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PHASE 04: "It's all wrong"
Malchio’s Island, C.E.73, 5.12
In a way, Yzak Jule considered it a great and terrible privilege to try to understand Athrun, now, at this stage of their bizarrely disjointed lives. Dealing with him was as challenging as piloting a GINN with a faulty OS under heavy enemy fire. One had to make constant adjustments to endless changes in force and direction and there was always the danger of foundering and going under.
During their stint in the academy and the subsequent months fighting for ZAFT, the introspective man with an aristocratic bearing had fascinated him. Despite being a year younger, Athrun had distinguished himself in the academy and on the battlefield, much to the older boy’s chagrin. Dearka had told him once that they both had an almost instinctive, tacit understanding of each other. Of course, his friend had been right on most counts, though Yzak was pretty sure he had never understood Athrun.
Surely, Yzak thought, there must be some logical explanation! Why did he resort to murder? Disputes between best friends were common: just look at him and Dearka. Even in the worst fights, there must have been some other way. Scream, beat each other up, anything.
Yzak knew that he was being kept at more than arm’s length, as though there was something that Athrun himself couldn’t look at, let alone display. Something that could be dreamt of but not spoken, even in the dark of night. Something that would have to be brought into the light.
He stood silently on the sun-kissed balcony as he watched the two men on the beach converse on some topic. They then lapsed into silence before the older man (Was his name Rice? Rich? He couldn’t remember.) finally stood and continued up the slope.
His mother had told him, many years ago, that the end justifies the means. He had since taken up that philosophy, doing what seemed necessary for the good of all.
Yzak smiled grimly as he watched Athrun resume whatever he had been doing before the brief interruption. Two years was a long wait, especially for someone who has always had a vague sense of urgency; yet, overriding any other emotion, was the sense of how satisfying it would be when the wait finally paid off.
Slender and elegant in a simple shirt and khakis, the longish dark hair now combed neatly to the side, Athrun appeared to be in a much better condition than he had been a week ago: his colour was much better for one thing. What his mental state was, Cagalli had no idea. They had hardly spoken since their arrival on the island, beyond courtesies and the shallowest of dinner-table conversations; no one had been able to draw him out.
Everyone, even Malchio, was present at the hearing. The room was silent as Athrun went through the allegations painstakingly. It might have been a trick of the light, but Cagalli thought his hands trembled almost imperceptibly as he read the last pages. It took him almost ten minutes to finish. At last, he stacked the documents neatly in front of him, and laying his hands flat on the table, turned to gaze out the windows.
Investigator Rice stirred in his seat, his voice was very mild when he spoke. “Athrun, is there any truth to these charges?”
It had been almost two hours since sundown. Cagalli could hear the call of a nightjar: a curious lilting song that seemed out of place among the rustle of the leaves and the distant thunder of the beaches beyond.
For the first time, Athrun had a comment. “It’s all true, I suppose,” he said, almost to himself, turning back to the audience but looking at no one in particular. “But it’s all wrong.”
The words hung in the room, distant and thin as a birdsong.
“You say that it’s all wrong,” Rice said at last, thrown off momentarily. “Would you care to elaborate on that point?”
“I have nothing to say,” Athrun turned away again; there was no force behind his voice. “You may take whatever action you deem appropriate.”
Cagalli felt her hackles rising and knew that beside her, Yzak was trying his best to rein in his temper. It was Lacus who spoke instead.
“Athrun, you can’t expect us to let you walk away without understanding what happened,” she said. There was no reply, only a slight hardening of the face profiled at the window. “You may not want to face a hearing but… look. If we understood, we could help you. Make it easier for you, maybe?”
“It doesn’t matter what I say, what I tell you. You can’t imagine the truth.” The hands on the table clenched, but it was not in fury. He continued, his voice barely audible. “You don’t want to know.”
Yzak sat back in his chair. If the newly appointed member of the PLANT’s highest council was still fuming from the previous exchange, there was no sign of it in his face. “Tell us what happened.”
Athrun looked at him for a long time, as though confused. Then he told them.
... ... End of Phase 04 ... ...
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