Farewell, Durandal

"I'm truly glad you came to see me one last time."

A relaxed smile appeared on Durandal's face.

That ever-refined expression and smile reminded Noer of the Durandal he had first met.

Back then, his face had been full of youth and vitality. His eyes had not yet held the cool clarity of a ruler, nor the stillness of someone who seemed to understand everything.

"Who told us to be friends? I had to come alone for this final stretch."

Noer reined in his emotions and smiled as he shrugged.

"Friends?"

"Are we not—my dear friend, ZAFT geneticist Gilbert Durandal?"

At Noer's answer, the smile on Durandal's face gradually faded. He tilted his head back and said with a relieved tone, "Thank you."

The tremors caused by the explosions grew stronger.

Looking at the devastated room, Noer calmly asked, "Aren't you leaving?"

"Leaving?"

Durandal shook his head, his gaze calm as he replied, "I can't leave anymore. I can't get out. This should be my final resting place."

Yes, he could not leave.

He could not escape the compromise with fate within his heart.

Having yielded to fate, he had long believed that its arrangements could not be changed.

So, he accepted the fate before him.

If he left, he would be denying himself, denying everything he had done.

That was something he would never allow, so Durandal would not leave—and could not leave.

Hearing Durandal's answer, Noer did not know what to say for a moment.

He had thought he would have many questions, that he and Durandal would have much to discuss.

But when he truly stood face-to-face with him, all those questions became unimportant.

"Ask whatever you wish. In my final moments, I will answer everything for you without holding anything back."

Durandal said with a smile.