A/N: This fic is for Jenihenpen! She's always so supportive (and really good for the ego) so I've written something just for her.

She had two fish named after Dearka and Yzak. After feeding them a different kind of food, Dearka died and left us for fishy heaven. I came up with an idea to write the story of how I think it happened using the real Dearka and Yzak.

"Finally. I thought they'd make us wait forever."

Sarcasm dripped from pale, pursed lips as the silver-haired male pushed past the restaurant's frowning hostess and slid lithely into the rosy booth. He tossed his head, and strands of molten silver rippled in the dim glow of the lights.

"Sorry about him," came a low mutter of apology that the hostess primly ignored. "He's just a little too excited."

"Shut up, Dearka." The indignant command came right on cue, and the blonde gave in to the threat of a smile that quivered on his lips.

"I would, if I didn't have to apologize for you all the time, Yzak."

The pale figure curled his lips in a fierce snarl, folding his arms across his narrow chest and snorting irritably. Still, his icy blue eyes scanned the interior of the elegant dining facility, and he absorbed the sheer candor of it all with silent admiration. The atmosphere was soothing.

"You know, you didn't have to take me to a place so outrageously classy." There was just a hint of guilt in his disapproving tone.

The tanned male shrugged. "We haven't been out for a while."

A taut string seemed to snap inside the opposite Coordinator. "So that's incentive for you to drag me to this expensive hovel and cough up money for prices that are too high?" The delicate lines etched on his brow deepened with contempt. "You're stupid, Elsman, you really are." He averted his gaze with embarrassment.

The blonde merely watched him, studied the curve of his companion's down-turned mouth, the sleek lines of his torso, the satin skin. If the pale boy noticed, a slight flicker of his eyelids was the only sign of recognition he gave, as Dearka grinned and picked up his gilded menu.

"Well, even if it's expensive, it's worth it just to watch you throw a fit."

An unmistakable flush of coloring tinted the other male's cheeks, visibly darkening his pale complexion despite the lack of ample lighting. "How can you even see to read the menu? It's too god damned dark in here to look at anything." But the slender Coordinator lifted his as well and scanned it coolly.

Dearka settled on an intricate dish of meat and vegetables, while Yzak chose something light and delicate. Their waitress kindly took their order after asking about drinks. Before the pale-headed boy had been able to speak, Dearka had smoothly ordered a bottle of rare Italian white wine.

As the waitress strode off, Yzak gaped across the polished table in shock and anger. "What did you do that for?"

"Why? Would you rather drink red wine?"

"I would rather you ordered something simple, like water!"

A mischievous glint shone in Dearka's violet eyes. "But you always look so sophisticated when you drink wine. The way you sit and hold the glass—"

Yzak cut him off with a hostile growl. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Elsman."

The grin that had been drawn so perfectly across the tanned features hadn't subsided. "Funny how you say that, and yet it always works."

The silver-haired male again averted his eyes, focusing instead on his gleaming silverware. "Then may I ask what the occasion is?" he inquired with a scowl.

"Since when do I need a reason to shower you with affection?"

The choice of words set the ill-humored boy to boiling. "Disgusting. The next time you use such a syrupy phrase I'm going to injure you, Elsman, and don't think I won't."

The blonde burst into laughter, much to the chagrin of the male across from him. "I took you out because it's been a while since we've had some fun, without Athrun and the others around to set you off."

Carefully avoiding the acknowledgment of the green-eyed pilot's existence, Yzak lifted an eyebrow skeptically. "And this is your idea of fun?"

"Well."

"What the hell do you mean, 'well?'"

A seductive wink. "Typically, it's what comes after dinner that's the fun part, Yzak…"

"I hope you mean the dessert," came the voice of their waitress, who had arrived with two crystal wine glasses and the bottle of wine. Her interjection had successfully drowned out a loud fit of angry sputtering from Yzak's direction. She reached for the bottle to place it upon the waiting table.

Her hand slipped at the last moment, and her face creased with horror in the seconds before the decorative bottle burst into glittering shards on the spotless floor. Anticipating the explosion of glass and liquid that was coming, she stepped back. The heels of her stilettos struck the back rungs of a protruding chair, and she tumbled backward, squinting her eyes shut expectantly.

She never fell, nor heard the tinkling sound of shattered glass. Slitting her eyes open, she sucked in a sharp breath as the situation registered.

Dearka hauled her to her feet, one arm wrapped about her waist while the other held the wine bottle in a firm, patient grip. The reflexes of a Coordinator coupled with the training of a soldier had done its work. The waitress blinked in surprise.

