Fic.
Title: "Our World."
Pairing: Athrun/Kira, Athrun/Lacus, Athrun/Shinn, Athrun/Cagalli. You can take them as shippy or non-shippy as you please.
Rating: PG.
Genre: Gen, romance.
Word count: 1,802.
Our World.
i. kira yamato: home
“I don’t agree,” says Kira, springing lightly along the cobblestones, vaulting up to race along the footbridge’s thick walls, “with what the teacher said today.”
“About what?” asks Athrun, gazing up. His hands are wrapped tightly around his book bag, his feet solidly on the ground.
“About birds.” He punctuates with words with a flap of his arms, ready to take off into Copernicus’s low, blue sky. “About them leaving babies that a human’s picked up. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“They’re afraid of the smell,” says Athrun scientifically, logically, watching Kira’s feet dance a noisy pitter patter just above his head.
Kira makes a face, lips pursed together. “That’s dumb,” he announces, with all the solemnity of a papal decree. “If I were a momma bird, I’d take the baby back no matter what. It doesn’t matter what it smells like or who touched it, ‘cause it’s still a bird, and it’s your bird.”
Athrun manages a faint smile. “Birds don’t think like you do, Kira.”
“They should,” says Kira emphatically, wings of soft brown hair flying in his face as he turns. “Just imagine if you were the baby bird. There you are in the woods or the park or the whatever, all alone for a cat or a dog or some mean other bird to come and eat, and then a person comes and scoops you up, and that ruins your chance of ever going home! That doesn’t help the baby bird and it doesn’t help the momma bird and it doesn’t help anyone.”
“It’s just the way it is, you know.”
“It wouldn’t be, if it were me,” says Kira, sitting on the railing, smiling brightly. “Not ever.”
***
Athrun wakes up nestled in the stiff, starched sheets of the Archangel’s hospital beds, unable to move. There are bandages around his head and torso and a dull, throbbing ache circling sluggishly through his body that still can’t drown out the little voice in his head that hisses You were wrong after all, you were wrong about the chairman after all…
Tiredly, he turns his head to Kira, who perches in his chair with the same smile that he always has, and Athrun realizes that just for a moment, just for this reason, he has never been gladder to have been wrong.
ii. lacus clyne: grace
She chooses the outfit carefully: black dress, black shoes, black bow, and prim black stockings, wishing fleetingly that she could cover her too-bright hair for the occasion. 243,721 people, she reminds herself, threading the ribbon through her hair, remembering the number like the words of a song, though the melody that comes to mind is jarringly off-key. One missile. One colony. The computer at her bedside crackles out the very latest news about the nuclear attack; a chauffer calls from downstairs that it is time to go. She pulls the bow tightly into place, ties the knot with promise. She has to be strong, she reminds herself. For the people who died. For the PLANTs.
And so she stands pretty and straight for the cameras through her father’s speech, pale against her clothes. She scans the shifting sea of sad, tired faces for friends, for people she knows, to bolster her against the cameras’ lights and the weight of the PLANTs.
Her eyes fall on Athrun, sitting silently with his father. His eyes are red-rimmed and shadowed, as though he’s cried too much to sleep, but he is looking right at her, tired but still alert.
She has to be strong, she reminds herself. For the people who died and for the PLANTS, but for Athrun.
She doesn’t leave with her father, as the press and the cars all depart. Instead, she waits in the wings, then begins the slow trip to the Zala home. Into the streets, to the long row of cars, down the straight, quiet streets and through the gates and doors to Athrun, who is staring miserably out the window.
“I’m sorry,” she says gently, one hand resting on his shoulder. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
He looks up, green eyes glassy bright. “It could have been here,” he says hoarsely. “It could have been you, too.”
“It wasn’t,” she says softly. “We’re still here. We can work for peace…”
He hugs her unexpectedly, holds her close and tight and cries silently into her shoulder. And she, for her part, doesn’t even remind herself to be strong, just runs her fingers through his tangled hair, running through snatches of songs she’s sung and songs she’ll sing, trying to calm him or comfort him or just stand there for him while the world bleeds on around them.
