad days. It has become his habit to come down there everyday and Cagalli sometimes will also be there, usually looking too tired and so unlike her appearance on screens, and so he thinks that it cannot hurt to spend some times with her despite their long-standing animosity. Or merely so-called now if he isn't overly reluctant to admit it.
He is ready to hit something when he finds their usual meeting spot empty. No man in black either. Maybe there are things she needs to take care of, things more important than wasting her time sitting around at a public park with someone who has no political gain whatsoever.
"Shinn."
Her voice is clear, not as soft as it was once on their first encounter in the park, and he looks up, finding her sheltering herself under another tree not far from there. He raises an eyebrow and she motions toward the ground he is standing on as if it should be obvious.
"The snow is too thick."
On second thought, it is obvious.
Shinn takes his place in front of her with a huff, biting back a nasty retort which is ready to escape from his mouth. It is only too easy to fly off the handle while dealing with her and he cannot, for the life of him, figure out why. The argument that she is a member of the Athha family is growing old, he grimaces at the thought, and yet the level of his sarcasm does not seem to decrease over the years.
Of course there is one more cause he can think of but it shouldn't count. If anything, it also is already too old. After all, the subject in question has gone almost three years ago.
He frowns and shifts his attention to the drink he brings with him and hands her one without a word. She accepts with a small 'thanks' and starts to ask him about his day, their usual – and safe – prelude into a conversation. After a long string of complains from Shinn about being forced to work on what is supposed to be a winter holiday, they start meandering among less depressing subjects.
"So, what are you doing on Christmas?" he asks casually as he takes a handful of snow and balls it with his hands. A tree several feet from them soon becomes a convenient throwing object. Too bad he cannot spot any man in black. They are too good in doing their job.
"Some people decide to throw a party and I will have to attend it," her voice sounds bored and she also hits the mark with the same airiness which makes Shinn want to strangle something. A girl shouldn't be able to aim that well!
Taking more snow into his hand, he directs his next shot to a juncture between the trunk and a right limb, and remarks, maintaining the shade of nonchalance in his voice, "One of those parties for important peoples, I bet. Is there any chance that you'll die from suffering too much boredom?"
"You have no idea," she replies dryly and once more her snowball arrives at the exact same spot his did. There is a small twinkle in her eyes when she turns and looks at him. "Obviously it isn't as hard as it seems."
"Really? Watch this." Now more than just determined to show his female challenger her place, Shinn makes himself another ball and, assuming all of the airs and a perfect stance of a professional pitcher, throws it to a small branch far up to the right of the trunk. The impact of his clean hit is more snow falling to the ground and a grin which seems just a little too smug. Unfortunately, it isn't long until she displays the same – if not better – level of marksmanship and the complacency on her face is a little too much for Shinn not to do something about it.
He takes another handful of snow and decides, "The first one to miss has to call herself stupid for the rest of the day."
"Himself," she corrects, the little smile now marred with a faint frown. "And for a bet it's unfair. You only have to do that in front of your colleagues, but I have a meeting with the Foreign Minister of Italia right after this."
"Doesn't he count as your colleague too?" he rallies, persistence – and obstinacy – burning bright and hot in his chest. His argument is perfectly valid, but she rolls her eyes and suddenly he thinks that to relent probably is not that much of a defeat. After all, she is a girl. A boy should concede once in a while. That's just how the world goes.
"Okay, what about a Christmas Eve dinner?" he suggests in the end.
She raises her eyebrows skeptically. "Dinner?"
"Yeah, in a fancy restaurant and all that. The loser's treat, of course."
Another twinkle lights her eyes and suddenly Shinn gets a feeling that he has just stepped into a field of bursting explosives. "Deal."
Too late to back out – and absolutely having no intention of doing so – he nods and scoops another share of snow into his hand, the previous already melting out of the gaps between his fingers. "Third branch to the right," he informs and takes an aim.
It is a second too late when he realizes that his fingers has gone numb from holding the cold snow for too long and he can only watches in a trancelike shock as his shot misses the target by an arm's length. A horrifying blemish in his records, really. And as if it isn't enough, his challenger obviously considers it to be a perfect chance to plummet his pride straight into the seventh hell and hits the target with a straight-to-the-mark shot
"Mediterranean at seven o'clock, shall we say?" Cagalli says smoothly, her smile not wide but certainly smug enough.
"Shut up," he growls, wanting nothing else but to shoot the smirking victor in the face. "You're the Head Representative. Don't you have an important dinner meeting or something like that for Christmas Eve?"
