[fanfic] Decayed, pt.8 [Code Geass]
Apr. 5th, 2011 04:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rex_sunTitle: Decayed
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Code Geass
Character(s): Lelouch-centric. Mild Lelouch+Suzaku.
Summary: (Kinkmeme request.) Suzaku dies in Shinjuku, and Lelouch sets off on a different path: one that is destined to decay with time.
Status: Part eight, ongoing, incomplete. Unedited
Zero has no choice but to cast his Geass over the entire medical staff after questioning them all in private. If the Black Knights heads learn of Euphemia‘s suspicious disappearance, it would mean disaster, and their trust in Zero would crumble-- this is the worst possible time, what is Euphemia up to? Zero’s skull is filled to burst. Euphemia has no knowledge besides Zero’s identity, so why run away now?
To expose Lelouch? Did she find some other information? Was this all a ploy? Is she trying to free Cornelia somehow? Was she kidnapped? Is Mao a friend of hers? Were they walking when something happened? An attack upon their persons? Some dangerous piece of land left from the landslide?
Too many possibilities are crashing around in his head, but there’s absolutely no concrete evidence to any of his theories. When he searches her room at base, it’s as messy as ever, and he still finds nothing. When he calls her phone, it rings and rings without answer.
Eventually he has no choice but to give up the immediate search. He Geasses a select group of members who are to stay behind at base into searching for Euphemia without speaking of or drawing attention to their actions. This is the best he can do, and he hops in a fast transport that speeds him up to the command vehicle, where he belongs.
Very much later, he thinks that he has never had to use Geass on his subordinates. But he has no time to contemplate the moral implications of his actions; he has a war to win.
Britannians begin to evacuate their homes by the Black Knights’ steady advance. It isn’t long until Tokyo. Lelouch calls Nunally.
She cries and begs him to stop. He doesn’t understand.
“Don’t cry, Nunally. After Tokyo, I’ll head to Fuji. We’ll finally get to see each other.” He smiles at the thought.
But by the sound of her voice, she isn’t at all happy. “What about Ashford? Brother--”
Lelouch cuts her off, irritated and fighting not to let it show in his voice. “I’ve already promised, Nunally. I won’t harm Ashford. They’re my friends too, you know. I wouldn’t put them in danger.”
After that, all he hears is her thick, tear-heavy breathing. He, in turn, doesn’t breath at all, just waits and listens for a reassurance that never comes. He swallows around the bile he feels rising in his throat.
“I love you, Nunally,” he says.
“I know.”
He rests his head in his hand and clutches at his forehead, trying to stem the returning ache and the burning he feels somewhere behind his eyes. “Do you love me?” he whispers.
It seems to him an eternity before she sobs back, “Yes.” A long pause for sniffling. “Love you.”
Lelouch smiles and says goodbye, tells her he’ll see her soon. As long as she loves him, there’s no hesitation in his heart.
Guilford and Dalton, without Cornelia, are crumbled much faster. The lines they set up between Narita and Tokyo are nothing, and the Black Knights break through quite easily. Alone in his room, Lelouch cannot help but to laugh; who knew destroying the world was child’s play?
“Hear me, Britannia. This is Zero, a rebel against oppressors who abuse their power. We will wait until midnight. You have until then to surrender to me. This is your only warning: heed it. Twelve midnight. Not a single second later.”
The only path left for Lelouch is the one that leads straight ahead.
The city’s foundation purge goes off without a hitch. Zero works with a vicious single-mindedness as the Black Knights converge upon the government bureau. He makes Ashford the command base and lets Kallen deal with the rest of the student council. With no hope for rescue, they huddle in a corner and wait for the storm to pass.
The greatest threat the Black Knights faced was the errant Jeremiah Gottwald-- but with a well-timed, synchronized attack from all sides, even the Knightmare gigafortress later known as Siegfried is felled. In the attempt to lure the giant floating thing to the ground, Asahina and Senba are killed.
Guildford screams for the return of his princess. He is raw and his entire heart is devoted to her, Zero can tell, because that is how Royal Knights get more often than not. It’s a shame that such a loyal subject is slaughtered, skewered on Tohdoh’s sword.
Honorary Britannians defect and join halfway through, when commanders die and it is easier to escape without certain death. With the help of those inside the building, the government bureau is overtaken. The Britannians inside are lined up and executed by Urabe’s command.
Tokyo belongs to the Black Knights by sunrise. Zero doesn’t sleep for the next two days.
When finally he does get the chance to sleep-- really sleep, not cat naps to keep him from delirium but actual deep, restful, prolonged sleep --he enjoys laying down on the bed with a shudder and a sigh. This is Euphemia’s room, and Lelouch admires her taste, supposing she directed the decorating. The bed is large, soft, and white, draped luxuriously. The fireplace heats the entire room pleasantly.
