Deep Emotion [ dearka x yzak ]

Fanfiction
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"Commander Jule! Wait...!"

Yzak stopped mid-stride and turned back.

The speaker was a soldier, a child really, probably only fourteen or fifteen years old. He looked much younger; a little boy playing dress-up in his older brother's army fatigues. But the uniform, Yzak knew, was all too real. The ZAFT military had accepted anyone who had volunteered and many young people, too many young people, had gone to their deaths wearing that uniform, defending their right to exist.

The irony both angered and amused Yzak. He stretched his lips into a thin bitter line, watching the young soldier run to catch up with him. We fought for our right to live, yet so much of our population is dead. And all of us have suffered some kind of loss. Is this the future we envisioned? A world of grief and pain? A world in which people will never feel whole again? He certainly had not.

But the young man was smiling eagerly, his eyes glowing.

"Commander!" he beamed, as he came to a halt in front of Yzak, his breath heavy from exertion. "I...I just wanted to thank you...for everything you did during the war! We...me and my friends, I mean...we all want to be mobile suit pilots someday! Just like you!"

Looking into the boy's eager eyes, Yzak tried not to feel irritated. "Uh, thank you..." he replied awkwardly, then added, "But, you know, if the Supreme Council and the representatives from the Earth Alliance can work out a treaty in the next ten days, we may not have any need for mobile suit pilots."

The young soldier grimaced and made a derisive sound. "I don't trust those lying Naturals," he said, his face darkening. "We'll need ‘em again. And next time I'll be right out there with you, gunning down those evil bastards!"

"Let's hope not," Yzak said curtly, although inside he was raging. Stupid little prick doesn't know what the hell he's talking about! Then it occurred to him that under a year ago, before everything became so confusing, before Dearka had left, he had been a stupid little prick, maybe even more stupid than this kid. But the reality of war had shown him that nothing and no one could reduced to simple Good or Evil. If this kid only knew the truth! Even he who had remained loyal to until the end had betrayed ZAFT in his own way. Some things were more important than clinging blindly to one side.

The boy was staring at him with wide eyes, his mouth in a silent "o."

"Well..." Yzak managed to give him half a smile and began his retreat, "I have to go. I have urgent business with the Council," He looked deep into the interior of the impressive structure looming around him, the meeting place and offices of the PLANT government and Supreme Council, then glanced at his watch. "I'm late..."

"Oh, sorry to detain you," the soldier said, his effusiveness gone. "I...it was nice to meet you."

Yzak just nodded with what he hoped passed for a smile, then made a quick escape.

In truth, the "urgent business" that brought him to Aprilius One was not with the entire council, but only one Council member, Ezaria Jule.

Her office, not surprisingly, was buzzing with activity. Since the death of Chairman Zala and the following truce between ZAFT and the EA the remaining Council members had been inundated with more than their share of responsibility. And Ezaria Jule, as the spokesperson for the National Defense Committee, as well as a dominating personality in her own right, had stepped up to the task, knowing full well that whoever lead the Council through this time of chaos would have an obvious political advantage when order returned. Yzak had to slink in through a crowd of advisors, assistants and supplicants, and wait in the foyer while the Councilwoman finished some business behind closed doors.

Time passed slowly, and Yzak, growing impatient, pushed through the crowd and approached the inner office door. As he reached for the door release, a young secretary tried to detain him, then recognizing his distinctive silver hair and red uniform, she pulled back and quickly apologized.

"But, sir," she pleaded, keeping her gaze low, "Ms. Ezaria is meeting with the delegation from Martius City. She doesn't want to be disturbed...!"

"I'll take full responsibility if she gets angry, " Yzak assured her, knowing the Councilwoman's temper full well, "but I think she will make an exception for me."

The girl did not look convinced, but she politely stepped aside and let him pass.

Inside the Ezaria was addressing a group of seven or eight anxious looking men and women.

"Of course I'm concerned about the economic future of our city," she was saying, her voice forceful enough to rival any man's, "and I will certainly support some sort of plan to shift our talents away from military assistance toward a more practical peacetime application if it comes to that. But right now the development and manufacturing of weapons will resume, as soon as this ten day truce is over. We cannot abandon our defenses until the Naturals have proven themselves trustworthy, and we all know how trustworthy they have proved in the past!"

Yzak recalled the young soldier he had encountered outside. We'll need ‘em again, he'd said, referring to the most advanced weapon the military had yet seen, the mobile suit. I don't trust those lying Naturals! The Councilwoman clearly shared the boy's opinion. And Yzak...? At one time, he would have agreed wholeheartedly, but now...? Now, he thought there was good reason to be cautious; there had been so many lies on both sides. But he could not hope for more conflict. He could not feel excited about continuing or increasing military strength, even while he knew it was necessary. The assessment of the situation may be sound, but he didn't like the underlying tone.

After she was done speaking, Ezaria acknowledged his presence with nod. As he had predicted, she did not appear angry, only tired and slightly irritable. He took a seat near her desk and waited silently while she wrapped up the meeting. The delegates from Martius City did not look reassured.

"I understand that a ten day break in production makes you uneasy," Ezaria sympathized, as she escorted the group to the door, "but, I promise you, PLANT will need our services again. This war may be over, but I doubt we've seen the end of all conflict. We will never be entirely safe because the Naturals will never accept us."

Was her last statement true? For most of his life, Yzak had been fed this line and he had believed it. Naturals hated Coordinators because they were jealous and afraid of their abilities; their superior strength and intelligence, their potential for innovation and dominance. Naturals would stop at nothing to destroy this perceived threat. Yet he had seen Naturals fighting to preserve PLANT, Naturals fighting alongside Coordinators. And Dearka...the last time he had seen him, he had mentioned something about a girl, a Natural girl. If a Coordinator could care for a Natural, couldn't a Natural come to care for a Coordinator too?

Yzak tried not to dwell on the that last thought. It made him feel sick. And not because he had unwarranted disdain for Naturals. The situation was far more complicated than that. Dearka had said it's not what you think but Yzak could not help but think it.

Ezaria shut the door and, leaning against it, sighed.

"Yzak," she said, smiling slightly. "It's not that I'm not glad to see you, but..." She shook her head and sighed again, silvery hair sliding into her eyes. "Surely you can see, I'm very busy at the moment."

"You look tired, mother," he observed, standing. He allowed her to embrace him briefly, pat his check and soothe his hair like he was three again. "Perhaps you should come home for a while and rest," he suggested.

"You know I can't, Yzak."

"I know."

She studied his face for a while, a face very much like her own; sapphire eyes gleaming in a fair complexion, fine features, a sheet of smooth silvery hair. She tugged at the hem of his jacket, adjusting the line, and brushed some imperceptible lint off his sleeve.

"Mother...!" Yzak stepped back, not wanting to be fussed over like a child.

Ezaria smiled wanly. "You're so grown up now," she mused, and her eyes seemed to look through him, as if seeing some fleeting memory from the past. "You look...different."

I feel different, Yzak thought, but the reasons for the change were not something he felt comfortable discussing with his mother. He looked away, afraid that she could see all the doubt and confusion in his eyes.

"So what do you want?" Ezaria asked bluntly, sensing the change in his demeanor. "I'm certain you didn't come all this way just to check up on your mother."

"No," Yzak admitted, still afraid to look at her. "I want to talk to you about Dearka."

A trace of the irritation he had sensed earlier returned to his mother's face. "Yzak," she said sternly, moving to the chair behind her desk. "I've already told you everything I know. He's currently under the protection of the Orb government. I spoke to his father, as you requested, and Tad knows about as much as I do. What else do you want me do?"

"I want you to send me to Orb," he said, meeting her steely gaze.

Ezaria frowned and shook her head. "That's not possible. Maybe once this truce is over and a formal treaty has been established, but not now...not soon. Orb is facing tremendous difficulty at the moment, trying to resettle thousands of refugees. It's not safe, and it's not necessary. I know Dearka is your friend and you care a great deal for him, but you're just going to have to face the facts. He deserted ZAFT and betrayed PLANT. Unless you want to be branded a traitor too, you're going to have stay away from him for a while...perhaps forever."

