WHEN IT'S ALL SAID AND DONE

PART I

They say when you die, your whole live flashes before your eyes. It's impossible to escape from your past, to hide from your faults and mistakes, and to deny the wrongs you've done onto others. Someone once told me that as your soul stands before the Light, you see yourself reflecting back for all that you are. Every crevice of your being, every dark corner of your mind, every stain and scar that mars your souls is laid out plain in front of you. When Heaven opens its gates after deeming you worthy to be welcomed into its kingdom, it is you who must pass the last judgment.

...

...

Lacus Clyne wakes up slowly. She turns unto her stomach, and feels her bones crack like brittle branches. Beside her, her husband of 49 years scowls and buries his head deeper into his covers.

"What is that god awful sound?" Kira's arm reaches out and gropes randomly in the dark.

For a few moments, Lacus just blinks and stares at the green light coming from the little screen on her bedside table. "It's the phone, hon."

Her clock tells her it's 5:18 in the morning and she groans. God, Lacus thinks, I thought retirement is supposed to be relaxing. She picks up the receiver and curses its persistent buzzing. It's been a few minutes, but apparently the person on the other side has no intentions of letting up.

"It better not be another telemarketer. How many times do we have to tell them we're not interested before they get the idea?" Kira grumbles. With old age comes the increasing difficulty to get a good night of sleep, and the retired general really becomes a cranky old man when he's disturbed from his nap time, not that there's much going on anymore that warrants waking the famous Kira Yamato at wee hours of the morning. "If I was ten years younger…"

His wife puts on her reading glasses and squints at the screen, "it's from Orb… Stana's number. Jesus, that girl has no sense of time. Hello?"

"Mom...hi…" The voice is evidently a few pitches too low to belong to her 43 year old daughter, but the distress and hesitance in her son's voice swept away any sleep residue in the former Chairwoman of PLANTS.

"Riley? Whyat are you doing at your sister's house in Orb? Shouldn't you be in– hon wake up –" Lacus nudges Kira and her mother instinct goes on hyper drive, "Riley – oh sweetheart, what's wrong? Did you have a fight with Lex again – Riley Yamato, what is going on? Sweetheart, say something!"

Kira sits up and stretches his tired muscles, and in the dark, he sees his wife's face contort from mild confusion into sudden despair. His heart gives a tight squeeze as paranoia whispers evil thoughts of something catastrophic– like war – into his mind.

"What? What is Riley saying?" Dread hangs over his head like a thundercloud.

Lacus's hand drops into her lap as she hangs up, and she looks at him with those blue, blue eyes that speak of something terrible.

"Jackson, Stana, Riley and Kat are all waiting for us in Orb. I-It," She reaches for his hand then, and holds on so tight that it physically hurts, "It's Cagalli."

...

...

Maurice Ravel's "Pavanne for a Dead Princess" fills the quiet bedroom chamber with its gentle tune. There is an easy breeze coming from the window, raising the sheer curtains to invite in the soft spring sunlight that kisses the brass gramophone bell golden. A gentle hand lifts the needle of the record player and a momentary silence fills the room.

"Daxien, son, leave it on." A calm, but authoritative voice says, "You know that one is my favourite."

The man twists his stethoscope wearily. The irony of the song is not lost on him. "But ma'am –"

"I assure you, good doctor, that it's quite alright." There is a slight sigh, a little tired, but not unhappy, "What must come will come, so there is no point avoiding it. Besides, Ravel's Pavanne has such a nice flow."

Daxien complies with his patient's wish. One of her last, he thinks with a heavy heart. What's the point of wrestling with an old dying woman? He almost smiles at his own ridiculousness. To think anyone can twist the arms of Cagalli Yula Attha into giving in once she sets her mind on something. That's a rather tall order.

The queen lets her attention linger on the young doctor for a brief moment, giving him a reassuring smile before turning to the people sitting around her. "Wasn't I a dish back then?" She jokes while referring to an old photograph of herself in lush forest green silk. It was a slim, single-shouldered dress tailored impeccably to her figure, with no extra fluff, lace or nonsense. The way the soft gentle waves of liquid gold shined was utterly ethereal.

The queen was the very definition of sublime.

"What do you mean back then? You still are, Aunt Cagalli." Viktor La Flaga cracks a grin, and the whole room rumbles with gentle laughter.

