Oblique
Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass or any of the respective characters.
A/N: I've always fancied the idea of these two together, and the world definitely needs more Gino/Kallen fanfiction.
"And this is the woman I'm going to marry some day."
Anya tilted her head, mild curiosity lighting her bland expression. The woman in question shrieked in renewed fury, throwing herself against the glass wall of her prison.
How dare he stare at her like she was an animal on display! How dare he bring others here to gawk at her! Of all the egotistical, narrow-minded, arrogant… Brittanian nobility, was he? She expected no less from filth like that. Cheeks burning with mortification and rage, Kallen slammed her fist against the glass, swallowing a yelp of pain as the shredded skin hanging from her bruised knuckles bled afresh. She retreated reluctantly in on herself, nestling her arm protectively under her breasts, glaring venomously at the two knights standing outside her cell.
"May I introduce Kallen Stadfeld–" Gino continued with his grandiose introduction, bent over at the waist in a flamboyant bow.
"Kozuki Kallen, you brainless Brittanian bastard!"
"–my fiancé," he finished, before adding cheerfully, "it's just a matter of time until she says yes."
Anya raised a brow as Kallen began shrieking a number of obscenities. Gino smiled obliviously, staring at the raging woman with an expression close to rapture, even when she began swearing violently at him in Japanese.
"So this is the woman you have chosen to be your wife?" his fellow knight asked, her small mouth pulling into a look of distaste. "She seems rather… excitable."
"A few years of marriage and two or three children should calm her down," he said glibly. "Right, kitten?"
Anya politely plugged her ears with gloved hands as the tirade returned with renewed venom, but not before she had learned some very interesting new curses and a fascinating method of castration that promised to be both extremely humiliating and dreadfully painful.
"Gino, I would advise having a full military guard present on your wedding night."
"Whatever for?"
"Your kitten has very sharp claws," she pointed out flatly. Anya looked at the prisoner again, at the expression of pure hatred on her lovely, flushed face, and allowed herself a little smile. "I do not think you would… appreciate all the ways she would use them, if she were alone with you."
Kallen smiled savagely, clearly relishing the thought, but Gino continued unperturbed.
"I like a bit of spirit in a woman." He winked at her through the glass, and Kallen spat on the floor before deliberately turning her back on them.
"She wants to rip you in two, Gino, which is hardly what I would call spirit." Anya tugged at the collar of her mantle, giving him a penetrative stare. "What are your reasons for pursuing her, Gino? You know that she will not be allowed to live. Charles does not suffer traitors, and she has betrayed any Brittanian blood she may have claimed. They will not see Kallen Stadfeld. They see only Kozuki Kallen."
The blonde knight shrugged whimsically, casting another admiring look at the woman standing stiff-backed in the cell. The corners of his mouth softened. "What can I say, Anya? It was love at first sight."
Kallen made a rude noise in her throat, muttering loud enough for them to hear, "I know very well what part of your anatomy guided you to that, Brittanian scum!"
"Gino. This is a dangerous game that you play."
"I know," he affirmed, head bowing gracefully in assent. His gaze flickered to her briefly before returning to their prisoner. "But I have my reasons, Anya."
Anya turned on her heel, cloak flaring as she strode from the room, disconcerted at the look she saw in his eyes. Gino may have been a clown, a frivolous idiot, but he was stubborn and loyal to a fault. The loyalty of a hound that recognised his master; a loyalty that was prized and had earned Gino the honour of a Knight. If he loved this woman –and she prayed that it was a temporary infatuation– the master would not hesitate to purge a treacherous hound from his service.
If he suspected that his Knight had an ounce of sympathy, let alone love, for a traitor to the empire, Charles would strip Gino of everything – title, estate, fortune, his head. Anya leaned to the wall, fingers playing absentmindedly with the clasps of her mantle.
Gino, you're such a fool.
Her fingers were sore, stiff when she tried to wiggle a digit. She kept her eyes shut, not wanting to look at her ruined hands. Her hands had always been calloused, but they had at least looked decent. She would have scars – battle scars she could be proud of, she told herself. That was scant comfort when she contemplated looking at her hands. They would be crusted with blood and pathetic scraps of skin scraped loose from her body, reddened and possibly swollen with infection. She shuddered, feeling the hot sting of tears behind her eyelids.
Look at them, she told herself. Look at them, Kallen, and see what can be done. If you lose your hands, you'll be useless. You won't be able to fight. You won't be able to fly. You'll have nothing. Zero… Lelouch will have no use for you. Look at your hands. Look at them! Open your eyes… and…see…
Both of her hands had been cleaned and bandaged. Shock dissipated to pleasant surprise as her eyes took in the bowl of water on the floor of her cell that still steamed, and a clean towel folded neatly beside it. Her pleasure turned to suspicion when she lifted the towel and saw a monogram stitched in purple there, the letters 'G.W'.