"That's not fair!" Yzak blurted, advancing on her angrily. "Dearka told me himself, he fought against the Earth Alliance Forces, not ZAFT! He never did anything to hurt PLANT!"

"Of course, there will be an investigation pending a court marshal," Ezaria conceded, "The evidence may show that he did indeed target the Earth Forces alone. That information could mitigate his sentence. But, Yzak, don't count on it. Dearka got himself mixed up in some very sticky business. You would be wise to stay out of it!"

Yzak's entire body grew taut with anger. He did not want to yell at his mother, but she was making it very difficult for him to remain calm. "All I want to do is talk to him," he sulked, holding back a rising tide of intense aggravation.

"Well, you can't," Ezaria replied perfunctorily. Evidently, she was close to losing her patience as well. "Now, I have a room full of people waiting for me. If there's anything else you want to say, you'd better say it quick!"

As far as Yzak was concerned, this meeting was not over, and would not be over until he received the answer he wanted. "Mother, if you don't arrange for me to visit Orb, or find someway for Dearka to come back, then I will betray you, ZAFT...everyone...and leave. Permanently! Is that what you want?!"

"Dammit, Yzak!" Ezaria leapt to her feet, pounding her desk with the palms of her hands. Even Yzak felt stunned by the force of her sudden fury and took a faltering step backward. "Are you nothing but a spoiled child?! So your friend is gone...! Stop whining and do something useful! The way you've been carrying on...anyone would think you're in love with the boy! Now get out of here and let me get back to work!"

Yzak felt the blood drain from his cheeks and he curled his fingers into tight fists in order to keep his hands from trembling. "Just...listen to me!" he shouted, ignoring the weakness in his knees, his sudden shortness of breath. "What about Athrun?" he demanded, "He's coming back! He deserted ZAFT too!"

"That's an entirely different situation," Ezaria glared at her son, vexed by his petulance and stupidity. But she took a deep breath, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and managed to regain a measure of composure. "His father just died. The Council has granted him temporary immunity from prosecution so that he can attend the funeral. Are you suggesting that someone kill Tad Elthman so that Dearka can come home too?"

"No, of course not." Yzak scoffed, the absurdity of the proposition cooling his wrath. He was pleased to see his mother relax slightly too. "But..." he paused, eyeing her carefully, trying to gauge her state of mind. An interesting solution to his problem had just presented itself. "what if Athrun needed a ZAFT escort?"

His mother straightened, eyeing him quizzically. He had her attention. That was a start.

"I assume he'll be arriving on an Orb transport," he continued "It might be dangerous for an Orb ship to enter ZAFT space unprotected. There are still groups who oppose this treaty. Even if the Council promises safe passage, these factions might fire on Athrun's ship, severely undermining our credibility. Wouldn't it be safer if someone from ZAFT were there to defend his transport from any unauthorized attack?"

Ezaria smiled knowingly. "Someone like you, I suppose." She shook her head. "Even if I could get the rest of the committee to agree, I don't see the need for you to travel all the way to Orb. You could meet the ship when it reaches our territory."

She hadn't dismissed the idea outright! Yzak felt a tremor of hope.

"Details." He shrugged. "Let me handle it. All I need is the go ahead from you."

"Will you stop brooding and pestering me if I agree?"

"I promise to try."

Ezaria sighed heavily and sat down in her chair, thinking. Yzak watched her intently, his heart beating with anticipation and fear. She had to say yes. He hadn't been lying about leaving. Given a choice, he would rather remain with ZAFT, close to his family, surrounded by only world he'd ever known. But if that meant turning his back on Dearka, never seeking answers to the questions that plagued him, he would go. He could not remain loyal to anything or anyone that did not have his best interest at heart. And he needed to know the truth; not just the truth about Dearka's defection, or the truth about war, but the truth about himself...

"All right," Ezaria sighed, trepidation in her eyes, and Yzak, beaming, could have pelted her with exuberant kisses, like he had when he was three.

"But, Yzak," she warned, sensing his elation, "if you're hoping to convince your friend to return to PLANT, there's something you should know. I didn't want to tell you because I thought you might do something foolish, like sneak into Orb illegally and start causing trouble. But since you're going anyway..."

Suddenly, Yzak felt tense, noticing his mother's troubled look.

"When I spoke to Tad," she went on, "he told me something else, something you may not like. When Tad first heard about his son's defection, he immediately called in a few favors and miraculously worked out a deal; Dearka would be allowed to return home, and relatively unscathed too, if he resigned his elite status and revealed all the information he knew regarding the EA and the Cline faction. But when he spoke to Dearka, the boy refused the offer. Oh, he gave some silly speech about principles and honor, but Tad thinks there's a girl involved. A Natural." Ezaria wrinkled her nose. "I can't remember her name, but Dearka is staying with her family. They live somewhere in Orb."

"I know all about the girl," Yzak interjected hastily, wanting to change the subject. "Dearka is not involved with her."

He spoke with a confidence he didn't feel. It's not what you think, Dearka had said. Perhaps. But he had refused to return with Yzak. He had chosen to remain with the girl. There had been no hesitation, not even the slightest hint of uncertainty.

She's been hurt, Dearka had explained, And I feel responsible.

But you're not responsible! Yzak had argued. This is a war! People die. Get over it!

But she needs me, Dearka had said, and the words had stopped Yzak's heart cold. In very that instant, he had hated him. He had been unable even to look at him; this person whom he had once regarded as his best friend. The sight of his lying face made his heart shrink and blacken. Dearka had not only betrayed ZAFT, but he had betrayed him as well!

She needs me.

Yzak heard the words again, and cringed, remembering. Inside he had been crying, near desperation, And I don't?! Don't you think I've been hurt too?! And you are responsible! You hurt me, bastard; it wasn't simply a casualty of war! Much to his shame now, he had wished that Dearka had been killed, that he had not bothered to save his worthless life. In the cold grasp of pain, his memories were far more comfort than the truth. He had wanted to scream at Dearka, to dig his hands into his neck until the other boy cried out in agony, but, in the end, he had snipped at him ineffectually, Don't be a fool, Dearka!

Then, he'd been angry, sullen. Now, he ached. Now, he stayed awake at night, full of regret, imagining all things he should have said.

Well, he wasn't going to let it happen again!

"I just don't want you to be disappointed, darling." His mother stood, noticing the strange play of emotion on her son's face. She walked to his side and touched his arm lightly. "I know you want your friend back," she said as gently as she could, "but there's a good chance he doesn't want to come back."

"That's a chance I'm willing to take," Yzak replied truthfully, pushing the past into his memory. Then, as Ezaria's expression softened, he bent and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you, Mother," he said, "I really appreciate this."

"Just be careful," she said, "and don't go falling in love with any Natural girls yourself!"

"I can assure you," he smirked, wondering if his mother was dense or simply testing him,"that will never happen!"

* * *

Patrick Zala's funeral had been scheduled for the day after tomorrow so Yzak had to put his plan into action quickly. A small spacecraft with offensive capabilities had not been hard to find, and it had been easy enough to pull together a small crew from the soldiers still technically under his command. Permission to enter Orb airspace and dock had also been easily obtained, thanks to his mother and the Supreme Council. The hard part, he discovered, was trying to locate Dearka. For this information, he had to contact Athrun Zala, who, like Dearka, had deserted ZAFT in order to fight with the Neutral forces. Again, his mother's resources had proved invaluable, since unofficial contact with Orb had been temporarily suspended.

Once Athrun and Yzak had been teammates and rivals, and even though much had changed since those days, Yzak still hated to crawl to him and ask for a favor. Athrun, despite his disgrace, was living like a king in Orb, surrounded by friends, while Yzak was entirely alone, desperately searching for the only friend he'd ever had, a friend that might not even want to see him.

Fortunately for Yzak, Athrun was far more gracious than Yzak would have been, had their situations had been reversed.

"The girl you're asking about is named Miriallia Haww." Athrun told him over satellite communication. "Her family agreed to look after Dearka until this mess is settled. They seem like very nice people."

Like Dearka needed "looking after!" Yzak snorted. What kind of goody-goody was this girl?!

