Archive of Our Own

The supreme ruler of Neo Zeon is dead.

After two months of intensive trial, and finally hastily executed.

Amuro found out about this long after it actually happened.

He had no idea how he had survived the long descend through atmosphere. But perhaps this might be what we call a 'miracle'? His doctor said. He's a lively young man, with a slightly upturned brown fringe and long sideburns, wearing all manner of strange jewelry under his white medical robe.

But don't expect this kind of miracle to happen again, Mr. Amuro. His tone was light, as if he were merely reminding him to take his medication on time, but there was still a hint of warning in those words.

The repeated games with Death also brought him wounds that can never heal fully. The large area of burns was like some kind of chronic disease, inflamed over and over again, even after it healed still left ugly scars that can't be hidden. Broken bones confined him to his hospital bed day after day.Pain followed him like a ghostly shadow, to which he fled, with some sort of tanking attitude, into the god-sent sleep brought by painkillers.

Memories of the past two month was like water in hands, the more he to try to hold, the more quickly it drain away. His shredded memories were filled with dim light from shadowless lamps, unfamiliar ceilings, the rumble of the gurney rolling across endless thresholds, the incessant beeping of the monitors and unrecognizable conversation.

By the time he truly recovers from the effects of anesthetic and painkillers, Char had already been hastily sent to court, executed, and buried somewhere unknown.

The one who brought the news was Bright Noa. He noticed that his superior seemed suddenly to have aged a great deal, with white hair appearing near his temples, where it had not existed before. Amuro was suddenly aware that the captain, who was 34 years old ( only a few years older than himself ) , was burdened with too much work for his age.

Bright came with a nice bouquet of condolence flower and Amuro's order of promotion. The former, Amuro suspected, had been chosen with the help of Miss Mirar. As for the latter, he listened with a kind of indifference to Bright's reading: two promotions in a row, with many other kinds of appointments, and so on. All of which saying that the threat of Neo Zeon has been removed, the Federation was grateful for his help, and had generously decided to offer him a job with good salary and no need to sit in the office all day, and had euphemistically suggest that he should now get the fuck out their way, and so on.

"Char's dead." Bright said simply, handing him a brown paper bag. "These are the documents from his trial, including the verdicts and testimony that he confirmed and signed. I thought you might want to read it."

The trial was surprisingly short, considering the many crimes Char had committed. Maybe the Feds were worried that the duck they've caught might fled again. Bright said, with a hint of dark humor in his words. But humor did not seep into his expression.

The captain looked warily at the young man with brown curly hair, as if trying to judge Amuro's opinion by his reaction to the matter.

"Yeah, I know."

Bright blinked. "They told you?"

The other man made no reply, instead started to play with the string on the paper bag. "No." He said no more after that.

Is it the weird connection between Newtypes again? Bright Thought. The Newtypes and their entanglements, he could not help shaking his head at this. As an Oldtype whose soul is forever bound by gravity, he can never fully understand them, for which Bright was actually kind of grateful.

What Amuro don't know was that the Federation officials originally wanted him, the former ace pilot, the White Devil, to be the one executing Char. Bright have to use all connection he has, making vigorous efforts to turn the tide so that the two don't have to end up with such a fate. What a sick revenge drama...The Federation's sense of humor can only be described as appalling.

"What's your plan after all this?" Bright asked quite unexpectedly.

"... I don't know." The other replied, and began to fiddle with the medical bracelet on his hands. "Do you think the Feds'll let me out again?" There was no bitterness or complaint in Amuro's voice, as if he were just casually asking a question.

Bright rubbed his temples. "They can't keep a health person in hospital forever, Amuro."

Instead of answering, Amuro started to nibble his thumb habitually. Bright was a bit amused to see such childish behavior on a man in his 30s.

After a moment of silence, the other person finally spoke.

"I want to go to side 6."

The captain blinked. "What for?"

"Nothing. Just wondering around." Amuro shrank underneath the thick covers, making it clear that he no longer wanted to talk. "Just..."