In here, he is able to forget the constant stream of tasks that belong to the outside world and the strange behavior of the homeland’s force, and the Emperor’s decision to not come to the aid of Area 11. (What on earth is that bastard up to? Come on, come on, come to Area 11, while Lelouch is still thrumming with this mad, mad energy.)
Even though she has been gone for a while, Euphemia’s sweet scent is everywhere, even in the bed sheets. Lelouch feels only slightly awkward laying where she has lain, himself without any clothes on. His night clothes, after all, were left behind at Narita, and he doesn’t particularly fancy letting the Black Knights know that he is, indeed, human, and that sometimes the Zero costume gets folded and there is a naked little boy underneath. But Lelouch has never before felt so... indecent. Exposed, like a savage and not a prince, which shouldn’t really matter since he gave up his supposed divinity long ago. So after the initial embarrassment, such indecency fades away, along with any dignity he might have once clung to even when he was alone, and he is able to enjoy himself.
He breathes in her scent deeply, wraps himself in it. The soft, warm sheets feel good on every inch they touch; his collar, his stomach, his legs, and-- he blushes in the semi-darkness as the heavy silken fabric brushes against his chest and pools between his legs.
The thought of being unworthy, or beastly, or unclean, or anything of the sort doesn’t for a second cross his mind. He isn’t thinking, now, about the blood on his hands, as if it might smear from his body and stain the sheets and ruin the whole thing. Doesn’t think about the mud of landslides caked onto his skin. Doesn’t think about all the dead little particles inherently clinging to every bit of him, every dead piece of himself that he is leaving behind here in the silk.
Instead he thinks of Euphemia, and then he thinks of Nunally. Wonders if Euphemia knew just what he now knows about these sheets, about how good it feels to be just a little indecent and to cover up such indecency with this heaven and have it caress your body. To feel this heaviness between your legs, in your most intimate part, previously untouched, and feel secure in the locks on the door and the deep echoing of a high ceiling and the veil of curtains ringing the bed and the quiet dark that the fire only barely penetrates. Then he thinks of Nunally and Euphemia together, and him on the other side of Nunally, like it was when they were children. When Nunally and Lelouch had spent the night in Euphy’s room, and the image of their mother had shattered, and sweet little Euphy had smiled and shared and then they had lain together and--
--and Lelouch is asleep.
And Lelouch is home: in his sunflower patch, rolling around with Suzaku, happily laughing. Suzaku’s skin is as warm as the fire, his body the same weight as the sheets, and his chest occasionally brushes flush against Lelouch’s, leg occasionally slips between Lelouch’s, like the sheets. Lelouch strokes his hair, like he stroked Euphemia’s, and if he were thinking, he should remember that Suzaku’s hair was coarse, not this soft-- soft as the sheets. And Suzaku never smelt like a girl-- like Euphemia, so sweet. Suzaku should smell like...
Suzaku should smell like...
...he can’t remember.
He does know that he is dreaming, but it doesn’t matter much. How does he know it’s only a dream? He laughs to himself as his and Suzaku’s rolling comes to a stop with Suzaku pressing down into Lelouch. They stay there for a while, still, just breathing together. The sky is eye-wateringly blue above them. Lelouch laughs some more, at himself this time, because there’s really no use in wondering if reality is real. No point in wondering if the world where he is Zero is a bad, bad nightmare and this world with a warm, living Suzaku is his wakening.
In the end, he lives in both.
He wakes up to sunlight streaming into the room from a line of high, secure, small windows set near the ceiling. The windows are stained glass, casting beautiful jewel-like colors over the entire room. Lelouch notices two things: one, that the sheets are wet, and two, that the fire has been extinguished.
He lays still for a while, calm and warm and far too close to the dream to be moved into panic quite yet. In the meantime, he searches the room and comes up with the answer without having to panic anyway. The sheets next to him are crinkled, as if someone were laying there beside him, and the door to the bathroom is open, the sound of water running coming through it, and a soft, feminine voice singing lightly.
Lelouch wraps himself in the driest of sheets and walks to find C.C. in the tub. The room is white and golden, the yellow sunshine filling it like the light of heaven. C.C.’s hair is piled on top of her head in a sloppy, steam-mussed bun. He runs his eye over the symbol on her forehead, but is no longer surprised by it; he has lived next to her too long to be embarrassed by her nakedness or the strangeness of her body in particular. The water pulsates around her, the jets having been activated.
“Did you have a nice rest?” C.C. asks him with a mock sweet tone. She extends one long leg from the water, to stretch it he presumes, and lets him admire it a little.
“Yes,” he says lightly, not rising to her bait. She smiles one of her teensy, wicked smiles and hoists herself from the water. He looks away because he is a polite young man, but she stretches her arms above her head and her breasts rise up and reveal her scar, and he can’t help but look then, at least briefly.
