English is not my first language. Please bear with grammatical errors.

And for your information, my fic is based on the remastered version (but I watched the original version, too).

Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD.

Water and Land

Lacus was four when she realized her "uniqueness"—as her mother called it—for the first time.

She was listening to her parents discussing a political matter with a guest. Finding a flaw in the man's argument, she spoke to him when he paused. The man turned his attention to her with a fond smile. She politely explained how his logic was flawed, and smiled at him.

Her parents always welcomed her to join their discussion, and listened to her earnestly. She expected the same reaction from the man: words of gratitude and probably questions to clarify her point, and possibly some suggestions. Aware of the possibility he would argue back, trying to refute her point, she also prepared herself for further discussion.

However, his reaction was none of those. He looked at her with a strange expression, his smile having vanished. She couldn't recognize the emotions on his face at once; she had never seen them with her own eyes. But soon enough, she figured them out: anger, aversion, and fear.

Her smile froze. She didn't understand why he was looking at her like that.

The man opened his mouth to say something. She watched it with fear. She was sure his words would hurt her, and stiffened. Before he could voice even one word, however, her mother's melting voice chimed in.

Her mother asked the man whether he wanted another cup of tea with a graceful smile. Looking like he had come to senses, he put on a strained smile, and declined the offer. Then, he told her parents he had just remembered something to do and had to leave, and left as if running away from their house, from her. He had never looked at her again before he left.

She was still frozen in her seat when her mother gently pulled her close. She looked up at her mother with wide eyes, asking what she had done wrong. Had there been any mistake in her discussion?

Her mother had a troubled and sad smile. She exchanged glances with her father, who wore a similar expression. And they explained that some adults didn't like it when children showed too much knowledge and intelligence; they became angry or afraid.

She had heard something like that before. It was one of the reasons why Naturals didn't like Coordinators. But it didn't make sense. That man was a Coordinator like her.

Her father shook his head. "We're not so different from Naturals. Whether Coordinator or Natural, people don't like what they can't understand or those different from themselves, sadly."

She contemplated for a while and asked, "Am I different from other people?"

"We all are different," her mother answered, stroking her hair. "Everyone is unique in their own way. You may be more unique than many other people, but it is not a bad thing, is it? It is only who you are."

She nodded, pondering her mother's words.

Her father also reached out to stroke her back. Comforted by both her parents, she felt relieved and soothed, though the fear the man had caused still remained deep in her mind.

At five, Lacus found out people didn't appreciate a person who hid her emotions, a person like her.

She overheard a maid chatting with a bodyguard about her on her way to the garden. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the maid mentioned her name, which stopped her who was about to turn the corner. The way the maid had said her name wasn't exactly friendly.

They were talking about what had happened two days ago. The maid had accidentally broken Lacus's doll, which she had treasured. It had been a present from her mother. The doll looked like her, and her mother had made it herself. There were two more dolls which looked like her parents. Her mother had given them to her so that she would feel less lonely when her parents were away.

She had been delighted with the dolls, and always kept them close to her. When the maid had broken one of them, she had felt very sad. However, she had told herself that the maid had not done it intentionally and she still had the dolls looking like her parents. Giving a reassuring smile to the maid, she had said the maid didn't have to feel bad about it. Although she had noticed the maid had a weird expression, she had thought it was because the maid felt guilty.

But apparently, she had been wrong.

The maid was saying, "I always thought Miss Lacus's a generous girl, but...sometimes I feel like she has no feelings. I mean, she's five and I broke her favorite doll. She should get upset even a little bit, yeah? However generous. But she didn't. Not at all. She just smiled like nothing happened. She's kinda...I don't know, weird?"

The bodyguard agreed, "Yeah, I know what you mean. She's pretty and kind. To be honest, though, she sometimes creeps me out. It's like she can read my mind."

"Oh, yeah. She's smart for sure, but seriously, I'm glad my daughter's not like her. She's not really smart or pretty, but at least she's a normal kid."

The two adults laughed a little before changing the subject to something else.

Behind the corner, Lacus was looking down on the floor, chewing her lip. She quietly turned around to walk back to her room. She didn't feel like going to the garden anymore.

Her hands felt cold, but something was boiling in her chest. She wanted to cry. She wanted to shout. She wanted to run and run and run until she became exhausted and collapsed unconscious.

Yet she couldn't. Tears didn't come to her eyes. She didn't know how or what to shout. Her body felt heavy and stiff. She couldn't do anything but sit on her bed and sing in a small voice.

It wasn't just anger and sadness over their words that were upsetting her. She was feeling wronged in a way. She had thought people liked it when she smiled. They often praised her for always being a pleasant girl. Yet, it seemed they preferred unhappiness when they wanted it.

It wasn't like she couldn't shed tears. Although she had never shouted or run until she reached her limit, she cried once in a while. She just couldn't do it in front of most people. Maybe she didn't want to, either.

She wondered whether it was what they had called "weird." She knew other children would cry even in front of strangers or shout and run as they pleased. Nevertheless, she couldn't do as they did. She figured it was probably another "uniqueness" of hers, and told herself it wasn't wrong or a bad thing, though she still couldn't feel good.

She quietly kept singing her favorite songs to herself one after another. Singing always made her feel better, but it didn't work as well as usual today. She wished her parents had been here. However, they had gone to a trip because of her father's job, and wouldn't come back until tomorrow.

She took the dolls looking like them, held them tightly, and slept with them that night.

