Athena and Ami blinked, as ghostly figures drifted into the room.
Quite literally ghostly, as they were half transparent.
"Hiiya, "Ami-chan", Saiori-san..."
"Hi yourself, Haruka-san, Michiru-san."
"Haruka" and "Michiru" both grinned at them.
"Well, if you're being "Ami", we can be "Haruka" and "Michiru" again, right? - Actually, we're just Shadows, here - most of Us is wrapped up in helping Cosmos's Quest, actually, but I heard you two were having fun, so - whassup, you two?"
Well, you see...
Haruka and Michiru nodded, hmmmm'ing.
"Well, let's see... Do you mind if we try this thing out?"
"No, no, be our guest..."
Haruka and Michiru both touched the Mirror.
"Hmmmm...Several timelines are reacting at once? Interesting..."
**Timeline A
Patrick Zala looked at his son. His son looked back.
...Again?
"It's all your fault, you know that?"
Yes, yet again, thank you. Was his son never going to get over that particular...rut?
"How in the universe is it "my fault", Yuuna? Again?"
His son looked at him blearily, and snorted.
"Because at least 91.7 percent of anything bad that happens to me is your fault, when analyzed."
The boy really had much, much, much too much free time on his hands...
"And b'cause of this cruddy war, I can't even go back to Uni in Orb! Damnit, da!"
What he really missed was the Seiran estate where he'd stayed when he was in Orb, Patrick was sure. ...Oh, well. Unato Ema Seiran had turned out to be a surprisingly good host, despite his...other connections, and seemed to have gotten along well with Yuuna, oddly enough. Unato's son Athrun, on the other hand...
"It's too dangerous, Yuuna."
Yuuna gave him his best "sulky poodle" look, and hmphed.
"...And anyway, it is all your fault. ...She... she wouldn't have even been anyplace near Junius 7 if she wasn't married to you in the first place."
...And that was that, of course.
Patrick Zala spent that day visiting his wife's gravesite with his son, who insisted on leaving her favorite fruit cakes by the grave. Attempts to convince the boy that she certainly hadn't been Orbian - or from any other culture that left food at gravesites, for that matter - went nowhere.
Patrick sighed. He was the father of one of the stupidest sons in the universe, or his part of the universe anyway, and he couldn't afford to "lose it".
What would Yuuna do without him?
It was six months after Lenore Zala's death, almost to the day.
**Timeline B
Patrick Zala looked at his son. His son looked back.
"...Father?"
"Yes?"
"Father, I..."
"I am listening."
"Father..."
What would it take to induce the boy to just. Spit. It. Out?
" - Father. I - I think I'll make redcoat..."
"I am capable of reading the reports the Academy sends me, boy."
Why was the boy so...so...
"...Father. Lacus says..."
"I hear enough of what Lacus Clyne says, or Siegel Clyne says for that matter at work, boy. I don't need to hear it from you."
...Great. Now he'd made the boy tear up.
"Father, Lacus's my betrothed."
Patrick was beginning to think that that had been one of the worst decisions he'd ever made in his life. Damn the bloody Clynes, lock, stick and barrow, anyway!
"...And I've been talking to her because I've been worried about you..."
Damnit, boy, don't you have any kind of sense at all!
"And she says sometimes drastic measures must be taken, and I...I think so too, now. So sorry, papa. - Hey, um, Mr Takahashi, I'm sorry but I have to borrow my father for the afternoon, OK?"
"What? ...Kira, damn you, what do you think you're doing - let go of me!"
Kira Zala, as often happened to be the case, was Not Listening.
"I know you're part of father's security detail, and you have to follow him all the time, but could you follow him at a distance today? Please? We're going to be with Lacus today, and she has her own Security, so..."
"...Very well, Mr - Ah, Kira."
Patrick gave his bodyguard a murderous look as he was dragged past. Traitor.
Patrick Zala spent the rest of the day with his son and her betrothed, visiting his wife's grave. He tried to tell them not to spread their picnic right next to the gravesite, and got nowhere. As usual. Did those two share Not Listening skills, or something?