"What's this? Looking for an escape?" her voice rings with unmistakable glee and it takes Shinn's all willpower to restrain himself from looking for a stick and beat her into a bloody pulp. But then her eyes dim and she adds, "Usually there is a family dinner, but unfortunately Kira and Lacus are away."
It is the slightly subdued note in her following words which distracts him from any half-baked homicidal plan. He isn't trying to sympathize but her words dance around him like a taunt because he cannot help but to remember of his own share of Christmas Eve gathering. Lunamaria would always invite him to her house for dinner, along with the others, and he would always come although she and he were no longer in relationship because they were friends – if anything, he has known her long before he started liking her in that way – and they are still friends now but Shinn isn't sure he wants to see her wrapped in another man's arm just yet.
They aren't made for each other but it doesn't mean that old memories cannot go in the way.
"But Germany is a great place during Christmas," she speaks again, the momentary slump of her mood vanishing quickly with a wink. "Definitely not a bad place for newlyweds."
"They sure take their time though," he mumbles, his own mood not recovering as fast.
"It's a honeymoon, Shinn, what else do you expect?" she responds wryly and takes another sip from her cooling drink, pointedly ignoring the darkening scowl on her companion's face.
"I wouldn't want to go for a honeymoon that long, if it were me. Seems stupid."
She releases a mocking sigh which sounds dramatically desperate at that – even he has to admit it – lame argument. "No wonder you don't have a girlfriend."
But that one grazes just a little too close to the mark and he feels numb all the sudden. She probably doesn't mean anything but Lunamaria is going to marry in two months and now red lights are flashing before his eyes. It is uncalled for, anger rears its ugly head from its nest, and Shinn knows that he has never been good in controlling his volatile emotions in the first place, which is exactly why he finds himself raising his voice a moment later.
"Oh yeah? And how did you come to the conclusion that I don't have a girlfriend?"
Her gaze is cool, wary – she obviously notices his rapid change of mood – and she replies with a voice which has spoken too many matter-of-facts.
"You won't waste your time everyday with me if you have one."
Shinn cannot believe his ears.
That is not the case. That day he saw her, alone, despondent, close to fragile, and although there always was a thorn prickling inside him every time he looked at her, he tried to help. Part of it probably was driven by guilt, but he wasn't trying to seek for any company and the way she said that sounded like she merely accused that he did not have any friend. Which is dead wrong in every sense. He can get half of his workmates to accompany him to lunch if he wants to.
She doesn't try to see. She just blurts out what she wants without thinking.
It is pure anger which drives him out of the edge and snaps, "Well, I'm not surprised that you don't have a boyfriend because your attitude sucks!"
Even if he is trying to seek for a new company – or even a sort of consolation from what Lunamaria did to him – the wound is just too new for anyone to prod.
The silence which follows his outburst is stony. She stares at him, not surprised, but the reproach to herself is evident in her eyes. She realizes her mistake, but her voice is still even, calm enough when she speaks again.
"I know."
For some reasons, the lack of emotion in her voice dissolves his fury into cold, harsh realization. "I–" he starts, groping amidst the uneasiness thick in his chest, and fails at recognizing anything else but a name. "It's– no, Athrun–"
The rest of his words vanish along with the name spoken. Athrun. The single word descends upon them like a forbidden spell, binding them with layers and layers of thick, impenetrable mist, and it is then when Shinn knows that he has done a very big mistake.
She averts her eyes slowly, her lips tightly drawn into a thin line, and he finds himself mirroring the gesture. Her wounds have not healed yet, he realizes, but neither has his. They run too deep and his feelings have been suppressed for too long for the gash they leave to heal so easily. At least not in front of the person he has spent almost half of the years in his life hating.
She is Cagalli Yula Athha. She is ORB herself. She is the strongest reminder of him.
But the news from that day hurt not only him. He saw her breaking, shattering, falling, and then rising again only to gather what pieces which are left scattered about and make her life intact again, though empty it was. All done for her country.
Shinn had never hated somebody as much as he hated her on the morning when she appeared again in public, looking perfectly fine if somewhat thinner.
She shouldn't be able to forget him that fast.
She shouldn't be able to be that strong.
"At least he loved you," he hears himself saying, the sharp tinge of his vocal inflection biting into his lips like a razor.
But she was also hurt. Both of them are still hurting until now.
"I know," she replies quietly and he feels her eyes on him. Slowly, carefully, he returns her calm gaze, but the mist is still there, thick, stifling his voice, like the name 'Athrun' always has.
"At least he was a lot cooler than your brother," he murmurs when he finds his voice at last. It feels like swallowing a mouthful of sawdust, but he simply has to say something.
There is no razor.