When her parents came home and she was alone with them, she embraced her mother, who was warm and firm unlike the dolls and much more comforting. A few teardrops rolled down her cheeks.

She told them about what had happened—only the facts—and then, asked them not to fire the maid and the bodyguard. She knew her parents were considering it so that she didn't have to see them again.

However, the maid and the bodyguard had meant no harm. They had not known she was listening to them. They had been careless, but didn't deserve being fired. She didn't deny a part of her was still angry at them and wanted them to be punished, but she knew that it was wrong and that she shouldn't succumb to her weakness.

With worried expressions, her parents asked whether she was really sure. She said yes, and they agreed with not firing them. They only would change shifts and positions of the servants so that she wouldn't see the maid and the bodyguard often.

After the decision was made, her mother held her in an embrace and kissed her cheek. "You are a warm-hearted and strong girl. Your father and I are very proud of you."

Her father also embraced her, saying, "We both love you very much. Don't forget that."

She hugged them back and told them she loved them, too. There were people who didn't like her, more than she had thought. However, she was sure she was all right as long as her parents loved her.

A little while after that, her mother made a new doll for her, which looked exactly like the previous one. She was glad her doll family was complete once again, but didn't carry them around with her anymore as she had before even though she still cherished them. They reminded her of the conversation she had overheard, which wasn't what she wanted to remember all the time.

Lacus had just turned eight when her classmates—temporary classmates—accused her of deceit.

She had always studied at home, mainly because her father was a councilman and her parents were worried about her safety—one of her father's colleagues had sent his son to a foreign school for the reason—but also because her parents were concerned whether she could get along with other students and teachers.

But she was curious about going to school, studying with other children. She asked her parents to give her an opportunity to experience school life, and they agreed. It was arranged that she would go to a school her parents had chosen for a month, and if it went well, she might continue her studies there.

She was nervous on the first day of school as much as she was excited. She had not had much experience in interacting with strangers, especially children.

However, her first day, and days after that, went better than she had expected. She was warmly accepted by most of the students and teachers, possibly due to the fact her father was a well-known councilman. Whatever the reason was, they were kind to her, and she was grateful for it. And many of them seemed to really like her. She acquired friends soon, and she was very happy about it.

She was also pleased that her intelligence, which was exceptional even among Coordinator children, drew positive reactions from most people instead of pushing them away. She got praised a lot by not only her teachers but also her classmates.

Not everyone was nice, of course. Some students seemed to be envious of her good grades or popularity and dislike her for it. But they weren't many, and didn't bully her, only making unkind comments once in a while. There were also students who made fun of her fondness of playing with dolls. They insisted she was too old for it and she was too childish for a Coordinator.

Although her friends were angry at those students, she didn't mind them. No matter what other people said, she liked playing with dolls, and that was all that mattered to her. And those students, whether the envious ones or the mocking ones, weren't too mean.

She asked her friends not to fight with them because of her. Some of them complained that she was too soft. Others praised her for being generous. She didn't mind how they reacted. All of them cared about her, which was what was important. She simply smiled and thanked for their concern.

She absolutely enjoyed her days in school.

Until three days before her trial period was over.

After school hours, she was waiting for the driver to pick her up in her classroom. There were many other students staying in the room as well, chatting and playing. One of her teachers was also there.

A student brought up the matter of Naturals' hatred toward Coordinators and asked the teacher why they hated Coordinators so much. He answered in a scornful tone, "They're jealous of us because they know they're inferior to us. Naturals are such a useless creature."

Lacus was near the teacher and could hear it clearly. She frowned.

The relationship between PLANT and its sponsor nations, the relationship between Coordinators and Naturals had been tense. Although she didn't often go out, she knew such comments weren't unusual.

However, it was one thing to make those comments among adults, and it was another thing to do so in front of children, especially in front of a child who had Natural parents.

She looked at one of her friends, who was hanging her head low. She knew the girl's parents were Naturals. Most of the children in PLANT were second-generation Coordinators like Lacus, and a child like the girl was rare. Other students sometimes teased or even bullied the girl because of it.

Lacus looked up to call to the teacher, and respectfully said, "I do not think Naturals are inferior to Coordinators."

The teacher looked at her with a surprised face as well as other students around them.

She stared into the teacher's eyes, calmly continuing, "It is true Coordinators are different from Naturals. However, everyone is different. Coordinator or Natural. Although we are all Coordinators here, we are not the same, are we? Some of us can do what others cannot, but do you think it makes them superior? Are we not all just humans regardless of our abilities? Regardless of our genetics?"

She briefly paused before saying in a firm tone, "And I wonder if it is really appropriate to voice your opinion of Naturals here, sir."

The teacher seemed to understand what she had insinuated. He threw a quick glance at the girl who had Natural parents, looking ashamed.

She felt relieved, thinking he wouldn't make such comments again, at least not in front of the girl.

Then, she realized the room was filled with a peculiar silence. Tilting her head, she looked around curiously to find everyone in the room was staring at her.

"Who are you?" a girl asked in a shocked voice.

Lacus blinked, not able to grasp the meaning of the girl's words.

"Liar!" a boy shouted, which startled her. "You've been fooling us all this time?!"

Another boy continued in a somewhat hostile tone, "You acted all soft and sweet and innocent, but in fact you're—you're..." He seemed to be unable to find the right word, and closed his mouth, breathing hard.