"What?"

The  long silence following his words almost made Bright think that the other had fallen asleep. When Amuro spoke again, his tone was not as plain as before, and Bright suspected that he could detect a hint of disguised sadness in his voice.

"...just to find an old acquaintance."

===========================================================

Not much has changed with Side 6. It's still the same as before.

Time seemed to have frozen here.

Artificial lakes, artificial blue skies, artificial hills and woods. Not even the muddy forest lanes had changed, except that the car he was in was no longer the one he borrowed from the White Base and would stuck in the mud by the side of the road,  the two person willing to stop by and help him to pull it out were no where to be seen.

No one on the car knew how much this landscape, which is just like all the other Colonies, meant to him, and the entourage seemed to assume that a man who had spent most of his time on the bloody battlefield would surly want to see the nature and all its glory, so they accepted Amuro's request to drive him around the suburbs without any doubt.

"I heard they used to have swans here." He said casually as the car passed an artificial lake, leaning lazily against his seat and looking out over the landscape.

"Even If there were, it probably should be gone by now." Replied a young man in the back seats. "This place used to be a hunting ground for those rich assholes." He snorted dismissively. "Those idiots destroyed everything and then just walked away, leaving the others to clean up their mess."

Amuro wondered if he's hinting at Char dropping Axis, and indeed,Char has left  him with enough mess to clean up for the rest of his life. The trial on the remaining New Zeon confederates continues. Now that they have no leader, the Federation will surely enjoy torturing them and turning their story into a textbook for the ages.

See?they would say. This is what happens if you threaten the Federation. Your escape pod will be pinned to a burning asteroid by the White Devil in the ν-Gundam, and endure the heat of breaking through the atmosphere with him. Finally to be fished out of the water, forced to bow you head to undeserved charges and humiliating labels, hastily tried, executed, ashes thrown into some nameless dump.

The Federation car glided smoothly past a field of reeds high enough to block his view. Suddenly, just as the rainy afternoon decades ago, the red, pointed cabin appeared before Amuro's eyes.

The people following him accepted his request to get out of the car and wonder around the red-roofed cabin without question, which was, after all, nothing suspicious. They followed the former ace pilot through the untended lawn, where the dirt path that should have led to the house had been long ignored and was covered with soft turf and yellow wildflowers. The pilot climbed the steps leading to the front porch and suddenly turned around.

"I think that's enough spying."

His accompanies shivered uncontrollably.

The former pilot's voice was calm. But the cold anger hidden in his eyes kept the others from coming any closer. It was powerful and commanding, and the young Federation officers felt a kind of primal fear, as if they were antelopes straying into lion territory.

"Ye... Yes!"

Amuro watched as they saluted to him and scattered, surrounding the lawn while keeping an eye in the area. He chuckled bitterly. Even if he tried to escape, his broken body would be no match against three strong young Federation soldiers armed with guns.

He turned. The front porch had not changed. The white wooden rocking chair  still sits in its former place, and if he looked up he could see the sparkling surface of the artificial lake and the reeds swaying in the wind in the distance.

He did not venture to sit on the chair, more afraid of contaminating the tranquil sanctuary than the decaying wood failing to support his weight.

The lock to the house was so old and useless that it broke into a pile of reddish-brown crumbs at the slightest use of grip. The gate, which had not been oiled for so long, creaked loudly when it was opened.

Amuro took a deep breath and stepped inside.

He didn't know what he was hoping to see: luxury furniture? belongings so cozy that it's totally out of character with the original owner? Or the girl in the flowing yellow dress, her long raven black hair pulled back in two tight buns?

The room doesn't have many decoration, leaving only the smell of wooden furniture slowly aging under the erosion of time. Even the walls were still the original brown ones with no wallpaper covering them. At the other end of the room was an old stove and some cooking utensils. Can the Red Comets cook? Amuro found himself thinking. Would he drag himself back to the red-roofed wooden house at the end of each day to light the little stove and cook with Lalah?