"I know," Cagalli chuckles softly, the sound reverberating merrily in the white landscape, surprising him. She shouldn't be able to be that happy, but he sees the ring, still circling her finger as she blows warm air into both palms of her hands, a beautiful red color that compliments her golden eyes, and he wonders about a promise that can never be fulfilled. She doesn't notice her fleeting gaze because her smile doesn't falter, an exquisite but delicate curving of lips. "You're a good person, Shinn. A very good person."
"Shut up."
Her smile widens a little into something less harmless. "You know, I often wonder about the real reason why you always seem to hate me to the most extreme point."
"Isn't that obvious?" he barks at her, suddenly regretting his choice to show a morsel of sympathy.
"Enlighten me then."
"Because you're the leader of ORB."
Something is definitely wrong with the way she rolls her eyes because he finds it impossibly irritating. "Please, don't be such a wimp. Get past it and live on, kid."
"I'm not a kid," he growls back.
Obviously discovering something amusing in his expression, she sets her hands under her chin, lending her a look which is only too smug and sly, and Shinn begins to remember why he hates this woman so much. "Now moping are we?"
Her smooth voice only helps his annoyance to reach its peak, or so is his later conclusion, since a moment later he blurts out, "Because he loves you."
It is certainly not the smartest thing to say at the moment, neither to admit to the greatest enemy of your life – and also a one-time rival. Her eyes widen and he swallows back a lump which starts to form somewhere between his mouth and lurching stomach, noiselessly but fervently cursing himself along with many gods and every power in the universe. Definitely not the smartest thing to say. To her no less.
There is bound to be a limit to stupidity and yet it is nowhere to be seen, for him at least.
A second later, she opens her mouth. "You–"
"Don't you dare to say that," he snaps, suddenly finding it hard to suppress blood rising to his cheeks.
Cagalli raises her eyebrows, clearly itching to throw a comment or two, but the glare he keeps sending on her way must count as something since she wisely keeps her mouth shut.
Not for long though.
"Mediterranean, seven p.m. sharp," she says then, smooth, nothing attached, and yet still upset him enormously.
"Shut up."
Cagalli smirks. The mist hasn't cleared yet, but it lessens.
Springs should be the most romantic season of the year.
Many will agree with him. At least the couples cramming the park will, Shinn fumes silently, trying to ignore the cooing and giggling, and failing rather miserably at the effort. Quietude has been his preference of companion for quite some times, more than the boisterous crowd – a crowd he isn't acquainted with even less. Being not so lovey-dovey is the least thing they can do for him, but of course, why should they care?
Lunch has long past, sandwiches and pastries eaten and their wrappers tossed to the nearest bin, but she has a free time, so does he and the park in a spring evening is beautiful. The air a blend of light, soothing scents and the trees a blushing symphony of greens are a blessing for anyone who has been cooped up from dawn till afternoon in a room which smelled of nothing but metal and gunpowder.
Shinn swears that he begins to turn into one of the lovey-dovey pair too. Seriously. Working in the military for long enough will do that to anybody.
But he really needs a temporary distraction. Talks about a particular affair have begun to rise in the office, friends prying, coworkers staring at him whenever he does as much as pass near them, and even this morning the Head of Joint Chiefs saw it fit to personally interrogate him about the matter. Shinn almost laughed at his face. He didn't even consider her the member of the opposite sex, so how in the universe was it possible for him to–?
On second thought, putting his unhealthy obsession with a certain former Head of Joint Chiefs into consideration, the last argument is far from valid.
But really, he had always wondered what Athrun saw in her.
"Tell me, Shinn, are you deaf?"
It's an ultimatum, he knows it the moment he turns and finds Cagalli looking at her with eyebrows raised high. He chuckles, reveling every moment he can get to annoy her, and replies, "You know what? If I'm really deaf, that question will be as close to useless as it can be."
"Then you're obviously not deaf," she retorts and what follows soon after is a light punch to the side of his head. "Don't ignore the leader of your country when she is speaking."
His only response is a soft snort.
The talks have not a single base of truth, he knows, but they still make him think. Perhaps to other people's eyes, they look like what they exactly look like, lovers spending their lunchtime together in a small park to avoid too many crowds and snooping glances.
He wonders what will happen if he holds her hands. Chaos, most likely.
"I'm going to marry the Head of Joint Chiefs."
Shinn spins toward her so fast that his head bumps into a low branch protruding from a nearby tree. "What?"
"That obviously got your attention all right," she mutters dryly.
Rubbing the sore spot with one hand, he scrutinizes her carefully, his voice holding a breath of uncertain incredulity when he says, too horrified to yell, "You're joking, right?"
"What?" she raises a curve of eyebrow, eyeing him closely with what seems like quiet amusement. "Jealous?"