“For peace,” he agrees, finally.
***
He realizes, standing before the new mobile suit she’s offered, that he’s always tried to fight for her. ZAFT was supposed to protect the PLANTs and the people on them; the Three Ships were for her world; FAITH was to stop the fighting from spreading, so she wouldn’t have to be involved again. And her ideals are still there, still waiting.
He climbs slowly into the mobile suit, head splitting painfully, but somehow, even like this, he is more focused than he ever was in Savior.
For peace, he agrees, finally.
iii. shinn asuka: smile
There is something about Athrun smiling.
Well, something about Athrun really smiling. Shinn dislikes Athrun’s fake smiles, the strained ones he puts on to try to look like a cool, older commander, or to cover something up. Those are worthless to Shinn, though, admittedly, they aren’t as bad as Athrun’s scowls.
But, Shinn notices, when Athrun is genuinely happy - happy for Shinn, happy with Shinn, it doesn’t really matter - he always smiles. They aren’t Luna’s big, ear-to-ear grins or Rey’s almost-invisible smirks, but they’re smiles, bright and indulgent ones that say, more warmly than any medal or accolade That’s it. That’s right.
And that’s when Shinn thinks - or knows, really - that they must be doing something right, that they really can remake the world without war or fighting, that no one else will cry about sisters and fathers and mothers dying on a battlefield. And that’s why he likes it. Because Athrun’s smile is hope.
***
His hand hovers just above Athrun’s shoulder, hesitating. He could wake Athrun up now, if he wanted, and he does want to. There’s still question after question to ask, some accusatory, some sad, some curious, some angry, some bitter, some lonely, some just to catch up. In a world without FAITH, without ZAFT, Shinn is completely adrift, and there are too many questions left hanging to rest just yet…
… but Athrun is smiling in his sleep, arm draped loosely over Shinn, so peaceful that Shinn’s hand falls away. There will be, he decides, curling into Athrun’s warm body, time for questions, time for answers and the rest of the world. But for now, Athrun is smiling.
And that’s enough.
iv. cagalli yula athha: us
“You can’t,” he says patiently, as Cagalli pads through her suite in the dark trousers and simple white shirt of Orb’s Representatives, “go to the PLANTs dressed like that.”
“Why not?” she growls, brushing out her hair as quickly as she can. “The meeting will be uncomfortable enough in real clothes. Putting on a dress would be…”
“Dignified.”
“Wretched.” She gives herself a precursory glance in the mirror and makes a face. “You know I’ll be the only woman there, and I don’t want to make it any more obvious by dressing like one…”
“There’s nothing wrong with dressing like a woman,” he sighs.
“You’d know how?”
“Not like that!” He catches her shoulders, sighing deeply. “You look fine in dresses,” he says. “You look refined, you look distinguished-”
“And I can’t do that in a suit?”
“And you look lovely.”
She flushes. “Athrun!”
“Cagalli…”
She crosses her arms and refuses to look at him. “Hand me my coat.”
Shaking his head, he draws it from the closet, pulling out the inevitable wrinkles. “They won’t take you seriously like this,” he warns, slipping the jacket over her shoulders. “You’re Orb’s princess, not just a Representative…”
“I’m a Representative, not just a princess,” she snaps. “And Cagalli, stuck somewhere in between, not that anyone remembers…”
“You know that’s not true,” he says, buttoning up the suit reluctantly even as she tries to shoo him away. “But for this meeting, you can’t just be Cagalli.”
“Why? Can’t people take Cagalli seriously?”
“Not everyone will.”
“But you will?”
“Of course I will,” he says, stepping away. “But that’s because I met Cagalli, not a diplomat. On the PLANTs-”
“If you’re fine with Cagalli, they ought to be. The suit fits well, don’t you think?”