Amuro shook his head, trying to dispel these thoughts. That's so un-Char.

There are a few glasses and wine bottles scattered in the dusty cupboard, but they look like they haven't been touched in a long time. There were a few sofas in the drawing room whose colors were no longer discernible. A faded red curtain hangs over the window, which made Amuro scoffed at Char's aesthetic skills.

Even if one likes red, one should NOT use RED curtains.

There weren't even walls to separate the rooms. The kitchen, dining room and drawing room are all crammed into the tiny wooden cabin.

There was nothing left except for dust and shattered memories.

There was no lock in the room, not even the cupboard. The house matched its owner perfectly, like an open book that no one can read.

It struck him how little they knew about each other, even though they were each others' rival.

But what exactly did he expect to find here?

Amuro was frustrated to discover that, even in death, the Red Comet still had succeeded in tricking him. He stuck his fingers into his reddish-brown curls with some irritation. Turned his heels and prepared to go back to the front porch.

Wait.

What's that?

The afternoon sunlight streamed in through the window on the roof, giving him his first full glimpse of the dim cabin.He can see the particles of dust dancing in the sunlight from the sudden disturbance.

He squinted.

At the far end of the room there is a staircase leading to the attic, it has almost melted into the same color as the wall due to  the erosion of time.

He ran toward the steps.

There's -- there's got to be something more in there, more details, more clues, more evidence, he will surly find them if he digs really hard.

The stairs were neither long nor steep.

But it's still too long for a man in a hurry.

It was so long that he forgot it was a dilapidated house and he should be more careful when he went up the stairs. So long that he forgot to cry out for help as he stomped through the old wooden staircase, and tumble down into nothingness.

He might have passed out for a bit. When he opened his eyes again, he was surprised to find there was no pain. Instead there was a strange feeling of weightlessness, as if he had returned to the White Base, La Kellam, or any of the other space shuttles he boarded before.

A girl sat on the railing, swinging her legs absentmindedly and humming an old song that he could not identify. The song, perhaps older than the colony, perhaps older than the Universal Century itself, came from a tune sung by a child in an ancient land thousands of years ago.

Her emerald green eyes widened as she laid eyes on him.

"No, Amuro." Her voice was as light as a swan, gilding across the lake that afternoon so many years ago. "It's too early."

He found himself unable to speak in spite all the thing that he wanted to tell her.

"You still have a long life ahead of you, people you haven't met, wishes you haven't fulfilled. It's too early for you." She jumped off the handrail. Looking down at him, still laying on the ground stupidly.

My wish had been fulfilled. He wanted to say. Char is dead. You're dead.I'm tired. Please, it's time for me to rest.

"No." She reached out and stroked his cheek, wiping away the tears. He didn't even notice that he was crying. "We Newtypes should be understanding, not killing each other."

I can't understand people like him, he thought. I will not understand his actions, nor his past.

"It's too early. I'm not ready for you."

That's not fair! He grumbled like a spoiled child. I've had enough! Don't force another sequel to the story! This should have been over a long time ago!

“He still needs you.”her voice was gentle.“Return to him.Tell him that he's not alone.”

Why——

“I will be here waiting for you when the time comes.”

It's a shame that I can't join you.He wanted to say.

Lalah returned to her humming, from the distance, came voices calling his name.The two intertwine to form some sorts of dream-like chord.

“It's time for you to go.”Lalah's voice starts to fade away, becoming as disembodied as her figure.

“But I will be waiting for you, I promise.”

The last thing he saw before plunging into total darkness was Lalah's long golden dress, drifting in the nonexistent wind, filling his vision like the rippling of lake water.

He found himself in the hospital again when he finally came around.

Lucky those officers were able found him on time.The doctor was saying. He shouldn't ignore the still-healing wounds and run loose in the some kinds of countryside. Those nice young men could get into real trouble for letting him do so.

Whether if it was the frustration in the other man's voice or the blinding lights from the Incandescent light, Amuro found himself unable to look up. So he stared down at the white sheets of the hospital bed like a little kid ,waiting for the lecture to end.