Yzak immediately fixed them both with a glare. "An impressive display," he mocked his companion in disgust. "Now get your hands off her."

The waitress, looking ruffled, extracted herself from Dearka's grip and apologized profusely before pouring them glasses of shimmering white wine and scurrying off.

The silver-haired male watched her go. "A Natural, I'm assuming. Clumsy woman. You should have let her fall." He seized the slender stem of his wine glass and tilted back his head as he swallowed irritably.

A knowing flicker passed over the blonde's face as he slid once more into the booth, but Dearka said nothing. A moment of serene silence passed, and snatches of bubbling conversation floated through the crowded restaurant carrying an air of bliss.

"Dearka."

The blonde was jerked slowly out of his reverie; his violet eyes rose to meet the pair of stunning blue ones that pinpointed him from across the table.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Thanks." The words looked as if they'd seared the inside of the pale boy's mouth.

The tanned soldier straightened, taken aback, but a sly grin emerged nonetheless. "What was that, Yzak? I didn't quite understand you."

The tentative look turned to rage. "You heard what I said, you bastard. I won't say it again."

A playful response loitered on the tip of the blonde's lips, but he trailed off as a broken phrase from somewhere behind them reached his keen ears.

Yzak's brow furrowed in irritation at the realization that he was being ignored. "Bite off your tongue or something, Elsman?"

Violet eyes blinked in reassurance, though something had clearly punctured the amusement of the moment. "Nothing. I thought I heard someone say something about preserving our world, that's all. They're probably talking politics about the war." He lifted his glass and took a controlled sip of his wine while Yzak glanced around, disinterested.

"I've had about enough of that kind of talk," he scoffed, making room on the table for the waitress to set down their plates when she arrived. "That's why we're here, isn't? So we don't have to think about it."

Dearka's eyes glazed over with some distant, inner thought. "Yeah." He watched as the waitress fiddled awkwardly with the plates before setting them down.

Two steaming dishes of fine cuisine enticed them with a colorful presentation, as a warm, spicy aroma wafted heavenward. The eyes of the blonde flew wide, and the opposite Coordinator smirked.

"Order too much?"

"I intend to eat it all. I just thought I'd savor the moment before I ruin everything by scoffing it." The waitress chuckled, and Yzak called him a glutton.

After the pretty woman carefully refilled their wine glasses, she withdrew a pair of salt and pepper shakers from her apron pocket and set to sprinkling their dishes. Dearka sat back to allow her easier access to his plate, and with a chuckle her realized her hands were trembling as she poured the salt.

"Are you worried about before?" he asked her, referring with a charming smile to her clumsy fall and his timely rescue. "You can relax, we're not angry. And you'll have to forgive Yzak for his outburst."

"W-well then," she stammered, peppering both dishes next as Yzak muttered darkly, "I don't remember asking for salt and pepper." Her hands still shook violently, odd considering that she'd been so charismatic and un-shy when the night had commenced.

Swiftly, she narrowed her eyes and slipped the shakers back inside her apron pocket, bowing before taking her leave. Dearka was eyeing the convenient hideaway, where a small black bottle also lay nestled, when Yzak thrust a napkin at him.

"You're going to need that, you slob."

Dearka glanced sheepishly down at his intricate order before chuckling and taking the embroidered fabric in his hands. "You're probably right."

In imitation of the perfect gentleman, he spread the cloth over his lap, so the cursive that spelled out the name of the restaurant lay facing up. L'ombre Bleue. The tanned Coordinator stared hard at the words.

Something inside him stiffened at the same time his violet eyes strayed to the salt and pepper shakers that had been on the table all along.

"Yzak…" He looked up in alarm. The silver-haired male had quietly taken the first bite of his savory dish, and was meeting his gaze now with distaste.

"What?" But Dearka was looking dazedly back at the double doors their waitress had recently disappeared through. The pale boy snarled. "If you're looking for permission to follow her, be my guest." The crude suggestion was poisonous.

Dearka froze as his partner hefted another laden forkful to his pale lips. "Don't…" but the plea had come late. At first, the blonde appeared stricken by something unintelligible. Then at once he leaned back in his chair and let out a bitter, determined chuckle.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" The slender youth had finally stopped eating. Dearka seemed to take note of it, and his chuckle transformed into an ironic laugh. Yzak scowled. "You're making me lose my appetite."

The blonde took a breath as he made the decision to begin eating his own generous dish. "I was just thinking about what Athrun and the others would say if they saw us here, eating all this fancy food, at this restaurant full of Naturals while we're supposed to be fighting a war with them."

It was Yzak's turn to look shaken. It only lasted for a glimmer of an instant; the characteristic sneer was placed coolly back into place as he scanned the crowd around them.