“Yes-”
“Then,” she says, smoothing the coat, “that’s good enough for me. I don’t need to be anyone special for this. Neither of us do.”
“Cagalli…”
“It’ll be fine,” she smiles, wrapping her fingers tightly around his. “So long as you’re with me - Cagalli or the Representative or the princess - it’ll be fine.”
***
“I should have come back,” he says. His fingers catch on her ring as he holds her hand, and he winces.
“You’re back now,” she says, eyes tearing up. “That’s… that’s fine.”
He leans back in the bed, eyes resting on the tattered uniform peeking out of the medical ward’s clean drawers. “Even…”
Her eyes follow his, darting across the room for a split second. “It doesn’t matter,” she says firmly. “It doesn’t matter what you were wearing or what you were doing or… it just doesn’t, you hear?”
“I can hear,” he says. “You don’t have to shout.”
Her cheeks tinge slightly pink. “It doesn’t matter,” she says, “because you’re Athrun.”
“And-”
“Because you’re with me.”
v. our world: destiny
“It’s strange, coming back here,” laughs Kira, “after escaping last time…”
“It’s stranger,” says Lacus quietly, “coming home.”
“But it’s home,” he says. “Of course they’ll take you back - they need you here.”
“They need me for the negotiations,” she says, demurring, but she relaxes more cheerfully into Kira’s embrace.
“Exactly,” says Cagalli, following Athrun out the small elevator to Aprillius’s legislative headquarters. “They need you.”
There is an escort awaiting them - a small squad of soldiers and a slight boy with dark, tousled hair who has traded his uniform for a simple black suit. “The delegation from Orb?” he asks. He sounds more grumpy than welcoming, true, but his frown isn’t too deep, and he meets each of them in the eye in turn. Athrun smiles, and, though Shinn rolls his eyes, he smiles back.
Just a bit.
“And now…” breathes Cagalli, fiddling with the simple ring on her finger.
“It’ll be fine,” says Athrun. “Because you’re here with me. Because we’re all here.”
fin.
Pairing: Athrun/Kira, Athrun/Lacus, Athrun/Shinn, Athrun/Cagalli. You can take them as shippy or non-shippy as you please.
Rating: PG.
Genre: Gen, romance.
Word count: 1,802.
Our World.
i. kira yamato: home
“I don’t agree,” says Kira, springing lightly along the cobblestones, vaulting up to race along the footbridge’s thick walls, “with what the teacher said today.”
“About what?” asks Athrun, gazing up. His hands are wrapped tightly around his book bag, his feet solidly on the ground.
“About birds.” He punctuates with words with a flap of his arms, ready to take off into Copernicus’s low, blue sky. “About them leaving babies that a human’s picked up. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“They’re afraid of the smell,” says Athrun scientifically, logically, watching Kira’s feet dance a noisy pitter patter just above his head.
Kira makes a face, lips pursed together. “That’s dumb,” he announces, with all the solemnity of a papal decree. “If I were a momma bird, I’d take the baby back no matter what. It doesn’t matter what it smells like or who touched it, ‘cause it’s still a bird, and it’s your bird.”
Athrun manages a faint smile. “Birds don’t think like you do, Kira.”
“They should,” says Kira emphatically, wings of soft brown hair flying in his face as he turns. “Just imagine if you were the baby bird. There you are in the woods or the park or the whatever, all alone for a cat or a dog or some mean other bird to come and eat, and then a person comes and scoops you up, and that ruins your chance of ever going home! That doesn’t help the baby bird and it doesn’t help the momma bird and it doesn’t help anyone.”
“It’s just the way it is, you know.”
“It wouldn’t be, if it were me,” says Kira, sitting on the railing, smiling brightly. “Not ever.”