Lacus looked at other students, each one of them, with enlarged eyes. Some looked angry. Some looked hurt, betrayed. Some looked shocked. The rest of them looked confused.

What she was feeling wasn't so different. Her heart was pounding, filled with pain, sadness, and anger.

However, she knew she looked calm, as if she wasn't really affected by their words. She might look a little sad; she had learned not to hide the emotion so much. But it was the only emotion of hers they could see. A part of her was glad about it. Another part of her was dejected. Yet another part of her was angry at herself.

"I never lied to you," she said in a voice which sounded as calm as her face must appear.

She might not show some of her feelings, but she had never pretended to be anything but herself. Both the Lacus who loved singing and playing with dolls and didn't like fighting and the Lacus who had argued with the teacher and reproved him were a part of her, her true self.

Why did either of them have to be a lie? Why did she have to be only either one or the other? Why couldn't she be both? Why couldn't she be just herself? Did she have to choose one part of her and cut off the rest to be accepted?

Was it too much to ask that they would simply accept both sides as part of who she was, no matter how different those sides were?

"I am still the Lacus you have known."

She had only shown them a different side of her. It didn't mean she had changed.

The young teacher, who had been looking around, obviously at a loss what to do, opened his mouth to say something.

Before he could say anything, however, a small voice came. "No, you're not."

It was the girl who had become Lacus's closest friend, who always said she admired Lacus's gentleness and tried to protect her from other students. The girl looked at Lacus with eyes full of tears.

The pain in Lacus's chest increased. She opened her mouth a little, trying to say something, but there was a lump in her throat. She couldn't talk anymore.

She stared at the girl. It was obvious the girl was feeling pain, sadness, and anger exactly like her. Yet she felt as if there was a gulf, so wide, so deep, between them.

The teacher nervously cleared his throat before calling her and the girl's names. But he failed to continue.

No one else said anything. After a few minutes of silence, someone suddenly opened the door, which made everyone in the room jump.

The school secretary came into the classroom, looking around the quiet room weirdly. Smiling at Lacus, the secretary told her that her car had arrived.

Lacus silently nodded and left the room. No one greeted her; she didn't greet anyone. She still couldn't speak.

While she was sitting in the car and looking out through the window, her chest tightened more and more. She tried to breathe evenly, feeling as if something was suffocating her.

One of the feelings swirling inside her was the sense of being wronged. It was her classmates' own fault that they had mistakenly believed that what they had seen, what was on the surface, was everything about her and that there was no other sides of her they didn't know. Nevertheless, they had blamed her for their misbelief, which was wrong.

The conversation she had overheard three years ago came back to her. Why couldn't people see under the surface, or at least try to? Why did people always judge others—her—by appearance?

The growing anger and frustration at other people in turn increased the anger toward herself. Why did she have to have two sides that were so different from each other in the first place? Why couldn't she show her emotions freely so that people didn't have to try to look under the surface in order to understand her to begin with?

A storm was raging inside her. And the more it escalated, the harder it became for her to speak. She remained silent on the way back to her home, and after entering the house. Even when servants welcomed her back, she just gave a stiff nod in response.

As she entered the living room, her mother was there to welcome her home as usual. Her mother turned on her seat toward Lacus with a smile. However, the smile disappeared the second her mother laid eyes on her.

Her mother stared at her for a moment and then asked in a calm, gentle voice, "Lacus, what happened?"

"People do not like me, Mother," she said, finally finding her voice. Her body and voice were trembling as she continued, "Even though they like me at first, they come to dislike me as they know me more. It seems like I have no place I can belong to. It seems like there is no one who really loves me except you and Father. ...Why was I born this way? Why do I have to be like this?"

She almost asked her mother why they had made her this way. But she didn't. She couldn't, knowing it would greatly hurt her parents. It wasn't like they had made her like this to make her suffer. All they had ever wanted was her happiness. She knew it.

However, knowing it didn't diminish her pain, or her self-hatred. Yes, she was hating herself. Probably only for now, but still she was. She was fervently wishing she could have been different, even though she knew it was impossible. No one could change who they really were. No one could become anyone but themselves. Yet, the knowledge couldn't stop her from wishing.

She didn't want to wish for such a thing. She didn't want to feel like this. But she couldn't help it.

Her mother's face turned into a sad one. Her mother stood up from her seat and kneeled down in front of her to get to her eye level. "Since you were born into this world and exist in it, the world belongs to you. And also, you belong to the world."

Her mother caressed her cheek consolingly and affectionately before pulling her into her arms. "Someday, you will find someone. There is someone—some people who can understand you or accept you as you are. You will surely know how great it feels to be truly accepted and loved.

"I love you, Lacus. Please do not dislike yourself. Do not regret having been born..." Her mother's voice trailed off.

She looked at her mother's eyes to see deep pain there. And she understood it. She understood her mother genuinely understood her pain. She understood her mother had experienced the same pain.

The mother and daughter remained staring into each other's eyes for a long time without saying anything.

Then, she whispered, "I promise, Mother."

Her mother wrapped her into a tight embrace. She also embraced her mother, letting out her tears and feeling a little better.

If her mother had had the same experience as hers, and still found happiness, then probably she could, too. She ardently hoped so. She hoped she could find someone someday like her mother had found her father, and close friends of hers.

The next three days, other students avoided her as much as possible. They kept looking at her from a distance and talking in whispers, and ran away when she tried to talk to them.