He only scoffs, avoiding the question because it is not true and he will not, under any condition, allow the possibility to be considered, especially not for his own perusing and contemplating. Ridiculous. Perhaps she can be a decent friend at times, a sufferable lunch companion, but it is where his toleration ends. He still holds a grudge with her and it is a fact. Period.
In any case, he isn't interested.
"I heard about Lunamaria's marriage," she speaks again and a long moment of silence passes until he realizes that she has left it at that, now patiently waiting for his respond with eyes like a pair of hawks watching him sharply. Maybe she knows, is the whisper of his silent fear and automatically his defense system activates itself.
He was there at Lunamaria's wedding, tossing down glasses after glasses of white wine, sometimes red, while sweet promises and even sweeter kisses were exchanged between the newlyweds, others cheering and whistling, making sounds which made Shinn want to hurl them to the nearest wall,. Sometimes he caught Meyrin anxiously looking at him, obviously keeping a track at the number of empty glasses his unsteady fingers had touched. He didn't quite remember how he could go back to his apartment, safe and sound, his car parked at where it usually was.
The only time he experienced a worse hangover was the morning after Athrun's funeral. It was the first – and only – day in his career when he had ever called in sick and he certainly did not want to repeat such day.
"I don't want to talk about it," he finally grits out, annoyed at how feeble his voice sounds.
"Okay," she carefully detaches her scrutiny, her voice a hollow echo of a murmur. A resign.
But it isn't like her to resign so easily. Shinn finds himself looking at her and the golden tresses which gladly rise to the challenge the wind puts forth, wild, untamable, and he remembers Lunamaria, her smile and the white, exquisite gown.
"She's very beautiful," he whispers, admiring, regretting.
Cagalli smiles, not pitying, not sympathizing, only accepting the single piece of truth. "Lacus told me so too," she replies. "Too bad I couldn't attend the ceremony. It must be beautiful."
"Why don't you marry?" suddenly he asks and surprises not only her but also himself with the question. One step too far and Shinn almost winces when her eyes darken, shades of gold fading into dull brown.
"Because I like being single?" the offered answer is followed by a forced laugh as she looks away to the trees lining their winding path. He frowns.
"No, seriously. You are twenty-four, pretty attractive according to some people – who obviously have their eyes covered with something thick and black and very impenetrable, by the way – suffering no transmittable disease except maybe a bad tendency to piss people off, and you lead one of the most influential nations in the world. I know it isn't the problem of finding a man you can marry."
"Do you realize that you've just praised me three times and insulted me just as many?"
"I'm asking," he grabs her arm and firmly refuses to withdraw when she flinches, not even when her glare falls at him. "Seriously."
Cagalli only shrugs, no longer trying to free her arm and Shinn wonders why the question suddenly feels so important to him right now. Yesterday he couldn't care less if she were to marry the Head of Joint Chiefs, an impudent office boy, or a mafia. Alright, perhaps the last would alarm him a little, but still.
"She said that marriage is a woman's greatest happiness," he murmurs, and perhaps it indeed is true. He has never seen Lunamaria so happy before.
"Maybe," Cagalli shrugs again as if she couldn't care less. Annoyed at her lack of response, he lets go of her arm and speeds off, ignoring a pair of golden eyes which remains impassive boring to his back, unrelenting. This is a familiar game for him, for both of them, to see who will relent first, her cool and mature methods or – as hard for him to admit it – his childish, impatient pressure.
She catches up to him when he stops at the edge of a small lake and squats down, throwing pebbles into the glittering surface and watching its ruin. For once she doesn't rise to his challenge and remains silent in her sanctuary under the nearest tree, to where he often throws a cursory glance. Her moves look guarded, the shifting of her eyes wary but her face blank, and he frowns, wondering why while disliking every possibility which comes to mind. Once she catches his gaze and holds it for a long time until she opens her mouth, her voice too calm to his liking.
"I already refused to marry the only man I have ever loved. What makes you think I will marry someone less?"
"Why don't you accept?" he demands, not because he wants to know. He needs to hear it from her mouth.
"I see nothing of benefit can come from the union for ORB."
Her smile is bitter but her voice is still steady and Shinn feels like running back to his Destiny – were it still here – and razing said country to the ground. He knows all along that that was her reason and will still be her reason for times to come. You don't normally refuse a guy like Athrun Zala, not while you are still sane and even more impossible if you fall in love with him.
There must be a reason. A very stupid but unconquerable reason, that is.
"Do you always measure your happiness with ORB's standard?" his voice rises a bit along with his temper. His eyes catch an ominous glimpse of a man in black but he ignores it. "Do you think that's what your people want? Do you think that's what your father had in mind when he entrusted this country to you?"
