A/N: I haven't written in a while, but rewatching this series I really, really wished Euphy didn't have to die. I tried to contrive a way for her to be alive in a post-series story that didn't disrupt the cannon too much, and this is what I've got. I think a fair disclaimer is that I still haven't found a way to make it a Euphy/Suzaku story, which is why I didn't tag him. Her feelings are there but...If there are any fans of that pair around, maybe they can help me out (Suzaku is locked up pretty tight post R2). Anyway, here we go! - T

Four months after the assassination of the demon emperor Lelouch, Cornelia and Guilford have returned to the Britannian homeland, and visit his family's home for a much-needed rest. They meet someone they do not expect.

I don't own Code Geass

Guilford walked down the street with purpose, eager to get out of the summer heat. It was a cloudless day. The bright light made his eyes ache, and he pushed his shaded glasses up again as they kept slipping. He was going to need a shower. There wasn't even much of a breeze, so his hair ended up sticking to his neck. This whole trip was a series of inconveniences. He was supposed to drive to his doctor's appointment, but when he and Cornelia had arrived at his father's estate last week, all of the cars were missing. An impromptu 'vacation' to New York to chastise his oldest brother apparently required almost all of the vehicles and house staff. 'You're not an Earl. Take the bus,' his father had said. At least it was quiet.

The doctor had told him the obvious: seven months from an eye injury his sight wasn't likely to get better, but she also said it wasn't getting worse. He said he felt he had less energy, and she said it was lack of exercise or depression. Fair enough. His photosensitivity wasn't so bad in the evenings, and at twilight he even took walks without shades. This walk could turn into a headache, though. He was just grateful he could still read, still look someone in the eye.

A group of teenagers loitered around the bus stop ahead, smoking and making sure everyone was looking at them. One young man was trying to climb onto the awning over the stop. Guilford considered ordering him down. They might spook tourists this close to the high street, and that was everyone's business in a small coastal town. He couldn't give them a stern look through his shades. As he reached the bench of the stop, a woman bustled out of a boutique across the street with a broom, pointing the handle at the children. Luckily, the bus arrived to save him from the Battle of East Church Street. He bounded up and into a seat, grateful for the air conditioning.

He was resting his eyes when the bus ran over a pothole, jolting him forward. His eyes passed over something familiar, making an automatic double take: the profile of a young woman two seats forward. She was looking out the window. He stared, his body registering what took his mind longer. The lurch of the bus taking off matched that in his stomach. It was impossible…She looked like Princess Euphemia! He turned to look out the window himself, willing his eyes away from the girl. Bursts of anxiety flared like sparks in his stomach, and he tried to focus on a steady breathing pattern instead. In and out, he was being ridiculous. It was just a similar looking person. A girl of the same age as...her, like those teenagers at the bus stop. He couldn't help but glance back, just to be sure.

A reflection in the window, pale pink hair over a transit map and delicate hands

The bus stopped again, but she never looked up from her map. Maybe she was an hallucination. All the doctor's visits he'd been to in these last months, they always caused him to reflect on the past and his situation. Maybe he was more overwhelmed by his last appointment than he thought, or he overheated in the summer afternoon. Maybe he really was depressed, and now delusional. Each excuse was pulling him away from a cliff into panic, but there was a weight still threatening to overcome his efforts. If he could see her face straight on, then he could be sure because it wouldn't be her, because it couldn't be her. At the next stop she was in profile again, and he couldn't look away. He would do anything for it to be Euphemia. She had been so gentle and good. He should have protected her, or at least found justice for her.

This wasn't happening

Guilford had tried not to think of Euphemia lately. Her loss was on Cornelia's face every morning, quietly crying when no one would see. This must be some projection of his anxiety for Cornelia's well being, or a manifestation of his inability to confront what he lost in Japan. He had known Euphy since she was eight years old, the one person he knew who was completely protected by so many people. She was innocent. Her death was not just a personal failure, it was the first crack in the breaking of everything he knew about the system of Britannia.

At the next stop, an older man asked for the seat next her, and she moved a bag for him to sit. She couldn't be a figment of his imagination if others were seeing her. He strained to hear what she was saying to the man, but the bus was too loud. Was this a real person who he was falsely seeing as Euphemia? Guilford felt trapped like an animal. He squeezed his hands tight and felt the nails against his palms. It reminded him of the Geass Lelouch used on him. He almost died to save what looked like his Princess. Was this the same, but with Euphemia? Who would do this to him? What did they want? Perhaps it was an extra Geass, a sick joke from his dead enemy.