The teacher came to talk to her the next day. He apologized about the previous day's incident and said he had apologized to the girl whose parents were Naturals as well. It was a little consolation to Lacus that at least the teacher understood and was doing the right thing.

He also tried to get other students to talk to her, but to no avail.

When the trial period came to an end, she didn't ask her parents to let her continue going to the school, and she never went to any school again. Partly because of what had happened that day, partly because a huge terrorist attack took place a little later and her parents became more worried about her safety.

···

Her mother was killed in an accident before the end of the year.

Her mother had been her best friend and her safe place. The only person who had been able to truly understand her. Her father loved and accepted her as much as her mother had. But he couldn't understand her as well. Plus, he couldn't spend as much time with her.

And there was no one else she could feel really comfortable with.

She often felt great loneliness after her mother's death. However, her mother's words and the hope they had given her lingered in her heart. Every time she looked at her mother's ring, she reminded herself. There were someone like her mother, someone who could understand her, and someone like her father, someone who might not really understand her but still accepted her.

She would look for them, and find them surely.

When Lacus was fourteen, her engagement was arranged.

The boy she was now engaged to was a son of her father's colleague. She had seen him a few times, but not really talked with him or known him. He had been studying in a foreign school until recently.

Her father told her the boy was good and kind. He looked concerned about her reaction to the news. But she knew her father needed this engagement, and didn't mind trying. She couldn't decide anything until she knew the boy.

"I am Lacus Clyne. It is very nice to see you."

At their first meeting as an engaged couple, she introduced herself to him with a smile, wondering whether he was one of the people her mother had told her about. Would he understand and accept her? Could she open up to him like she could to her parents? Could they love each other?

If she was going to marry him, she hoped so. It was a genetic match and a political match. They didn't have to love each other to get married. But she didn't want to marry someone she didn't love.

The boy smiled back at her shyly and nervously. "Hello. Well, I'm Athrun Zala."

Then, he offered her a bouquet of red roses. Her smile became brighter. Roses were her favorite flower. She took it from his hands with thanks, and he put on a relieved smile. He seemed as nice as her father had said.

He visited her house once in a while. One day, she asked about his hobby, and he said he liked making robots. And the next time he visited her, he brought a small pink robot called Haro as a present for her.

She thanked him earnestly. She was grateful for his effort to please her, and she really liked Haro. It became her friend and eased her loneliness. Seeing how fond she had become of Haro, he made more of them for her, much to her delight.

They had a good relationship.

However, it didn't mean they were close. They were barely friends, let alone a couple.

She liked him. She could understand him well. She found that he was very like her. He wasn't good at expressing his feelings and tended to hide them. While she hid them behind cheerful smiles, he hid them behind a polite, yet distant demeanor. They were both hesitant to let other people in.

At first, their similarities gave her the hope that he actually could understand and accept her the way her mother had.

The more she knew him, however, the more unsure she became that they could truly accept and love each other. They seemed to be too alike. Looking at him sometimes felt like looking at herself in the mirror. Similar, yet different; different, yet similar. Something you knew very well, but could never actually touch.

After his mother's death, he never cried in front of her. He didn't even show his pain much, only glimpses from time to time. The almost only sign of his suffering was his smiles, which appeared less and less and had become more forced and melancholic.

She understood his sentiments. She herself had not wanted to show, and had not shown, her grief to anyone but her father when her mother had died.

She knew he wanted to deal with his feelings by himself. He didn't want her to try to make him share them with her. He wanted her to leave him alone, giving him time and space to recover from his loss on his own. He didn't want to be consoled or helped by her, not only because of his pride but because he didn't feel a connection to her.

It was the kind of person he was, and she was.

She knew it wasn't good for him to bottle up all his emotions. She knew she should make him talk to her. Unlike her, he didn't seem to have anyone he could open up to. Her father had told her how Athrun's father had become distant from everyone including his own son after the death of his wife.

And she knew she should meddle in Athrun's personal affairs, at least to some extent, if she wanted to be a real couple with him. If they kept their personal affairs away from each other, how could they get to love each other, have a life together? She should make him let her in.

Yet she couldn't.

She could understand him too well. She could understand how much he wanted to be left alone. How desperately he was trying to keep his feelings locked up. How much he didn't like to show his emotions, his pain, his weakness to other people. How much he would be disturbed if she tried to make him open up to her. How much pain it would cause him before he finally let her in and she could heal him—if he did, and if she could.

She wasn't sure it would actually happen even if she tried. Would he really open up to her? Could she really help him get over his mother's death? Wasn't it better, and less painful, for both of them if she simply trusted him to do it on his own and wait for him to?

As much as she wasn't good at letting other people in, she wasn't good at meddling in other people's affairs.

She knew that when it came to feelings and heart, nothing was guaranteed. No matter how much she tried, no matter how much he tried, it didn't ensure they would succeed. It was possible that they would end up only hurting each other. She couldn't risk his pain, and her pain, when everything was so uncertain.

She still tried to console him occasionally. But he rejected her involvement, as she had expected, and she couldn't bring herself to push him.

She wondered several times whether he would open up to her if she opened up to him first. However, she couldn't do it, either.

You needed to trust someone to open up to them, to reveal your true self to them, which made you vulnerable. To remain herself and continue to like herself, she needed to protect herself from those who shouldn't be trusted, who might destroy her even without meaning to.