She is the one who looks away first despite the firm lines which creases the resolute face, and her fiery gaze settles on the far shore of the lake. Shinn doesn't let go of her eyes, staring into the reflection of brilliant sunlight on the lake, until she once more relents and looks at him.
"He proposed me thrice."
"Eh?"
He watches the firm lines on her face melting into myriads of emotions, her lips a thin line of determination in the field of chaos. "I accepted none of them and all because I could only think of ORB."
"But that day I thought I was ready," she goes on steadily, almost automatically. "I bought a ring. I was going to propose him this time and I promised myself that I would make him happy. I was ready. I waited all day until night came but all that returned to me was the news that he had saved a shuttle with his life as the price."
Cagalli pauses and inhales a deep breath, shuddering. "If ORB means nothing to me, do you think I can survive?" She smiles, a distant smile which should not appear on the face of someone still living and breathing, and he feels his insides grow cold.
Athrun.
She breathes his air, curling in his arms, living his world and loving his shadow. Shinn can almost see his reflection in her eyes and it feels like he is being told once more of the story of a man – a hero – the world was bereft of. He recognizes this. After all, he was once struggling under that shadow, adoring and hating him at the same time, one his turbulent pride and the other his tender affection. But Athrun Zala was a kind of person one could not even begin to compete; an outstanding leader in military and politic, a genius at warfare, a handsome, stark figure of fearlessness and at the same time, wisdom. He was the personification of everything everyone could only dream of.
Athrun Zala was everything once, to more than one person.
Perhaps he still is, to this one person.
"You've done too much," he blurts out, angry with everything and nothing at once. Life seems unfair when he sees her like this, surrounded by memories, unable to find a way to escape. He should not have died.
But then again, life is not fair.
"There is nothing such as too much for my country," the expression on her face is stately, almost proud. "Like you said, this is the country my father entrusted me with."
Shinn looks away and throws another pebble into the lake with more force than necessary, fed by his mounting irritation. "You're stupid," he spites out.
"Maybe." Her smile is thin, insipid.
Perhaps it is the smile, or maybe the utter nonchalance of her voice, since the last shred of his patience suddenly slips from his careful grasp into the new thickness of unbroken mist, lost and unreachable. Shinn seizes her hand as he stands up rapidly, gripping it with the furious strength of an angry beast, and growls, "Look at me."
She turns a pair of startled eyes to him, any reply she has prepared dying on her lips once she notices the expression on his face. He tightens his grip, grows even angrier when she doesn't flinch a bit, and snarls, "We're talking about you, damn it! Don't give me that 'maybe' and smile like it has nothing to do with you!"
The first shade of annoyance finally leaks into her voice and blights her face. "What the hell happened with you?"
"You did."
When he crushes her lips with his, they are soft, pliant, but motionless as he presses her unyielding body to the massive trunk behind her. Every thought flees his mind into oblivion and all he can feel are the stock-still presence in the confinement of his arms and the thick, stony silence engulfing them both. But then her lips quiver and a horrible realization springs out in his numbed mind, shaking him along with the sharp, heady scent of spring and flowers. More than just shocked, he lets her go and both of them blanch like a pair of angry snakes, looking at each other with heat and distrust in frantic eyes.
He tries to speak, to produce a sound, but none comes out from his tight, dry throat. She does nothing but staring at him like he is a lone fruit growing out of her forbidden tree, a hand uselessly hovering above her lips as if unwilling to touch what she tried so hard to protect and he has just defiled.
She closes her eyes for a short, breathless moment, the hand falling to her side, and with a small tilting of her head, Shinn knows that he has once more made a terrible mistake.
"Don't do that again."
She slips away quietly, but it requires him a far longer time to move even a finger.
Summer and autumn pass and suddenly winter is at his door once more. Quiet. Cold. Turbulent.
Shinn has never seen her again since that day in spring except during the most formal meetings, she leading the conference and listening to his short, often hasty explanations with calm, indifferent eyes. It almost seems as if the incident happening in their last tryst means nothing to her and his subordinates will probably cower in fear at every temper tantrum he will throw after every meeting if he doesn't know better. She is never there again in their lunch corner and that fact alone told him that the episode does disturb her, probably much more than she is willing to admit.
As for why he has returned to the park from time to time with the scar fresh still and the wound deep, he had no idea. But he will always find himself walking to the spot every time his mind wander, unsure of what he is expecting to see, her rigid figure or nothing at all, and finds no more than cold whispers of the wind, echoing the past he still pathetically clung to.
She fled and he lost his way. He doesn't even know if he still harbors an empty hope or simply cannot let go. There are pasts like that, she has proven as much.