“Good,” C.C. replies, “because today you will be meeting with the scientist Rakshata Chawla.”
Rakshata Chawla is an extraordinarily tall woman, but it‘s hard to tell because she is so often seen reclining. She stands up only to shake Zero‘s hand. He welcomes her to the captured government building and invites her to the laboratory. They discuss her work in medical cybernetics briefly, but she isn’t keen on the subject and so drops it. Zero looks in her eyes and appreciates the brilliance he sees there.
The remnants of the Siegfried are stationed in the lab, teams already working on what they can repair.
“Of course, it would be ideal if we as well had captured a float system from the Britannians, but I suppose that would be asking too much, right?” she says around her pipe.
“Please repair it,” Zero says. “As well as the Guren, which was moderately damaged in the battle of Tokyo. You have any capable Black Knight at your service.”
“Yes, and I have another trick for you to use. We just developed it. I’ll get you the report on that.” She seems prideful as she swishes the pipe to the other side of her mouth and smiles at him.
“Time is of the essence,” Zero reminds her. She just nods and hums and her team sets to work. The woman makes an immediate beeline and embraces what she can of the Guren’s leg.
The second night sleeping in Euphemia’s bed, Lelouch is a lot less comfortable. It has taken all day for him to realize just what, exactly, happened in the night and its effects on the morning. He has C.C. launder the sheets in the middle of the night, for which he is mercilessly mocked, and Kallen brings him clothes in which to sleep.
“Oh, yes. I forgot to say this,” he says as she is walking away. She tosses a tired, annoyed look over her shoulder. He continues, “I’ve already congratulated my soldiers. I’ve praised the heads. I’ve even praised individuals. I’ve praised you.”
She glares at him as if to say, I know this.
“But,” he says and takes a deep, sighing breath. “I wanted to tell you face to face. Thank you.”
The hostile expression on her face melts a little, but she still isn’t exactly receptive, so he elaborates.
“I don’t say it often. But you deserve it, and probably more. Thank you for staying by Zero’s side, for not telling anyone of Lelouch, and... for not alerting anyone of Euphemia’s disappearance. Kallen. Do you know of anyone named Mao?”
Kallen just looks at him, face set halfway between like and dislike. “I don’t.”
“Alright,” he says softly, because he believes her.
She gives him a tiny smirk. “Get some rest, please, Zero, sir.”
He tries.
In the morning he realizes that C.C. is being more helpful than he can ever remember her being, and he accuses her of such. She shrugs and flops back onto the bed with its newly cleaned sheets and nearly upsets the breakfast tray she has set in his lap.
“Fuji now belongs to the Black Knights,” she says loftily. Lelouch feels a thrill in his stomach like a frantic rabbit is settled there. C.C. says, “Tohdoh will be returning to Tokyo to prepare for Schneizel. He’s leaving Chiba in charge. Satisfactory?”
“Yes,” he says firmly, and proceeds to shovel eggs into his mouth.
She stretches and her body runs along his. “You don’t have to eat so fast. You can call Nunally anytime. You’ll give yourself a stomach ache.”
“Shut it.”
She chuckles. “Also, taking in Rakshata’s report and Intelligence’s, Ougi decided while you slept to actively pursue another scientist, this one Britannian. His name is Lloyd Asplund, and he creates specialty Knightmares directly under Schneizel’s control.”
Lelouch nods, mouth full and not really feeling it’s worth commenting on, anyway.
“Apparently, Asplund has developed a float system for Knightmares.”
Lelouch swallows hard and grins. “So,” he finally says, and leaves it at that because when they make eye contact, she knows exactly what he means.
He thinks for another moment, then picks up his cellphone from the bedside table, which he practically has to crawl to. He scrolls to Nunally’s number, and while the phone is ringing, he says to C.C. , “We must prepare Fuji and evacuate it of non-essential personnel.”
“What, are you bringing Nunally here?” C.C. asks, eyebrows raised.
But Lelouch cuts her off with a raised hand. “Hi, Nunally, it’s me.”
He chats with his little sister long after he is supposed to be changing into Zero’s costume and even after C.C. has left. He thinks, Finally, I have my castle. And here will live my vassals, and my wife, and my family. And at night I will have my friend. Glory to the new world!
Lloyd Asplund and his team have nowhere to run, it seems, because a Black Knight ship catches him and his team as they try to leave the country. There is a brief struggle-- apparently one of Asplund’s female assistants is quite the competent Knightmare pilot --but they are eventually taken in. By order, all of Asplund’s confiscated equipment and research is sent directly and securely to Tokyo, and by Rakshata’s request, so is Asplund.