The doctor taps the tube of the IV once, before smiling down at the woman on the bed, propped up by half a dozen down pillows, and covered by the red and mauve quilt her grandnieces made for her 56th birthday. She was…is…much loved by her friends and kins.

"What about this one?" Stana Yamato, sitting to the right, holds out a picture of the queen shaking hands with a silver haired man. Stana reads out the neatly printed inscription on the back, "The swear-in of Yzak Joule, the 23rd Chairman of PLANTS, May CE 86."

"After 3 terms as Chairwoman of Plants, your mother has more than served her country. Besides, she was long overdue for a vacation, because you little devils were giving her a hard time," The queen shakes an accusing finger at her nieces and nephews. "You're Uncle Yzak was elected as her successor."

"Hey look, that's Lex!" Matthias Elsman points out his best friend in the background, standing beside his mother, the very elegant First Lady Shiho Joule. "Aw, what a cutie you were back then. What happened, man?"

"Shut up, prat." Lex Joule rolls his eyes.

Matt and Lex, like their fathers, have been as thick as thieves since toddler age, but unlike their fathers, they grew up without having to see each other maiming and slaughtering nameless enemies. Matt, bless the man, has music written in his bones, and will not live without his beloved cello. Lex though, likes the guns and the thrill that comes in a neatly wrapped package called Zaft Intelligence. Whatever their choices are, the queen is comforted in knowing they made them for their own dreams and not because the pressure of family names and expectations.

"And what do we have here," Lex picks up another photo, trying to take the heat off himself. The queen as a younger woman is holding a kicking and shrieking boy over the ocean waves.

"That screaming little monster is Riley." Stana's older twin, Jackson, peers across the bed and laughs. "He was terrified of swimming when we were younger. Little scaredy cat." Jackson struggles between gasps, earning himself a hard slap on the arm from his brother glaring at him with stern blue eyes.

"Geez, I didn't know you were such a handful. Tsk, tsk, bratty baby." Noah, the middle Joule child, smiles teasingly at his husband. His sister-in-law Stana whispers something into his ears that causes him to snicker.

"I was not a brat!" Riley huffs indignantly at Noah.

"Hmm," The queen smiles at the children in front of her, who really, aren't children anymore. Many of them have already become parents and started lives of their own.

The next generation stands before the Chief Representative of Orb like a wall of stability built upon the foundation of peace their forefathers traded their lives to preserve. They are the proof that life not only continues after the war, but prospers, blooms and gives to new life. Her generation had sacrificed the prime of their life to fighting and killing – they had no choice in the matter. Bloodshed and war consumed too much of their innocence, and their adolescence became too tainted with tragedy and death.

True, no one single person can be blamed for such misfortune; the entirety of humanity together is the perpetrator, but within it, each condemned individual is branded with one crime or another, the aiding and abetting, negligance, omittance...the list goes on. And they feel it, they all do, even after the stitches are removed and the bandages are peeled, somewhere deep down where even they themselves are afraid to venture...in the dark nasty pit filled with ghosts and crumbled souls, shit and scars and unspeakable things, they feel it. The burn. Pressed upon them like hot iron against flesh, sizzling and charring...

They'll never have a wholesome life - the queen, her colleagues and those who feel the burn, they all know - because people like them will never lose the ghosts that haunt them, and the burn will never cease... the pain never ease.

We'll always have these ugly scars, Cagalli, whether they're on our chests, or in our hearts. We'll always have them. She remembers Kira once telling her after the birth of his firstborns. But they…they won't. Look at them, sis, look how beautiful they are. Lacus and I, we may have given them our noses and our eyes, but the scars we'll keep to ourselves. It'd be a crime to pass on such painful legacies.

She turned to her brother then, full of hope and resolve, I promise you Kira, that the children of tomorrow will live and grow to become painters and doctors, architects and chefs, CEOs and bus drivers, teachers and quantum physicists, dancers and mechanics…Some of them will become like me, a politician, and some will be like you, a soldier, but they'll never have to be taunted by death like we did, and never, ever, will they have our ugly scars.

The queen glances around the room, and feels a sudden surge of pride swelling in her chest, smothering the burn. It's almost gone these days, the burn, but it still likes to lick at her with its dying flames every once in a while. Not today though. Today she can hardly feel it. Her promise came true. The children she held in her arms and kissed and loved have broken free from the shadows of their parentage and established their own niches in society. That's the way it's supposed -

The queen suddenly hunches over as she is caught in crippling spasms of coughs.