All the while, the girl in the long, flowing dress sat at the end of the bed with her leg crossed, nodding approvingly to the doctor's words.Though her expression was as playful as ever, there was an uncharacteristically seriousness in those sorrowful eyes.

Amuro realized that no matter which colony he fled to, her ghostly voice, green eyes like spring water, innocent and playful smile, will always be following him, urging him to return to the blue cradle where all the mankind originate from, urging him to return to the person he should be with.

===========================================================

So, at the age of 30, he decided never to step foot in space again.

No one dares to raise any objection, except for Bright, who was slightly disappointed. He had decided to move, and hoped that he can come and stop by from time to time.

He said that he wishes to open a bakery with Mirar one day.

That's nice.he recalled himself saying. This must be one of the perks of being an oldtype,  they are always ready to plunge into new futures and new lives, never haunted by ghosts from the past.

Surly Bright has never seen those smoke-like figures, never heard their ever-lasting whispers.He thought, suddenly struck with envy.

"We have to let the kids see what is it like in space."Bright was saying.

The words sound suspiciously like what his father said to him, when they first laid their eyes on Side 7, which at the time was still half under construction.Even Bright's expression seemed to be exactly the same.

He started wondering if all the fathers have this kind of expression.

Amuro watched quietly as the Noa family boarded the shuttle, the former captain's large, boney hands cling tightly to his son's shoulder, as if the kid would disappear into thin air if he let go of him.

At least the chains bounding him hadn't yet joined by the one named"father', Amuro doesn't know whether to feel sorry or grateful for it.From time to time, he would feel guilty for realizing that he did not think about Chien as often as he thought he would. Beltorchika had long since failed to put up with his absent-mindedness and the habit of wandering off, which, come to think of it, seemed to be a problem that all his previous girlfriends complained about.

The Federation no longer needed him to do anything, but chose to keep him in house arrest as if he were some kind of rare animal, and occasionally dragged him out for celebrations, war memorials, or speeches to the new recruits. The officials had been scared half to death by the so-called "miracle light of Axis", and now won't even let him into the cockpit of those old MS stacked in the museum. Bright, on the other hand, seemed to got a little perk out of it: he remains silent about about what happened at Axis, and the Feds dropped the case of his son stealing and piloting the MS. Poor Hathaway is no longer the kid who would be excited by simple things like seeing the sight of colony Shangri-La for the first time. The few times they've met, he just silently hunches in the corner, staring blankly at the Halo in his hand. Bright mentioned, with slight distress, about driving his son to group therapy every week. He did not ask for details, but noticed Quess's name on the list of casualties. And when the former captain suggested in an undertone that he could use the "light of Axis" to bargain with the Feds, he merely let out a dry laugh.

"I can't afford to lose my job, can I?"

So he moved back to his old house in Cheyenne, and every day trying and failing to tell himself that it was still right after the One-Year War, and that he was the same young man who drank himself to halfway to death everyday because of the constant Federation surveillance. None of those Quattro, Kamilie, A.E.U.G shit had ever happened. The brown paper bag containing the last two months of Char Aznable's life still sat quietly on the coffee table, tempting him every time he laid eyes on them.

It was not as if he had never tried to untie the string that was wrapped the bag, he just always gave up halfway through the knot. Just like he did with Char.

Char always vanish just as Amuro starts to get know him.

Whether it's in A’Baoa’Qu, Kilimanjaro, or Axis.

That's the most annoying and frustrating thing about Char.

He always thought that if he left space, all the shit, whether it was with Newtypes, MS, or the golden-haired rival who was bothering him, would simply disappear.

But he forgot one thing.

Char DIDN'T die in space.

The Red Comet, supreme ruler of Neo Zeon, died on Earth, executed by the Federation. The high-speed Internet and advanced electronic equipment made his trial and execution some sort of grand entertainment, sent to everyone, Earth or  Colonies, in real time.

His soul still drifts in the atmosphere.