"This girl and Dearka...are they...?" Yzak stopped, not sure what he wanted to know. Are they fucking? He grimaced, disgusted by the thought. Surely not! But the idea that they could be doing something else, some sweet and innocent girl-crap, seemed even worse!

For once, Yzak was glad that Athrun was astute and he didn't have to finish his question.

"Well, you know Miriallia's boyfriend..." Athrun's voice faltered for a second, and he paused, collecting himself. "He was killed, shortly after Nicol. I don't know the details, but I heard Dearka was making fun of her for crying so she attacked him with a knife, not meaning to harm him, I'm sure. She's a good person, really. Then, somehow, this other girl, Fllay..."

"Wait," Yzak interrupted, suddenly alert. "Did you say Fllay?"

"Yes. I never met her, but I'm fairly certain she was called Fllay. Anyway..."

Yzak shivered, remembering a ghost of a girl with blue eyes and auburn hair, a haunted look on what was once a pretty face.

"Why didn't you meet her?" he asked. "I image you knew all of that ship's crew."

Athrun seemed caught off guard by the sudden change in subject. "Uh...? I think she was transferred. I don't know. She just wasn't around when I was."

Commander Le Klueze's prisoner? She had been called Fllay. Yzak had sensed something very wrong about that girl, and her relationship with Le Klueze had been equally strange. He had never felt quite safe when she entered a room, yet she had fascinated him, slipping from place to place like a shadow, a vague unreadable look in her watery eyes.

"Anyway," Athrun continued. "Fllay took the knife and tried to kill Dearka. Miriallia jumped between them and saved Dearka's life. I haven't spoken to him about it, but I think the incident made Dearka rethink some of his attitudes, especially the way he'd been treating Miriallia. He really wants to be there for her now...the way she was for him when it really mattered."

Oh, please...Yzak gagged at the saccharine scene Athrun's words brought to his mind; Dearka holding the hand of some pathetic Natural loser while she sobbed and slobbered all over his chest! He would have laughed --the idea was almost unthinkable!-- except that Dearka had chosen to stay with the girl. She needed him! He had said so himself. And Yzak, who never cried, who never slobbered on him, and who always put up with Dearka's sarcasm and insults and never once whined about it, he obviously didn't matter! He didn't need anybody or anything...apparently.

He clamped down on the rush of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, concentrating on his anger and disdain.

At least Fllay had the balls --or whatever girls had instead --to try and kill Dearka. Yzak had to admire that. He had no respect for half-assed attempts at murder...even his own.

But later that day, after he had finished his preparations for his trip and had returned home, he began to feel again, and he had to sit down on his bed and lean over with his head between his knees in order to keep from hyperventilating. His chest hurt terribly, thumping so loudly that he could hear it pounding in his ears. For a moment, he considered the possibility that he was having a heart attack, but Coordinators rarely suffered from weak hearts, at least not in the physical sense. Deep breaths helped to slow his pulse so he concentrated on his breathing, in and out, drawing one shaking gasp after another.

Finally, after a few tense minutes, the pain diminished, and Yzak had just enough energy to curl up on his bed, drawing his knees and arms close to his body so that he formed a protective ball. Full of self pity, he wished his mother would come home. He didn't want to be alone, and if he told her he was sick --which wasn't too far from the truth!-- she would make a fuss over him. But, sadly, it occurred to him that nobody gave a rat's ass what happened to him right now. His mother had too many obligations at work, and the only other person who might have cared...

Dearka...

Anyone would think you're in love with the boy! his mother had said.

Well, Yzak had to hand it to her, the woman wasn't stupid!

Perhaps "love" wasn't the right word, but their relationship had been far closer to that than simple friendship. He couldn't explain it. Lately, before Dearka had disappeared, there had been a hell of a lot of kissing, most of it half joking, mixed in with the violence and verbal abuse that they normally heaped upon each other. Yzak smiled, remembering. Whatever anyone said, nobody could accuse them of lacking passion, whether that meant groping each other's flesh in the secrecy of darkness or ramming his fists into each other's faces. They never spoke about the former, and if anyone ever asked why there were bruises on Yzak's neck, it was easy to attribute the damage to the latter.

He almost believed these excuses, and the others he only told himself: They had been kidding around. Dearka had provoked him, calling him a coward and a sissy. He'd only done it to prove the asshole wrong!

But, then, he couldn't deny the appeal of those moments, after the struggle of dominance had run its course, when Dearka had relaxed against him, gently whispering his name, lips brushing lightly against his ear. And Yzak, a lump in his chest, had surrendered, his hands slinking into forbidden places, producing quiet sighs of pleasure. At those moments, he knew he was capable of more than hate and destruction. As a soldier and a person, he had certainly brought his share of pain into the world, but he had also helped to create this, whatever it was, something infinitely more powerful and beautiful and kind.

Oh, fuck, he thought, understanding for the first time what these moments meant. He turned his face into his pillow, cringing, willing the realization to go away.

Mother is always fucking right! And I've got great timing, as usual...

He uncurled his limbs, which were growing cramped, and stretched out onto his back.

So I admit it. I'm fucking in love with my best friend...! There. He'd said it, if only in his mind. Well, it didn't matter now, did it? Dearka had gone all mushy for some Natural bitch and he didn't want to come home. What else had his mother said? Stop whining and do something useful! Yeah, well, damn her for being right again!

Scowling, he dragged himself out of bed, smoothed his wrinkled clothes and shook his hair back into place. Strangely, he felt better. All these recent panic attacks made sense now. Of course, he didn't want to hear how Dearka and some miserably feeble girl were there for each other! How Dearka wanted to comfort her after her stupid Natural boyfriend died! Dearka felt responsible; he wanted to make her happy, wanted to make it up to her. She needed him.

Yeah, well, I love you, so go fuck yourself, bastard!

He had no idea what he was going to tell Dearka when he saw him. He would get to Orb first, assess the situation, and then make a decision. If Dearka had fallen in love with the girl, he saw no reason to reveal his feelings. What would be the point? To make Dearka feel bad? The thought was tempting, but not worth the humiliation of open rejection. But if his friend felt guilty, or mere pity for the unfortunate girl, then he might have cause to speak up. After all, Dearka had participated quite actively in their unacknowledged nights of exploration!

He wondered how it had happened; how Dearka could have enjoyed these intense moments of intimacy with Yzak, and then, within a matter of days, transferred his loyalty to some blubbering, inferior slut!

Then, with a mixture of anxiety and shame, he remembered the Natural girl called Fllay, Commander Le Klueze's strange and pampered prisoner. He had never been able to look at her without feeling something --certainly not longing or desire, nothing at all like his feelings for Dearka-- but he had felt...was it sympathy? The impulse to protect her?

Her peculiar vacant eyes, always on the verge of tears, still haunted him. And, as much as the thought disturbed him, he couldn't help but wonder if Le Klueze had been molesting or otherwise abusing her, toying with her mind or body. Other prisoners of war were detained behind bars, not only to protect the crew, but for their own protection as well. There were rules that governed the treatment of prisoners. ZAFT soldiers were not animals; they did not torture, assault or mistreat their captives. But Le Klueze had dressed the girl in a ZAFT uniform, assigned her quarters on the ship, and alternately cosseted her like a child or treated her like a servant. In one particularly sick incident, Yzak had heard her call the commander "daddy."

The whole business had upset him greatly, shook his already dwindling trust in ZAFT's superiority. The situation had been wrong, and every time he had looked at Fllay, he had been reminded of that fact. He worried about leaving her alone with Le Klueze; suppose he intended to rape her? Yet, he told himself, there wasn't much he could have done to prevent it anyway. He had asked Le Klueze about her, tentatively suggesting that she might be better off in the brig, but the commander had made it clear in the most polite terms that her presence and purpose were none of Yzak's business. And if he had taken any action against his commander's wishes, he might have been the one to wind up in prison!

He cursed under his breath and began pulling clothes out of his drawers and throwing them onto the bed. Ordinarily, he didn't need much more than his uniform for a simple errand like this, escorting a ship through dangerous space, but he wasn't going to roam around Orb, calling attention to himself, dressed like a proud ZAFT soldier.