Gino Weinberg.
Her first instinct was to rip it up with her bare hands. Common sense got the better of her, and she set to washing her face and arms, wincing at the stiffness in her fingers. Kallen would dearly have loved a better bath, but she would sooner have slit her own throat than remove her clothes in a cell where they were undoubtedly observing her.
Her pride was bitter as she swallowed it down, but she could not deny the sense of pleasure she got from the dampened towel sliding across skin sullied by dirt and sweat. She would have loved to wash her hair, but settled for wetting her hand and combing through the grimy tresses with her fingers. When she had finished, she felt vaguely human once more, and for the first time in days, Kallen smiled.
Every day, at precisely the same time, Gino Weinberg would seat himself outside her cell, and talk. He babbled endlessly, about everything and about nothing. Some of it was pure nonsense. When she wanted to talk about the things that did matter, like Zero, he would have a sudden bout of deafness and politely change the subject. When she persisted, talking passionately about Zero and his (and therefore hers) ambitions for the new Japan, he talked loudly over her about his favourite food, the result being that now Kallen was probably a reluctant expert on German and Italian cuisine. It drove her crazy, how Gino could sit there and spout nonsense while the world was falling apart around them. She ignored him, of course, sometimes for hours, but that never kept his mouth shut.
Kallen would never admit to him that those hours helped keep her sane.
"I suppose you think I owe you something now."
He looked surprised. It was the first time she had voluntarily begun a conversation. And she hadn't insulted him yet. "No. Why would I think that?"
Kallen gritted her teeth, fingers twitching from the urge to rip out her hair. "My hands. The towel. The hot water. Do I have to spell it out for you? Or would you like to see me on my knees, grovelling? I'd expect nothing less from arrogant Brittanian trash–"
Gino crossed his legs, smiling that mischievous little-boy smirk. "You're welcome, my dear."
She scowled, tossing her head and glaring pointedly at the ceiling.
"Is there anything else that I can do for you?"
"Besides breaking your oaths to the tyrant you call a king and getting me out of here? No. So don't bother asking if you already know the answer."
He brushed off her scorn like it was an annoying fly. "Isn't there anything you might like?"
After several minutes, when it was clear that Gino wouldn't leave until he got an answer, Kallen sighed.
"A change of clothing would be nice."
"What is that?"
"A dress."
"I can see that," she snapped. "But it's a dress."
"Yes…" he said slowly. "And you're a girl. You asked for clothing, didn't you?"
At the bewildered look on his face, she restrained from venting her frustration. He was trying to be considerate. He was male. This was understandable.
"Brittanian, this dress has ruffles on it. Lace. Bows." The look she directed to the garment in Gino's hands could have reduced it to cinders and ash. "I would rather present myself in dirty rags to Lord Zero than wear it. Find one of those simpering twits you nobles call a woman to wear it. I won't."
"Would you rather go naked?"
She scowled, pinching the tattered, dirt-streaked fabric of her suit together. It stank of sweat and quite frankly, it belonged in the garbage, no, an incinerator. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, she knew very well that she was an idiot for rejecting clean clothing, no matter how reviled she felt just looking at it.
"Kallen, I didn't pick the dress to humiliate you."
I know you didn't. That's the problem, you moron.
"…You can leave it here." She turned her head towards the corner, refusing to meet his eye. "I might decide to wear it later."
"You need to discourage Gino from paying so much attention to you."
Kallen lounged in her chair, picking at her fingernails. "You talk as if I've been encouraging him on purpose," she said bitterly.
"You have."
She snorted. "Worried I'll seduce him into betraying you? I mean, as much as I'm enjoying prison hospitality, it'd be nice to go home." Casually, she raised a leg, her skirt falling down to her thigh. "And if Gino's willing to take a few risks for me…"
A muscle twitched in Anya's cheek. "You wouldn't care if he died?"
"It wouldn't make a difference if I did or not," Kallen retorted flatly, letting her skirt fall back into place. "What he does is his own business. I never asked him to care."
"But he does."
"And now you expect me to take responsibility for it? You've got to be fucking kidding me. God, you Brittanians are so full of it." Toying with a piece of her hair, she stared at the pale girl sitting in front of her cell, hands clenched on her lap.
"Are you jealous?" Kallen asked suddenly.
Anya flushed slightly, faint red staining her cheeks. "No," she said quietly. "I am just concerned. We are at war–"
"–and you can be damned sure I won't forget that."
Both women regarded each other, Anya with her solemn gaze, Kallen with hostile eyes.
