To anybody who ever read my CG fics over the months, you might of read this fic before. The reason why I'm putting this as a one-shot is to help me see how far I gone as a writer and fix any mistakes in my writing.

Anyway, the basic of this story is if the re-wired Lelouch of the start of R2 still had memories of C.C.'s past stuck in his subconscious.

Thanks to Mimiv for the awesome beta.

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep;

Or if I die before I wake,

I pray the Lord my soul to take.

My dreams are always the same.

I'm in this white room, naked for the world to see. Sound is nonexistent here. Not even the scraping of my foot or my heavy breathing can penetrate this silence.

This blank world seems to be empty. No matter how far I walk, I see no other being. No people, no object, just me. It's as if I'm the last living person to remain. That is, until I see her.

She is standing there all alone in this white limbo as if she's waiting for something…or someone.

Is she waiting for me?

Am I here because of her?

Do we know each other from somewhere?

These are the question I always ask myself.

When I first meet her, it's her features that I notice first. She is young, maybe sixteen. Her hair is the brightest green I've ever seen. It almost looks like it could have been made out of silk. Her skin, also remarkable, shone a dull but pure white like untarnished snow with the one exception of this red mark under her left breast.

But it didn't mar the beauty she radiated. However, it was her eyes that captivated me the most. Gazing into those golden orbs was like looking into her very soul. It was these same eyes that made her appear much older than her youthful body would portray. I was in a trance; no matter how hard I try, I couldn't look away from her.

She reaches out one of her slender arms to me. I follow her lead and put out my own arms. We then begin to walk towards each other, our bare feet scraping against the floor. Inch by inch, feet by feet, we come closer to one another, our hands just a few centimeters away from touching each other.

But that's when the nightmares being.

All of a sudden, the once white room is filled with a roaring fire, separating us from each other. The accursed red inferno wraps itself around our naked bodies, the unholy flames searing our flesh as they consumed us whole. But they were just pricks on the finger compare to the images that flash though my mind.

They were memories but not mine. No, they were hers – horrific ones of her being tortured in some form or another, scenes of fire burning away her flesh and leaving nothing more than a charred husk. I watch as blades of all kinds pierce her body, the blood splattering everywhere. And while I see this, I hear the people's voices – voices of them cursing her very existence. They cry for her blood. They crave for her miserable existence to end.

All these things combined make me sick. Sick of the people who dare to condemn her. Sick of the atrocities they committed on her. Sick that something like this could even happen.

Why are they doing this to her?

What has she done to them to warrant their cruel hatred?

I try to do something, anything. I scream at them to stop, but no sounds come out of my mouth. I try to move in an attempt to save her, but I'm paralyzed either from shock or fear. Maybe both.

So I stand there, helpless and useless, my mind constantly raped with more images of her mangled self. Her cries of horror are the only sounds I can hear.

And in the end, everything fades to black.

Don't do angst very often.

Have a nice day.