Amuro can't help but to mock this. The man who constantly called for human beings not to be bound by the earth's gravity, even willing to drop Axis for this reason, died on the earth, his soul forever bearing the shackles of gravity.

He has a sneaking suspicion that there are people in the Federation who like this  kind of sick joke, which might also be why they chose to have Char executed on Earth.

Now, with Lalah's soul wandering through in space and Char's soul drifting in atmosphere, he suddenly found himself with nowhere else to go.

From time to time, Amuro would wonder why, after such a long and arduous fall, Char appears to have escaped unscathed, while he was so badly injured that he was confined to a hospital bed for months. In the occasional glimpses of the trial footage (which were almost impossible to avoid, especially when the Federation is still gloating over their success in thwarting the New Zeon rebellion), Char is as clam as ever, polite yet cold.

This attitude annoyed him.

In his imagination, Char should not be like this.

So what's he supposed to be like? The voice inside his head asked.

Should he act like a cornered dog, unrepentant, and charge the court for the injustice of the trial? Or should he kneel down like a coward, begging for his life before the Federation judges?

After smashing countless cups and ashtrays, he finally realizes that this is what he imagined Char would be like.

Calm, clothes spotlessly clean, quietly accepted his final sentence.

His anger was merely at Char's meekness.

Although he's reluctant to admit this, but yes, this is the way Char Aznable should be like.

And he remained this way even after his death.

It should be just a normal evening, sitting on his bed, massaging his sore legs. His past battles had left him with wounds he shouldn't have at his relatively young age, not just on the outside, but also inside. The former, at least, has time to ease and heal, the latter, he can only rely on the countless pills that he can't even pronounce prescribed by the Feds doctors. But he's not willing, at least for now, to give in to the doctors' pills and their advice on therapy. He crushed the pills and dumped them down the toilet, dodging appointment after appointment by making fake excuses saying that he wasn't available.

"What are you doing?" Came the crisp voice.

He looked up at the little boy who had suddenly appeared out of thin air. He was wearing a slightly tattered suit, stained with the inevitable dust of a long and arduous journey. His expression was serious, blue eyes revealing a maturity that does not belong to his young age.His translucent body told Amuro that he was nothing more than a phantom. He was not afraid, after all, he had been waiting for this moment for a long time. But when the other Char's ghost actually appeared in front of him, he suddenly realized that he didn't know what to say.

Nor did he understand why Char had chosen to appear in this kind of form, just as he had disappeared and reappeared in Amuro's view countless times before. He gradually learned to just accepted this kind of behavior as part of Char's personality.

"My leg hurts." He replied simply after a moment of thinking.

"I've seen my mother massaging for my father like this." He said thoughtfully. "Usually after he comes back from his speech."

Amuro has never heard Char mention his famous father, and has always assumed that there is something unspeakable about the topic. Maybe this young Casval would be more willing to talk. "What was he like? "He asked casually.After all, there's not much you can talk about with a ghost.

"A great man." Another voice came from the other side of the bed. He turned his head, and an older Casval took off his sunglasses to put eyedrops in his eyes. His voice had matured a bit, more like the Red Comet he knew. He has never seen this Char, but he can guess from the green uniform that it was him in military school.

"He fought for his idea to the end of hie life, even though he knew it would be difficult for it to become a reality."

"Is it? "he asked.Not knowing if he's asking himself or the others.

"He was no more than a fool and a clown, his ideas are impossible to achieve. His speech only put the colonies at odds with the Earth Federation, which, of course, could not turn a blind eye to an increasingly powerful colony. There is no way to avoid war. He foolishly abandoned things that are way more important for the sake of an illusory idea." Even in the dim surrounding, Lieutenant Quattro still kept his sunglasses on. Young Casval nodded approvingly to this Char's word.

"Like father, like son." He retorted. "You have abandoned even basic humanity in order to build so-called new world. Waging war like an spoiled child in an attempt to exterminate what you consider as 'inferior' races --"

"Is it?

