Illusione

In a city of black and grey, Kira saw only one color: red.

Lights go down it's dark

The jungle is your head - can't rule your heart

I'm feeling so much stronger than before

Your eyes are wide

And though your soul it can't be bought

You might be wonder

Hello, hello...

I'm at a place called Vertigo

It's everything I wish I didn't know

Except you give me something...

I can feel, feel

Vertigo, U2

The fluorescent lamp flickered a few times; causing the boy huddled in front of the computer to blink a few times as well. In the dim darkness of his family's cramped apartment, the artificial glow of the old, outdated computer faltered a bit, causing lines to appear on the screen.

The boy paused to kick the side of the computer gently, which put the machine back on track.

His fingers flew across the keyboard nimbly; chatting with several people across the globe. One of these was his best friend, a soldier who had been stationed somewhere in the Sahara desert.

How are you? He wrote, squinting in the glare of the whiteness of the screen.

I'm fine, was the reply. A little bit thirsty, and kind of homesick, but fine.

The boy smiled to himself.

Meet anyone interesting?

He swore that his friend was laughing right then. Nah. Came the reply. No one except a bunch of smelly, dust-faced men who eat spam all day.

The boy broke out into laughter. That sounded so much like his friend, he thought to himself. More words came to the screen.

How about you?

None, really. I haven't gone out in a bit, with mom's condition, and all.

Ah. My regards to your dad, and the rest of the family. How's Cagalli taking it?

He paused, unsure of what to say. Part of the boy was growing suspicious as to why his best friend asked about his sister so much, even when there wasn't much to say about her.

She's…not here at the moment.

Oh? Where is she?

Cagalli earned a scholarship to some university, but then she turned it down, and took up an offer to fly to Africa instead.

It took a few moments before the next reply came in.

Africa?

Yep. Said she wanted to help with the starving people there, especially the children, knock some sense into those screwed-up politicians, and all that jazz.

Hrm…that sounds like her, alright.

Yeah.

Hey, Kira? I gotta log off now, we're being asked to scan the perimeter for any hostile inhabitants. Take care, ok? And say hello to your sister for me.

Sure. Don't get your head blown off, Athrun.

Those were the last words they exchanged, before the boy's best friend disconnected, disappearing into another darkness that would last for a long while.

.0o0.

"Kira! Bring some toilet paper, will ya?" His father's voice came from the bathroom, disrupting the boy momentarily.

"Coming!"

He logged of the internet, turned off the computer, stood up, and dashed down the stairs. Within seconds, his head popped up again, and this time he held up a roll of toilet paper. Walking to the door, Kira knocked a couple of times, and then waited for it to open up a crack, just enough for his father to accept the tissue.

Sure enough, a grubby hand grabbed the roll, and vanished into the weak light of the bathroom, and the door slammed shut.

"Thanks."

"Yeah."

Kira stepped over the pile of old magazines that were dumped on the floor, just before his room. Careful not to knock anything over, he flipped the light on in his bedroom, and closed the door very, very gently.

.0o0.

The digital clock read 11:23. The young man eyed it blearily, before turning his gaze back to the pile of homework that still had to be accomplished.

It was a neat stack of white paper, chock-full of difficult exercises that his trigonometry teacher had made them do just to get a kick out of torturing the students. As usual, Kira had been able to do the hard ones in a flash, and now was wrestling with the easy ones.

"Damn," he muttered, blinking and stretching. If Cagalli had seen him, she would have said something like, 'Serves you right, little brother.' In truth, he was the older one, but his sister had insisted that two seconds didn't really matter, and that he was younger since she willed it so.

Somewhere outside, a loud voice floated up to his room.

"Kira, I'm going to the hospital! Watch the dog!"

And then, the sound of a door slamming before he could even reply.

On cue, a sad-looking pug appeared, poking its wrinkled face into the small space between the door and the doorframe. It looked up at Kira, with a pathetic expression on its face, begging, feed me.

"Hwee," it whined.

The young man groaned, running a hand through the horrible brown mess that was his hair.

"In a minute, Walrus."

It had been Cagalli's idea to name the pug Walrus, since she claimed it looked like one. Neither Kira nor his father saw the resemblance, but decided to let the girl have her way, since it was HER dog after all. A birthday gift from the wealthy Zala family, much to Kira's amusement.

Walrus whined a bit, before glaring at his mistress' brother in a way unfitting of a refined dog such as itself. The animal did not have much patience, though, and, after a few minutes of fruitless waiting, decided to find some food of its own.

"Next…" mumbled Kira, stifling a yawn, "page 127…numbers three, eight and twenty…"

The perfect picture of a crammer, the boy slaved over his math homework through the rest of the night, while the small pug raided the trash can, and found some expired T-bone steak to gnaw on. The master of the house did not return from the hospital until early morning.

.0o0.