Oh, he was really proud of himself, he frowned, tossing a pair of shoes onto his mattress with far more force than required. Oh, Commander Jule, thank you for everything you did during the war! he mimicked the young solder he'd encountered that morning, his mouth twisting bitterly. Yeah, dumbass, I may have allowed my commander violate an innocent girl; a girl in obvious agony and despair. Real heroic. But that's okay, because she was an Earth Forces soldier and a Natural, right? And all Naturals are lying, scheming weaklings with the moral capacity a of slug! So when it came to a choice between her welfare and mine? Who could blame me for looking after my own ass?! I'm not a fucking traitor like Athrun and Dearka!

When he thought about that way, how could he blame Dearka for choosing that Miriallia girl over him? Loyalty produced rewards, but at what cost?

Nothing was simple anymore.

He sighed and crammed his clothes into a small traveling bag, not even bothering to fold them properly. He would arrive at Orb soon, find Dearka, and get some of his confusion cleared up. He may not like what he found there, but at least he'd know the truth.

* * *

The Haww residence was a modest flat, located in a middle class neighborhood, only a few kilometers inland. The streets were clean, lined with tropical bushes and shaded by tall elegant trees. The war had barely touched this place. Children ran and played in the park down the street, and pedestrians nodded and smiled at him, their welcoming faces a stark contrast to the fear and suspicion he saw at home.

Of course, not all of Orb was this peaceful. The island nation had suffered at the hands of the Earth Alliance too. Yzak had seen some of the devastation as his aircraft had descended over the water; large craters of nothing more than rubble, a devastated shoreline, debris floating in the calm ocean, washing over the once pristine beaches and coast. Unlike Dearka, Yzak was not a lover of sun warmed beaches and ocean waves. His fair skin burned too easily and he hated the uncomfortable feeling of sand sticking to every centimeter of his body. But the sight of the desolate wasteland that had once been a paradise for those who worshiped sun and sand still filled him with horror and guilt. The EA had not been the only ones to ravage this nation. He, personally, had done his share, thinking only of hatred and revenge. He didn't entirely regret it; he was a soldier, and he took his duty seriously. But if there had been another way...

Yzak mounted two flights of stairs, then checking the numbers on the doors, found the address that Athrun had given him. He hesitated, noticing the pots of red and pink flowers flanking the doorway, the cute brass door knocker, shaped like a kitten. Who were these people? he wondered, sneering at the bright floral curtains in the front window. And how could Dearka stand to live in a place like this? He half expected blue birds to fly in and serenade him while bunny rabbits shined his boots!

Taking one last breath, he lifted the kitten's tail and knocked.

No response.

He hadn't called ahead so Dearka didn't know he was coming. With a wave of relief, he considered the possibility that no one was home. Looking at the wholesome little flat, he was having second thoughts. He didn't belong here, and if Dearka felt he did...

The door opened.

"Yzak...?"

A confused and startled Dearka stood in the doorway, blinking as if he'd just awakened from a nap.

Yzak swallowed, then cleared his throat, only to discover that he had no voice.

"What are you doing here?' Dearka rubbed his eyes and blinked again, incredulous. "Is it really you?" He reached out and touched Yzak's arm, still not believing his eyes.

"Yeah." Yzak answered lamely. Now that he was here, looking at Dearka in the flesh, he had no idea what he was doing or what he wanted to say.

His friend had not changed significantly; maybe his tan was a little darker, his hair a little lighter. Otherwise, he looked the same; slender, fit, only slightly taller than Yzak. Dearka smiled cautiously, and it was the same easy-going smile that Yzak remembered, the same smile that made his heart flip and his legs feel gooey. Yzak tried not to notice it, or the fact that Dearka was scantily dressed in shorts and a flimsy t-shirt. He hated himself for having such uncontrollable physical reactions. He was no better than a wolf, salivating over a slab of raw meat!

"Well, come in..." Dearka stepped back and motioned for Yzak to step inside. He shook his head and smiled again, still overcome with shock and disbelief. "I can't believe you're here! I mean, I'm happy, but...how did you find me?" he asked, eyes shining as he shut the door behind him.

"Athrun told me," Yzak replied, casting his gaze over the interior of the flat. He stood awkwardly near the entrance, his arms folded tightly against his body, lest his hand accidentally hit one of the quaint little knickknacks that seemed to decorate every horizontal surface in the room. Yzak couldn't stand "adorable" and certainly not in frighteningly vast quantities.

Dearka laughed uneasily, noticing his unconscious sneer. "It's pretty awful, isn't it?" he said, turning to look behind him briefly. "Miri's mom is really nice, but I've got serious questions about her taste!"

Yzak decided that his opinions might be best left unsaid. "Where is everyone?" he asked, peering into the neighboring rooms. "Are you staying here alone?"

"No, they went out," Dearka said, flopping down on an overstuffed couch. "Shopping, they said. But, honestly, I think Miri's parents are trying to convince her to get rid of me. They're too nice to say it, but I don't think they like me very much."

"Why not?" Yzak genuinely could not imagine why anyone would dislike Dearka. His mother liked him...at least, she had, until Dearka had defected.

"I guess they think I'm kinda crude and sleazy," Dearka shrugged.

"Well, they got that right," Yzak smirked, some of his self-consciousness lifting. He hadn't expected to feel so awkward. They had been friends for so long; how could a few weeks make so much difference?

The insult brightened Dearka's smile. "I've missed you," he chuckled, watching Yzak with hazy purple eyes.

"Ugk!" Yzak made a sound of disgust. "Don't look at me like that. You've been hanging around girls too long!"

"I have," Dearka agreed.

Ah...! Yzak narrowed his eyes and scrutinized him carefully in silence.

"So..." Dearka squirmed a little under his glare, "you still haven't told me, what are you doing here, Yzak?"

"Officially...? I'm here to escort Athrun to his father's funeral tomorrow. Unofficially...?" He took a few steps toward Dearka then halted, unpleasantly aware of all the smiling animal faces in the room. He felt like he was being watched. "I want to talk to you. But..." He glanced dubiously at a plant holder on the floor, shaped like a green blob with an angelic grin and a bow on top.

"What the fuck is that?" he demanded, pointing with his foot, both annoyed and puzzled.

"That...? Uh...I think it's supposed to be a frog."

"Why...why would anyone buy it?"

"Fuck knows." Dearka shrugged, amused by Yzak's appalled expression. "Just ignore it."

"I can't," Yzak frowned, circling away, only to be confronted by a wide-eyed rag doll in a gingham dress. "This place gives me the creeps."

"Okay," Dearka sighed, "we can talk in the guest room...my room...if it bothers you so much."

"It does."

The guest room was less cluttered, and Dearka had pulled the blinds so that any decoration was half hidden in the dim light. Books and magazines littered the floor and the unmade bed, and Dearka shoved a couple of paperbacks off the seat of a chair so Yzak could sit down. Dearka was an amazingly fast reader, even for a Coordinator, and he retained all the information contained in a book after one cursory read. It was part of the reason he had done so well in school with seemingly so little effort. Yzak was pleased to see so many books strewn carelessly around the room; it meant Dearka was bored. Life with the Hawws was probably not terribly exciting, judging from what Yzak had observed so far.

"So what do you want to talk about?" Dearka asked, once he'd cleared a space for himself on the bed. "Are you going to call me a traitor and point a gun at my head again?"

"If I were going to, I would have done it by now," Yzak smiled mirthlessly. "No. I want to know why you turned down a chance to return to PLANT. Your father thinks you're in love with...with what's her name...? Miriallia, right? But..."

"But you know I'm not," Dearka smirked, flipping absently through a magazine while watching Yzak from the corner of his eye.

"I don't know anything," Yzak stated, smothering a burst of anger, "except that you were offered a chance to come home and you didn't take it. Why?"

"Because my father wanted me to sell out my friends!" Dearka said, a disturbing passion creeping into his voice. "This war may be over, but there's no reason another one can't start. And I'm not going to hand ZAFT...or anyone...information that could potentially harm people that I care about."

Yzak regarded him with disdain. "That's funny because, if I remember correctly, you were pretty quick to stab ZAFT in the back. And, maybe, if circumstances had turned out differently, you could have hurt me!"