"Aunt Cagalli!" A dozen voices exclaim at the same time. "Hambrecht! Doctor! Daxien! !"

But the queen lifts up a hand to silence everyone, "Alright, everybody tune down the volume. I'm still alive." She leans back onto her pillow and turns to the doctor, "but a cup of water would be nice."

Twelve pairs of eyes fix worried gazes on the old woman lying in bed as the doctor urges her to put on her oxygen tubes, which she still adamantly refuses, saying it won't keep her living any longer.

"Hmm…it's quite alarming, having so many pairs of eyes staring at me like that." When she speaks, the queen's voice is raspy but firm. Everyone lets out a breath of temporary relief.

"Hey Aunt Cags, glad to know you still got fire in you."Jim Elsman's attempt to lighten up the mood falls flat when he can't manage to hold the smile on his face.

"Hey, hey, don't be so glum, you're bringing this old woman down." Cagalli waves her hand irritably. Blood or not, they are her nieces and nephews, and she hates to be the cause of their sadness, "Maggie, Viktor, Dae, stop looking at someone's going to die – pun not intended. Maggie, wipe those tears, my tough foreign affairs officer never cries."

Marjorie, Viktor, and Dae La Flaga nevertheless struggle with the orders they handed. It breaks Cagalli's heart to see them standing at her bedside, and she almost wishes they aren't. This is their third time in one year sending a loved one to eternity, after the passing of both of their parents, one quickly after another. Viktor stands before her in his colonel's uniform, and the queen curses inwardly at the last minute postphone of the multi-industry international conference in Carpentaria. If it were not for that, Marjorie, a foreign affairs minister who is representing Orb, and her brother Viktor, one of Orb's naval generals, will not be standing here, in front of their queen, watching her take her dying breaths.

Dae, the youngest La Flaga and a mirror image Murrue, turns her face away when she can't stop the tears. The queen imagines she's the least equipped to deal with death, having been surrounded by cheerful, naïve children all day at the elementary school where Dae teaches history.

"Matt," The queen rests her hand on the shoulder of the man sitting at her left, "Look at how handsome you'd be if you were smiling, boy." She holds up the snapshot of Matthias at his first cello recital at age of seven, taken by his mother Miriallia.

"Smile."

"Jim always called it 'The Shit-eating Grin'," Matt chuckles softly at the younger version of himself, but the queen knows it is for her sake.

She sighs, "I didn't invite you all into my chamber to see your frowning faces. I think I've seen enough of those in my days. We're living in better times now, look how gorgeous today is. There's no reason to be so glum, my dears." She gestures weakly at the old photographs spread out over her laps. "I took these out to remind myself of the good things I was blessed with. Honestly, if I had a picture for every tragedy that ever happened to me, every death I caused or seen, every person I wronged, and every failure I committed, there would not be space on the ground for you to stand on."

"But I don't need to put the bad things in photographs." The queen continues, "Because I carry them with me…here," She taps at her heart, "every day. My mistakes, my regrets, there are all here. My faults I have repented for and to those I've wronged, I've paid my dues. I have looked into mirror and said with honesty, I did my best. I will always have regrets, but I have no shame and no sorrow. So don't be sad for me. Don't cry. I am going to die, and I am ready, if Haumea will have me."

There is a long moment of silence during which no one moves or says anything. Frankly, no one knows how or what to say. Jackson and Stana grips onto their aunt's right and left hands as if they fear that she will float away into heaven like a hot air balloon. Beside Stana, her husband Jim Elsman, who's an editor-in-chief at large publishing company, squeezes his wife's shoulder wordlessly. The queen does not miss his movement, however small. Nor does she neglect to see Riley clutching Noah Joule's hand with bruising strength.

At the sight of them, Cagalli cannot deny herself a pleased little smile. So many years of being The Boss poisoned her with the addiction to have the world under her thumb, or at least, moving in the tract that she drew out for it. She's a little embarrassed to say that she has become a grade A control-freak and perfectionist. Yet, little acts of unconditional support her family displays remind her that the world will continue to spin on its axis in a 24 hours cycle, and even as she lets go, her family will be fine because they will have each other to lean on when she is no longer there to hold them under her wings.