And unfortunately, she couldn't trust Athrun that way. Although he was a good person, it didn't mean he could handle well knowing who she really was or accept it. Judging from his responses to the conversation topics she had brought up in an attempt to know him, she didn't think he would take it well if she showed him a side of her which was completely new to him, if she showed him that she wasn't exactly the kind of person he thought she was. Painful memories came back to her, and she couldn't overcome her reluctance.

It wasn't like she was determined not to show that side of her to him. She simply had not had a chance to do so—and had not been really eager to. If circumstances required, she wouldn't mind doing it though she had a suspicion that it would ruin her distant, yet peaceful relationship with him.

Her suspicion was strengthened when she looked at his face after telling his commander to stop fighting in her presence. Although he didn't show hostility or fear, to her relief, he looked at her as if looking at something he couldn't understand. Something he didn't want to see or believe.

She was aware that he had always seen her as a naive, faint-hearted girl who knew nothing about politics and war. It was probably partly because she was so good at maintaining her mask. Most people didn't even suspect she was wearing one, let alone try to see under it. They just concluded she was an odd girl, only in a way likable to most people.

She was always careful with her words and actions, not revealing too much of her "uniqueness" too obviously, which would likely to disturb people. Like it had her temporary classmates and some other people. She now knew which part of her others liked and which part they didn't, and it wasn't hard for her to keep her appearance palatable while not exactly lying or pretending to be someone she wasn't.

Athrun's attitude toward her wasn't exceptional, which she admitted was rather disappointing. She had expected him—her fiancé—to be somewhat different.

However, it seemed that he not only wasn't good at reading people, but wasn't really interested in it in the first place. Furthermore, she had the impression that he wanted her to be such a person. He wanted her to be a helpless person who needed his protection, not his equal who could help or even protect him.

She understood why he wanted, or needed, her to be like that. He needed to believe there was someone he had to protect, someone he could protect. Believing that she needed him to fight gave him the strength and determination to keep fighting.

He was too gentle to fight without feeling the need to protect someone. He was too compassionate to fight only for revenge. Still, he wanted to fight, wanted to protect someone, and he needed her.

Of course he had his father. But he seemed to need someone more...vulnerable, someone weaker.

It pained her that he didn't quite see her as herself. He only saw what he wanted to see, what he wanted her to be. He didn't try to know what kind of person she really was.

Even though he was fighting, at least partly, to protect her, it didn't mean he wanted to protect her. She was just someone who fit the role. She might be the best fit, someone ideal, but it didn't need to be her. There wouldn't have been much difference had he been engaged to someone else.

She knew it. And she didn't blame him for it. For not seeing her as someone special to him. For not loving her.

However, she couldn't help but hope he really saw her, saw who she actually was, and accepted her even if only as a friend.

It might have been possible had the war not happened, had his mother not died. Even if they had not been able to become lovers, they might have been able to be real friends, even lifelong friends.

She supposed it was possible for him to accept her including the part she rarely showed to others if they took slow steps, if she revealed her new side to him little by little so that he could gradually accustom himself to it. But it required an effort and willingness from him as well as her. Becoming closer, building a relationship was a two-way task. She couldn't do it all by herself.

And even if there had been a possibility that he would become interested in working with her before his mother's death, it seemed to have been lost now. He was too preoccupied with his grief and the war to try to know and understand her.

After she had shown him a glimpse of her hidden side when she had been released from the Earth Forces' warship, she was a little hopeful. He seemed to be wondering about what he had seen. She thought that he might ask her and try to know more about her, which she had been waiting for him to. That he would finally show willingness to work on their relationship.

She couldn't force him to try it. She was hesitant to show her different side to him when he wasn't willing to see it, since it would certainly result in his rejecting her. But if he asked, she would be happy to do it. And then, they probably could have a closer relationship.

However, he didn't. It seemed he rather wanted to keep the current distance between them. Not farther, and not closer.

Since his mother had died, she had been feeling they had become even more distant than before, but had not been able to do anything about it. And she felt sad that he wanted to keep it that way.

Nevertheless, she wasn't really upset about it. It was more like she was worried about him, and feeling somewhat lonely. She was supposed to be hurt and distressed, since he was her fiancé. Yet she was fine with their distance if it helped him, if it was what he needed to heal from his loss.

She cared about him and wanted him to be happy, but she didn't love him, not as her future husband. She had known it all along. It was probably another reason why she couldn't open up to him or meddle in his affairs.

She had been hoping and trying to love him. She knew he had been doing the same. However, she had no problem with it if someone else healed him and made him happy. She even hoped there was someone who could do it, something she couldn't do. Someone who could make him feel he wanted to protect the person, not he had to. Someone who could make him smile a genuine smile.

She hoped he could find someone he could open his heart to, someone who would accept him as he was, as much as she hoped she could find someone like that for herself.

Then, they might be able to become true friends at long last.

Lacus met the boy who was going to inspire her to change her life two days before her sixteenth birthday.

He was a soldier who belonged to the military fighting against her country. Nevertheless, he saved her life.

He was kind to her, and open with her. He expressed his feelings honestly to her whom he didn't really know, which she felt somewhat envious of. After he told her he was friends with Athrun, she wondered whether Athrun had felt the same.

She could understand why Athrun liked Kira. It seemed very natural for someone like Athrun, and her, to be drawn to someone like him. She also liked him even though she had known him for a short time.

He was empathetic and compassionate. He tried to protect people around him even if it tore at his heart. And he suffered further because he cared about the people he fought against, too. He still saw his foes as humans even though it tortured him.

He was courageous. He could reveal his pain and wounds to other people.