"I'm sorry sir, but it doesn't look too good for her. I give her…three weeks—"

The doctor soon found himself pinned to the wall by an angry husband, unable to finish his sentence. A pair of wild, sleep-deprived eyes stared furiously into his own.

"What do you mean three weeks?" he demanded.

"Well, you see, we've spotted an abnormal growth of—uagh!" The man was choking him now, and his big hands closed down on the doctor's windpipe, preparing to crush it.

In the background, the nurses scurried around in silent panic, calling desperately for security. The doctor realized that the man was saying something.

"You will cure my wife," he growled, "OR I WILL KILL YOU!" There was no more silent fury in his voice; the man began to take out his rage on the poor doctor, lifting him up by the collar of his lab gown.

In the room, a strangled voice came from the woman, the patient, who had watched this scene unfold with sad, dying eyes.

"Please," she begged, "Put him down."

The husband, realizing that she was awake, dropped the doctor into a crumpled heap on the ground. He rushed to his beloved wife immediately, taking her small, pale hands in his. From where she lay, she could see the fear in his eyes, and the last string of desperation.

She smiled at him weakly, stroking his cheek. Three weeks was too long a wait. She wanted to end it now. Slowly, the woman spoke her last words, her hands moving to disconnect the cords which gave her life.

"Someday, pigs will fly."

And then, her eyes lost their glimmer.

.0o0.

The wind picked up, on that rainy day. Kira watched, fighting his tears, as the men lowered his mother's coffin into the fresh grave. Many people had gathered under the plastic tent, to witness the burial of a beautiful, loving woman, who had died of a new, mysterious disease, as well as dementia which had affected her brain during the final stretch of her short life.

The boy closed his eyes, choking down a sob, as he heard the thud of black wood hitting moist earth. Screaming rose into the air, hysterical, inane screaming and sobbing. Kira dropped to the ground, crying openly, and covering his ears.

In a moment, it stopped.

.0o0.

'This is a joke,' the man thought to himself, 'A sick joke.'

The windshield wipers went back and forth, back and forth across the wet glass at the front of the car, as fat raindrops pelted the vehicle continuously.

He was driving; to where? He didn't know, but the man could not care less. Nothing mattered anymore, now that she was gone.

"Kat," he moaned, feeling helpless and depressed, but still angry at the world.

"KAT!"

The headlights revealed a flat road; safe, with no cars to crash into. The man cursed inwardly, and drove on, stepping harder on the gas. The old car shuddered with the pressure being put on the overused engine, but it went a notch faster nevertheless.

Pigs will fly? he spat, What the hell was that all about?

She had been vanishing into grey during the last few days; a grey that he did not understand, and did not want to understand. Having nowhere else to go, nothing else to live for, the man waved a threatening fist at the dull sky, screaming in a hoarse, choked voice.

"WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME! WHY DID YOU TAKE HER AWAY!"

Curse God and die. But unlike Job, he was not a man of faith.

The car began to stumble into mountain territory. Without thinking, the man drove over the nearest cliff, and vanished.

.0o0.

It was odd, terribly odd. As the boy uncovered his ears, an eerie, scary silence drifted over the funeral party. It was as if everyone and everything had died. Kira blinked, raising his eyes up to the colourless sky. Covered in a thick quilt of clouds, it offered nothing but grey dullness.

Water began to pour.

As the gravediggers shovelled the last of the filth onto his mother's coffin, Kira felt a surge of relief, and at the same time, great sadness. But at least it was all over. At least, now, his mother was free.

No sun was there, as his mother's sister, the one who had organized the funeral, approached the boy to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He did not stir. The guests were beginning to leave slowly, going into their cars which were parked on the cemetery roads.

His aunt left Kira there. A soft, cold wind began to blow. My mother is in heaven, he thought. She is in heaven.

How will Cagalli take this, he wondered. His sister wasn't as close to his mother as he had been, but Kira knew that she loved her just as much.

At that moment, in the midst of the black, the grey and the colourless tears and sky, leaves began to fly in the cool air, and another colour began to grow.

Kira turned his head. His eyes widened.

There, sitting in the grass and wet leaves, about ten feet behind his mother, was a young woman, about his age. Her head was hidden, buried in her arms, which were wrapped around a stone cross marker. Beneath her soaking body was a bunch of assorted wildflowers, which had been lain on the person's grave.

The girl was sobbing, by herself. In the rain.

There were no words spoken between her and Kira, but as she raised her head, with the ends of her hair dripping water, their eyes met.

He felt an overwhelming sense of…something unexplainable, rush through him right then, as her fierce, adamant eyes burned through his.

Such beauty, such strength…such sadness.

Are you alone, too? She seemed to ask. Then we are the same.

We are the same.

Suddenly, in that world of black, grey and colourless sky, Kira raised his eyes to the clouds, the rain and the sorrow. Looking up, he saw one colour appear, bold and bright, appearing as a lone streak on a canvas of nothingness.

Red.

We are the same.