Athrun.
He was one of the reasons, among other things, why he enlisted to the ORB army. He could not return to ZAFT, not after everything he believed in had been shattered by big sweet lies the Chairman told him. There were so much the other man had given him and the fool of him only realized after the ill news came and shoved a hard, cold realization into him. Like the old saying, regrets always come too late.
But even if it has come sooner, he doubts he can do anything but willowing himself in self-loathing and petty jealousy. He will not do anything farther than igniting a little more bickering with her, his pride simply will not allow it. Even if it has not ended up in what every love should, theirs is a love too strong, built, strengthened by war and deaths. You should not come in between a love like that.
You cannot.
He stands in the wrong equivalence.
Shinn almost laughs. Perhaps Lunamaria's wedding has turned him into a hopeless, sentimental romantic without him knowing. Or perhaps Meyrin's quixotic notions and ideas have begun to rub off as he starts to spend his lunchtime with her.
A sharp intake of breath is soon forgotten once he sees a blur of black, disappearing among a small crowd formed at the entrance of the city park. His blood chills and he stands for a long moment at the jam-packed intersection, uncertain. It can be nothing – after all, black is a color far from unusual – but it also can be everything.
The sudden decision arrives fast and hazy. Heart pounding violently against his ribs, he runs after the shadow, feeling nothing but the clash of dimming hope and gnawing doubt.
It can be nothing.
But fate sometimes favors the bitterest stage than the eternally forlorn and for once, he finds her standing not far from where the incident happened. She keeps a certain distance from the tree as if drawn to it but also despising it intensely. Somewhere, black shadows are watching and he knows that they know he is there, a lone figure behind the silhouette of a tree with no more courage than a newborn baby.
There is something wrong. He doesn't even belong in the equation.
It takes her hours – or so Shinn feels – to realize his silent scrutiny and when she does, there is no surprise, only grave anticipation. He stands still, watching her watching him with an expression too unfamiliar for him to decipher.
"Shinn."
It has changed, or probably he has changed. Her voice doesn't echo its usual powerful quality; instead, there is a note of vulnerability, naked in the blanket of caginess.
The leader of ORB almost sounds like an injured, helpless animal.
He doesn't acknowledge his name, not even with a quickening of breath or dilating of pupil. She sighs and inches even further away from the tree, sounding a lot stronger when she speaks again, "Perhaps I was overreacting."
"You were overreacting," his respond is uttered readily, the lack of the turbulent emotion he feels inside surprising him but not distracting him from the orchestra before his eyes. A symphony of the end of autumn and the glorious entrance of the lady winter. Wind dances back and forth and strands of golden hair follows wildly, some caressing her cheeks and lips, reminding him to a kiss he should not take.
Among all people in the world, why her?
"But I was also too rash. I think," he finally admits.
"Not rash," she murmurs quietly and he knows that it's true. Rash means too hasty, implying that there will be an appropriate time for the moment to arrive and such is not their case. One name will stay and live between them, a bridge but also a barrier.
"You seem like snow, or winter," he suddenly says, torrents of words and long-cold disappointment flooding out. "Sometimes you are irritating, capable of destroying everything, but strangely also comforting in some ways. You make your people happy because Christmas is approaching, give them hope that spring will come again, but you remain cold and distant. And for some reasons, you can still make people love you."
The tiniest smile makes its way to her lips. "You almost make it sound like a compliment."
"It's not," he spits out.
As if unbothered by the coarse reply, she eyes him carefully, questions swarming behind golden irises, and he waits for her to pick one. All of them are dangerous but she is never one who backs off from danger and the thought makes him smile bitterly.
Cagalli.
"I thought you still loved her."
Ah, so they finally arrive at this subject. Not at all unexpected.
"The past is in the past," he mutters and almost grimaces at the empty, philosophical nature of his answer.
"I never thought that forgetting could be so easy," she remarks calmly, implying nothing but also everything at the same time.
"She's married, damnit!" he hisses angrily, fingers digging into the tree bark which hides the sight of its spiteful destruction from her level gaze. More than once he thinks that he hears the cocking sound of efficient, semiautomatic handguns but at this moment, Shinn is unable to care. "Even if I do still love her, there isn't any point anymore! She's married and here I am like a stupid moron–" Words fail him and a sharp pain is thrusting into his palm. He uncoils his fist, thousands of tiny splinters falling to the ground like pieces of forgotten memories, and he breathes out harshly, defeated. "It's all in the past, okay? I loved her once and maybe I also liked him that way once, but they are all over."
He falls silent, staring across the thin bridge of mist and uneasiness to her stiff figure, wondering if he is just arguing with his imagination instead of the young lady who is a never-ending winter.
