Ruat Caelum - "Let the Heavens Fall"
Taken from the Latin phrase 'Fiat justitia ruat caelum,' or 'Let justice be done, though the heavens fall.'
.:PROLOGUE:.
"The same time as usual. You're quite punctual, young man."
"I think 'persistent' is what people call me more often."
The elderly woman behind the sixth floor nurse's station of the Brittanian University Hospital smiled sweetly in return, watching the young brunette man in question fill out a standard visitor's form, "Punctual or persistent, your friend in there is quite lucky to have someone like you by his side."
The boy blushed slightly, turning the clipboard in his hand over to the grey-haired woman, "I suppose," he spoke softly, "There aren't many left to fill that place, are there?"
She eyed him curiously. He didn't blame her. He felt he was speaking more to himself than anyone. The woman made a few more notes, then passed him a small, plastic badge labeled 'VISITOR,' "Well, here you are Mr. Kururugi. I trust you remember the way."
"Yes. Thank you."
"You shall kill me as promised. Right now, all the hatred on the world is concentrated upon me as planned. All you have to do is erase my existence... Put an end to this chain of hatred."
Floor Six, West Wing, the 'special cases' area. Left from the station, down the hall, left again, Suite 642. A private room.
He'd been visiting for seven months. Seven months of painful, nostalgic torture. It might seem that a soldier, one of his breed, would be able to tolerate a place like that, be used to pain and illness and death. But nearly every day, Suzaku found himself standing at the foot of a hospital bed, staring at the sleeping, near-lifeless face of his friend, and his regrets would consume him like the fires from the Area 11.
The door snapped shut behind him, and he slid his uniform jacket from his tired shoulders to hang neatly on the door hook. A cheap nightstand stood by the bed, upon which he gingerly placed the single sprig of white heather he'd been carrying.
He plopped his weary body into an armchair, arms resting on his knees, and released a sigh. Running a hand through his tousled hair, Suzaku managed a smile.
"Hey, Lelouch."
"I overheard the surgeons earlier."
"Did you get anything?! What's-"
"He's not dead. Your sword went straight through his lungs, heart and spine, but somehow he's still alive."
"How is that even-?"
"Your guess is as good as mine. I can imagine a few ways it could happen, purely relying on geass, but never on this level for someone who isn't a Contractor themself."
"C.C., there's no way…"
It took a few weeks for the nightmares to subside.
It replayed itself over and over, Suzaku, confined in that stifling, restrictive Zero suit, splattered with the prince's blood. His weapon would raise itself again and again, no matter how desperately he would fight it, and he would watch the light leave his friend's eyes as his organs gave way.
Stabbing your best friend, it would seem, does something to you.
No doctor nor surgeon nor the most seasoned in the field ever determined by what miracle Lelouch lived. At least three vital organs cleaved in half, and yet, there he was. Suzaku took a moment to brush aside a lock that had fallen onto the pitch-haired youth's face. He would appear to merely be sleeping, had gaunt circles not claimed the area around his eyes, or the lean muscle of his limbs been taken by atrophy.
The leftover wilting bouquets on the windowsill caught his gaze. They gave off a desolate air, an uncomfortable addition to the room that Suzaku couldn't stomach. The nurses hadn't been lying. He really was the only visitor. He heaved himself from the chair to remove them, unable to stand browning petals or the thought of the once vibrant prince, who'd had so many friends, but was abandoned by all.
All but the Knight.
Not that, to some degree, Lelouch hadn't deserved it. Becoming a traitor to the crown and a terrorist had its drawbacks. There were several attempts on his life after he'd been transported to his current ward, after the coma had taken him. At least Nunally had ensured the young man wouldn't be sentenced to exile or disowned by the family as a whole if he ever awoke. She never visited, though.
She still claimed to love her brother. He was her blood, after all. Suzaku assumed it was just easier for her to remain distant after having been chained to a processional float as a traitor to Lelouch's monarchy. Even Nunally, in all of her open heart, could only forgive her brother to a certain point.
He moved to clutch the vase, jostling it, and several crinkled petals swirled to the floor. Suzaku frowned. He pinched a remaining blossom between his fingers, and it crumbled to dust.
"Unfortunately, his brain waves have leveled out over the last week. There's been no sign to indicate a return to consciousness. He may not wake for quite some time."
"So there's really nothing that can be done?"
"We're doing our best, but at this point, we can only keep a hopeful eye. I would like to ask you something. No one's been added to his emergency contacts, in case something happens. We could add your information, if helps ease your mind."
"I- Yes, that would be fine."
The brunette shook his head, sweeping the remains into the bin close by.
Outside, the subtle turning of autumn had taken the city. Crisp leaves carried by the wind covered everything, becoming a sea of rust and orange. People had begun to don their coats to combat the chill, and hugged them tightly around their bodies. Leaning against the windowsill, he spied children running to and fro, tossing up handfuls crumpled leaves. Suzaku silently wished that he could feel that innocence again.
When Lelouch and Nunally lived in his home for that short time, they had almost always been outside. With the impending war, it was how they escaped, how they ran away from the stuffy meetings and suited guests. They would take turns pushing the young girl's chair, and handing her things to feel, to smell. It made her happy, and she had claimed to see the shades of everything, despite her blindness.
If there was one thing Suzaku loved about the fall, it was how inexplicably clearer the sky became. The weight of summer humidity would vanish overnight, and there would be nothing but the sun the very next morning.
That was how things had always been, wasn't it? Suzaku was the sun, summer and autumn. Bright colors and life. Optimism. And Lelouch had always been his balance, the cool breeze to his hot day. His moon and winter.
So sentimental.
He sighed loudly, resting his head against his forearms.