It was six months after Lenore Zala's death, almost to the day.
**Timeline C
Patrick Zala looked at his daughter. His daughter looked back.
"Father..."
She looks at him sadly, and asks him to come visit her mother's gravesite with her, before she sets out on her "funeral tour", again.
He puts flowers on the grave and tells her she looks just like her mother, which is a lie as her betrothed Athrun Clyne actually looks more like Lenore then Lacus herself ever did, and that her mother would have been proud of her, which is nothing but the truth.
It was six months after Lenore Zala's death, almost to the day.
He watches the flowers, and the memorial garden, and shivers.
He does not want to heal, and feel the wind again. It feels like betraying his wife's memory.
Even though that probably was what Lenore herself would have wanted.
**Timeline D
Patrick Zala looked at his son. His son looked back.
"...Father. You are either going to get out of this damn pit you're in on your own or get some kind of counselling, or I'll tranq you and drag you to the docs myself, do you hear me! I don't let people on my Team turn into live grenades with the pin wobbly, and I sure as hell aren't letting my own father turn into an unstable nuke, damnit!"
" - YOU - Bloody stupid moron -"
"I'm a bloody stupid moron who happens to be your son, damn you. Just...Come back I can't even bash you properly when you're so pathetic."
"...Go away."
Patrick hissed.
"Like hell I will. Did that, got the T-shirt. No more."
"Mwu Zala, for the love of anything you hold dear, go away before I strangle you."
It was six months after Lenore Zala's death, almost to the day.
Mwu dragged Patrick to his mother's gravesite anyway.
**Timeline E
Patrick Zala looked at his son. His son looked back.
"...More toast, father?"
"...No, Athrun."
It was six months after Lenore Zala's death, almost to the day.
They had nothing to say to each other of importance. Nothing at all.
"Oh, dear. That's sad."
"Yeah, yeah - especially the last one. The kid doesn't notice that his father's decomposting in front of his eyes?"
"Well, he probably had the "Father's strong, he's an adult, he'll be all right" thing going...though some people are just oblivious."
Athena hmmmmm'd.
Well alright.
The keywords for this one seem to be Patrick Zala and his relationship with whatever children he has, so...
She created a "Patrick Zala" card, and put in on the table.
"Ahh, right." Ami murmered, creating a "Lord Djibril" card.
"Cards are good. Things would be easier to keep track of, that way..."
Ami blinked, then, looking at the card she had created. She hadn't imaged a black fluffy cat, sitting in Lord Djibril's arms...had she?
And then the cat - looked back at her.
**Timeline A
Things had not gone well, the snow was coming down thick and fast, and the man known as Lord Djibril was ready to blow a gasket.
Or would have been, if he'd had the strength.
Blowing a gasket was somewhat harder to do if one didn't even have enough strength to pull oneself off a dumpster.
He didn't even want to think what condition his clothes were in.
And that...."eeeeee"ing.
It went on and on, and stopped only to start again... Damn it, if he became permanently hearing-impaired...
Eeeeeeeeeee. Eeeeeeeeee. Eeeeeeeeeeeeee......
Damn it, damn the universe, damn operations that go off the deep end on one, damn...
He looked, then. And stared.
...Something was moving.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
The people who worked for Section Chief Djibril knew better then to ask him idiotic questions.
But still...
"Hey."
"...Yeah?"
"...Why is there a drowned rat in a chicken sandwich box on the Boss's desk?"
**Timeline B
Things had not gone well, the snow was coming down thick and fast, and the man known as Lord Djibril was ready to blow a gasket.
Or would have been, if he'd had the strength.
Blowing a gasket was somewhat harder to do if one didn't even have enough strength to pull oneself off a dumpster.
He didn't even want to think what condition his clothes were in.
And that....wailing.
It went on and on, and stopped only to start again... Damn it, if he became permanently hearing-impaired...
And it went on and on and on....
Damn it, damn the universe, damn operations that go off the deep end on one, damn...
He looked, then. And stared.
...Something was moving.
Waaaaaaaaaa
The people who worked for Section Chief Djibril knew better then to ask him idiotic questions.