"But I didn't, did I?"

"That depends on what you mean by hurt."

"So what are you saying...?"

I'm saying that you're a stupid fuckass, but I love you, and I'd fight to the death before I'd let anyone harm you. And it kills me to know that you wouldn't do the same for me!

Yzak just sighed helplessly and shook his head.

"What a fucking mess...!" he muttered.

"That's for sure," Dearka replied, and they both sat quietly, thinking, for what felt like an eternity.

"I want you to come back," Yzak announced, finally breaking the silence.

"Is that what you came here to tell me?"

"Yes. And..."

"And...what?"

He observed Dearka, sitting on his bed, entirely composed, wearing the oh-so-revealing t-shirt and shorts, seemingly oblivious to the power he wielded. Yzak's first impulse was to knock the crap out of him, just for the sheer release of mounting tension. But as he stood and approached his friend, something occurred to him, something far more satisfying, something he should have done a long time ago. He gazed down at Dearka's wavy golden hair and long bronzed limbs, and permitted all the obscene thoughts that he normally pushed away to enter his head fully...vividly.

"Get up," he ordered with a decisiveness that rivaled his mother's.

"What...?"

"You heard me. I said, get up."

Dearka shrugged at Yzak's commanding tone, but obediently rose to his feet. He appeared calm, nonchalant, but Yzak was certain that his confidence was all bluster. A slight hesitation and a small quiver in his wide violet eyes betrayed him. Then, before Dearka could get his bearings straight, before his own doubts could deter him, he grabbed Dearka's waist with one hand, and slipped the other along his neck, just under the jaw, pulling him close enough to kiss. His head felt empty, dizzy even, but his body had never felt more alive. Almost involuntarily, his lips sought Dearka's, and he moaned quietly, feeling the warmth of contact. Yzak held nothing back. What did he have to lose? He let Dearka experience the full force of his hunger, the intensity of a yearning that he had struggled to repress for so long. He released everything, and he did it openly, in broad daylight, where the cloak of darkness could not conceal the truth of his desire.

The kiss ended slowly and Yzak bit down lightly on Dearka's lip as he pulled away, savoring the last taste of him. His breath felt ragged and he thought his heart would pound into pieces. Dearka had made an obligatory gasp of protest, but he hadn't put up a real fight. Still, once it was over, he opened his eyes and stared at Yzak with shock, face flushed and lips swollen.

"Shit! What the fuck was that all about...!"

"Don't look so surprised, dipshit." Yzak sneered between rasping breaths. "It's not like it hasn't happened before..."

Dearka grew redder underneath his tan. "But that was...! I was just kidding around!"

"Yeah? Well, I wasn't."

Do you think I'm an idiot, Dearka? His arm was still wrapped around his friend's waist, holding him agonizingly close. If Dearka had been "just kidding around" before, he certainly wasn't now! But, then, Yzak knew from experience how a person's body could react inappropriately at the most inconvenient times. He wasn't going to force himself on Dearka. He released him, albeit reluctantly.

Uttering a faint "ah..." Dearka nearly collapsed onto the bed. Yzak sat down next to him, still breathing heavily. He didn't try to hide his feelings, or the slight blush of embarrassment that spread over his cheeks.

"So...?" he nudged Dearka with his elbow.

"So that's what you came here to tell me?" Dearka shook his head, amazed, but he was grinning. "You're fucking out of your mind, Jule!"

Yzak shrugged, unconcerned. "Yeah. So? I didn't hear you complaining..."

He let his knee fall against Dearka's. He saw the other boy glance in that direction, but he didn't pull away.

"No..." Dearka conceded, aware that any attempt to deny his part in the matter would be juvenile and wholly unbelievable. "But..." His face darkened and he quickly dropped his gaze, focusing intently on some invisible spot on the carpet.

"But what...?"

Yzak was instantly on guard. "Buts" were usually followed by something bad.

Dearka twisted away, his posture uncharacteristically hunched and defeated. He didn't say a word, yet Yzak was almost certain he knew what was troubling him.

"It's the girl." Boldly, Yzak spoke the words Dearka couldn't bring himself to say. At the sound of his own voice, a cold tremor ran along his spine, but he remained curiously determined and restrained. "Are you sleeping with her?" he demanded, glaring at the back of Dearka's head.

"What...?!" Dearka whirled around, gaping at him with wide, horrified eyes. "God, no!" he gasped, scandalized by the very thought. "She's not that kind of girl!"

Then what kind is she? Yzak wanted to ask, surprised that he could still feel enough detachment to be amused by Dearka's reaction. The kind without a cunt?

Then, much to his chagrin, he became utterly inarticulate, like the sort of stuttering imbecile he usually hated. Visions of Dearka with some nebulous female, holding hands and smiling dreamily while they cooed over plant holders shaped like toads tied his tongue and stomach into sickening knots. "So if you're not screwing her, then...what? Why are you...? Do you...? You said that you weren't in love with her, but...?"

"When did I say that?!" Dearka demanded vehemently. Without even moving, he seemed to expand and loom threateningly over Yzak. "Do you think I'm some creepy jerk who's just looking for a cheap fuck?!"

The accusations astonished Yzak, but he held his composure, refusing to show any surprise. He tried to recall Dearka's exact words.

It's not what you think.

She needs me.

"Your father thinks you're in love..."

But you know I'm not.

His statements had been vague. Yzak could not rule out the possibility that wishful thinking had colored his interpretation. The notion that Dearka could love a girl disgusted him, especially after the way he had responded to Yzak's kiss. But believing a lie would only make him a fool. He had to know the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

"So are you in love with her?"

He hated how thin his voice sounded.

For an instant, Dearka looked caught, helpless.

"Yzak..." he began, his voice half strangled as if overcome by internal pain. "I wish I could give you a simple answer. I've...I've never met anyone like her before. She's...different. She's..." He bit his lip, searching for the right word, "...good."

Yzak didn't know why, but he felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

"What...?" The word just slipped out. He didn't even know what he was asking.

"You know," Dearka continued earnestly, "she's the kind of person who under ordinary circumstances wouldn't even look at scum like me!"

Yzak's heart spammed inexplicably; his breathing so shallow that he felt a little faint.

"So..." he paused, masking his emotional reaction with impudence. "She's good and you're scum, and me...? I'm the asshole who's trying to drag you back where scum belongs?"

"No...!" Dearka exclaimed. "Fuck. That came out all wrong. I only meant...I don't want to be the bad guy anymore. The people I've met here, they're not interested winning, dominance, or proving that they're the best. They care about each other. Naturals and Coordinators alike. Their friendships are real. And Miriallia, she has every reason to hate me, but she invited me to stay in her home, like part of her family. I can't help but want to be part of that. I know this probably sounds crazy to you, but..." Dearka's purple eyes searched Yzak's stony expression, hoping to find some sympathy there, the slightest hint of understanding. But there was nothing. He broke off with a sigh, "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

In contrast to his cool exterior, Yzak's head was whirling; he wasn't certain he had heard any of this correctly. Who was Dearka to give him a lecture on "real" friendship?! What was Yzak doing here if he didn't care?! Did Dearka think he was only interested in winning, the dominance of Coordinators over Naturals? Did he think Yzak was only after a cheap fuck? Nothing had ever made Yzak so angry or so sad. It took every ounce of restraint he could muster not to knock some sense into that pretty blond head!

"Look, you rotten bastard," Yzak erupted with a malevolence that surprised him. He couldn't remember standing up, but he was suddenly glaring down at a wide-eyed and speechless Dearka, every sinew coiled and tense, as if he were ready for battle. "I care about people," he spat, although at the moment, he wasn't so sure about that. "I even care about you! And I've never thought you were scum! I love you, dammit. And if that means nothing because I'm not some stuck up little Natural bitch, then go ahead and stay here with your real friends! I don't want you to come home!"

Dearka recoiled, as if anticipating a blow, but the attack never materialized. Yzak dug his nails into the surface of his palms, his fists craving the satisfying release of violence, but he managed to stay relatively levelheaded and contained. Hurt and anger reverberated throughout his body. He hoped Dearka couldn't see it. Humiliated, he walked to the corner of the room and pushed one hand against the wall, grateful for the support. His legs felt shaky and unstable.