Of course, it is close to impossible for her to stop worrying. She worries. Over everything and everyone. It's who she is, and that's just what she does.

"The media sure is crazy." The silence is finally broken by the doctor, who stands by the window, peering down below. "Looks like everyone wants a bite of the meat."

"Huh, I wonder what crazy tales they'll spin off this time." The queen rolls her eyes. She has long ceased to care.

Wars may end but social criticism will always exist, or as long as there is the media to twist, mold and over-blow the truth to cook up the juicy scandalous stories it tries to sell to ignorant, discriminative, hypocritical fools. Rumours and gossip are bullets of a psychological sort, so that stupid sticks and stones saying needs to fuck off, because words can hurt like a bitch. And who knows this better than the Queen of Orb?

Ah, the curse of being part of famous families.

Oh my, the great Kira Yamato's son, not in the military? He's a financial risk analyst? Well, that's a great waste of good genes and family connections! Oh, what now? He's a homosexual? Who is his boyfriend again? Chairman Joule's son, Noah Joule! Who works as a medical examiner! So now he's a homosexual and a necrophiliac! Oh how the mighty families have fallen!

It was a period of domestic chaos. Noah and Riley have lost count of how many times they've caught their mothers sitting in an empty room, crying angry tears while tearing magazines into strips and pieces. In the end, the boys stood hand in hand, with maturity and dignity, and told the world to 'bring it'. Gods be thanked, their relationship worked out marvelously, even if Yzak still mumbles under his breath every now and then, "can't believe he married a Yamato."

"I don't understand what's the big deal," The queen shakes her head, "What's so interesting about an old woman dying that attracts so many reporters. I mean yes, I am the Chief Representative of Orb, but my death is not going to be colourful explosions and angels coming down to claim by body. Somebody needs to tell those morons outside to go home."

"Auntie K, d-don't say that," Kat Yamato, 32 and still likes to live with her head in the clouds, is sniffling loudly because she really wants to sob. "you can't possibly – "

"Kitty Kat, baby, shh…" the queen pulls her niece down into a hug and Kat buries her face into the queen shoulder. "it's alright."

Seeing the queen is straining under Kat's form, Stana gently pries her youngest sister off their aunt, and hold hers in her arms while she ran her fingers through Kat's pink hair.

The queen's head falls back against the pillows, and she draws in slow shallow breathes, "Kitty here is just a little too big for me to carry that's all." But the end of her sentence comes out so soft that her family can barely catch it.

Doctor Hambrecht steps in at that moment, "I think the Representative needs to rest now. Speaking is taking too much energy from her. I will go get her some more medication."

The crowds nod understandingly at the Daxien's request, but no one moves an inch. There it is. The moment of goodbye. The queen may be ready, but they sure as hell aren't.

"Be good to each other," The Representative, like a true monarch, holds out her hand for them to grasp, and beseechs them in her tired but commanding voice her last commandments. Her eyelids flutter weakily, threatening to close forever, "Be good to your family, your friends, and learn to forgive even your enemies. Earth and PLANTs support us beneath our feet, but it is us who lift up this world. Remember that."

She pads the hands of her nieces and nephews, and they lean down to allow her to kiss their cheeks and to kiss hers. Then, tearfully, one after the other, they exited the chamber –

"Skylar," The queen calls the youngest Joule, who never said much this entire time. Skylar pauses at the door, one hand on the knob and the other on her slightly rounded belly. "Yes, Aunt Cagalli?"

"Stay."

...

...

Outside of Attha Manor, thousands upon thousands of Orb citizens gather on the streets. Their conglomeration is one done with solemn respect and silence as cold as death. The news of the queen's condition spread like wildfire, and the people can feel it in their bones. Today will be the end of the reign of a great leader, and goodbyes must be paid.

A sleek black automobile pulls up the street towards the Manor and the crowd of civilians makes way for it while the media rushes forward. They recognize the famous family crest that is engraved on the front of the car. It was once the political symbol of a great leader and his ideals; even after his terms in office the people of PLANTS and even those of Orb still recognize and believe in it.

Orb's own ministers, cabinet members, and senators stand in masses on the outer stairs, old and young. Mostly old though, for those with seniority have likelier chance of knowing the Representative as more than a dynamic politician, so would therefore feel obliged – compelled even – to await for their Queen's final wishes. All those who saw her grow, who grew with her, they stand together now in solidarity. Their silence bids their farewells.

