[A/n]: Written for the "Reunion" prompt of the second year of Twelve Shots of Summer. This one-shot is set after R2, and follows our new "Zero" as he struggles to make Lelouch's world a reality. Of course, nothing's ever that easy...
Summary: Death was never his atonement. Instead, he is locked into eternal service to the world and its struggles: the perfect penance for a man who sought death itself as a respite from his sins. This is the meaning of despair, but with despair comes rebirth - for it is always darkest before dawn. Set after R2.
He wears a mask every day.
Attending business meetings, negotiating peace treaties, presiding over councils. It is too early to tell which path the world will take, but most signs point towards peace gaining greater and greater ground. Finally, in the wake of the murderous demon, no one wants to be seen as even close to that monster. This is almost a competition, he muses, to see who can be the most charitable, who can offer genuine compassion as well as concrete aid to their people.
Ironic.
The senseless visor of the helmet allows him to take up the mantle of Zero and everything it brings. He is aware that he carries a legacy on his shoulders, one that he has not created himself. Regardless, he is now the protector of the oppressed, champion of the people. He wears the title with honor, for this is his duty.
He owns the identity completely. He is Zero.
Nothing behind the mask. The man he once was is dead, even in name. He feels his combat ability eroding after months of disuse. No wars, and he is grateful that those skills are no longer needed. Instead, lengthy talks at round tables and speeches on serving the greater good. This is what the world needs, he tells himself with a grim satisfaction. Hadn't he once been a hot-blooded warrior? Hadn't empires been rent apart by relentless war? How very far ago.
Lelouch had warned him that with the disappearance of a large power, the existing power vacuum could potentially lead to another endless bout of bloodshed for rule. Yes, Zero is necessary. This mask reminds them all of the evils of war.
This should have been his dream, he thinks bitterly. Working with the leaders of the world to pursue peace. His dearest wish, granted as a burden on his shoulders.
He lives the life of an actor, and it is not even necessary to act.
Other leaders do not see his face, but rather notice his presence, heed his advice - he is a symbol of resistance, of the people's victory, a force they are glad to have on their side.
As it turns out, death was never his atonement. Instead, he is locked into an eternal service to the world and its struggles: the perfect penance for a man who sought death itself as a respite from his sins. How everything has changed. How he has changed, over the years. He had accepted the fate of Zero when he was a knight kneeling to his king. And now, years later, he is struggling beneath the burden that he must bear.
But the world is changing. Democracies are sprouting around the world, violence at an all-time low, and even those who must be dictators seem more benevolent than usual.
It is all as Lelouch had said. Everything according to plan.
The mask comes off at night.
Alone, he slips it off his head and takes a deep lungful of dusky air.
He looks in the mirror and remembers. Lelouch stretching out his palm with an offer: here is your mask, here is everything you must be to save the world from itself. You know, we can do anything together. And this shall be our grandest ploy, the stratagem to best them all: the Zero Requiem.
He clenches his teeth, fighting despair. This is harder than he had expected.
But everything is going just as Lelouch said it would.
The perfect world Lelouch had so longed for - it had only been possible with his death.
An armed conflict (small, territorial, but it is a war nonetheless).
And suddenly everyone around him is frantic, wondering what went wrong. He can see the panic in their eyes. Were we fools to pursue this peace? Is it unachievable? Will we be the first to die, will we be the first to lose our lives? Perhaps it is unavoidable that the world descend into chaos, that strength should rule without mercy.
Only Zero is constant, only his expression does not change. He knows his responsibility. He steers them away from threatening conflict with more violence, for some are only too quick to bring up warheads and Knightmares - he suggests nonviolent approaches instead. For if they retaliate with war, then war it shall be - an escalation game that only ends once everyone is dead.
They send diplomats to speed a possible peace agreement, a negotiation between two sides as to who owns what - and with them the stern warning that both sides will be cut out of global trade if they continue).
Even Zero appears. His presence means that they will not fail.
And so the conflict is resolved.
There are times when he is glad his face cannot be seen - those times his eyes inadvertently water, when he feels his throat choke against his will and swears to himself that his mistake was worth making, and that he would gladly do it again.
Because he would do it again.
Wouldn't he?
His dreams are always feverish and leave him reeling.
It is not enough to have killed. It is not enough to be singlehandedly responsible for the murder of his best friend. No, he must relive it again.
The warmth of blood against his hands, the tactile feeling of metal ripping through flesh, the utter despair that sank through his own heart as his sword plunged through another's.
Lelouch's tired smile.
You have done well. Haven't we done well? Created a demon for the world to hate and then conveniently disposed of him.
Somehow it's as if Lelouch is there again, speaking in his ear with all the confidence of a master strategist.
Thank you. You've been here for me, right until the end.
A pause.
You know, together we can do anything.
Perhaps it is because there is nothing to anchor him to his own identity anymore that he is plagued by this melancholy.
Nobody knows who Zero is. When it is of utmost importance that nobody see his face (the joys of being presumed dead), he has taken every precaution he can think of. And so he lives, but he knows that everything he once was, he is no longer. There is only one thing left, and that is Lelouch's final gift: the mask of Zero.