"Come on, Yzak. You're overreacting." Dearka spoke soothingly. The bed creaked as he rose. Yzak could feel his cautious approach. "I wasn't talking about you. You know I didn't mean it like that!"

Yzak let go of the wall and turned toward his friend, eyes as cold as ice. "Oh really?" he said scornfully. "Let's speak plainly for once. What exactly did you mean?"

Suddenly Dearka froze, his mouth open as if time had stopped mid-sentence. First, his complexion first grew pale, then slowly tendals of fiery redness began to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. His mouth shut, then opened again. This time his voice escaped like a croak.

"Wah...wait a minute," he stammered. "What did you just say?!"

Apparently, shock effected his balance because he stumbled ungracefully on one the many magazines that littered the floor. He quickly picked himself up and dusted off his clothes.

"You...you love me?!"

Yzak lowered his eyes. "God knows why," he muttered, "but I guess I did say that..."

"You love me...? Like, you're in love with me?"

"Yeah!" Yzak blurted impatiently, his hands in fists again. "Do I have to spell it out for you? I'm in love with you, moron!" In his anger, it didn't seem like such a big deal. At first, he'd almost forgotten he'd said it. "Although your stupidity is making me reconsider. Don't you get what's going on here?! You so desperately want to be the 'good guy' but you can't see goodness right under your nose! You don't need to run away in order to care! Everyone's a mixture of good and bad when it comes down to it. I'm no better or worse than any of your new friends. The only difference is that out of all the millions of people in the universe I'm the one who's dumb enough to think you're special!" He kicked a random book for emphasis, muttering a irritable, "Asshole."

"Whoa, Yzak..." Dearka folded his arms across his chest; his lips twitching into a thin sardonic smile. "I never you knew you could be so romantic."

Yzak stopped and scowled at him, chest heaving like he'd just run a kilometer. "Huh? You want me to call you 'sweetie' and woo you with teddy bears and gumdrops? I'd rather let rats gnaw on my intestines!"

"And just when I thought it couldn't get any better...!" Dearka smothered a chuckle. "Way to sweep me off my feet, loverboy!"

"That's right. Turn it into a joke!" Yzak bellowed. "Well, I don't think it's very funny!"

If Yzak had been a weaker person, he might have started to cry; half from frustration, half from heartbreak. He couldn't say the things he wanted to say. I love you, moron wasn't the way he'd envisioned a confession of love. But pretty words made him feel stupid. And even though he'd heeded his mother's warning and had prepared himself for rejection, he had still held out a faint hope that Dearka might love him too; a hope that was slowly being extinguished. His eyelashes felt sticky, his cheeks hot, his heart throbbed uncomfortably. He swallowed hard, feeling a little sick.

"Forget it. It doesn't matter," he said coldly, "I'll get over it. It's not like I need you or anything."

As soon as he said it, he knew it was true. He wanted Dearka. He wanted their friendship to continue. He wanted Dearka to come back to PLANT. He wanted Dearka to love him. But his self-worth didn't depend on any of those things. He didn't need Dearka's love or approval to make him happy. He trusted in his own goodness, even if Dearka couldn't see it. Certainly, he'd made mistakes in his life, terrible errors of judgment, but he was also strong enough to live with the consequences, to live in a world without clear cut answers and happy endings. He wanted everything to work out to his advantage, but that desire was not necessity. He was stunned by his own strength.

But Dearka...?

Suddenly, he knew something else too. That silly girl didn't need Dearka either. It was the other way around. Dearka needed her!

Only Dearka didn't really want the girl; he wanted a mirror, someone to show him that he wasn't a vile, murderous, uncaring excuse for a human being. How had he put it? Crude and sleazy? Scum? If a "good" girl, someone who represented kindness and virtue, loved or needed Dearka, then Dearka, by extension, must be kind and virtuous too.

Such logic was pathetic. Yzak should have walked out in disgust, but suddenly transfixed by the desperate look in his friend's quivering violet eyes, he couldn't do it. War's wounds were more than physical. Confronted with the pain and agony of fellow human beings, pain that you inflicted, could any person, Natural or Coordinator, believe he was wholly righteous and innocent? Could any human being, faced with his own flawed existence, resist the temptation to look into a magic mirror and see himself whole and blameless again? Dearka needed to believe a dream in order to live with what he'd done. But Yzak wouldn't provide any illusions. To Dearka, he would always be a real person; passionate, embodied, imperfect, an uneasy confusion of kindness and hate. In reality, love without ugliness didn't exist. Yet he couldn't entirely blame Dearka for wanting to believe that somehow it could.

"Dearka...?"

A voice interrupted his moment of revelation; an unfamiliar female voice.

Yzak and Dearka both turned toward the sound, then jumped away from each other, as if standing within the same square meter was a crime.

A girl stood in the doorway. Yzak didn't need to ask who she was. His first impression was pretty, but nothing special. Brown hair, blue eyes. In stark contrast to her surroundings, she wore a plain dress and practical shoes. Nothing visibly remarkable; no beatific smile or angelic glow. Just an ordinary girl.

"What's going on?" she asked innocently, then her eyes began to expand with understanding, and she stammered a hurried "I'll...I'll come back."

"No, wait!"

Dearka leapt after her, knocking an affronted Yzak out of his way.

"Miri, stop!" he called, grabbing her upper arm before she could escape down the hall. "I want you to meet someone." Forcibly, he dragged the girl back to his room. Her face was red, but whether it was embarrassment or indignation, Yzak couldn't tell.

"Yzak," Dearka smiled like a proud parent, presenting his prized daughter to his business associates. "This is Miriallia Haww."

The girl wiggled under his grasp. With a determined grunt, she twisted her arm free and shot Dearka an angry look over her shoulder. Yzak, however, she greeted with a truly amiable smile.

"Ah! Nice to meet you," she said courteously. "Dearka has told me all about you..."

"Oh, has he...?" Yzak smirked archly, too jealous and angry for even feigned politeness. "I kinda doubt it."

Dearka looked horrified.

"Oh, come on, Yzak!" Dearka groaned. "Is it too much to ask that you treat someone else kindly just once in your puny pathetic existence...?"

Those were fighting words, but before Yzak could blink an eye, Miriallia stepped between them, saying, "It's all right, Dearka. It was rude of me to interrupt. I'll come back later. I'm sure you have important things to discuss with your friend." She smiled pointedly at Yzak, then titled her head toward Dearka, eyes wide, as if she were giving Yzak a signal. "I'll get out of your way..." she said, accompanied by a conspiratorial wink, then stepped lithely towards the door.

"No...!" Dearka practically wailed and rushed to block her exit. "Don't go...! Yzak was just leaving. Weren't you, Yzak?" he added in a low, threatening voice.

"Huh...?" Yzak looked from Dearka's glowering gaze to Miriallia's silent, but desperate, attempt to communicate, and felt deeply confused. Dearka was acting like a douchebag, but Miriallia...? Looking at her, he felt an odd resonance, as if they instantly understood each other. He had been prepared to meet an enemy or a rival, but instead...had he found an ally?

"Unfortunately, I do have to leave," he said to Miriallia in a considerably milder tone. "The last train leaves at five. I am pleased to meet you, though. You're not who I expected. The way Dearka was going on and on about you, I thought you'd be...more than human."

"Yzak, shut up, will you?" Dearka interjected irritably.

But Miriallia smiled. Yzak saw an appealing intelligence in her face that he'd missed before. She struck him as very capable and sharp, almost adult-like. "More than human?" she repeated. "That's a strange thing to say, especially coming from a Coordinator. Aren't you the ones designed to exceed all normal human abilities?"

"Not all," Yzak shrugged. "If that were the case, then we'd all be good."

He didn't look at Dearka. If this war had shown him anything, it was that genetic engineering couldn't produce compassion. Love wasn't cultivated in a laboratory and superior powers of recovery didn't apply to broken minds and hearts. If Dearka needed to stay on Orb in order to heal, Yzak couldn't do anything but walk away. Miriallia wasn't a fool, and that reassured him; she wouldn't let him do anything stupid. Even so, he hoped Dearka would come to his senses someday. Yzak would continue to love him; there was nothing he could do to change that. When Dearka was ready, maybe he would see the truth, and not the mirror. Maybe he would come back...