He was tough. He could make his own decision and take the responsibility for it. He wouldn't give up no matter how beaten he had been by the situation. He kept trying to find a way, his own way.

He was gentle, and hurt due to fighting and killing. Yet he chose to fight again, to go back to the battlefield. He was brave enough to make such a decision. But he was still vulnerable, agonizing and crying.

As contradicting as they were, both sides were his true self. She could understand him. At the same time, however, she couldn't really understand him, how he could be so strong.

He was different from anyone she knew.

She could empathize with his reluctance to get involved with the war. Her father had been worried that the situation would get worse and worse. He had been secretly gathering people who shared his opinions, people who were eager to stop the war and build peace with the Earth Alliance, with Naturals. Many of her father's allies wanted her to help them. They believed that with her popularity among PLANT citizens, she could be of big help. They had kept asking her to join their fight.

However, she had been reluctant. She was sad about the war, especially after witnessing people fighting and dying, after seeing the desperation to try to protect loved ones and the grief over the loss with her own eyes. Still, she wasn't willing to do something to end it herself. By nature, she was the one to observe rather than the one to participate.

And she wanted to be free from the burdens such a role would lay on her shoulders. She didn't like being restrained. She preferred to be able to go wherever she wanted to and do whatever she wanted to, live her life as she wished.

She wanted to stay out of the war as much as possible, as long as possible. She loved her current life, spending most of the time at her home safely and peacefully, away from politics and the war. She didn't want to leave this quiet place. Even if she had to sooner or later, she wanted to wait until the last moment.

It might be selfish of her, but not wrong. She knew it. Everyone had the right to choose how they lived their own life. Everyone deserved to be happy. No one should decide how other people lived their lives, what others did with their lives. There was nothing wrong with protecting your own happiness.

To stand up and fight was a choice, not an obligation. If you didn't choose to do it of your own free will, you would do more harm than good. You needed your heart, your will and wishes, to use your power right. If you didn't have it, your power could be something very dangerous.

And she didn't have it. The will to fight. Wishes she wanted to fulfill at the cost of her current life, at the risk of all she had.

Her mind told her she should stand up and fight to end the war. However, her heart said otherwise. She couldn't choose to fight in this condition, her mind and her heart contradicting each other.

She knew that once she abandoned this peaceful life and took a step to involve herself with the war, she probably could never get it back. She wasn't sure she really wanted to do it. She wasn't sure she really could contribute to ending the war even if she sacrificed everything she had. She knew what one person could do was quite small. No matter how hard she, her father, and his allies tried, there was no guarantee they could succeed. She knew there was a lot of pain and suffering outside of this quiet, protected place.

The future was too uncertain. The cost was too high. The hope was too slim. She had not been able to make a decision to throw herself into the chaos.

Until now.

"If you say you can't do anything and do nothing, then you can do even less. Nothing'll change. Nothing'll end."

His words hit her hard. She knew he wasn't talking about her. He had no idea what she had been thinking about. He was only talking about himself.

But at the same time, he was talking about her, about everyone else.

She knew what he had said was true. No matter how little she could do, it didn't justify her doing nothing. It was only an excuse. She had known it.

She also knew he would understand her if she told him about her hesitance.

Athrun was the kind of person who couldn't stand staying in a peaceful place while there was fighting going on out there. He was the kind of person who wanted to do something, anything, in the front lines no matter how little it was rather than stay in a safe haven. He was the kind of person who wanted to be the one protecting rather than the one being protected.

He wouldn't stay with her to enjoy this peaceful life even if she asked him to. Not only because of his mother, but also because of who he was. As similar as they were, they were very different in that regard.

However, Kira was different from Athrun. He was more like her. He loved to live peacefully. He didn't feel the urge to do something himself when there were other people who could do it. As much as he hated the war and wanted it to end as early as possible, he preferred to not involve himself with it.

She had heard from him why he had started to fight despite his hatred toward war and fighting. She was sure he wouldn't have if his friends had not been under attack in front of his eyes, if there had been someone else who could save them. But they had and there had been no one else. He had had to do it himself.

She knew he was genuinely tired of fighting, and aching to stay somewhere far from the war. She knew he wanted to stay in this quiet place as much as she did.

Yet, he was different from her.

He had decided to go out in the midst of the painful chaos. He had decided to take a chance, knowing fully well how little one person could do to stop the war, to change the situation.

He wasn't only going back to the battlefield. He was going to fight without taking sides. He wasn't going to fight the enemy, the other side.

He knew, like her, that it was important to think about what they truly had to fight against, which many people didn't think about or were unwilling to. It was difficult to think about it. It was even more difficult to actually fight against it.

Still, he was going to do it even though he probably also knew how hard the fight would be, as much as she did. How much pain and suffering he would have to experience. How little the possibility of his winning was.

His silent tears and melancholic smile had shaken her to the core.

She wanted to reach out to him, hold him in her arms, and tell him he didn't have to do it. But he knew it. And he still had decided to do it. She couldn't stop him. It was his decision, and he had made it.

However, she didn't want to let him go by himself. She couldn't bear it. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to stay close to him so that she could help him when he needed it. She wanted to be by his side.

Even if it meant she had to go out of this quiet place. Even if it meant she had to leave this peaceful life behind.

The situation had not changed at all. She still didn't know whether she actually could help end the war. She knew painfully well that she would be very likely to end up achieving nothing and losing everything. Ending a war was an enormously difficult task.

