Yzak stood silent, staring out over uncountable rows of memorial markers. Too many. Far too many.

"Where should we start?" Lacus questioned. Her arms were full of flowers and she looked almost like she was trying to force a smile.

She didn't need to. Not here.

But where to begin- Athrun? Dearka? His mother? Her father? Nicol or Rusty or Miguel or-

"This way," Yzak finally said, gesturing. And one bouquet at a time, they paid respects, until Lacus reached for his hand.

Yzak took her hand and didn't let go. In the silence, they clung to what they had.