He put a hand over his face. He needed help. He knew he should get off the bus, but he couldn't. 'What if she's real?' a part of his brain kept repeating. There were too many possibilities and he was clearly panicking. He pulled out his phone to dial Cornelia, but didn't start the call. Anxiety crept further up his chest. What would he even say to explain this? It would upset her greatly. A small whisper in him wondered if the Cornelia answering would be real. What if he was still in the Geass now, after all this time!? It was like a hand on his throat, what was real and what wasn't. He was going to drown in fear. Thankfully, the next stop was the edge of town and the long country lane to his family's home. He stood up automatically, abruptly, and desperate to get away.

She stood up as well

Now Guilford followed a ghost off the bus. He'd never shaken this bad before a battle, wobbling a bit on the steps down. As the bus pulled away he realized he would be alone and was paralyzed. The young woman had her back to him still, sipping from a glass bottle and stretching as she looked down the lane. The ragged soft jacket and hood, a casual pair of shorts and a small duffle bag made the figure of a commoner, but it is the Princess in her posture and movement. Longing and joy flooded him to see it, desperation and fear to see her face. She turned to look around as if it were nothing, and she saw him.

"Guilford!?" She called out, but he couldn't move. It was Euphemia's voice, high and sweet. She leaped toward him, arms wide to embrace, but he jerked backwards, almost stumbling into the rut of the road. It was Euphemia's face, now confused and hurt. Guilford tried to talk, but the words wouldn't come. He couldn't breathe. He must be going mad. After a long moment he found a word, "P-princess," and looked away. He started up the lane, still shaky. He couldn't go very fast. If he lost control he might start running the mile home. She followed, keeping pace on his right.

"What's wrong, Guilford? I know I was gone a long time, but...but I found my way back. I need help, please," she was looking at him, but he couldn't look back. What was this? He needed to get home, get help. She walked quietly a moment, discouraged by his silence.

"I didn't know where to go, who was safe, but I saw on a broadcast, about Pendragon, and this was the only place I could think of to go..." Another silence, but Guilford was too deep into his panic.

"I'm still confused about wh-what happened to me," her voice was breaking, "what did I do? Why can't you look at me?"

He couldn't do it. He just had to make it home before he burned out. He felt the adrenaline rushing. "I don't understand. I don't understand." She stopped and stared after him, but wouldn't be left behind, hurrying to catch up.

"Where is my sister?! Is Cornelia here? At the house? Guilford please," she was sounding desperate. Guilford couldn't see well in front of him anymore, but it wasn't his shaded glasses. He realized he was crying, his jaw tight. He just had to make it home. She kept on trying. "I want my sister, where is she?" The glass of the bottle in her hand reflected the light as she walked in front of him, trying to catch his eye. She saw him looking at it.

"The ice cream shop on the boardwalk, remember?" she said. "You and Cornelia took me there. I was here all summer the year before middle school. You let me shoot at the bottles with a real gun and Cornelia said…she said it was too dangerous." she waved the half empty bottle at him. He still couldn't look at her face. He was wrong to doubt. It was definitely her, but she must be a ghost sent to torment him. She started babbling nervously about anything, but each word in her voice made Guilford more afraid. He could feel his heart pounding. It should have soothed him to hear her elaborate, but he felt ill. His anxiety-twisted mind made it an insult: he must be insane to have such a complicated delusion. In the waves of her pleading one stood out.

"Do you know where Suzaku is?" The thought of the two of them was too much and his pace quickened. They passed through an arch of branches, a double row of birch trees that led home. She noticed his response. "They say he's dead, Guilford, but I don't understand. How," she broke off in tears, "please Guilford!" Euphemia reached out and grabbed his arm. He flinched away, stopping in his tracks, feeling the blood drain from his face. She got to look him in the eye at last.

He practically ran the last several meters to the door, grasping the metal handle for his life. He could hear her on the gravel behind. Was she real? What was real anymore? He looked back, and he saw Princess Euphemia. Guilford opened the door and stood aside automatically to her as he must have a thousand times in courtesy. She walked in slowly, waiting for him, confused. He looked her in the eye again and realized he was home. It was over.

He bolted away, leaving her behind in the entry, almost toppling a side table, yelling as he ran to the back of the house. "Princess Cornelia!" "Cornelia!" He must have been heard because as he made it to the kitchen, Cornelia burst in from the back lawn, practice sword in hand and sweaty. She would help him, he knew it. She took a step toward him as he pulled at the knot of his tie, gasping, then he turned away to vomit in the sink.