A slightly tired and worn out voice spoke up, and he knew without turning to the source that this belongs to the ruler of Neo Zeon. Amuro didn't jump up to tackle Char like what he did in Shangri-La and adding another scar to that stupid pretty face of his. He knew that if he started beating up the shards form his past memories, he'd be close to a complete mental breakdown.

"'War is meaningless, but necessary. 'You said it yourself." Char said with a thin smile on his lips. "I've paid a lot of attention to you."

"I didn't say that." "He retorted. "If by this you mean waging a war on all  mankind, then you are just a pathetic madman."

"You know very well why I do this." The Red Comet from the One-Year War opened his mouth. The smile made Amuro feel for a split second as if he was back in the smoke and ashes of the battlefield on A’Baoa’Qu, his right shoulder aching from the blade piercing through it. Faced with Char's eager offer and outstretched hand, only the fear in the depth of his eyes reflected in his helmet was visible, eardrums pounding with the tired gasps from the previous hand-to-hand combat.This Char's smile is a little bit too irksome, filled with childlike innocence, as if bragging about having Lalah's company all the time, while Amuro can only wait for the next unknown battle on the White Base.

"You're too idealistic." he muttered.

"Me, too idealistic?" The Red Comet chuckled. "Rather than accusing me of being idealistic, you should notice that this is the fatal flaw of all of us Newtypes, we tend to act on behalf of our emotions, putting our irrational thoughts ahead of reason, which also is why if we continue to work for the rotting bureaucracy system of the Feds, we will only become pawns in their endless wars."

"If that means waging a war against people like you, then I'll gladly join them."

The young Comet let out a laugh, which is almost like his trademark.

Amuro was speechless. In raged, he kicked the place where the Red Comet was sitting, and sure enough, his leg went completely through the other men. Char smiled, but the smile did not warm his eyes.

"Why attack a ghost, Amuro? You're only doing the same meaningless things out of fear and guilt." He said disdainfully. "You could have done better, but you didn't."

"I didn't just stand by and watch." He argued feebly. "I stopped you. Axis did not fall. The humans you wish to punish were protected by me."

"How very arrogant of you." Amuro was angered by the general's tone, which was not sarcastic but rather sympathetic. Although there is no evening breeze outside the window, Char's dark cape still fluttering gently, as if sensing the wind that does not exist.

"Why did't you think of this when you foolishly tried to represent the will of all  spacenoids?" Amuro's tone was sarcastic. "Why didn't you think of this when you believe you can move the course of history with your bare hands?"

"Because the thousands of years of history have decided that someone has to sacrifice for the greater good of all mankind." Yet another Char that he couldn't recognize. He seems to be young, but Amuro can never estimate Char's age precisely. His clothes were covered with ashes and sawdust, face glistening with sweat. He held a long sword covered in blood in his right hand, and eyes filled with murderous rage. "And the last person to do so was my father."

"So you just assume that it's you this time?"

"Mankind can only progress if we realize our own insignificance."

"I think human beings are intelligent enough to face their own insignificance."

"But they can't." lieutenant Quattro said. "The only weapon they have in face of the unknown is fear. Do you remember what they did to Newtypes after the One-Year war?Do you remember what they did to you?" He looked over the top of his sunglasses, Amuro squirmed uncomfortably under his piercing gaze.

The spotless-clean basement of the Federation Institute of Newtype Study, the incessant roar of the massive instruments that lurked in the shadow like beasts preparing to bounce at him anytime, the vague, eerie nightmares that bothers him every time he fell asleep, the terror of slowly suffocating in thin air—all these memories he thought he had left behind burst into his mind.

"Don't you dare—" he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish these unwelcome pieces of memory. He suddenly became uncomfortably aware that all the Char were quiet, looking at him with the same sharp blue eyes.

"Stop it." He lay down and let the earth's gravity pull him into the soft mattress. "You know perfectly well what will happen if we keep arguing."

"I have an eternity to argue with you." Came the reply.

