Phewwww! It has been a while. Well, lets get right to it. Another Code Geass oneshot, this time from C.C.'s perspective. (I obviously don't own any of this Code Geass stuff).
God in His Heaven
The room was warm. Dust hung heavy in the air, dancing in the pale sunlight. C.C. had avoided this particular campus building at the Academy for as long as she could. She disliked its atmosphere. She disliked its connotation. But now, here, at the end, she found herself making her way into the chapel, walking slowly up the aisle, her right hand gently bumping against the corner of each next pew as she made her way further into the room. It was something- anything- to keep her from reaching the center of the room, an excuse to walk slower, to put off what was about to happen.
The smell of the place was that of an old book. It was a smell she particularly liked, but now found distasteful, wasted on a day like today. She told herself that she had chosen this place because there were no TVs that would be tuned in (by royal decree) to the ongoing parade. She told herself she had had enough of death. And she had told Lelouch the same thing, trying without success to distance herself from him before the end- to change his mind. As usual, he hadn't listened, convinced his plan was the only option, despite her protests to the contrary.
As she arrived at the modest alter beneath a stained glass window, only slightly elevated off the ground, she tilted her head at the smiling angel depicted upon it, seemingly bored with the beautiful display.
"Humans will convince themselves of anything to cheapen their fear of death," she said to no one in particular. Only after did she realize she had said 'humans' as if she didn't belong in that category of being. The thought made her smile wryly.
She looked at the ground for a long time before kneeling there, weighing within herself whether it would be worth it to do what she was about to do. In the end she decided no one would be present for her to make a fool of herself to, and made her way slowly downward.
C.C. never liked praying. Even before her unique role in the Collective Unconscious, when she was still mortal, it felt more like a chore than anything else.
"Think of something you're thankful for," the Nun would whisper delicately, coaching her through her first, halfhearted prayers, "or something you wish for." Back then it had all been a game, superficial desires conveyed to some vague, invisible entity who was supposed to love all His creations. But, even at that young age, she had seen too much to believe such a joke. Unconditional love always seemed foreign in a world so infatuated with hate. Even so, she prayed, more for the Nun's sake than her own. She prayed for a better life. And, just when it seemed her prayers may have been answered: betrayal.
C.C. wasn't angry or sad- there would be no point in those feelings now. Lives can't be fixed by simply feeling a particular way, no more than whispering thoughts to thin air could actually bring about change. So why, then, was she here now?
Here, in the Ashford Academy chapel, her knees supporting her hunched over body as her hands slowly met, forming an alignment together she found annoyingly familiar. Was she here for herself? For him? Perhaps for the both of them? She didn't know.
She sat there for several minutes, cautiously eyeing the angel above her, motionless, wondering why she felt so powerless. Powerless now to speak. Powerless to save Lelouch from himself.
Her hands began to shake. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but it annoyed her. She clenched them together tighter, a lazy effort to keep her composure. Finally, she spoke:
"So here we are again," she said coolly, clearly. "I bet you didn't expect to see me doing anything like this again, eh?" The angel offered no response, still silently smiling, silently watching, silently judging. "Well said," C.C. quipped, trying to lighten her own mood.
"Think of something you're thankful for…"
"But what is there to be thankful for," she asked, "when this is his choice?" She hated the idea that he did it out of pity for her; she was not so weak as to need his pity.
This time she was met with a sudden turn of her stomach. It was beginning, she knew- her contract with Lelouch afforded her that much: a connection with her accomplice. Surely Lelouch must be facing down Zero even as she spoke these words. She felt his fear in her as real as any knife. It cut her as deep as Suzaku's blade was about to pierce the poor boy.
That was when she let a tear roll down her cheek.
"Lelouch, the price you'll pay for using your geass on them will be a dear one." She was sure he didn't understand what he was about to throw away. Only someone who knew death as intimately as she did could possibly know.
She felt the sword, too, in a way. Not the pain though, no- not that the pain would have been unfamiliar to her. But she felt the pressure. She gasped sharply as it pierced Lelouch's lungs, her eyes closed tight.
"…or something you wish for"
Wishes. She had more than enough of those. "I wish it could have been different," she whispered, letting two more tears find their way down her porcelain skin. She felt Lelouch's breathing begin to thin. "I wish he had hated me for burdening him like this." At least she understood hate. But no, all he had offered was gratitude.
"I wish it could have been different," she repeated, resigning herself to the thought.
His final breath felt much the same as it did with any of her previous contracts. The quiet weight of responsibility lifted off her shoulders, the connection severed. She wiped any trace of the tears from her skin and looked back to the angel. The world had shook so drastically, and still God was silent. Nevertheless, she stared, eyes meeting those of the angel, searching for a God long dead to her. Even as the sun fell slowly from the sky, painting her skin a soft hue of red, she searched. Finally, she settled on a question, a last effort at extorting any kind of response:
"Why would he do this for me?"
As if on cue, C.C. heard a soft rattling behind her, and a creak as the chapel door behind her opened.
"C.C." a familiar voice beckoned. "This is the last place I would have expected to find you." The hint of confidence in the voice betrayed that the statement was false. C.C. didn't need to turn around to see who it was, so she didn't.
"You're late," she answered, putting just enough emphasis on the words to convey her feigned annoyance: this was Lelouch she was dealing with, after all. "Any significant changes?"
"None. But we're behind schedule. The arrangements are in order- hurry up, witch." Her reply was nothing more than her trademark head-over-the-shoulder smirk. As she turned, she noticed the emblem of geass proudly marked across his neck. He had discarded his no-doubt bloodied robes in exchange for a modest white button-up and black pants.
"You're going to need to grow a beard," she remarked with just the slightest rise in the corner of her mouth. His response was a chuckle, a shake of his head, and a soft repetition of his last word:
"Witch. Shall we go, then, C.C.? We don't have much time." This provoked a small laugh from the girl, as she noted the irony of what he had just said.
"Time? You're pestering me about time? You, for whom the word has now become benign? You have more than enough of the stuff." He didn't respond, his eyes slowly falling to the floor. She stood, now turning fully to face him: "Before we depart, Lelouch, I want to know why- I told you that you didn't owe it to me to take such drastic measures." A short silence. His eyes rose to meet hers.
"I absolutely did," he stated resolutely. "No amount of pretty words can change it. You have given me everything. This is nothing- an appropriate cross to bear"
"Moreover," he continued, "how could I leave this world with our contract still incomplete? I wouldn't be much of an accomplice now would I?" At this, they shared a smile. "Time is only benign when you've stopped looking for meaning, for happiness. Looking backwards only serves to keep you from the future- from experiencing life. I promise I won't let you do that, C.C.. Not anymore."
A weighty claim, she thought. But if she knew anyone who had the power to make it a reality, it was the man before her.
"I thought you said no pretty words?" she smirked.
"I'll work on it," he replied. "Now, come on. I'm eager to explore this new world we've created." He held out an arm.
"'We've,'" she thought. "He said 'we've.'" As if they belonged in the same category of being.
"Fine, then," she said, stifling a smile: this was Lelouch she was dealing with, after all. "Lead the way." And as she took his hand, she looked back once more to the angel, now lit only artificially by the soft lights inside the chapel. Still silent, its smile now seemed knowing. "Oh, shut up," she told it in her mind.
Only silence. She smiled. "Maybe," she thought, "maybe this time, it can be different."
She turned to leave with Lelouch, hand in hand.
And not she, nor he, nor God in His heaven could have made her look back.
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