But still...
"Take care of it."
"...Sir?"
"Just take care of it! Don't they have people to take care of those things?"
The filthy thing had just kept wailing and wailing and...
"Well, if it's a rat, we could just throw it out, but..."
"It's a kitten, silly."
A woman from the secretarial pool mumbled.
"And it's not even weaned, probably. Maybe you should just call the Vetenarian section and have it put to sleep, sir? Taking care of unweaned kittens are a awful pain, and half the time they die anyway. And that one looks sick to begin with."
Djibril stared. What?
"...Though we could try to feed it with cat-milk and stuff like that if you'd like, sir."
He looked at - the thing. The thing didn't look back, as it's eyes were all covered with mucus and worse.
"...Mr Djibril?"
"...Do...that."
"...Alright, sir. Get the vets and some cat-milk - it needs to be fed every two hours or something, I think. ...Do any of you have something to carry it in?"
"Here" The woman waved a chicken sandwich box.
"OK, here goes..."
Djibril stared. And nearly choked.
Alright. So it was a cat.
Whatever his other five senses told him it was.
There was no way a sick human baby was going to fit inside a chicken sandwitch box.
**Timeline C
Things had not gone well, the shit was coming down thick and fast and going to hit the fan any moment, and the man known as Lord Djibril was ready to blow a gasket.
Or would have been, if he'd had the strength.
Damn them, and the damn universe along with them.
And that bloody...scratching noise...
The too-pretty man in a chinese robe - he'd thought the person was male, though it had been rather hard to tell - he'd sat across on the shuttle had been giving him measured looks all evening, like he knew something he didn't, and it annoyed him even more, though he hadn't thought that was possible.
Damn them. Not just the Coordinators but everybody who had ever -
That scratching again. And...
Was that meowing?
Djibril stared, then.
Who the fuck ever thought keeping a cat inside a suitcase was a good idea?
(*....Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. *)
(*...What?*)
(*The current Count D's entire Petshop has been opened and is now spread over a entire space shuttle, thank you very much?*)
(*.......Very much Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, thank you.*)
Almost nobody had noticed that the Cat had Walked. With it's Person, to boot.
Yet.
**Timeline D
Things had not gone well, the snow was coming down thick and fast, and the man known as Lord Djibril was ready to blow a gasket.
Or would have been, if he'd had the strength.
"...Yo, you."
The man in front of him was young, blonde, and very, very drunk.
"...Hello, cousin."
"Come on, call me by name. We're almost all, hic, related here."
And though that was nothing but the truth...
"...You're drunk, Muruta."
"I know, I know, what else is new. ...Aren't you going to congratulate me?"
"...Congrats, Muruta."
Oh, he'd known, he'd known that Muruta Azrael was the one who was going to be chosen to head Blue Cosmos.
It still hurt, though.
"Alrigh..."
Muruta almost went sideways, then, into the table.
"...Sorry"
"...You're the one who's going to wake up with the headache."
"I kno... Hey, cuz? Happy birthday?"
A wrinkled paper bag. How...Muruta.
Lord Djibril watched his cousin sleep on the sofa and sighed, then.
It still hurt, a little. But it could have been worse.
It could have been somebody who'd try to start "housecleaning" with him in mind, after all. Muruta...
Muruta knew he could be useful, at least. He hoped.
Truly and wholeheartedly.
The bag "Miii"d. Djibril barely noticed.
**Timeline E
The man known as Lord Djibril never had a black, round-faced, golden-eyed cat of unknown parentage.
At all.
He watched the snow, alone.
They all stared at what the Mirror was showing them. It had activated without any of them consiously willing it.
"...Practically the only thing he has a positive relationship with is the cat?"
"...I'll be more worried with his tendency to bond with cats that aren't quite cat cats, if you get my meaning... He manages to cause enough damage without that, don't you think?"
They all sighed, then.
Athena looked down, and then rallied.
"Alright, enough of the negative stuff. Shall we try to go looking for the positive stuff, now?"
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(Posted Thu, 25 May 2006 19:27)
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