Hi, new story, enjoy.

Summary: And she's chosen where to be, though she's lost her wedding ring—somewhere near her misplaced jar of bougainvillea seeds.

In the candle light, she looked well. Her skin was given a soft glow; her eyes sparkled and shone with the reflection. She wore a calm smile, brandishing it to the face of everything that held her down.

He supposed he wouldn't understand. She seemed content, almost… happy. No fatigue was given away in her expression, although he knew she was in desperate need of more rest. Her hands didn't shake, nor did her eyes look tired.

"Tell me what you're thinking about."

His line of vision was yanked from her hands to her face, but she was not looking at him. Her focus was on the embroidery in front of her.

"You're not frightened."

"Why should I be?" Her smile seemed to grow.

"Well, I think it would be natural."

She nodded, agreeing in his answer's sensibility. Then she was silent for a while. Her hands continued to manipulate the needle and thread, resuming the pretty design. There were numerous small red dots on her fingers.

"I've had plenty of time to dwell on it. After a while, the idea becomes less intimidating."

"I was terrified to die."

She nodded. Her hands wavered, trembling in the effort of getting the needle through. "There's nothing to be ashamed of in being scared to die. You chose death to benefit those you love. You were scared of never seeing them again, leaving them, what would happen once you were gone." He nodded. "I have no one to leave behind." Another prick of the needle, a small gasp, a tiny drop of blood. "I had no choice in my fate. I will die whether I like it or not. And I've come to accept that as the way it is."

His gaze faltered to the ground. She spoke so boldly for such a frail woman. He felt ashamed of himself, accusing her of being afraid. "It makes sense."

"You are so young." Her eyes were upon him now. He stilled his breathing as her cool, soft hand rose to cup his cheek. "Just a baby. Carrying all this tragedy." He barely noticed himself turning his face into her touch, his eyes slowly sliding closed. "I wish more than anything that none of your sorrow had ever touched you. But wishes can only do so much."

Tears pooled against his lashes. She pulled him into a weak embrace, resting his head against her collarbone and her cheek upon his hair. "It's what's best for the world," he murmured. "What's best for them."

"I know, Lelouch. But it doesn't make any of it right."

Suddenly, he was disgusted with himself. He was wallowing in his own self-pity in the arms of a dying woman, wrapped up in his own guilt and sorrow. All the same, her lifetime was being reduced to days, hours, possibly minutes. His hand found hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I know." Her breath rattled in her chest as she spoke. "I'd like to go to the beach."

He broke away from her embrace, brows knitted and expression puzzled. "You're not well," he murmured. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Lelouch." Her eyes were teasing, her smile back. "I was given eight months to live. I made it five years. I think I deserve one last trip to the beach I grew up on."

He was silent. She pulled the quilt back from her legs, which were thin and pasty from disuse. He fetched her shoes, but she pushed them away.

"It's cold—"

"I want to feel the sand under my feet." All the aloof amusement she had exuded before was gone. Now her face held stone cold determination and the effort it took to do something as small as sitting up on the edge of the bed.

Even if she had refused to wear shoes, she said nothing about the blanket he wrapped around her shoulders. His own coat and shoes were on as he lifted her into his arms, bridal style. She'd lost the strength to walk weeks before.

Outside, it was nearly pitch black. Only the moon gave him enough light to walk through the grass and wildflowers. Her head was lifted to the sky. Stars glittered in the night around the silvery moon. He didn't realize how close the house was to the ocean until the soil under his shoes became looser and looser, and soon he was walking in sand and could see the night's reflection against a vast plain of water and hear waves crashing to the shore.

He took his own blanket and spread it out on the ground, making a place for them to sit. He positioned her so that her feet hung over the blanket to rest in the soft sand and sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched.

For a while, they didn't speak. The two simply stared at the moonlit sight before them, sparkling ocean water and flawless night sky. Even in the dark, her eyes closed, she could taste the salt on her tongue and smell the brine of the sea, until she was a girl again, playing on the shore with two perfect brothers, a white dress, and the wind in her long, sandy hair. A real, joyful smile found her lips for the first time in a long, long while.

"Thank you."

He said nothing back. Only wrapped the blanket more tightly around her shoulders, eventually giving up and placing his arm around her instead. He pulled her close, lending her body warmth.

To her, it was daylight, the sky a cloudy, perfect grey and a small, beautiful boy running to her with a shell she had never seen before in his hand and crying, "Suvini, Suvini, I found another one!" Another boy, this one just growing into his age with long unfamiliar limbs and a handsome face, was filling a basket full of shells and stones washed in on the ocean surf. He smiled a dazzling, genuine smile and all she could do was smile back because the wind was blowing and her hair flew all around her.

He saw the peaceful smile she wore. It comforted him, knowing that in that moment she wasn't thinking about pain or sadness or tragedy, but of two pairs of arms, one small and one large, around her, her nose in soft blonde hair and a beautiful smile against her temple. So when breath stopped hitting his neck, he didn't feel sad or lonely or sorry. He just kissed her forehead, said a prayer he couldn't bring himself to believe, and lifted her into his arms again.

Back in the cottage, he gently placed her body back in the bed and pulled the quilt back over her. He phoned the doctor, told him yes, Suvi was dead, no, she didn't feel any pain. It wasn't until he had hung up that he realized he had left his own blanket on the beach. So, out he went, again. He walked quickly, trying not to think about it that much. His blanket was exactly where he left it, waiting on the sand. A giggle met him when he bent to pick it up, and when he looked up, he said nothing.

Suvi stood before him in a white sundress, so much younger and more beautiful than he had ever seen her. He dropped his blanket. It made her laugh. With a soft, sweet smile, she picked up the blanket and folded it for him. It was held out to him in a neat, perfect square. His mouth was slightly agape; he could do nothing but stare at the miniature Suvi that had her head tilted and a giggle at her lips. Swiftly, she placed the blanket in his hand sand jumped to kiss him quickly on the cheek before stepping back. There was a shout, and his eyes moved to see two boys behind them. One was very small, waving and calling to her. The other was nearly as tall as he was, shoulders relaxed and hands in his pockets.

Suvi waved back at the little boy and turned to face him again. "It's never too late," she whispered to him. "Find him."

Then she was running off towards the two boys, her bare feet leaving prints in the sand as real as his own heartbeat. They disappeared. Gaping at the blanket in his hands, the one she folded, he turned to go back to the cottage. Once off of the beach, he started to sob, and cried all the way back to her bedroom.