Zero thusly joins Rakshata in a march down to the prison cells where Asplund and his crew are being held, albeit separately. On arrival, Rakshata looks very pleased, in a cruel sort of way, but Zero has to hold in his gasp of surprise. The mask might’ve made a sound, because Rakshata half-glances at Zero, but pays no more mind after.
Nina is sitting in the female holding cell, looking scared and cold.
“Well, well, well,” Rakshata sneers, laughing highly and waving her pipe about. “So here is the great Earl of Pudding!”
Asplund gives Rakshata what could best be described as a pouty, childish glare. Rakshata says no more, however, as Zero steps forward. “Thank you for the gift you have given us. It’s called the Lancelot, is it not?”
Asplund makes an absolutely dreadful face. “Not my Lancelot! You can’t mean that Rakshata will work on my Lancelot! No~! Get your grubby paws off of it!”
Rakshata laughs again, getting her triumphant face very close to the glass. “And I’ll use it to further my beautiful Guren! I must say, your work is ugly. You have no sense of artful design.”
Asplund pounds on the glass, furthering Zero’s perception of him as a genius five year old with too many toys. “Your junk is lopsided!”
“If we need any help on it, Asplund, I will expect your full cooperation,” Zero says lowly.
“And why should I?” Asplund sneers.
“Because if you don‘t, I have no troubles killing you and moving on to the next person. It‘d be a little harder, but I think we can manage with your assistants.”
Asplund pales. “Very good~. That’s a good enough reason for me!”
“Lloyd!” one of the female prisoners says, scandalized. Nina trembles.
“In fact, we need a pilot to teach our pilot. So who piloted the Lancelot at Shinjuku?” Zero asks.
The female answers before Lloyd can. “Jeremiah Gottwald did that, but you‘ve already killed him!”
Underneath the mask, Zero can’t help but smile. “Indeed. So then who piloted the Lancelot when you were captured?”
The woman falls silent, glaring stonily up at Zero.
“Ah. So it was you.”
She neither confirms nor denies.
“Will you cooperate with me?” No answer. “What is your name?” No answer. “Your devotion to Britannia and all of its evils is astounding.” No answer except for a hardening of the glare. Zero loses patience. “Very well, then. Guards. Open the door and extract the young girl with glasses.”
“Stop!” the pilot shouts without thinking, but her arms are bound and she can do nothing while the guards hoist a screaming Nina to her feet.
“I’m afraid,” Zero says as the pilot is shoved back into the cell and the glass door is replaced, “that I don’t have time to wait you out. This girl is now my personal prisoner. You will have one hour to decide to cooperate, and after that, the girl starts losing fingers.”
Nina is crying and making little squeaks, having run out of screams. Zero takes Nina by the arm himself and turns with Rakshata away from the cells.
“One hour, pilot.”
Nina has to be dragged along after a certain point, a task for which Zero enlists the help of two guards. When finally Nina is situated in a pleasant, cozy room, Zero dismisses all else. Rakshata hesitates before she exits.
“Knight for Justice, huh?” she mocks, but she looks supremely amused. Zero looks at her over his shoulder.
“A bluff,” he says quietly.
She shrugs. “You don’t have to try to convince me, Hero of the People.” And she leaves.
Nina comes to while Zero is pondering that. With the absence of any obvious foreigners, she uncurls and looks around with tear-stained eyes. Zero sighs, the noise sounding odd and robotic over the voice scrambler, and uncuffs Nina’s arms. Nina looks up at him, wide-eyed.
He could do many things at this moment. He could remove his mask and reveal himself, leaning on their friendship which was, admittedly, rather weak. He could use his Geass on her and force her to put her big brain to work for the Black Knights. He could manipulate her using Euphy. He could actually remove her finger.
But for some reason that he can’t fathom, he doesn’t do a thing. He looks at her looking at her reflection in his mask, and doesn’t hurt or help her any further. He hasn’t ever thought of her too much. Nina is his friend, but barely. At any rate, she isn’t nosy or overtly violent and she doesn’t have a crush on Lelouch. She’s smart and sometimes they compare notes, homework, theories, but they are smart in two different ways. He could never really get close to her; one, because she reminds him of what he hates in Britannia, and two, because he never tried and she never tried.
And this is what they are left with: staring at each other, hating each other, but not hurting each other. An impotent hate. In the end, Zero has given his word to never harm the student council.
(But she’s not a member of the student council, something in his mind whispers. It’s too much trouble to deal with her. She went off to work with Britannian soldiers of her very own accord, so Zero can’t be faulted for harming her. She must’ve dropped out of school to do such a thing. She’s not even close to Nunally. Nunally would never have to know...)