"That's true," Miriallia's voice broke through his reverie. "We all have an equal shot at what really matters."

"Exactly," Yzak agreed, "I'm glad that someone understands. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a train to catch."

* * *

"Wait...! Wait, please...!"

Yzak stopped and turned, aware of footsteps pounding the pavement behind him. He had half expected Dearka to come after him, but it was Miriallia instead. The girl took long strides, her hair and skirt flying, covering the distance between them in no time. Her pretty face looked urgent and determined. Whatever she wanted, she was not going to give up easily.

"There's something I have to say..." she breathed, finally catching up to Yzak. "It's about Dearka..." Yzak had figured as much. He waited for her to catch her breath, smooth out her dress and fix her hair. The bright sunlight illuminated the intelligence in her eyes, that look of grown-up practicality that he'd sensed before. Yzak felt childish and reckless in comparison. Even this trip to Orb had been an emotional reaction more than a decision.

"Dearka ought to go back to PLANT," Miriallia stated earnestly, as they began to stroll along the tree-lined sidewalk. Yzak was grateful for the shade. Tropical heat was not his weather of choice. "He's not happy here," Miriallia declared, meeting Yzak's eyes without fear. Again, he had that strange feeling that they understood each other; that they both knew Dearka better than he knew himself. "He's too much of a guy to admit it, but I think he misses his former life...and you. Surely you can see, he doesn't belong here. Please talk to him. I've tried, but he won't listen to me."

"He doesn't listen me, either." Yzak whined, and Miriallia gave him a look that said I'm not taking that for an answer. "Look, I've tried too," he said, less petulantly. "Why do you think I came all the way out here?" But Dearka didn't want to go back. What did she want him to do? Bind and gag him? Throw him over his shoulder and carry his sorry ass home? "He'll come around when he's ready," he shrugged, not knowing what else to say.

Miriallia glared at him. "By then it might be too late!" she said passionately, annoyed by his nonchalance. "I know his father made some arrangement for his return. If he doesn't take advantage of it now, his punishment might be a lot worse!" Her face darkened and her hands formed tight fists. "He's such a pigheaded, stupid...stupid..."

"Fuckwit?" Yzak supplied.

"Yeah...!" She relaxed and smiled. Yzak smiled too, but awkwardly. The girl really wasn't so bad. He could see why Dearka liked her. She didn't lack passion or opinions, unlike a lot of other girls. Yzak would have been extremely disappointed in Dearka if she'd been one of those vacant, mealy-mouthed, subservient types. Even though Dearka had put her on a pedestal, he still had good taste. Too bad he didn't have good sense as well!

They fell silent for a moment. A car passed with the radio blaring, then the sound faded into the distance, leaving only the rustling of wind in the trees. Yzak tried to pull his bangs behind his ears. His hair was beginning to stick to his face in this terrible heat. He wondered how Miriallia managed to look so comfortable and fresh when, even in the shade, it had to be thirty-seven degrees! He envied her for many reasons, yes; but he couldn't bring himself to hate her.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" he broke his stride and paused just beyond the park he'd noticed on his way there. All the children had gone home now, leaving the grassy play area deserted. He backtracked a few paces and took a spot on a bench covered by a wooden gazebo. Miriallia joined him shortly, sitting somewhat primly on the edge of her seat, smoothing her skirt over her knees. She regarded him curiously.

"Did you know a girl called Fllay?" he asked, turning towards her.

Miriallia's eyes widened and blinked once. "Do you mean Fllay Allster...?" she asked incredulously. "Yes. We were both students on Heliopolis, and then we both served aboard the Archangel, until her transfer. But..." Yzak could see the curiosity burning in her eyes. "How do you know Fllay?"

"She was captured by my commanding officer." Yzak explained, holding his hair off the back of his neck. Clouds of sticky heat hovered in the air around him. "He kept her aboard our ship, the Vasalius, like a pet. The situation was...bizarre." He frowned, recalling the girl's pale wounded eyes; Le Klueze's eerie attentiveness. "Do you know what happened to her? One day she was there and the next she was gone."

Miriallia looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. "She...she's dead," she said bluntly, then took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. "I heard ZAFT fired on an escape vessel and she was inside." Her bottom lip trembled slightly, and Yzak remembered that her boyfriend had also been killed by ZAFT. "Now that she's gone, I feel terrible," she continued, staring across the empty park. "She wasn't the easiest person to get along with, but we all should have tried to be more understanding. After her father died, she was really hurting..."

"Her father died?" Yzak repeated, his thoughts racing. Had that been Klueze's hold on her? He had heard Fllay call the commander "daddy." It would not surprise him one bit to learn that Le Krueze had been preying on her emotional fragility, acting like a father figure, in order to manipulate her for his own ends. Yzak did not know, and probably never would, exactly what those ends were, but he couldn't shake the feeling that his intentions had been wrong. "I should have..." he began, then sagging under weight of futility, he shook his head sadly. "I wish I'd known."

"Would it have made a difference if you had?" Miriallia asked.

"Probably not," he admitted, "but maybe, if I'd spoken to her, understood his control over her, maybe I could have done something to change the situation. Maybe the outcome would have..."

"People always wish they had known then what they know now," Miriallia interrupted, her voice oddly harsh. Yzak realized that this conversation might be hard for her. If some ZAFT pilot had spoken to her, understood her feelings, perhaps her boyfriend might still be alive. Regrets, all the "maybes" in the world, couldn't change reality. "...even during peacetime," she added, "That's true for Naturals and Coordinators alike. Human nature. Like I said, when it gets down to what really matters, we're all the same..."

"Yeah," he sighed. Then, hoping to lighten the mood, he nudged her with an elbow and smiled. "And I thought you'd be an idiot...!" he teased.

"And I thought you'd be an asshole."

Yzak gave short snort of amusement. "Don't let my introspection fool you."

"I'm not easily fooled," Miriallia assured him. Then, as if to prove her point, she faced him with stark penetrating eyes, "There's something...unusual going on between you and Dearka, isn't there?"

"Not unusual,..." Yzak began, defensively. "Just..."

He left off, unsure how to complete his thought. He let his gaze wander over the green lawn before him; some child had left a yellow ball in the grass. He didn't know what to think about Dearka right now. The heat was making him dizzy; he couldn't think straight, especially when it came to something as complicated as his relationship with Dearka. Life had been so much simpler before the war. Then, he had been a child, playing silly games in parks like this one. He had never questioned his superiors. He had known, as a child knows, the meaning of love and hate. Now, here he sat with the "enemy," confused by his own emotions, wondering what it really meant to love a friend.

"He needs to go back and face it," Miriallia said, after he gave no sign of finishing his sentence. "All of it. He can't hide here forever, pretending he's a child!"

Her tone grew impassioned, and Yzak realized that, in her own way, she really cared for Dearka. She wasn't in love, but she still wanted the best for him, despite his crudeness and his involvement in the war. He could see what Dearka meant; she was good. He admired her selflessness. But she wasn't perfect either. She was hurt and angry, just like everyone else. And she needed space to heal; to be something other than a reflection for one suffering soldier. Dearka needed to go, not just for his sanity, but for hers as well. He wondered what it would take to pull Dearka's thick head out of this stupid fantasy!

"You don't need to convince me." Yzak grumbled, wiping the sweat from his brow. Then, suddenly angry, he blurted, "Tell him! You said you've tried, but try it again. You're the one he trusts now! Tell him that he's being a coward, hiding from the truth, hiding from himself! He'll listen to you. I've said all I can say. But he'll believe you! I know it!"

Miriallia smiled fondly, as if she'd found his outburst charming. "Can I tell him how sweet you are?" she asked.

Yzak cringed. "Only if you think it will make a difference..."

* * *

Athrun had been saying goodbye to his girlfriend forever! Their entourage should have taken off thirty minutes ago! What was it with his friends? Was everybody developing a fascination with Natural girls?