"If eternal existence is painful, I hope you can enjoy this endless torment."

The vision of the white swan floated before his eyes again. White feathers, pale yellow beak, orange flippers, golden flowing dress, emerald-green eyes, gilding lightly over the sparkling lake water.

Char's ghosts remained silent, all of them choose to fall quiet at this moment.

Disputes and arguments had always been part of their communication over the years, whether when they were comrades or rivals. Rather, it has gradually become the symbol and meaning of their existence to refute each other's ideas like this. If their dispute was merely a thin gap in the beginning, it had gradually become a bottomless abyss with the passage of time, with no possibility of healing back together, ever.

But, at least, we can tumble into this abyss together.

Never before had he lamented the uselessness of Newtypes abilities. Neither the advancement of technology nor the evolution of human beings itself has led to true understanding between them.

"Lalah says we should at least try to understand each other."

"And what do you think about this?"

He did not expect the reply turn out to be a question. "I don't know." He replied, a little discouraged by the other's answer.

Amuro opened his eyes. All the different Chars standing beside his bed before had disappeared, replaced by the tired-looking Neo Zeon ruler, staring down at him, face expressionless. He might be imagining all this, but Char's body doesn't seem as translucent as before. He can now see his azure eyes more clearly, and the hidden exhaustion within them.

"But I know that I miss you."

Char reached out a hand to stroke his face gently. Even though he is a no more than a just ghost, just one of the many fragments of his past memories, Amuro still swore that he can feel the other's cold presence.

"Thanks."

"Thanks for what? "He asked.

"Thank you for saying that first."

Amuro was amused. "I've lost." He said, somewhat incoherently.Now come to think of it, maybe he've lost from the very start. Ever since he jumped into the cockpit of RX-87 on Side7, ever since he was stabbed in the arm at A’Baoa’Qu, ever since he locked eyes with him on the hands of MKII.

"No. You've won." He can now feel Char's hand more vividly. The long, handsome fingers played with his unruly curly hair. Char's motion was gentle as the time when they were on Mt.Kilimanjaro, where they were forced to share each other's body heat due to the freezing weather and harsh winds.

"How did I won?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You've won me."

He had to stifle his laughter upon hearing this. "What's this? Some kind of stupid love confession?"

"If you think so."

Amuro shifted on the pillow, allowing him to gaze more deeply into Char's pale blue eyes. He knew that his gaze must be as searing as the other's now, and both of their eyes were a little red with lust.

He was not surprised at all when the other's lips touched his. Instead there was only a strange feeling of familiarity, as if they had done this many times before. This is where Char's lips should be. Amuro found his cheeks reddening with the thought.

Although ghosts are not supposed to be warm, he still sensed the comfort of the other's presence in the cold kiss. He could feel the other person's hand moving on his waist with some sort of primal longing.

He knew that the Char before him is no more than a phantom, but the kiss that followed is real and passionate. When he finally pulled away, gasping for breath, he could still feel the other's searing desire, clinging to his lips, like cockleburs clinging to the pelt of wild animals.

"Don't do that," he whispered, a little bit reproachfully. "One of us still needs to breathe."

Char's smile was as innocence and carefree as the Red Comet from the One-Year War, and for a moment he looks less like the tried and melancholy general and more like the good-natured passing enemy officer who would help a Federation rookie pull their car out of a mud pond. "Well then, I look forward to the day when you don't need to breathe."

"Yet another death curse? ..." Amuro closed his eyes.

"At least...stay with me, for tonight."

He interpreted the silence followed as a promise.

"Char?"

"... Emm?"

"You know what I wanna say."

There was a brief silence, and then came the other's reply.

"So do I."

When the sunlight stream through the window of his bedroom, Char was gone.

But the subtle yet strong connection between them told him that Char was still beside him.

Waiting, and hoping.

For Amuro.

Until one day he joined him.

Because they belong to each other. All their dreams and wishes will become reality. One day, their existence will went beyond time itself.

How nice, Amuro thought.

He still has a place to return to after all.