"It's over," he adds, final.
"Good," she replies with a voice oddly sounding strangled. "It's good to go on with your life."
"I'm not trying to take his role," he snaps, anger clawing into his insides, fast and scorching, and hating himself for resigning to whatever force which overpowers his resolve not to touch the subject. "No one can and I know it."
She doesn't answer for a long moment, but when she looks up, he knows what is spread out before him.
"I'm sorry, Shinn."
Some things just will never change.
"Right," he laughs scornfully, chill wind biting into his bones and altogether his words. "I almost forgot that I can never be of use for ORB in anyway. Forgive me, milady."
He turns around and leaves, but not before throwing her a last, spiteful glance, one thing which he soon regrets because she remains there, aloof and stoic like a solitary rock in the top of the highest peak of a snow-painted mountain.
Shinn cannot help but to think that he has lost his way forever in the mist.
Snow has fallen.
Christmas has passed, New Year has arrived, but nothing else has changed. Perhaps Luna has. Shinn cannot help but to wonder how a woman with a bulging stomach can look so beautiful.
And Meyrin. She often looked at him with inscrutable eyes throughout the party and he suddenly lamented his earlier thought about her sister. But it was perfectly true. Luna was very beautiful, no one would be able to contradict that, and all he did was appreciating that unusual but striking beauty.
"It's true, isn't it?"
"What is?" he replied carefully. This was a dangerous water to tread on.
She leant back to her chair without losing a second of her firm observation on him. "That gossip about you and Lady Athha."
"No," was his short reply, uncertain whether to feel relieved or trapped.
Meyrin didn't seem incredulous in the slightest but Shinn knew that somehow, it was worse. She had spent too long at Athrun's side not to learn the basics of the art of lulling the enemy to win the war. Politics.
"Then what about it was true and now isn't anymore?" she continued casually, as if unaware that her friend was sitting stiff and silent, heart pounding in his chest like a desperate prisoner trying to escape from walls and bars.
"Even if you're right, I fail to see how it actually concerns you," he retorted, trying to be polite in spite of the rapid activation of his defense system and failing utterly. Her face changed, irritated.
"But it concerns you, right?"
Meyrin left it at that and here he is now, staring at the dark ceiling of his quiet apartment alone, only a few hours after the grand celebration, at his right the LED reveals that 4 o'clock has not even passed. Silence and memories reign, filling the void with thin, delicate, sharp lances of ice. He cannot escape from them. Not while he is wretched and weak and alone.
Luna is very beautiful.
Cagalli...Cagalli is beyond that. She is not beautiful. She is hurt, within her a weak heart that still clings to the phantom of the past. Lunamaria is strong and beautiful. Cagalli is not. She is only pretending to be strong because she has the fate of one country on her narrow shoulders.
ORB. Shinn hated this country and now he hates it even more.
He doesn't hear a car arriving and when the doorbell rings, she is the last person he has in mind to be standing there before his door. Hand frozen at the handle, short breaths fenced inside his lungs, he stares at her, trying to process the fact that she is really there and not just a fragment of his alcohol-induced imagination. Cagalli seems different somehow, or probably it's just her informal clothing, or the thin layer of snow coating her hair and shoulders, or the look in her eyes, torn somewhere between misery and resolution.
And she whispers, "He has gone."
"He has gone," Shinn repeats, unfeeling – or too numb to feel anything.
Her mouth tries to frame words and fails, behind her snow still falling to the ground eight floors below. He waits, far from feeling sympathetic because this is the very person who has destroyed almost half of his living age, and barely flinches when she looks up again, eyes a pair of identical pandemonium, and says, "I cannot forget him."
"Neither can I," he replies coldly. Maybe he is really to numb to feel anything.
"Shinn–" she starts, a breath of desperation in her voice, "I'm not trying to use you or anything but maybe, I don't know, maybe I can try."
A cynical laugh rises from his throat, dangerously close to break free but he shoves it down just in time, only its ghost curving his lips in a smile too sardonic to be named one. "Try what? Using me?"
Her eyes darken and the coldness of blizzard at a tundra seeps into her voice. "If that is your answer–"
"I haven't said anything," he cuts off angrily, angry with the tingling sound of her voice, her audacity to come here, and most of all, to himself, before then adding with a harsh tone, "We are never good for each other."
"I notice that," she answers, the calmness back in her voice, a shade of amusement even.
Frowning, he demands, "Why then? I'm pretty sure I haven't gained more value for ORB during these two months."
"Do you always have to try to make me angry?"
