Lelouch woke up, and spent ten minutes staring at the familiar ceiling of his palace bedroom, before finally concluding that he is probably not dead.

It should be either early morning, or late afternoon, judging from the thin light penetrating the thick curtains he had used on the windows. It was oddly peaceful, given that he had not died.

He should have died.

He remembered sitting on that ridiculous parade vehicle, cursing the hot sun which was sending turrets of sweat down his back and probably starting to give Nanali a slight tan, and waiting. He remembered the moment of brief panic and then relief, as he watched that figure in clothes so familiar yet with gait never so agile, leaping past bullets. He remembered how he forgot not to stop himself smile in anticipation of the end, as he drew his pistol with a careless grip, almost flinging it away in his rush before the blade struck it. He remembered the fast whisper of the blade as it slides out, almost painless in its sheer speed. And he remembered, on the border of unconsciousness, Nanali s proclamation which any brother would die to hear C well he died then.

It s pretty perfect, no one would be prouder of orchestrating such a spectaculars show.

Except that he s not dead, not now.

Which is kind of disappointing, once you got over the surprise of it C or a perfectionist like Lelouch.

Lelouch curled his toes and fingers, discovered that he can indeed do it, he breathed in and out, and lifted the sheets to see his own chest, smooth and free of any gaping scar spewing blood. Flinging back the covers, Lelouch got off the bed, and inspected himself in front of the long mirror. Nothing happened, and he s just alive, as usual.

"I m glad to see that you re recovered enough to engage in some healthy dose of narcissism."

C.C. sat up on the other side of the bed, where she was woken up a while ago by Lelouch.

For once, Lelouch decided not to bother with the comment. There s something comfortingly normalising, to hear those sarcastic remarks which they exchange like a daily habit. He picked out some clothes and started to get dressed.

"I'm not dead."

Lelouch heard his own voice echo off the walls, a little odd and strained. His throat felt oddly like they're stuffed full of pine needles, dry and airy, but not painful.

"No you re not. Dead people don t stand stark naked in front of mirrors and stare at themselves."

Lelouch turned to retort, and found himself snugly in a tight embrace.

"Good morning Lelouch"

"Good morning, C.C."


This is going to be quite long.

I have the story outline down since Christmas, but never an opportunity to write it proper. -- There's so much to do as a university student, and you're constantly longing for some sleep.

Then I figured that if I can't start, it'll never get written.

And thus here it is, my embarkment on my first long fic for Code Geass.