Meetings are less frequent now. Sometimes he thinks that he should find a worthy successor for the mantle of Zero once he retires. Someone who will never reveal his secret, someone who will readily accept the gift for what it is and what it is not:
(what it is: a chance to better humanity, to prove that you will do anything, even give up your identity, for your ideals)
(what it is not: a blessing, a respite for the death-seeker)
There are people like that, he muses. People who would do anything for what they believe, who see that there is good to be found and cultivated in the world and in turn resolve that they shall dedicate all they are, all they ever will be, to that task. They are not easy to find, but they exist.
He enters his private quarters and raises shaking, gloved hands to remove the mask. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, but cannot look too long.
He strides to his bed and his legs fold beneath him. He's exhausted, muscles shaking, from standing all day, and heated negotiations until midnight have been wearing on his nerves. All this would have been bearable if he hadn't been so terribly alone.
He feels tenseness in his chest, and manages to clench his jaw to suppress it. It's nothing, he tells himself. Hasn't he been strong for this while? He has shed who he once was, and this is the curse he bears for everything he has done. This is the burden he has been given, and he will carry it until he dies.
"Suzaku."
He looks up, vision blurred. That voice.
And there he is, standing across from him.
Suzaku blinks and states the obvious. "You're dead."
Lelouch merely watches him and smiles. "Really?"
"I killed you," Suzaku says aloud. "Remember?"
"Oh, I do. Very painful experience," Lelouch says, his voice having lost none of its original power. Even though he's dead, Suzaku reminds himself.
But after all, isn't this Lelouch? The one who had singlehandedly managed to conquer the world and could easily have ruled as dictator had he wanted, who is never left at a loss for options to move forward? If there's anyone capable of faking his death in such a spectacular manner... if there's anyone who could have maneuvered his way out of it, it's him.
"Getting a bit mopey, are we, Suzaku?" Lelouch offers, with a wry smile. "At least you only have one identity to keep up." Of course. Suzaku's eyes narrow. Indeed, Lelouch is the one who had created the mask itself. He is the one who painstakingly carved out the legacy of Zero, with all the nuances and power that comes with the role.
Suzaku reaches out, a hand stretched towards the one who had been both his best friend and worst enemy. "If you expect me to believe you-"
Lelouch mirrors his gesture.
His hand is solid.
And that is the exact instant Suzaku realizes he is dreaming.
He awakens, and his head falls into his hands.
This is the meaning of despair.
He is not needed every day anymore.
That unstable period is leaving the world, he realizes. That stretch of potential danger, of conflict hovering like a threat above their heads, is dissipating.
How long had it taken! How long had he labored, countless years, for this - how he had traveled from nation to nation, brokering agreements, how he had bargained with dictators for the better treatment of their people, how he had suffered in the name of the world as he attempted to atone for his wrongs.
Of course, this hasn't happened overnight. The process is gradual - but he senses that Zero is less needed in this new world. He is a symbol of change for the better, and that tomorrow has almost arrived.
This victory tastes bittersweet, for it has required of him everything he has ever had, save his life.
Fate must be laughing at its handiwork. Oh Suzaku, he thinks, your life was the one thing you would have gladly surrendered.
Hadn't he once thought that he would hand over Zero's mask to another when he retired?
He knows better now. When he retires, Zero will have served his purpose. He is a symbol of the transition, the struggle from war to peace. And if Zero is ever needed again - when wars erupt anew, and no longer can the people live without justice - he will rise once more, with another mask, another name. It is grandly poetic, as beautiful as Lelouch had ever wanted.
And for once, Suzaku smiles behind his mask.
It is almost too sudden.
Suddenly the role of the mask has faded in its prominence, and there is no need for Zero at all. Not this Zero. He had eased them in the right direction, his presence a constant reminder of the horrors of war. The pendulum swings back in the opposite direction - and finally, the peace they have fought for is a reality.
And Suzaku senses himself tiring, feels himself aged and weary - he cannot wear this mask forever. It is not what Lelouch would have wanted. He had believed that once, but he knows better now.
So he sets down his mask and leaves. He is nearly unrecognizable from the virile war hero he had been then - that man is no more - but he, Suzaku, will live on.
Their scheme has been wildly successful: all sorts of heinous deeds blamed on Lelouch, the most evil emperor to grace this earth, and now nations and fledgling empires and organizations all still trying to prove how not like Lelouch they are. Negotiations, finally drawing to a close. And so the world begins anew.
The last of his life will be fulfilling, scattered with glimpses of beauty and long stretches of contemplation. He lives sparsely, but takes joy in watching the world he has so painstakingly shaped. Yet he wanders, unable to remain in one place. Always this searching, the endless searching.
Suzaku cannot help it.
He has been searching his entire life.
The afternoon is hazy and hot, the sky colored in a brilliant blue. From city to town to city he has drifted, soaking in the absence of war. This is a quaint village, the houses lined in neat rows - famous for its onions, rumored to have a hidden treasure somewhere in these neighborhoods. He closes his eyes -
"Suzaku."
For he has wandered, alone, for so long...for he has fought for this peace, for as long as he had lived... for he regrets nothing, now that he thinks about it...
Suzaku looks up, his vision clear. He knows that voice.
And there Lelouch is, benevolent, smiling. He is exactly the same as Suzaku remembers him: elegant and handsome, arresting violet eyes. It's almost as if nothing has changed except for the world itself, the result of everything they have ever worked for - they have reunited again, the knight finally finished with his service to the king.
"I'm not dreaming, am I?" Suzaku says, although he already knows the answer.
Lelouch raises an eyebrow.
A pause.
"Death-seeker Suzaku," he says, "your wish has finally been granted."
Fin