A Gundam SeeD fanfic
Written by SpiritbladeDisclaimer: I do not own Gundam SeeD. The story is told from Natarle Badgiruel's POV. If someone read an earlier draft of this story that I posted, I apologise. That was the test draft. On with the story.
You know, when I first saw him, he was standing at the auto-cab line with his schoolmates on the neutral colony of Heliopolis. The way he was, I would never, ever have imagined the person he would have become later on. Nor would I have imagined that all my decision, all my actions, would have led me to this final conclusion, bleeding and dying from the multiple gunshot wounds that that hate-driven monster of the Blue Cosmos faction had inflicted on me.
It hurts…hurts so much…
…And I think I deserve it.
Everything becomes inconsequential; the angry shouts of Murata Azrael, the explosions that surround me, the blobs of blood that float in zero-g…
And my memories come back – all of them.
It's funny that the last moments of any man or woman has them remembering the past, as looking to the future brought only endless, quiet darkness. I know I will not live, but the memories that flood my mind brought with it a sweetness that quiets the desperation to live.
Many of them were about the same young boy – no, man – that was now streaking across the sea of stars with his companions, desperate to stop a genocidal war from escalating to Armageddon-like proportions. The angel that streaked through the sea of stars bears no resemblance to the lean, shy, teenager that I had seen on Heliopolis. Even now, I hear his desperate, angry cry, full of sorrow, screaming for both factions to stop fighting.
I remembered that day so clearly when Murrue Ramius brought him and his friends onto the Archangel to preserve the secret of the G-Project that had been built on neutral Heliopolis to help turn the tide of the war to the Alliance's favour. The sight of that boy I had met at the auto-cab stand left me wondering if he was there by some stroke of misfortune or by fate's wicked sense of humour. When I commented on her piloting, imagine my surprise when Murrue told me that the teenager at her side had been the one who piloted the Strike. My jaw landed in the vicinity of my ankles.
Such things were not possible, not unless – as La Fraga said – the boy was a Coordinator.
It was hard to believe that a 16-year old without a minute of military experience had crossed swords with ZAFT's elite and waltzed away. I protested Murrue's decision, and La Fraga's trust, in letting him pilot the Strike. Even La Fraga, an ace pilot, had held up his hands in surrender when asked to pilot the Strike Gundam in the boy's place.
I didn't want civilian doing a job meant for soldiers, but La Fraga's words killed any argument before I could voice them, "Have you seen what he has done to the OS on the suit? Normal people cannot even pilot that thing."
It had taken Murrue some doing to convince him to help us escape ZAFT, but the price of our escape had been the utter destruction of the Heliopolis Colony.
It was Bloody Valentine all over again.
But, without Kira, I knew then that we would never have made it to Earth.
I have seen him in battle, fighting to protect everyone on the Archangel. From the first battle to the last time I saw him, I still had trouble equating the gentle, young man to the murderous angel that stalked the battlefields from the sea of stars down to sacrosanct cradle of an imperfect race, pursued every step of the way by ZAFT. No doubt that the name of the elusive, defiant Archangel was more than enough for every ZAFT fleet commander out to make a name from him or herself snap at its heels at every turn.
From Commander Cruz to Andrew Bartfeld and to God knows how many more were involved in the effort to sink the battleship that had mocked ZAFT's might by eluding and outfighting them at every turn. From their dogged efforts, I knew that we had stomped on more toes than we had originally thought. It was as if some power from above had cursed the ship ever since it was christened.
And to a ship as plagued as the Archangel, the presence of one such as Kira Yamato was a blessing. Whether it be to crew or refugees, he was there to make sure they would never need to be afraid. And to fail them, to him, came with a heavy price. It was not his fault, I realise that now, that the father of Flay Allster had perished. It was not his fault that he had been unable to protect the shuttle that had attempted to ferry the refugees abroad the Archangel to safety.
Eventually…I lost him. I lost him when I abandoned him without even caring to see if he was alive. In the aftermath of a bitter fight with the elite pilots of the Cruz team, which saw to the deaths of Tolle Koenig, one of Kira's classmates, we had fled the battlefield, knowing that if we stayed to search for him, we would have shared his fate.