Nevertheless, now she was willing to take the risk, which was uncharacteristic of her. She wasn't the type to gamble. Yet this was worth the risk. He was worth the risk.

Furthermore, she wanted to be brave like him. She wanted to believe she could make a change by taking risks. She wanted to believe that even though what one person could do was small, it wasn't too small.

She shut her eyes for a short moment, bidding farewell to this peace of hers, the peace she cherished so much. She felt a pang of sadness, yet there was also a feeling of excitement in her stomach.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him, making the decision that would change her life forever.

"Lacus Clyne will sing the song of peace."

···

"Who are you?"

They were the same words as those that belonged to one of her most painful memories. Nevertheless, they didn't cause her fear or worry.

Kira seemed to be different from her temporary classmates. She remembered his reaction after she had told him he was kind because he was him, not because he was a Coordinator. She had known it wasn't what he had wanted to hear. She had sensed he had wanted to comfort her and probably wanted her to comfort him as fellow Coordinators.

However, she had refused to do as he had hoped. It was simply wrong to treat him as a Coordinator, not a person, and let him treat her the same way. It wasn't very different from Naturals treating Coordinators as monsters or Coordinators treating Naturals as inferior, worthless creatures. Even if they had only wanted some comfort, it still had not been able to justify such treatment of others.

She had wanted him to be himself and to treat her as herself. Not a Coordinator, but Kira, and Lacus. Not two same creatures, but two different persons.

Treating people as if they were something else was never good. Her belief came not only from general morality but also from her personal experiences like the one with her temporary classmates. They had accepted a part of her, but refused to accept she had many sides just like anyone else, like any other human being. She had not wanted to experience that again or to do the same thing to someone else.

But she had been aware that it wasn't easy for many people to follow such a belief or even to understand it. As a famous singer, it had been unavoidable for her to be treated as if she wasn't a human being like everyone else. Even though she tried to interact with others as two people, it wasn't always successful. She was rather used to it, though it didn't mean she wasn't bothered by it at all. It especially disturbed her when someone who personally knew her acted in a similar way. And it still gave her feelings of disappointment and loneliness when the person was only a stranger.

After refusing to give Kira what he wanted, she had thought he might try to distance himself from her, like some people had. But he hadn't.

At that time, she had not been sure whether it was because he had understood her reason and agreed with it, or at least accepted it or because he simply had not cared much about her rejection, for they were strangers.

Through her exchanges with him after that, however, she had come to believe he had understood. After all, he was a person who could think and decide for himself. Like he had fought to protect his Natural friends even though it was "inappropriate" for a Coordinator. Like he had released her even though it was wrong for a soldier. He didn't base his decisions on what he was.

Therefore, he probably didn't judge people by what they were. He probably accepted other people as a person, accepted them for who they were. That was probably why he had accepted her rejection.

It had made her think he might be able to understand or accept her as a whole, accept every part of her. It was another reason why she had been able to decide to stand up and fight. One of the things that had caused her reluctance was her fear. Fear of herself, her influence, her power.

Once she started to use her influence as a kind of weapon, a means to fight, the consequence was unpredictable to even herself. The situation could be out of control, affecting more people more greatly than she expected or wanted. She wasn't sure she could have complete control of her influence. No, she knew she couldn't. No one could. It was beyond human power.

Even if her comrades and she could successfully end the war, there might still be a disastrous consequence, a horrible future for her. The more she affected other people, the more she became trapped in her own reputation, her image. The more she used her power, the less people saw her as herself, a human being no different from everyone else.

She could handle being an idol. But could she handle being something more—or something less? Something even farther from a human?

She knew that at least her father would always see and accept her as herself. However, would there be anyone else? She believed there were people who could, as her mother had said. But would she be still able to find them even after becoming something so superhuman? Would they still be able to accept her as herself, as only a human?

If she couldn't find them, couldn't find anyone besides her father who accepted her, what would her life be like after she lost him?

Parents were supposed to leave this universe earlier than their children. The day was bound to come when she lost her father. Life with no one who accepted her as a person seemed like an unbearable torture, life filled with profound loneliness and sorrow. She didn't want to have a life like that.

She had been afraid that joining the fight to end the war might rob her not only of her current happiness but also of her future happiness.

However, there was something about Kira that was telling her it wouldn't be the case. She looked into his amethyst eyes which were a little confused but mostly wondering. She wondered as well whether he was one of the people she had been looking for as she hoped him to be.

At least, he seemed to be willing to know her, trying to understand her. Not only right now. It seemed he had always listened to her, thinking about what she had said and trying to figure out her thoughts. It was one of the things she liked about him.

She knew it was still only a possibility, a hope. It could only result in her getting hurt. Still, she was willing to—wanted to take the risk. And she didn't feel any hesitation.

She was momentarily amazed at how courageous she could be, much more than she usually was, when it came to him. It was like she was discovering a new side of herself, as if she was meeting and knowing herself once again.

Gazing into his eyes, she answered in a calm voice, "I am Lacus Clyne, Kira Yamato."

She was always herself whether she acted like a cheerful, innocent child who had nothing to do with war or like a tranquil, sophisticated adult who had power to lay hands on one of the most guarded mobile suits. Like he was always himself whether he acted like an almost broken, gentle boy or like a brave, tough warrior.

They both had wanted to stay in the safe harbor, yet decided to go out into the midst of the storm. However, it didn't mean they had turned into different people. He was still the same person. So was she. They were only humans who had various sides.