It is not a moment of sorrow. No never. Sadness in the presence of death would demean the vigor and utter dedication with which the Queen led her life. Regardless of the countless fatal threats, the queen gave her entire being to realize the promises she made to her people and to herself. No one understands this more than the man emerging from the car. After all, he led a similar life to his female counterpart. Coming from backgrounds of respectable power, they both suffered the pain of losing one's beloved parent, fought, bled and toiled through two bloody wars followed by 50 years of sociopolitical reform, and both ultimately were deprived of the one thing they truly wanted.

Athrun Zala stands before the Attha manor in grave stillness. He hasn't looked upon this place in almost five decades. Yet, it still feels like home. As he moves past Orb's politicians, he notices they can't meet his eyes. He feels their regret and shame, but he cannot find it in himself to offer them his sympathies or forgiveness, which he knows is what they are truly seeking. Black cane in hand, head held high and walking with too much dignity and stealth than man of sixty eight should muster, the chairman ventures into the manor as if the fifty one years since he's been Alex Dino do not exist at all. Familiarity and ownership he unconsciously exudes over the manor only solidify the title the servants have unofficially crowned him.

"Master Athrun, the queen has been waiting for you for a long time," A maid, Mana's successor, smiles politely.

Master, an honoured title not even Kira is blessed with, for he will forever be known to the staff as General Yamato.

"You're right," The chairman's smile is wane, "I've kept her waiting long enough."

...

...

When the doctor returns with the medication, Skylar Joule is no longer there, and the queen lies still on the bed. For a terrifying moment, the doctor believes the inevitable has happened, but the shallow raise and fall of the queen's chest testify that she has simply succumbed to a calm slumber. Sighing, the doctor stands at her bedside, and with a pang of sadness he notes that out of all the pictures the queen goes through, there isn't single frame which shows Representative Attha with a family of her own. Even after all these years, she doesn't have a life partner or any children.

Abruptly, almost though she knows him standing there, the queen opens her eyes and golden orbs are upon him like stars. She looks at him like she knows exactly what he's think. Daxien feels … bare … underneath her gaze. Not naked in a physical sense no, but as if her gaze can undress him emotionally by pulling down every professional barrier he built up and seeing through his every attempt at apathy.

"The people of Orb are my family. The orphans of this country are my children." She says in her raspy voice, and places a weak wrinkled hand on his arm in comfort.

The acceptance she harbours inside, Daxien can never understand. Solitude. What a terrible constancy. He doesn't even begin to know how she endured it all these years.

The queen turns her head towards the sun, and when she blinks, the doctor can almost see the phantoms that swim in the deep pool of memories behind ancient eyes, and he thinks that maybe she is never truly alone.

"Take it easy ma'am. You don't want to wear yourself out." Daxien pats her hand and holds on. He's not really supposed to, but he can't bring himself to let go. It's not like he's never lost important patients before, but none of them are like her. He made a mistake to get so attached, but gosh, can you blame him? Representative Attha is every bit as brilliant and awesome as everyone makes her to be. "And…for all of us, I just want to say thank you, ma'am. Thank you so much."

The representative nods serenely, "It was my pleasure and honour."

The doctor hangs his head as he holds the queen's hand in both of his, "I just wish that there is something I could do, because I feel like I failed my job, failed this country, and failed…you."

The queen actually chuckled, "Don't be so hard on yourself, doctor, or you'll give yourself an ulcer. God knows I certainly did during the harder times. Listen sweet boy, it's not cancer; it's not a chronic condition. It's just…age."

The doctor sighed in resignation, "Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything at all?"

There is a glint in her ancient eyes Daxien can't decipher, "Ah, now that you mention it, there's a document in the top right drawer of my bureau. It's very important that I deliver it, if you could please bring it to me."

Doctor Daxien Hambrecht smiles, "Of course ma'am. Anything for you."

...

...

In front of the oak doors is a mass of people the chairman does not expect to see, or at least, does not expect to see gathered here so quickly. He doesn't ask the whereabouts of Kira and Lacus, for he had a feeling in his core that the flight from PLANTS will not arrive on time. The same would apply then to Yzak and Shiho. Unlike them, he's been in Panama on a humanitarian project with the indigenous people when he received the news from Riley. On a bench closest to him, he sees Matt Elsman burying his eyes in his fists, and remembers that Miriallia and Dearka Elsman are in a remote mountain resort somewhere on Earth for vacation where Miriallia can indulge in as much freelance photography as she wants. By the time they learn of Cagalli's pass, it will be too late, and the simple fact that they aren't there to say goodbye will devastate them.