"What makes you think they're all Naturals?" he demanded, readying himself for another dogmatic outburst should it prove necessary.

"Just a hunch." The tanned ZAFT soldier set to his steaming dish with a hard will.

Yzak drew back, revolted. "Hungry much? Now I really am losing my appetite." He studied his partner closely, but remained at a loss.

It was not long before Dearka started on his side dish, and began to laugh again. The irregular tone of his laughter drew a few nervous looks from the other diners.

"What is it now?" Yzak hissed.

"Heh, I wonder if this is meant to be death by fine cuisine? This tastes unbelievably good," the other Coordinator announced.

"And why shouldn't it? You said this place had decent food." The silver-haired male had been about to speak again, but he halted his spiteful comments in their tracks as he caught the look in his partner's eyes.

Dearka was smiling, a genuine smile that went from his firm, seductive lips to his soft, gentle violet orbs.

"I'm really glad you agreed to come with me tonight, Yzak."

A brilliant pink flooded pale cheeks, and no response was issued from the addressed mobile suit pilot.

The two males set to enjoying their dinner, while an animated Dearka talked of a broad range of topics. In the calm, soothing buzz of conversation that took place around them, two beings were once again fortifying the deep chains that had always linked them together. The elegant, quaint restaurant was working its magic on a pair of soldiers who would gladly die for one another. Neither of them could remember a time when they had been so at ease, so subtly connected through their shared feelings.

"Not hungry anymore for real this time?" Dearka teased, motioning with a slight incline of his shaggy head at the half-empty plate across the table.

"Very funny," Yzak answered curtly. "No. You're paying because you're an idiot, so I'm eating everything. It tastes a little funny, is all. That stupid woman put too much salt on."

Dearka grinned, reaching over to drag the plate away from the complaining pilot with one quick, fluid motion. "Your childish taste buds just can't handle the flavor," he lectured fiendishly, taking a steady bite of the dish he had just pilfered from beneath his partner's nose.

Yzak's eyebrow threatened to twitch in annoyance. "Hey." The blonde took another bite. "Give that back, you wretch." He dove for it, but Dearka deftly slid the plate out of his limited reach.

"You weren't going to finish it anyway," he insisted.

A struggle seemed to be raging inside the paler youth's head, but finally submission won and he sat back in defeat, though not without a final word. "I hope eating all that extra food makes you sick, you glutton."

Dearka's responding smile lacked its usual radiance. "I'm sure it will."

Yzak raised his brows in a curious gesture, as if he couldn't determine whether the awkwardness was due to the food in his friend's mouth or some internal distraction known only to the blonde. He brushed the notion aside and nodded at their waitress as she walked by, signaling that they had finished.

She returned toting their receipt, while long, slender legs carried her forward, and shining black hair fluttered like a dark banner in her wake. It was suddenly evident how lovely she was, beautiful like the seductive relief of death after a life gone weary and gray.

"Thank you," she smiled good-naturedly, "And enjoy your evening."

Dearka said nothing as she rounded the corner and was lost to sight. He ran a hand aimlessly through his wavy, flaxen locks. He looked down at the slip of paper, past the figures set neatly in the middle, past the total amount owed, to the line printed in miniscule font at the very bottom.

We support a blue and pure world.

"Are you going to look at that thing forever?" Yzak grumbled. "How much are you paying for this anyway?" He reached for the receipt, but his companion snatched it playfully away.

"None of your business." Dearka stood briskly, abandoning the booth after setting down a series of bills and motioning for Yzak to follow.

The pale-headed youth moved reluctantly, making one last attempt to scan the price before they left. It was futile. Dearka gently took his wrist and led him away, whispering a low, "It's no big deal," softly into his ear. The distraction was flawless. Yzak's breath caught in his throat at the sudden contact. They left, taking to the city streets in good spirits as they made for Dearka's familiar apartment.

The blonde took his partner's hand, opened the door, led him inside.

And it was there, crumpled and weak on the floor, that Dearka died. But Yzak… Yzak Joule lived because he was loved by his partner until the end, and because a sacrifice was made.

A/N: Well. I don't know what I think about that, although I know it's probably not my best work since I suck at foreshadowing. And since I do…

The next chapter is a sort of alternate ending/epilogue thing that explains in more detail what happened.

I encourage you not to read it, however, if you already understood the plot and have enough imagination to fill in the blanks (because it's written in a style that doesn't quite fit with the story, and 'cause frankly, I don't like it). But if you're curious or want more concrete answers… be my guest. Or private message me and just go, "WTF."