Yzak was envious though, realizing that it would never be him, lingering in spaceports and spacedocks, unable to tear himself away from his lover. Even if he felt that way, or had a lover, he would have to do his lingering in secret. Not that he liked all that sentimental stuff anyway. But it still bothered him that Athrun could stand there in public, staring into his girlfriend's eyes, touching her, and nobody thought twice about it. And if this girl somehow broke Athrun's heart, everyone would know and feel sympathetic, while Yzak, brokenhearted, would have to go about his business like a professional, not even hinting at the loss he felt inside.

Not that his heart was broken at the moment, but he had to admit it was bruised; bruised enough to make him quick-tempered and out of sorts. And everyone around him was aware of that! He tapped his foot impatiently and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on...! Jeez!" he complained to no one in particular. "He's only going to be gone one day!"

Narrowing his eyes over folded his arms, he sighed loudly, hoping Athrun would hear.

He hated Athrun. Well, not really, but he wasn't going to squabble with himself over semantics. "Hate" was a perfectly adequate description for what he was feeling. No matter how badly Athrun fucked up, everything always worked out to his advantage. Rumor had it Athrun had lost his fiancee to another guy, but within days, it seemed, he'd found himself a replacement. Sure, this one looked like some scruffy street urchin, but supposedly she was a princess or something. That wasn't too shabby! Yzak glared at the lovers, wishing the little punkette would slap Athrun and ditch him in front of all these people. That would be justice! Or maybe...he sighed again, this time just unhappily...he wanted everyone to feel as miserable and rejected as he did.

"Hey, beautiful! What's with the sigh?"

The unexpected intrusion startled Yzak and he swung around, ready to whack whomever had interrupted his thoughts. But, instead he stopped cold, hand raised and mouth open, stunned into a frozen silence by the sight that greeted him.

"De...Dearka...!" he finally managed to scrape out.

Yzak blinked, still not believing his eyes, but the image of Dearka, dressed in a pressed scarlet uniform and shiny white boots, shaved and neatly groomed, did not go away. Clearly, unless depression had caused a psychotic break, he wasn't imagining it! Dearka was actually standing before him, in the flesh, in the spaceport, here, now. His mind took its time digesting this unforeseen development. Then, suddenly, comprehension dawned, and Yzak had a terrible impulse to fling his arms around him, bury his face in his hair, squeeze him so tightly that nothing could ever separate them again.

Instead, he lowered his hand and stood there, dumbfounded.

"Wah...? What are you doing here?" he asked. His hands were shaking. And the awful pain thumping in his chest...? Was it...hope?

"I'm going back," Dearka grinned, amused by his astonishment, "...with you," he clarified when Yzak's bewildered expression didn't change.

"You're what...?" Yzak shook his head, trying catch hold of reality again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Quite sure."

Yzak closed his eyes, bracing against a wave of emotion that nearly knocked him to the ground. He almost sobbed aloud. If Dearka was only "kidding around" again he thought he might die.

"But I thought..." he stammered, then, remembering the previous day, he demanded, "What about Miriallia?"

Dearka laughed offhandedly. "You know, I'm shocked. She actually liked you."

What the fuck...? The comment snapped him back to his previous irascible state like a slap.

"What's shocking," he scowled, "is the fact that you're shocked."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"You keep saying that. So, let's hear it, fuckhead. What do you mean?"

Dearka glanced at Athrun and the scruffy princess. They had stopped mooning over each other and had moved out of earshot, but they were both looking at Yzak and Dearka with large inquiring eyes. Dearka turned his back to the audience and cleared his throat. "I was wrong, okay?" he half mumbled the words, speaking from one side of his mouth. "Wrong about you, I mean. I luh...I like you. You're a good person, Yzak."

"Oh, so now that Miriallia likes me, I'm okay?" Yzak glared at him, wondering just how stupid Dearka thought he was! "As soon as Miss Goody-Two-Shoes approves, then suddenly I'm good enough for you?! Is that it?"

"No! That's not it at all!" Dearka shouted angrily, then dramatically lowered his voice. "The realization came to me before she said anything about liking you. It was because of that girl who tried to kill me, the one you said Le Klueze captured..."

"Fllay?" Yzak frowned. What did she have to do with any of this?

"Yeah, that's right," Dearka confirmed. "Miriallia said that you had asked about her, that you seemed upset when she told you she was dead. You actually had regrets. You wished you could have done more to help her. I never knew..." Dearka shook his head; his eyes looked tired and sad. "You never had doubts. You supported ZAFT whole-heartedly. You never questioned your own actions. I never dreamed that underneath that proud soldier exterior, you felt the pain all around us. I was shocked when Miri told me that you actually cared about a Natural!"

"Maybe at one time I wouldn't have cared," Yzak admitted. "But can you honestly say, when you first volunteered for the military, that you would have cared for a Natural either? Didn't we all want to kill the evil jealous bastards like good little boys?"

Dearka looked away, but not before Yzak glimpsed the pain and confusion he was attempting to hide. As much as he hated all the mushy crap, he wished he could hold him or provide some words of comfort. But, like always, he felt stupid; he had nothing to say. And he couldn't touch him here. Maybe it was better to drop it anyway, leave Dearka with a scrap of dignity instead of fussing over him like some stupid girl.

"Never mind," he said, dismissing the topic. After all, he still had business to accomplish. "Come on, help me get this show on the road before Zala and his little friend start smooching again." Dearka was coming home; the reality was just beginning to sink in! There would be plenty of time for prolonged discussion later, once they had returned to PLANT.

Dearka grinned. "Oh, don't worry about that. I asked Athrun to delay your departure using any means necessary. Smart boy, coming up with that one...!"

"You...what?" Yzak whirled back and glared at him.

"And one more thing..." Dearka grabbed his wrist and yanked, bringing them within centimeters of each other. "I tried to tell you earlier." He took a deep breath, then whispered, "Okay, here it goes: I...I love you." He swallowed hard, as if dislodging something uncomfortable in his throat, then closing his eyes, let out a whistle of relief. "Okay, that wasn't so bad," he said, and looking up, he smiled weakly.

"Very romantic," Yzak said dryly. "You looked like you were taking a pill."

"Hey! At least I didn't mention rats and intestines and stuff! And I would even deign to bring you a teddy bear once in a while if you so desired!"

"You'd certainly know where to find one," Yzak smirked, recalling Miriallia's flat.

"Huh?" Dearka scratched his head, then his face lit up with understanding and amusement. "Oh, yeah!"

Standing so close, Yzak could see himself reflected his Dearka's violet eyes; it was strange to see his image surrounded by such happiness. All of a sudden, he felt shy and attempted to break their connection by pulling free. But Dearka somehow anticipated his escape and tightened his grip. "Hey," Dearka spoke softly now, intimately, just beside his ear. "I love you. Is that better?"

"Not here," Yzak hissed, aware of all the eyes around them. Now they were the couple holding up the proceedings. He twisted his arm slightly, and Dearka, taking the hint, let go. "But, yeah," Yzak said, rubbing his wrist where Dearka had gripped it. " And...me too, okay?"

Dearka nodded. "Can you forgive me for being such an idiot?" he asked sheepishly, looking for a moment like a lost child.

Yzak had already forgiven him, the minute he had seen him standing on the platform behind him, wearing that red uniform. But perhaps Dearka needed to hear it in words. If he'd learned anything today, it was that he couldn't expect Dearka to guess his feelings. As nice as it would have been, never to have to reveal himself out loud, he knew Dearka could not read his mind. He would have to learn to speak, if he wanted to avoid misunderstandings like the one they'd just overcome. Dearka had created a world of lies in order to protect himself. And that world had remained undisturbed, until the truth had been spoken...aloud. It had been his confession to Miriallia that had broken the spell, destroyed the false images that Dearka had constructed in his mind. No matter how uncomfortable it make him, he wouldn't let Dearka believe that either one of them were "bad" ever again.

"Of course." Yzak whispered. "And you're not an idiot. You're a good person, Dearka. Don't forget it."

Dearka's cheeks turned pink and he smiled. "Yeah, yeah..." he grumbled embarrassedly, and giving Yzak a little shove in the direction of the spacecraft, he began walking that way too. "Come on, let's get moving, Jule. I wanna go home!"