Jackson, the Chairman's favourite nephew and the oldest out of the four siblings, is the first to notice him, but it isn't long before the rest of the party catches on and rushes forward all at once to offer hugs and their condolences.

The chairman smiles at the children of his friends, "How is she?" He asks them.

"She's not in any pain," Stana replies tearfully, "She's been tired lately, more than usual. Her appetite and sleep pattern have been off, but the doctor's couldn't find anything wrong. They thought…the doctors….they thought she's just having an off week, until she collapsed around 5 ish in the morning. The doctors have been tending to her and said she needs rest."

"Doctor Hambrecht said if she gets better within the next few hours, then we have nothing to worry about, but it doesn't look like…" Jackson continues for his sister, "her organs are failing…"

The children bow their head at their uncle's stricken expression, "How…"

"We don't know. I'm so sorry Uncle Athrun," Over the shoulder of Kat, the chairman sees the older Elsman boy giving him a discerning look like he knows exactly what is going on. Jim reminds him way too much of Miriallia, whose entire life is focused on the unsaid and the suppressed. Very few in this world know of the history and bond that the queen and the chairman share in their youth and to this day. The chairman doesn't quite believe that Jim can be one of those few people.

"When I can see her?"

"Lord Zala," Daxien makes his appearance then, and he bows respectfully to the senior man.

"Doctor," The chairman places a gentle hand on the younger man's shoulder. He holds the boy still as he implores into his eyes, "Tell me the truth."

The truth, the truth...can you handle the truth?

"She...she won't make it past noon." Daxien finally admits. He speaks with professional politeness and pleasantry, but his eyes betray that he is mourning like the rest of them, "You may see her now, but please Lord Zala, don't overwhelm her. Her condition is tender."

...

...

When she opens her eyes, he is there. The same smiling green eyes that's always a little sad, gazing at her tenderly. There is no more need to hide, nothing left to lose.

"Hey stranger," Cagalli greets, "How've you been?"

"Oh you know," Athrun shrugs playfully, "papers need to be signed and idiots need to be yelled at."

Cagalli chuckles, "I thought that was my job. You were always extra nice to your employees."

There's a pause. "Shinn called earlier."

"Oh?" He's not a bit surprised, "What did he say?"

"He didn't say much." Cagalli sighs, "He called, and that's enough."

"He cried." It isn't a question.

"He did." Cagalli chuckles. Truth be told, Shinn called because he too is stuck in PLANTS and fears he would not make it in time, and there are things he needed to say before it is too late. Cagalli didn't lie, Shinn really did not say much, but the tears he shed over the phone as he thanked her for her unconditional support despite his acrid and impertinent attitude put to rest her secret fear that he never truly forgave her.

There's silence again.

Athrun reaches for her withered hand, "Sorry I'm late."

The wrinkles on her aged face deepen as she smiles with all the love she's bottled up in side over the years. Like a tap finally let loose, her happiness to hear his subtle confession overflows.

"You're here. That's all it matters." She squeezes his hand understandingly.

"I saw your colleagues outside," Athrun starts, "and I see it in their faces the shame they feel, and though I wanted to say 'good, you should be ashamed', all I found myself thinking is how great it would be if they felt this way a little earlier."

A single tear slips past his curtain of graying lashes, and it broke her heart to see him like this. There'd only been a handful of people who Athrun wept for. His parents, Kira, and her. Cagalli gazes at the man she gave her heart to since those olden days on the island, and sighs a little. True, she has no regrets and no scores unsettled, but Athrun is standing in front of her now, and Cagalli realizes there is one wish that she will never be granted for as long as she lived. Finally, he's back at her side just as promised when he first put that ring on her finger, but god, a lifetime has been wasted between them.

In his eyes, she can see the what-could've-beens, and the huge emptiness hanging between them is filled with the dreams they wish they could've made real.

Gingerly, the princess caressed the faint scar line hidden among the wrinkles on her knight's left cheek, the result of a failed assassination a few decades back. It had landed him that scar he later refused to remove and an explosive bullet to the knee that never quite healed.

