I felt like the obvious symbolism there at the end begged for some sort of expression. I also love-hate the paradox of Zerozaku. I know it's short. Regardless, read, review and enjoy.
Traitor From Within
The sharp bite of the wind met him at the doorway. It wasn't much; it was just enough. He felt the steep collar adorning his neck buckle and bend, swaying around him—mocking, comforting, or both? Still, he imagined that the breeze would be cold, were he able to feel it. For a moment he conceded that the costume's maker had constructed it with a touch of genius.
Genius.
But of course, there was no other way to describe that man. Genius. And fool.
Yet it was he, the knight, who had consented to his absurd plan; he who had acknowledged that there was no other way for it do be done. He who had struck the blow. Punishment had been a long time in coming, and he expected it. But he could not prepare himself.
His gloved hands were trembling, though no one could see them. He grabbed the bars of the wheelchair sitting before him just to make sure of that; the girl sitting in it tried not to notice. The pair stared quietly at the bland, silent wall lowering before them. More, more, then finally, it dropped. The masked man sighed, steeled himself, laid his body into the arms of resignation, and stood tall. Low, at first, then rising in crescendo, a buzz emanated from below, rhythmic and erratic at the same time, excited yet hushed. If it was for him, he refused to notice. Without even looking at the crowd, he knew—he didn't deserve their cheers, and they didn't nearly deserve to cheer him. Forced to acknowledge their ignorance despite himself, he was saddened. They knew nothing.
Nothing.
They raised their hearts and their voices for a murderer and cheered the death of a martyr. Even in the end, the emperor had damaged him beyond repair. This curse was eating him away; why was it, that after the man had killed his princess, after all the people who he had wronged, finally placing this on him, he still could not hate him?
With a slight bit of force he pushed the wheelchair into motion; with much more force he managed to urge his own body into motion, stoically inching them both down the ramp. The prime minister awaited them at the bottom, finely dressed, staring at a spot somewhere between the two with a patronizing gaze that mixed joy and pity. The empress and the hero descended and stopped, portraits of regal nobility. A hush fell; he felt thousands of eyes focus on him, those that were not caught on the empress, and felt anger well up within him.
He, who had ripped the life from his dearest friend.
Why should it be him, who carried the burden of the world's hope and expectations, who represents the justice that he and his emperor so maligned? He could not know why.
But he knew that it did have to be him.
Gradually, it started again, louder this time, more unified. He looked around, the blank face of his helmet reflecting the state of his heart.
"Zero...Zero...Zero...Zero..."
His dulled eyes were tearing up, though no one could see them. He gripped the bars of the wheelchair tighter so that, just maybe, they would look at her. He watched the prime minister take her hand softly and smile. What would it be like to smile again?
Even if he could, not a soul would see it.
"Zero, Zero, Zero, Zero, Zero, Zero..."
The shadow of the airlift protected them from the sun above, but he could feel it looking down expectantly. He felt exposed, and alone. The sky was blue and cloudless, serene and content. The zephyrs still danced amidst them, but he suddenly felt numb to it all.
"Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero!"
It was almost too much to bear. He bit hard into his lip, drawing blood. From below came her hand, taking his gently. It was weak, and looked thin. He twitched, then nodded to her, but abstained from anything more.
The girl turned to look up at his expressionless mask, searching for what she knew must have been his eyes somewhere under there. Lost in the thought of what the world would be like for her after his assistance in committing the ultimate sin, he froze. She frowned.
But perhaps, he imagined, it was simply to pressure her heart, squeeze her eyes and hide the tears.
"ZERO! ZERO! ZERO!"
Overwhelming, all around, it was all he could hear, the chants and cries of praise; echoing, reverberating, cascading, overflowing. More, yes, more—blocking out the world around him, they stood and shouted as one at their savior.
And he bent his head, his hands clasped, his mask smeared with blood.
A/N: Well there, haha. I knew I wanted to do a short fic like this on Zerozaku when I got the chance; I got the chance over the last couple of days, put a bit of my thought into it, then looked it over and here we are. I tried to build on it as much as I could, but while making an effort not to be too wordy that was hard. The part I wanted to focus on the most was the last line, about the blood. Naturally it's just a metaphor, but I tried my best to build up to it. Somehow it still feels incomplete, as if I didn't really accomplish that fully. Review and let me know, I suppose. Despite that, I'm glad I did it. I took the scene from the epilogue when Ohgi comes out to meet them on the tarmac or whatever it was.
I've got some other Geass-related ideas floating around in my head and want to use them eventually, but please, send me prompts or ideas if you have any. Also, I'll be working on Forget Not to Remember, Always, and I'd like to make a note about the prologue, for those who read it: I mis-worded my A/N, and I'd like to apologize. I was not at all trying to suggest that what I believe was the end is the only possible end and that you all must believe it. I just wanted to explain my rationale for why I believed it that way. I realize I said it wrong and I'll make a note in chapter one as well. Don't hold it against me.
That's all for now. Please review if you can, and whether you do or don't, send me any other good Geass stories you read, because I like to leave reviews myself, and read them as well, haha.
LL