Zero is still undecided when he leaves her there, alone, and locks the door behind him, casting her into darkness. He’s almost-- almost --disappointed when it is reported fifteen minutes later that the pilot, Cecile Croomy, is cooperating easily.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Code Geass
Character(s): Lelouch-centric. Mild Lelouch+Suzaku.
Summary: (Kinkmeme request.) Suzaku dies in Shinjuku, and Lelouch sets off on a different path: one that is destined to decay with time.
Status: Part eight, ongoing, incomplete. Unedited
Zero has no choice but to cast his Geass over the entire medical staff after questioning them all in private. If the Black Knights heads learn of Euphemia‘s suspicious disappearance, it would mean disaster, and their trust in Zero would crumble-- this is the worst possible time, what is Euphemia up to? Zero’s skull is filled to burst. Euphemia has no knowledge besides Zero’s identity, so why run away now?
To expose Lelouch? Did she find some other information? Was this all a ploy? Is she trying to free Cornelia somehow? Was she kidnapped? Is Mao a friend of hers? Were they walking when something happened? An attack upon their persons? Some dangerous piece of land left from the landslide?
Too many possibilities are crashing around in his head, but there’s absolutely no concrete evidence to any of his theories. When he searches her room at base, it’s as messy as ever, and he still finds nothing. When he calls her phone, it rings and rings without answer.
Eventually he has no choice but to give up the immediate search. He Geasses a select group of members who are to stay behind at base into searching for Euphemia without speaking of or drawing attention to their actions. This is the best he can do, and he hops in a fast transport that speeds him up to the command vehicle, where he belongs.
Very much later, he thinks that he has never had to use Geass on his subordinates. But he has no time to contemplate the moral implications of his actions; he has a war to win.
Britannians begin to evacuate their homes by the Black Knights’ steady advance. It isn’t long until Tokyo. Lelouch calls Nunally.
She cries and begs him to stop. He doesn’t understand.
“Don’t cry, Nunally. After Tokyo, I’ll head to Fuji. We’ll finally get to see each other.” He smiles at the thought.
But by the sound of her voice, she isn’t at all happy. “What about Ashford? Brother--”
Lelouch cuts her off, irritated and fighting not to let it show in his voice. “I’ve already promised, Nunally. I won’t harm Ashford. They’re my friends too, you know. I wouldn’t put them in danger.”
After that, all he hears is her thick, tear-heavy breathing. He, in turn, doesn’t breath at all, just waits and listens for a reassurance that never comes. He swallows around the bile he feels rising in his throat.
“I love you, Nunally,” he says.
“I know.”
He rests his head in his hand and clutches at his forehead, trying to stem the returning ache and the burning he feels somewhere behind his eyes. “Do you love me?” he whispers.
It seems to him an eternity before she sobs back, “Yes.” A long pause for sniffling. “Love you.”
Lelouch smiles and says goodbye, tells her he’ll see her soon. As long as she loves him, there’s no hesitation in his heart.
Guilford and Dalton, without Cornelia, are crumbled much faster. The lines they set up between Narita and Tokyo are nothing, and the Black Knights break through quite easily. Alone in his room, Lelouch cannot help but to laugh; who knew destroying the world was child’s play?
“Hear me, Britannia. This is Zero, a rebel against oppressors who abuse their power. We will wait until midnight. You have until then to surrender to me. This is your only warning: heed it. Twelve midnight. Not a single second later.”
The only path left for Lelouch is the one that leads straight ahead.
The city’s foundation purge goes off without a hitch. Zero works with a vicious single-mindedness as the Black Knights converge upon the government bureau. He makes Ashford the command base and lets Kallen deal with the rest of the student council. With no hope for rescue, they huddle in a corner and wait for the storm to pass.
The greatest threat the Black Knights faced was the errant Jeremiah Gottwald-- but with a well-timed, synchronized attack from all sides, even the Knightmare gigafortress later known as Siegfried is felled. In the attempt to lure the giant floating thing to the ground, Asahina and Senba are killed.
Guildford screams for the return of his princess. He is raw and his entire heart is devoted to her, Zero can tell, because that is how Royal Knights get more often than not. It’s a shame that such a loyal subject is slaughtered, skewered on Tohdoh’s sword.
Honorary Britannians defect and join halfway through, when commanders die and it is easier to escape without certain death. With the help of those inside the building, the government bureau is overtaken. The Britannians inside are lined up and executed by Urabe’s command.
Tokyo belongs to the Black Knights by sunrise. Zero doesn’t sleep for the next two days.
When finally he does get the chance to sleep-- really sleep, not cat naps to keep him from delirium but actual deep, restful, prolonged sleep --he enjoys laying down on the bed with a shudder and a sigh. This is Euphemia’s room, and Lelouch admires her taste, supposing she directed the decorating. The bed is large, soft, and white, draped luxuriously. The fireplace heats the entire room pleasantly.