Athrun lets out a sigh of contentment, leaning into her much welcomed touch and closes his eyes. "I'm so sorry. Sometimes I wish things had been different..."

"Yes, we can wish, but listen to me," Cagalli grips his lapel, forcing him to look at her, "We strived, we tried and we did the best we can. So this is the only way. Can u honestly tell me that the past five decades years of your life had been miserable? That you were not happy?"

He shakes his head, relenting, "I cannot. The last decades have been wonderful."

She smiles in satisfaction, "Good, because mine have been too. We are only given one life to live, and we'll never know how things could've turned out if we had chosen otherwise. Any other way…"

Athrun smoothes back her snow white hair. How gold has turned silver. She's still so beautiful. "Any other way could be better, but it could also be worse. At least with the choices we have made, we know for a fact that we are, to a certain extent, happy." He finishes for her, knowing exactly what she wants to say. His own sentiments are not far from hers, it seems.

Cagalli mirrors Athrun's caress, and gently ran her fingers along his grey hairline. Her thumb traces his well-formed brow, then down to his high cheekbones, before stopping along his strong jaws, rough against her skin with salt and pepper stubbles. It is an act of rediscovery which proves to the small cynical notion in her head suspecting this is just a really beautiful dream that everything she sees in front of her is close and so very real.

"Our deal is still on, right?" She asks him, a slight tremor pulses through her, "You're not going to back out on me?"

Athrun smiles and shakes his head, "Never."

Another pause.

"I love you, Cagalli."

How long she's been waiting to hear him say that? Too long, if you ask her, but she doesn't mind the wait. Though she admits, sometimes she felt like throwing in the towels, and that the languidness of time grated on her nerves more than just a little bit, but as impatient as she was(is), she was never a greedy person, Cagalli likes to think, and in the end she is contented with what she has. To spend her last moments on this planet with him at her side and whispering lovely things into her ears, she can't ask for anything else. Without warning, the dam of Cagalli built to well up her emotions bursts, and the tears she didn't let herself the luxury to cry fall like rain upon parched earth. The release is nothing short of magnificent

"You know that, right? It's always been just you," He kisses her fingers. "My heart has always been yours. It's just been…. in storage for a while."

Her vision is blurred by her tears, and she can't form a word, but she nods her head fervently. Wiping at her tear-stained face, she manages to catch her breath, "I know, I know…"

Their eyes lock. Athrun leans close until their noses are touching and his forehead rests gently against hers.

Against those warm lips, Cagalli whispers for just her lover to hear, "I love you too, Athrun."

And then he claims her lips with his own, and pours into her all the love, hurt, passion and fear he's contained within himself. She welcomes it all, raising her hand to grasp the back of his neck so she can kiss him deeper, and in that moment, Athrun understands what it feels like to finally be home.

...

...

The doctor sits down weakly into the queen's armchair. He is alone in her office, but the quietness that surrounds him does not dilute the screaming voices in his head. The parcel he came to retrieve for the queen lies limply beside his feet where he dropped it, its contents spilling out from its brown-paper package.

Daxien looks into the bronze-framed mirror mounted on the wall across from him, but he doesn't recognize the stranger that stares back with horror etched onto his face and green eyes bright like jade.

He's never realized how green his eyes are before.

Leafs of cream white paper scatter across his lap, and he holds the envelope in his left hand. He still doesn't quite believe that the letter is addressed to him.

To Our Dearest Son Daxien

He remembers his parents, the Hambrechts. They were good, law-bidding, tax-paying folks who liked to take him to the park on Sundays. His mom was a ginger, if he recalls correctly, and his dad had doe brown eyes.

Daxien hangs his head and prays that it is them who wrote the letter, but his lie can't fool anyone, not even himself, because the wax seal is crested with the sigil of the house of Zala, and the address of the letter is written in the queen's sharp cursive. On the very last page of the letter, the closing ends with two names and two signatures.

With all our love,

Your mother and father,

Cagalli Yula Attha & Athrun Zala

Suddenly, everything changes.

To be continued. Reviews are very much welcomed. To those who write the first version, you must realized by now that I took out some stuff. I've decided to put those contents later and present it in a different way. There were some grammatical erros I caught and had to change, and a few details I wanted to add. So I re-uploaded it. Hopefully, I caught all the gramatical errors, if not, they'll be fixed when I post chapter 2. Thank you all for reading. :)