"What happened, Guilford?" Cornelia grabbed onto him as he sunk to the floor. He pointed weakly back to the doorway, an hour of tension finally being released. "Someone there," he said. Her eyes followed his but there was no one to see. Cornelia took her knight's face in her hands. "I'm sorry," he managed, "I don't know what's real. She can't be there." She pulled him into half an embrace, and he sobbed into her shoulder. She smelled real and felt warm.

"I don't understand Guil-"

"Guilford?" a voice called from the hall. A voice that had Cornelia moving immediately. Guilford looked at her with pleading eyes, but didn't stop her. When she turned into the hall, she immediately understood his distress. Who was this person standing in the doorway to the entry hall? It couldn't be. The afternoon sun through the large front windows framed the young woman, her eyes wide in shock. She was ghost. She was an angel. Cornelia stepped forward, her body held in a practiced calm. She felt weak.

"Eu- You. Who are you?" Cornelia asked.

"Cornelia?" the girl's voice wavered, "it's me, it's Euphy." She felt faint hearing that voice again.

"This is impossible," she answered.

Cornelia was surprised to find herself angry. This couldn't be real, but the real progress they had made finding peace had been shattered. "Are you a practiced imposter? Is someone paying you, or is this some kind of joke?" she asked.

"No! It's me, Cornelia please, you can see who I am," she flinched when she heard her name. The girl started to reach out a hand to her, but seemed to reconsider.

"We've heard of people like you." She hesitated. It really did seem like Euphy, but how? "My sister has no inheritance. There is no secret money for you to get, whatever the tabloids say. Frankly, this is cruel, and you should leave."

The girl threw down her bag and threw herself at Cornelia. She grabbed the girl's arms, restraining her, but she writhed and started crying. "You know it's me. We're sisters! I don't understand why you're so cold." It was a stab in her heart. "You said you wouldn't do that to me, not ever! We wouldn't push each other away, and we would trust each other!" Her resolve snapped. What was she doing? She released Euphy's arms, but instead of running away, her sister wrapped her arms around Cornelia's waist. "They said you would forget about me, like how I forgot things, but I tried to be strong like you. I tried."

She watched the contents of a glass bottle pool on the floor as Euphy clung to her, running her fingers over the younger girl's back. When she tucked her head around Euphy's she realized all her pink hair was really cut off. It didn't even reach her shoulders. A sudden fear seized her, one that she used to be familiar with: fear for Euphy's welfare. A weight she had carried all the time, wondering if her sister was scared, ill, or lonely. It was welcome, though, like an anchor. For a year she had been lost in the chaos of the world. This was a reason to look for order. She heard Guilford behind her, he could probably see Euphy, who had stopped shaking and merely sniffled. His voice came from down near the floor, "I am truly sorry, Your Highness, for my conduct. Your appearance was shocking, but it was my weakness that hurt you. There can be no doubt in your identity, please forgive me."

Was he kneeling? She tried to untangle herself to see. It had been a few weeks since he had pulled a full knightly maneuver. This was the time for it, though, she supposed. Euphy finally loosened her grip, still holding her hand. Guilford was kneeling in military attention, fist over heart. His hair was loose, and his tie was undone, but he still cut a good salute.

"Are you alright?" Euphy asked, wiping her face with her hand, "I'm sorry too, for scaring you. I didn't mean to find you alone like that." Cornelia exchanged a look with her sister, indicating toward her knight. "Oh, you may rise, Lord Guilford." He did, and immediately pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and offered it to Euphy.

"You don't have two of those, do you?" she asked him, wiping her own tears. She was teasing, but knew she shouldn't when he was being so serious. He took her free hand, raised it, and marked the back with a chaste kiss. Now he was teasing her, or maybe he was sincerely possessed by the ghost of chivalry, she couldn't tell. When she noticed Euphy looking at them, she tried not to blush.

A light growl sounded from the younger woman's stomach. It wasn't just the hair, now that the shock was wearing off she saw how travel-worn Euphy was. "Why don't we get you cleaned up and fed. We can talk about how this is possible when we're all rested." Euphy finally smiled.

A/N: I hope this was an enjoyable read. If you have any comments or ideas about the story I would love to hear them! There will be a broader conflict to the story that should be introduced in the next chapter along with a few O.C.s. Thank You for reading - T