In one fell shot, the Archangel lost 2 of its 3 protectors, and I watched as morale abroad the Archangel plummet faster than a stone in still water.
And what did my superiors in Alaska say about such a sacrifice? From their lips fell dismissive, racist comments that made me bristle in fury. Fat bastards that flew a desk knew not the fear of facing an enemy who had every intention of ending your life.
I kept my peace, however. Let them think as they wish. I know otherwise.
And I watched the Earth Alliance betray those it abandoned to die in the defense of its HQ in Alaska. I was chilled to the bone when I realised that those who had been left there were nothing more than decoys to lure the vast majority of ZAFT's invasion force to their doom. And deep inside, I began to question what kind of people my superiors were to simply sacrifice their own as a means to an end.
I moaned softly.
Oh, damn it, this wound hurts so much and my sight is starting to mist over. Did it hurt this much, deep within, when he rode out in the Strike? I never asked, never questioned, never cared to talk to him. To me, I only cared if Kira did his duty and nothing more.
I remembered the day I had asked Admiral Haverton – long dead, with his 8th Fleet shattered – that Kira Yamato be asked to remain in the Earth Federation. Coordinators in the Earth Alliance military were rare, and most of them had a very good reason for doing so. And considering his rare skill, he would be an asset. Admiral Haverton had not been happy and had given me quite the telling off. I suppose I was being selfish. Kira Yamato is a civilian, and not a professional soldier.
I suppose I deserved it.
I wanted him to be just like me. Perhaps, in that way, I could be behind him as he fought.
I admit to the fact that I have always been dishonest with my feelings. Many men have approached me in hopes of starting a relationship; few have actually won my trust and respect. La Fraga was one such man but his eyes were fixed on Murrue. The second one was the same boy who walked into my life and turned it upside down. When Kira runs off and acts foolishly, I am oh-so-sorely tempted to throttle him within an inch of his life.
He was so much like me, and yet so unlike me.
Duty motivated both of us.
To protect what we loved drove us to bear our burdens.
I was too willing to swing my swords, bloody my blades, at the behest of my superiors. I never questioned whether those orders were right or wrong. And had I not met him, I would have continued not doing so. Why did I abandon him during that battle
Soldiers do not abandon those they consider family. And I have broken the cardinal rules. Yes, rules. Plural as I broke another cardinal rule.
I fell in love with him.
In those gentle eyes, I could see the woman I could have become.
A woman like that gentle Coordinator girl, Lacus Klein, whose voice and spirit brought peace to a soul stained in blood and weighed down by guilt, and whose ideals would see a new era where the guns of war would lie silent.
I could have held him, holding his pain for him, like Fllay Allster, who burnt bright like fire, lighting the way, strengthening him inside.
I could have been the fiery heart and determination that powered him, like Cagalli Yula Attha, who raised one rough hand and wiped away his tears.
Instead, I have done nothing but cause him pain and used him as the potent weapon that he was instead of seeing him as a person who was forced to fight and kill in order to protect those he cared about. I cannot help but wonder what it would have been like if I were a pillar like those girls had been to you. But, I will never have the chance to even ponder that thought longer than I will now.
I'm so sorry, Kira Yamato.
I'm so very sorry.
I would ask your forgiveness, and tell you what I dared not say, but I think what little time I have left has finally run out.
The Archangel sent my judgement from its beam cannons, and the light was so bright that it blinded me. I saw Murata Azrael screaming in terror as his form was outlined in the bright, white light, and I could not help but smile. I smiled at how bright it was. Just like Kira's eyes. I saw his eyes burn bright with the light of the stars above when he stood quietly on the deck of the Archangel so many months ago, when he smiled at me for the first time.
I closed my eyes.
I know that when I next opened them, he would be standing next to me on the decks of the Archangel, enjoying the breath-taking vista of golden-brown sands and starlit skies. A foolish dream, but a good one to take into silent eternity.
Sayonara, Kira…I can only give you this in return. Live, and remember me. I'm sorry.