"Sorry," he mumbles, suddenly feeling meek and guilty. In front of him, Cagalli sighs and looks away to her left, her thin shadow darkening a small portion of the hallway.
"I'm tired," she murmurs quietly, her voice betraying the exact sentiment she is speaking of. "I'm tired of being afraid that you will also be taken from me like he did. It's eating me from the inside."
A string of violent reactions offer themselves to him, from how dare she say that when he isn't hers yet, to a simple, cold get out, to simply slamming the door in front of her face. Shinn is still considering the last suggestion when the same laugh he has tried suppressing the whole time escapes from his throat, coloring the blank canvas with a hostile black.
"As a reason to begin a relationship, I must say it's rather self-interested," he scorns, disgusted.
To his mounting irritation, his uninvited guest snorts wryly. "Believe me, I'm perfectly aware of that fact."
Familiar tongues of anger licking his blood, he grips the handle a little tighter, trying all his might not to just slam that door and forget about her. "If it's the case then, do I have the right to be a little selfish myself?"
"What do you want?"
The grip intensifies and he hears his own voice raising a notch, a violent gush of words leaving his mouth. "Do not wear that ring again. If you want to start a new relationship, I'll say it's unwise to provoke that much jealousy in your new partner. Unless you aren't ready yet to let go, of course," he adds, a tart smile souring his countenance. "In that case, I have to refuse."
She remains silent for a long moment, her right hand covering the golden circle on the other ring finger as if to protect her most cherished treasure from his childish, egotistical whims. Of course; compared to Athrun, what is Shinn Asuka? Shinn can feel his head spinning madly. He is so used to point the edge of jealousy to her that trying to reverse it to the person he once loved beyond compare is nearly impossible. It's abnormal, wrong, but he cannot help it. There is nothing he can do to stop himself from falling into the same abyss for the umpteenth time.
"He will always be a part of me," she declares quietly but her voice is firm.
"I know," he grits his teeth, unable to keep the disgusted feeling to himself away. "I don't think it's fair for him or either of us that he had to die but–"
Words leave him completely when Cagalli, in one quick motion, raises both of her hands and takes off the golden ring. The red jewel glints under the dim light of the porch lamp, as if willing to bestow a curse to the very soul bold – and stupid – enough to separate it from its rightful possessor. Her eyes are sharp, challenging, and he doesn't feel as if he has won anything at all.
"I agree that it's unfair."
Shinn stands rooted to the tile under his feet, petrified. It's wrong to force her doing something like that. It's wrong to force her to forget the love of her life. It's wrong to try replacing Luna with her. It's wrong to even consider it, let alone do it. Everything is wrong, but she doesn't raise an objection. Slowly, carefully, she places the ring into her coat pocket and her hand falls to her side. Empty. The jewel will stay in a box somewhere in the depth of her drawer, locked away but not forgotten, and it is as far as he can do because Cagalli will never, ever let the memories taken away from her.
There is more than just gentleness coloring her eyes as she slowly returns her gaze to him and asks, "Can we start once more?"
Not for the first time Shinn feels so utterly small in front of her. There are annoyance still, and no little mortification dyed in less friendly emotions, but there is also love. Yes, love. He feels his face heating up at the word, but she is still standing there, unwearied and steadfast, the witness of her love with someone who is no longer there tucked deep in her pocket, and he realizes who the fool one is. His fingers fall from their clasp to the door handle and reach for her hand, both equally cold possibly from the same cause. She doesn't react and he kisses her hand, full with remorse, broken.
"I'm sorry that I'm selfish, demanding, stupid–"
"You're all of them," she cuts his rambling short and he looks up, finding her smiling slightly, softly. "But I think I love you."
"You always can make the most embarrassing words sound cool," he mumbles, irritated, mortified, surprised and amused blending into one. "I begin to think that this has something to do with age."
She chuckles, a sweet, melodious sound to his ears. "Not age, Shinn. Wisdom."
Perhaps it takes him a little longer to return her smile, but Shinn doesn't think that it really matters. He has found his way again, though where this path will lead him to is still unknown to him. Cagalli is there, unwearied and steadfast, and as he puts his arms around her, drawing her close and feeling her heartbeat against his, everything shatter into thousands of silent sobs.
Beautiful and strong. That's what she is.
Behind her, beads of snow are still falling silently. Unbroken.
End
Ramblings: Finally. This monster is finished. Yes, I know this is so huge-ass long but I don't want to split this into several chapters because it will break the pace. Sorry for killing Athrun, but I don't think Cagalli can love someone else while Athrun is still around and vice versa. Well, at least in this set I determine for them they can't. Thanks for reading! Please tell me your comments and opinions by clicking that button down there. They will be very much appreciated!