"Kira," someone called. He turned around. It was his aunt. Her face was drawn and red with all the tissue that she had been using.

"Come on. I'll bring you home."

He nodded, following her. As his feet crunched through the wet, dead leaves on the ground, Kira could not resist turning his head back, to catch one last glimpse of the red-haired girl.

The wildflowers were still on the grave, but he saw her silhouette, growing fainter as she walked away into the gloomy afternoon.

Red, he thought.

.0o0.

"Here you go."

The young woman injected the last of the medicine into the arm of the wailing baby boy, as his mother looked on worriedly. Ignoring the flies, the heat and the noise, Cagalli took the child up in her arms and handed it to its mother.

"Next!"

This time it was an ailing old man, whose body was as frail as he was thin. A thick, white beard grew over his beautiful brown skin, and he was supported by his young son.

"Please Madame," the youth said in broken French, "Cure my father."

Cagalli nodded, and began rummaging in some of the medicine boxes. Although she did not understand a single word of French, the young woman knew what he was trying to say.

That was what they were all trying to say.

.o0o.

It was nearly dawn when she received word of her mother's death. One of the other foreigners posted there had generously allowed Cagalli to use her laptop computer.

Kira's email was as follows.

Cagalli,

Mom died two days ago, in the hospital. The funeral was yesterday. Dad didn't come home last night, and he's been missing ever since. Please call.

Kira.

There were no words to say on her behalf; everything had already been said. Soon, quiet tears grew into sobs, and sobs into wails, as Cagalli clutched herself inside her small cabin, in a cramped hotel somewhere in Rwanda. Her mother was gone…her father, too. And Kira was on the other side of the world.

A choked name escaped from her parted lips, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Mother…"

Suddenly, Cagalli felt very, very alone.

.0o0.

It was ironic. Kira leaned back on the headrest of his bed, inside the apartment, unable to sleep. His mind was swimming with thoughts of heaven, of earthen angels, and of strange coincidences.

That girl at the grave…who was she?

At the thought of her, another, searing stroke cut in through his blurred, bland vision; red. Kira closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head. Why did this happen to him ever since he thought of her?

The world was grey, white and black. The sky was colourless; sometimes grey. Athrun was a darker shade of the same colour; Cagalli was white with a streak of black…

But red?

He had never seen the colour red.

.0o0.

The plane's wheels touched down on the runway, and the passengers rattled a bit, despite their seatbelts. In the fourteenth row, Cagalli sat there, looking forlornly out the small glass window. The view felt so cold now, with the sky nothing but darkness, and the airport nothing but a concrete wall.

Kira, she thought.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you may now remove your seatbelts. The craft has settled. Thank you for riding…"

The flight attendant's mechanical voice faded away into the flurry of noises that Cagalli had not heard for so long…the sound of children complaining about their siblings…the sounds of tourists bickering over which spot to go next…the quality of the airline peanuts, and so on.

The sound of her own voice breaking.

.0o0.

Three knocks to the front door, and she realized that it wasn't locked. Slowly, Cagalli rolled what little she had brought with her to Rwanda into the small living room area of the apartment. There was a scuffling sound from the kitchen, and then, a familiar face greeted the young woman.

Her first emotion was nostalgia.

"Walrus! C'mere boy!"

The small pug yelped happily and jumped into its mistress' arms, licking her face. Boy, was it glad to have her home. Maybe now, that wretched boy wouldn't have to take care of Walrus anymore.

"Where's Kira?"

The pug frowned, displeased, and jutted its head towards the stairs. Cagalli nodded, setting Walrus down, and heading to see her brother. Her footsteps resounded loudly.

"Kira?" she called.

A surprised, weary voice came in the direction of his room.

"Cagalli?"

Fast, staccato footsteps, and then, a thin face, smiling slightly, violet eyes slightly red on the sides; he had been crying, she surmised.

She laughed a cold, empty, perhaps mocking laugh, before looking into her brother's eyes with the saddest expression on her face.

"I'm home," she whispered, before he enveloped her into a hug. "I'm home."

And then, the tears began to flow.

.0o0.

"Fllay? Honey?"

Two knocks.

"Are you there, sweetheart?"

The girl ignored her stepmother's calls, staring blankly at the wall of her bedroom. She was nestled there, alone. It had been the first time that she was permitted to see her father's grave.

Fllay was startled at what she had seen; a young man who looked like a boy, the one with violet eyes. As she wept over the grass and stone that was the father she never really knew, a stranger—a peculiar stranger had seen her, understood her, and, although she was sure he never meant it, he had given her comfort, and, maybe, even hope.

"At least…I'm not alone," she whispered to the empty room.

"Fllay!" The door swung open, and her stepmother stood there. "Darling, it's time for dinner."

The girl stood up, dusted her skirt off and smiled, feeling an odd lightness to her heart.

"I'm coming, mother."

Red.

.0o0.

Ow.a.ri. Strange? I know. Don't understand me. :P