In here, he is able to forget the constant stream of tasks that belong to the outside world and the strange behavior of the homeland’s force, and the Emperor’s decision to not come to the aid of Area 11. (What on earth is that bastard up to? Come on, come on, come to Area 11, while Lelouch is still thrumming with this mad, mad energy.)
Even though she has been gone for a while, Euphemia’s sweet scent is everywhere, even in the bed sheets. Lelouch feels only slightly awkward laying where she has lain, himself without any clothes on. His night clothes, after all, were left behind at Narita, and he doesn’t particularly fancy letting the Black Knights know that he is, indeed, human, and that sometimes the Zero costume gets folded and there is a naked little boy underneath. But Lelouch has never before felt so... indecent. Exposed, like a savage and not a prince, which shouldn’t really matter since he gave up his supposed divinity long ago. So after the initial embarrassment, such indecency fades away, along with any dignity he might have once clung to even when he was alone, and he is able to enjoy himself.
He breathes in her scent deeply, wraps himself in it. The soft, warm sheets feel good on every inch they touch; his collar, his stomach, his legs, and-- he blushes in the semi-darkness as the heavy silken fabric brushes against his chest and pools between his legs.
The thought of being unworthy, or beastly, or unclean, or anything of the sort doesn’t for a second cross his mind. He isn’t thinking, now, about the blood on his hands, as if it might smear from his body and stain the sheets and ruin the whole thing. Doesn’t think about the mud of landslides caked onto his skin. Doesn’t think about all the dead little particles inherently clinging to every bit of him, every dead piece of himself that he is leaving behind here in the silk.
Instead he thinks of Euphemia, and then he thinks of Nunally. Wonders if Euphemia knew just what he now knows about these sheets, about how good it feels to be just a little indecent and to cover up such indecency with this heaven and have it caress your body. To feel this heaviness between your legs, in your most intimate part, previously untouched, and feel secure in the locks on the door and the deep echoing of a high ceiling and the veil of curtains ringing the bed and the quiet dark that the fire only barely penetrates. Then he thinks of Nunally and Euphemia together, and him on the other side of Nunally, like it was when they were children. When Nunally and Lelouch had spent the night in Euphy’s room, and the image of their mother had shattered, and sweet little Euphy had smiled and shared and then they had lain together and--
--and Lelouch is asleep.
And Lelouch is home: in his sunflower patch, rolling around with Suzaku, happily laughing. Suzaku’s skin is as warm as the fire, his body the same weight as the sheets, and his chest occasionally brushes flush against Lelouch’s, leg occasionally slips between Lelouch’s, like the sheets. Lelouch strokes his hair, like he stroked Euphemia’s, and if he were thinking, he should remember that Suzaku’s hair was coarse, not this soft-- soft as the sheets. And Suzaku never smelt like a girl-- like Euphemia, so sweet. Suzaku should smell like...
Suzaku should smell like...
...he can’t remember.
He does know that he is dreaming, but it doesn’t matter much. How does he know it’s only a dream? He laughs to himself as his and Suzaku’s rolling comes to a stop with Suzaku pressing down into Lelouch. They stay there for a while, still, just breathing together. The sky is eye-wateringly blue above them. Lelouch laughs some more, at himself this time, because there’s really no use in wondering if reality is real. No point in wondering if the world where he is Zero is a bad, bad nightmare and this world with a warm, living Suzaku is his wakening.
In the end, he lives in both.
He wakes up to sunlight streaming into the room from a line of high, secure, small windows set near the ceiling. The windows are stained glass, casting beautiful jewel-like colors over the entire room. Lelouch notices two things: one, that the sheets are wet, and two, that the fire has been extinguished.
He lays still for a while, calm and warm and far too close to the dream to be moved into panic quite yet. In the meantime, he searches the room and comes up with the answer without having to panic anyway. The sheets next to him are crinkled, as if someone were laying there beside him, and the door to the bathroom is open, the sound of water running coming through it, and a soft, feminine voice singing lightly.
Lelouch wraps himself in the driest of sheets and walks to find C.C. in the tub. The room is white and golden, the yellow sunshine filling it like the light of heaven. C.C.’s hair is piled on top of her head in a sloppy, steam-mussed bun. He runs his eye over the symbol on her forehead, but is no longer surprised by it; he has lived next to her too long to be embarrassed by her nakedness or the strangeness of her body in particular. The water pulsates around her, the jets having been activated.
“Did you have a nice rest?” C.C. asks him with a mock sweet tone. She extends one long leg from the water, to stretch it he presumes, and lets him admire it a little.
“Yes,” he says lightly, not rising to her bait. She smiles one of her teensy, wicked smiles and hoists herself from the water. He looks away because he is a polite young man, but she stretches her arms above her head and her breasts rise up and reveal her scar, and he can’t help but look then, at least briefly.