He didn't deny her words. He didn't accuse her of having lied or deceived him. He only said, "Thank you."

His voice and his eyes were sincere. She knew he had simply accepted her words as they were. He might not completely understand the meaning of them, but still had accepted them.

"Someday, you will find someone." Her mother's voice echoed in her mind.

An emotion flooded her, making her heart swell. It was new to her, but she could tell what it was.

I found him, Mother. Finally, she had found a person who accepted her just as she was and probably could understand her, a person who gave her happiness, a different kind of happiness her parents had given her, which was greater than she had imagined.

She had found a person she could truly love.

She felt a shiver course through her body and a broad smile, more genuine than ever, break over her face.

···

Careful not to make a loud sound, she left the room. She wanted to get some water for Kira who was sleeping in the bed with a tear-stained face. After the crying, he must be going to feel thirsty when he woke up.

She picked up a bottle of water in the cafeteria. On her way back, she caught sight of Athrun talking with someone several blocks away from her, unaware of her presence, and stopped.

Actually, it was rather the person with Athrun that had made her stop. The golden-haired girl who might be blood-related to Kira. She didn't know much about it except the few things he had told her before falling asleep.

She wondered if the girl was upset like him. But she didn't know the girl well and Athrun seemed to be close to the girl. So it was perhaps best to leave it to him to take care of the girl, though she was a little worried, knowing he wasn't really good at comforting people or meddling in other people's affairs.

She stayed in the same place, watching their exchange and wondering whether to go and talk to them. They must be worrying about Kira. However, she wanted to wait until he woke up. And she decided it was probably all right since they didn't look too distressed.

She was about to leave when the girl said something to Athrun and his face broke into a warm, genuine smile. She slightly enlarged her eyes, staring at him. She had never seen him smile like that.

After a few seconds, her stare turned into a smile. She knew what it meant. As she had found Kira, Athrun had found someone special to him, someone who made him happy.

And she was happy for him.

The smile lingered on her lips while she was floating back to the room. She quietly went inside not to disturb Kira's sleep.

He had not been awake yet, and she sat on the bed to watch him. His eyes were puffy from crying. Even though her chest tightened at the sight, she also felt glad that she had been able to let him cry. She knew how painful it was to not be able to cry.

She wanted him to know it was all right to cry and feel safe and comfortable with her, like he made her feel. After hearing about her father's death, she had been deeply sad, but not cried. She had been rather too uptight, and almost always been with someone. She had not been able to relax enough. However, when she had become alone with him, she had found that she could feel at ease with him, and tears had come out of her eyes quite naturally.

Gazing at him, she thanked stars from the bottom of her heart that she had met him and she had been born this way. She was happy being herself because that was why she had been able to help him.

She affectionately touched his hair, hair of the color of the land. The thought reminded her that the land let the water flow, guiding its path and preventing flooding; the water nourished the land while flowing through it; combined, they nurtured life, creating beautiful and peaceful green fields.

Her name meant "lake." Her parents had told her that the water was very important, essential to any living thing, and it was why they had named her after lake, a calm body of water where people could quench their thirst.

She wanted to help him quench his thirst, ease his pain, heal his wounds, and someday, give him as much happiness as he gave her. She didn't know if she was capable, but she was determined to do her best to achieve it.

She only hoped he would let her do it. It might take him a long time to look at her the way she really wanted him to. From what had happened during the most recent battle, she had sensed there was probably something between him and the scarlet-haired girl who had left a deep impression on her. Nevertheless, she was resolved to stay by his side, even only as a friend if he wanted it that way.

Thinking about the possibility made her hurt and sad. She couldn't say his relationship with another girl didn't bother her. And she couldn't deny there was a burning sensation in her chest. Although it was a strange feeling, she knew what it was, and let out a sigh.

It wasn't easy, but she would accept the relationship if it was a part of him. She silently asked her parents, who must be watching over her from among the stars, to help her be strong enough to do it. To help her do it with gentleness and calmness, without letting her jealousy get in the way.

Mother, Father, please help me be a person worthy of this name. She wanted to be as serene and comforting as her name indicated.

He stirred with a frown and a weak moan, as if having a bad dream. She reached out to hold his hand tenderly, trying to soothe him. He stopped stirring and his face and body relaxed a little, his hand squeezing hers weakly.

Softening her face, she sung in whisper, "Always, someday, surely..."

The End

A/N: In case you didn't recognize it, the last line is a part of the lyrics of "Mizu no Akashi (Token of Water)."

I read someone suggesting that "Shizukana Yoru ni (In the Quiet Night)" is about Lacus's feelings for Athrun, and "Mizu no Akashi (Token of Water)" is about her feelings for Kira. It made some sense to me and this fic is affected by it. So if you check the lyrics, you might enjoy this fic more.

···

I see Lacus as a person who is very smart and composed, but sometimes too smart and composed for her own good. I believe there are times when you need to be stupid and emotional to some extent. But I don't think Lacus can do it well, especially before she "found" Kira.

I see her as a quite stern person, too. Both with herself and with others.

And she seems to be rather lonely. I doubt there are many people who can really understand or accept who she is.

I tried to depict her like that in the KL chapter of "Grass on My Side." And this fic is kind of a supplement to it. Not that you need to read both, though. Both are stand-alone fics.

Thank you for reading. And thank you to those who read and wrote a review of my previous fics, too.

*edited 08/29/19*