Finally, the Knight of Six rose, saying only, "As long as we understand each other, Eleven."
Kallen just watched her walk away.
"Your little girlfriend is getting jealous."
"Who, Anya? Don't be ridiculous."
She picked at a loose stitch on the hem of her dress, making a noncommittal sound in her throat.
Interest piqued, Gino leaned forward and asked, "Why? Does it bother you?"
"Of course not! It's just annoying because she's nagging me."
He gave her a sly look that she didn't like at all.
"Don't flatter yourself, Brittanian. You're not that irresistible."
Gino smirked right back at her. "Don't kid yourself, Kozuki. You know I am."
He'd taken to calling her Kozuki. Did he have any comprehension of just how much that name meant to her? Probably not, and it would stay that way unless Kallen chose otherwise. She didn't want him to learn about the little shudder that passed through her body, or the glow that infused her stomach whenever that name passed his lips. It was vulnerability, and weakness was something she refused to show to any Brittanian. Especially Gino Weinberg.
The next day, Gino didn't appear. She pretended that she wasn't waiting for him, even when her head swung back and forth along the corridor, watching for a glimpse of that unruly blonde mop with the stupid braids sticking out at the back of what he called hair. She pretended that she wasn't waiting to hear the familiar tap of his boots. Kallen sat, staring at the door for what seemed like hours, all the while trying to convince herself that it didn't matter. An awful blend of irritation and loneliness churned in her stomach, and she truly felt like a traitor. Instead of counting down the days until Zero came to free her, she counted down the hours until Gino, a man who fought under a tyrant, came to visit.
"Did you miss me?"
"No."
Kallen's denial was too quick, and he smiled. Not a triumphant grin, but a smile of genuine pleasure.
"Hey, be nice, Kozuki. I missed you."
Her fingers drummed agitatedly on the armrest of her seat. She refused to play this game of his, she'd told herself that much the day before, but she still found herself asking, "Where were you?"
His eyes darkened a little, and he hesitated, before, "Just out and about. Kallen–"
She knew very well what 'out and about' meant. "Is Zero still alive?"
"Yes." Unfortunately, he wanted to add.
"Then that's all that matters," she whispered, more to herself than to him.
Gino wouldn't have felt so hurt if he knew how hard Kallen was trying to make herself believe that.
Thanks to Gino, her hands healed well. He watched as she unwound them, the bandages unravelling to fall in a heap on the floor. There was only a faint scar on her left hand from a particularly nasty gash, and all the minor scrapes had healed without leaving a mark. She flexed her fingers experimentally, wiggling the joints, her eyes sparkling.
"I suppose I should… thank you," she said grudgingly.
He just nodded, dragging his fingertips against the glass separating them. She hesitated, her own hand inching upward to rest against his on the cold glass.
"Thanks," she said again, softly. "Gino."
It was the first time she'd said his name to him. He cracked a grin to cover his blush, saying flippantly, "Well, it would have been a damn shame to lose a pair of hands as pretty as yours."
"Playboy," she muttered irritably, turning her face to hide her own blush.
He always knew that someday Zero would appear to take her back. Staring at the smoking wreckage left behind, Gino knew he hadn't anticipated this intense sense of loneliness and jealousy. Kallen was gone. She was with him. Zero. The name was bitter on his tongue. Anya and Suzaku weren't a source of comfort in his melancholy; rather they expressed relief that he wasn't suspected of lending the Black Knights a hand in Kallen's escape.
On the outside, Kallen revelled in her freedom. The sense of exhilaration of being back in the Guren made her feel like she was flying even before she left the ground. She was back at Zero's side, fighting to reclaim her Japanese birthright. But now, she entered each fight with the tiniest edge of dread and doubt in her mind. It seemed inevitable that she would meet the Knight of Three on the battlefield. If –no, when– she did, she would be expected to fight in accordance with the Black Knights. She was their ace pilot, after all. Most likely it would fall to her to kill Gino.
This was war. He was Brittanian. She was Japanese.
One might have even called it fate.
Neither of them expected that the next time they would meet, they would be on the same side in the wake of Zero's betrayal. The merging of their forces with Schniezel's was meant to be a dignified affair, but when Gino stood in front of her, that aggravating twinkle in his eye… Kallen stuck her hand out dutifully, mindful that this was what Ohgi and Schniezel expected of them. Of course, Gino had been raised at court, and such coarseness was hardly due to a lady, especially not to one that enamoured him. He swept down on one knee in the elegant bow that the Knights of Rounds were admired for; grasping her hand lightly and brushing a delicate kiss over the faint scar there.
"It is an honour to serve with you, my lady."
Pink flared across her cheeks, and she jerked her hand back without a word, blushing furiously.
Gino just smiled.