“Good,” C.C. replies, “because today you will be meeting with the scientist Rakshata Chawla.”
Rakshata Chawla is an extraordinarily tall woman, but it‘s hard to tell because she is so often seen reclining. She stands up only to shake Zero‘s hand. He welcomes her to the captured government building and invites her to the laboratory. They discuss her work in medical cybernetics briefly, but she isn’t keen on the subject and so drops it. Zero looks in her eyes and appreciates the brilliance he sees there.
The remnants of the Siegfried are stationed in the lab, teams already working on what they can repair.
“Of course, it would be ideal if we as well had captured a float system from the Britannians, but I suppose that would be asking too much, right?” she says around her pipe.
“Please repair it,” Zero says. “As well as the Guren, which was moderately damaged in the battle of Tokyo. You have any capable Black Knight at your service.”
“Yes, and I have another trick for you to use. We just developed it. I’ll get you the report on that.” She seems prideful as she swishes the pipe to the other side of her mouth and smiles at him.
“Time is of the essence,” Zero reminds her. She just nods and hums and her team sets to work. The woman makes an immediate beeline and embraces what she can of the Guren’s leg.
The second night sleeping in Euphemia’s bed, Lelouch is a lot less comfortable. It has taken all day for him to realize just what, exactly, happened in the night and its effects on the morning. He has C.C. launder the sheets in the middle of the night, for which he is mercilessly mocked, and Kallen brings him clothes in which to sleep.
“Oh, yes. I forgot to say this,” he says as she is walking away. She tosses a tired, annoyed look over her shoulder. He continues, “I’ve already congratulated my soldiers. I’ve praised the heads. I’ve even praised individuals. I’ve praised you.”
She glares at him as if to say, I know this.
“But,” he says and takes a deep, sighing breath. “I wanted to tell you face to face. Thank you.”
The hostile expression on her face melts a little, but she still isn’t exactly receptive, so he elaborates.
“I don’t say it often. But you deserve it, and probably more. Thank you for staying by Zero’s side, for not telling anyone of Lelouch, and... for not alerting anyone of Euphemia’s disappearance. Kallen. Do you know of anyone named Mao?”
Kallen just looks at him, face set halfway between like and dislike. “I don’t.”
“Alright,” he says softly, because he believes her.
She gives him a tiny smirk. “Get some rest, please, Zero, sir.”
He tries.
In the morning he realizes that C.C. is being more helpful than he can ever remember her being, and he accuses her of such. She shrugs and flops back onto the bed with its newly cleaned sheets and nearly upsets the breakfast tray she has set in his lap.
“Fuji now belongs to the Black Knights,” she says loftily. Lelouch feels a thrill in his stomach like a frantic rabbit is settled there. C.C. says, “Tohdoh will be returning to Tokyo to prepare for Schneizel. He’s leaving Chiba in charge. Satisfactory?”
“Yes,” he says firmly, and proceeds to shovel eggs into his mouth.
She stretches and her body runs along his. “You don’t have to eat so fast. You can call Nunally anytime. You’ll give yourself a stomach ache.”
“Shut it.”
She chuckles. “Also, taking in Rakshata’s report and Intelligence’s, Ougi decided while you slept to actively pursue another scientist, this one Britannian. His name is Lloyd Asplund, and he creates specialty Knightmares directly under Schneizel’s control.”
Lelouch nods, mouth full and not really feeling it’s worth commenting on, anyway.
“Apparently, Asplund has developed a float system for Knightmares.”
Lelouch swallows hard and grins. “So,” he finally says, and leaves it at that because when they make eye contact, she knows exactly what he means.
He thinks for another moment, then picks up his cellphone from the bedside table, which he practically has to crawl to. He scrolls to Nunally’s number, and while the phone is ringing, he says to C.C. , “We must prepare Fuji and evacuate it of non-essential personnel.”
“What, are you bringing Nunally here?” C.C. asks, eyebrows raised.
But Lelouch cuts her off with a raised hand. “Hi, Nunally, it’s me.”
He chats with his little sister long after he is supposed to be changing into Zero’s costume and even after C.C. has left. He thinks, Finally, I have my castle. And here will live my vassals, and my wife, and my family. And at night I will have my friend. Glory to the new world!
Lloyd Asplund and his team have nowhere to run, it seems, because a Black Knight ship catches him and his team as they try to leave the country. There is a brief struggle-- apparently one of Asplund’s female assistants is quite the competent Knightmare pilot --but they are eventually taken in. By order, all of Asplund’s confiscated equipment and research is sent directly and securely to Tokyo, and by Rakshata’s request, so is Asplund.