***
Athrun wakes up nestled in the stiff, starched sheets of the Archangel’s hospital beds, unable to move. There are bandages around his head and torso and a dull, throbbing ache circling sluggishly through his body that still can’t drown out the little voice in his head that hisses You were wrong after all, you were wrong about the chairman after all…
Tiredly, he turns his head to Kira, who perches in his chair with the same smile that he always has, and Athrun realizes that just for a moment, just for this reason, he has never been gladder to have been wrong.
ii. lacus clyne: grace
She chooses the outfit carefully: black dress, black shoes, black bow, and prim black stockings, wishing fleetingly that she could cover her too-bright hair for the occasion. 243,721 people, she reminds herself, threading the ribbon through her hair, remembering the number like the words of a song, though the melody that comes to mind is jarringly off-key. One missile. One colony. The computer at her bedside crackles out the very latest news about the nuclear attack; a chauffer calls from downstairs that it is time to go. She pulls the bow tightly into place, ties the knot with promise. She has to be strong, she reminds herself. For the people who died. For the PLANTs.
And so she stands pretty and straight for the cameras through her father’s speech, pale against her clothes. She scans the shifting sea of sad, tired faces for friends, for people she knows, to bolster her against the cameras’ lights and the weight of the PLANTs.
Her eyes fall on Athrun, sitting silently with his father. His eyes are red-rimmed and shadowed, as though he’s cried too much to sleep, but he is looking right at her, tired but still alert.
She has to be strong, she reminds herself. For the people who died and for the PLANTS, but for Athrun.
She doesn’t leave with her father, as the press and the cars all depart. Instead, she waits in the wings, then begins the slow trip to the Zala home. Into the streets, to the long row of cars, down the straight, quiet streets and through the gates and doors to Athrun, who is staring miserably out the window.
“I’m sorry,” she says gently, one hand resting on his shoulder. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
He looks up, green eyes glassy bright. “It could have been here,” he says hoarsely. “It could have been you, too.”
“It wasn’t,” she says softly. “We’re still here. We can work for peace…”
He hugs her unexpectedly, holds her close and tight and cries silently into her shoulder. And she, for her part, doesn’t even remind herself to be strong, just runs her fingers through his tangled hair, running through snatches of songs she’s sung and songs she’ll sing, trying to calm him or comfort him or just stand there for him while the world bleeds on around them.
“For peace,” he agrees, finally.
***
He realizes, standing before the new mobile suit she’s offered, that he’s always tried to fight for her. ZAFT was supposed to protect the PLANTs and the people on them; the Three Ships were for her world; FAITH was to stop the fighting from spreading, so she wouldn’t have to be involved again. And her ideals are still there, still waiting.
He climbs slowly into the mobile suit, head splitting painfully, but somehow, even like this, he is more focused than he ever was in Savior.
For peace, he agrees, finally.
iii. shinn asuka: smile
There is something about Athrun smiling.
Well, something about Athrun really smiling. Shinn dislikes Athrun’s fake smiles, the strained ones he puts on to try to look like a cool, older commander, or to cover something up. Those are worthless to Shinn, though, admittedly, they aren’t as bad as Athrun’s scowls.
But, Shinn notices, when Athrun is genuinely happy - happy for Shinn, happy with Shinn, it doesn’t really matter - he always smiles. They aren’t Luna’s big, ear-to-ear grins or Rey’s almost-invisible smirks, but they’re smiles, bright and indulgent ones that say, more warmly than any medal or accolade That’s it. That’s right.
And that’s when Shinn thinks - or knows, really - that they must be doing something right, that they really can remake the world without war or fighting, that no one else will cry about sisters and fathers and mothers dying on a battlefield. And that’s why he likes it. Because Athrun’s smile is hope.
***
His hand hovers just above Athrun’s shoulder, hesitating. He could wake Athrun up now, if he wanted, and he does want to. There’s still question after question to ask, some accusatory, some sad, some curious, some angry, some bitter, some lonely, some just to catch up. In a world without FAITH, without ZAFT, Shinn is completely adrift, and there are too many questions left hanging to rest just yet…
… but Athrun is smiling in his sleep, arm draped loosely over Shinn, so peaceful that Shinn’s hand falls away. There will be, he decides, curling into Athrun’s warm body, time for questions, time for answers and the rest of the world. But for now, Athrun is smiling.