Zero thusly joins Rakshata in a march down to the prison cells where Asplund and his crew are being held, albeit separately. On arrival, Rakshata looks very pleased, in a cruel sort of way, but Zero has to hold in his gasp of surprise. The mask might’ve made a sound, because Rakshata half-glances at Zero, but pays no more mind after.
Nina is sitting in the female holding cell, looking scared and cold.
“Well, well, well,” Rakshata sneers, laughing highly and waving her pipe about. “So here is the great Earl of Pudding!”
Asplund gives Rakshata what could best be described as a pouty, childish glare. Rakshata says no more, however, as Zero steps forward. “Thank you for the gift you have given us. It’s called the Lancelot, is it not?”
Asplund makes an absolutely dreadful face. “Not my Lancelot! You can’t mean that Rakshata will work on my Lancelot! No~! Get your grubby paws off of it!”
Rakshata laughs again, getting her triumphant face very close to the glass. “And I’ll use it to further my beautiful Guren! I must say, your work is ugly. You have no sense of artful design.”
Asplund pounds on the glass, furthering Zero’s perception of him as a genius five year old with too many toys. “Your junk is lopsided!”
“If we need any help on it, Asplund, I will expect your full cooperation,” Zero says lowly.
“And why should I?” Asplund sneers.
“Because if you don‘t, I have no troubles killing you and moving on to the next person. It‘d be a little harder, but I think we can manage with your assistants.”
Asplund pales. “Very good~. That’s a good enough reason for me!”
“Lloyd!” one of the female prisoners says, scandalized. Nina trembles.
“In fact, we need a pilot to teach our pilot. So who piloted the Lancelot at Shinjuku?” Zero asks.
The female answers before Lloyd can. “Jeremiah Gottwald did that, but you‘ve already killed him!”
Underneath the mask, Zero can’t help but smile. “Indeed. So then who piloted the Lancelot when you were captured?”
The woman falls silent, glaring stonily up at Zero.
“Ah. So it was you.”
She neither confirms nor denies.
“Will you cooperate with me?” No answer. “What is your name?” No answer. “Your devotion to Britannia and all of its evils is astounding.” No answer except for a hardening of the glare. Zero loses patience. “Very well, then. Guards. Open the door and extract the young girl with glasses.”
“Stop!” the pilot shouts without thinking, but her arms are bound and she can do nothing while the guards hoist a screaming Nina to her feet.
“I’m afraid,” Zero says as the pilot is shoved back into the cell and the glass door is replaced, “that I don’t have time to wait you out. This girl is now my personal prisoner. You will have one hour to decide to cooperate, and after that, the girl starts losing fingers.”
Nina is crying and making little squeaks, having run out of screams. Zero takes Nina by the arm himself and turns with Rakshata away from the cells.
“One hour, pilot.”
Nina has to be dragged along after a certain point, a task for which Zero enlists the help of two guards. When finally Nina is situated in a pleasant, cozy room, Zero dismisses all else. Rakshata hesitates before she exits.
“Knight for Justice, huh?” she mocks, but she looks supremely amused. Zero looks at her over his shoulder.
“A bluff,” he says quietly.
She shrugs. “You don’t have to try to convince me, Hero of the People.” And she leaves.
Nina comes to while Zero is pondering that. With the absence of any obvious foreigners, she uncurls and looks around with tear-stained eyes. Zero sighs, the noise sounding odd and robotic over the voice scrambler, and uncuffs Nina’s arms. Nina looks up at him, wide-eyed.
He could do many things at this moment. He could remove his mask and reveal himself, leaning on their friendship which was, admittedly, rather weak. He could use his Geass on her and force her to put her big brain to work for the Black Knights. He could manipulate her using Euphy. He could actually remove her finger.
But for some reason that he can’t fathom, he doesn’t do a thing. He looks at her looking at her reflection in his mask, and doesn’t hurt or help her any further. He hasn’t ever thought of her too much. Nina is his friend, but barely. At any rate, she isn’t nosy or overtly violent and she doesn’t have a crush on Lelouch. She’s smart and sometimes they compare notes, homework, theories, but they are smart in two different ways. He could never really get close to her; one, because she reminds him of what he hates in Britannia, and two, because he never tried and she never tried.
And this is what they are left with: staring at each other, hating each other, but not hurting each other. An impotent hate. In the end, Zero has given his word to never harm the student council.
(But she’s not a member of the student council, something in his mind whispers. It’s too much trouble to deal with her. She went off to work with Britannian soldiers of her very own accord, so Zero can’t be faulted for harming her. She must’ve dropped out of school to do such a thing. She’s not even close to Nunally. Nunally would never have to know...)
Zero is still undecided when he leaves her there, alone, and locks the door behind him, casting her into darkness. He’s almost-- almost --disappointed when it is reported fifteen minutes later that the pilot, Cecile Croomy, is cooperating easily.