And that’s enough.
iv. cagalli yula athha: us
“You can’t,” he says patiently, as Cagalli pads through her suite in the dark trousers and simple white shirt of Orb’s Representatives, “go to the PLANTs dressed like that.”
“Why not?” she growls, brushing out her hair as quickly as she can. “The meeting will be uncomfortable enough in real clothes. Putting on a dress would be…”
“Dignified.”
“Wretched.” She gives herself a precursory glance in the mirror and makes a face. “You know I’ll be the only woman there, and I don’t want to make it any more obvious by dressing like one…”
“There’s nothing wrong with dressing like a woman,” he sighs.
“You’d know how?”
“Not like that!” He catches her shoulders, sighing deeply. “You look fine in dresses,” he says. “You look refined, you look distinguished-”
“And I can’t do that in a suit?”
“And you look lovely.”
She flushes. “Athrun!”
“Cagalli…”
She crosses her arms and refuses to look at him. “Hand me my coat.”
Shaking his head, he draws it from the closet, pulling out the inevitable wrinkles. “They won’t take you seriously like this,” he warns, slipping the jacket over her shoulders. “You’re Orb’s princess, not just a Representative…”
“I’m a Representative, not just a princess,” she snaps. “And Cagalli, stuck somewhere in between, not that anyone remembers…”
“You know that’s not true,” he says, buttoning up the suit reluctantly even as she tries to shoo him away. “But for this meeting, you can’t just be Cagalli.”
“Why? Can’t people take Cagalli seriously?”
“Not everyone will.”
“But you will?”
“Of course I will,” he says, stepping away. “But that’s because I met Cagalli, not a diplomat. On the PLANTs-”
“If you’re fine with Cagalli, they ought to be. The suit fits well, don’t you think?”
“Yes-”
“Then,” she says, smoothing the coat, “that’s good enough for me. I don’t need to be anyone special for this. Neither of us do.”
“Cagalli…”
“It’ll be fine,” she smiles, wrapping her fingers tightly around his. “So long as you’re with me - Cagalli or the Representative or the princess - it’ll be fine.”
***
“I should have come back,” he says. His fingers catch on her ring as he holds her hand, and he winces.
“You’re back now,” she says, eyes tearing up. “That’s… that’s fine.”
He leans back in the bed, eyes resting on the tattered uniform peeking out of the medical ward’s clean drawers. “Even…”
Her eyes follow his, darting across the room for a split second. “It doesn’t matter,” she says firmly. “It doesn’t matter what you were wearing or what you were doing or… it just doesn’t, you hear?”
“I can hear,” he says. “You don’t have to shout.”
Her cheeks tinge slightly pink. “It doesn’t matter,” she says, “because you’re Athrun.”
“And-”
“Because you’re with me.”
v. our world: destiny
“It’s strange, coming back here,” laughs Kira, “after escaping last time…”
“It’s stranger,” says Lacus quietly, “coming home.”
“But it’s home,” he says. “Of course they’ll take you back - they need you here.”
“They need me for the negotiations,” she says, demurring, but she relaxes more cheerfully into Kira’s embrace.
“Exactly,” says Cagalli, following Athrun out the small elevator to Aprillius’s legislative headquarters. “They need you.”
There is an escort awaiting them - a small squad of soldiers and a slight boy with dark, tousled hair who has traded his uniform for a simple black suit. “The delegation from Orb?” he asks. He sounds more grumpy than welcoming, true, but his frown isn’t too deep, and he meets each of them in the eye in turn. Athrun smiles, and, though Shinn rolls his eyes, he smiles back.
Just a bit.
“And now…” breathes Cagalli, fiddling with the simple ring on her finger.
“It’ll be fine,” says Athrun. “Because you’re here with me. Because we’re all here.”
fin.