We Loved in Colors

by sfaye-chan

His heart was a puzzle he himself had never believed could be completed. There were too many broken pieces to salvage the person he used to be. But maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't mind trying. (True love is never easy, not in real life, but, he thinks as he stares into emerald eyes, it's worth it.) Requested by SerenSeren.

2. shirley

I'm leaving my notes for the end of the chapter, so for now all I'll say is, well, I still don't own anything of Code Geass.

---

we loved in colors

ii: high school sweetheart

---

She'd never wowed him the way others had. Her existence became merely repetition for him. Day in and day out, he was assured of her position in his life; he saw her as a continuity, a common occurrence. A constant.

He never saw her as anything more. She had never left a heart-stopping impact on him the way Euphemia had; never stopped him in his tracks one day with the realization that he needed her.

It was gradual in the way that she left her mark on his heart, and in his life.

---

thirteen

"Where's Lulu?" Shirley wondered aloud.

Milly grinned widely. "Aw, is Shirley missing her darling beau?" Her eyes took on a mischievous sparkle, and she crooned, "Or, perhaps, is she longing for his warmth? Jealous that he's missing school at the same time as a certain someone else is?"

Shirley's cheeks blossomed with two twin, furious roses. "Madame Prez!" she shrieked in an embarrassed outrage. "You can't speak of such things!"

"In denial, are we?"

Shirley's jaw unhinged. "Lulu would never skip school for such indecent things!"

At Shirley's vehement defense, Milly's lips curled into a small, amused smile. "Of course," she laughed. "Your beloved Lulu would never, huh?"

Shirley practically growled in response, her anger, as well as her frustration for the blonde Student Council president, reaching new heights.

"But anyway," Milly said, her tone suddenly serious as her gaze hardened. Shirley blinked in surprise, stunned at the drastic change. She had never seen the lively, sly schoolgirl ever seem so grave before. "You're right," she admitted. "Lelouch—he's been missing school three days in a row now. And it's become quite clear that his disappearance has nothing to do with our redhead."

Shirley's own mood sobered at the reminder.

Milly turned to Rivalz quickly, "Hey, you're his best friend, aren't you? Has Lelouch shown any sign of sickness or anything similar?"

Rivalz frowned and shook his head. "No, I don't think so." His face soured as though he'd tasted something wholly unpleasant. "Although, I don't think you should call me his best friend. That title belongs to one Kururugi Suzaku."

Milly's eyes, which had been a piercing, calculating blue—reminding Rivalz all too much of Lelouch's words, lion's den—softened with sympathy. "Rivalz," she started quietly, "Maybe it seems to you like they're the best of friends right now, but let me remind you that it was you who, when Lelouch had no one to turn to during his first years at Ashford, took up the mantle of his guide and best friend. And Lelouch, of all people, would never forget something like that."

Rivalz smiled weakly. "That's not true, Prez. He had you."

Milly laughed bitterly, her mind racing. Yes, she had always been his friend, but in reality, had she ever truly helped him? Even when she knew he'd been suffering—she'd always known—keeping all his grief to himself as he tried to be strong for his younger sister, she'd fled at the slightest hint of his coldness and left him to a maid who, by all means, should despise him for his heritage.

Even though he'd always pushed her away... she should have tried harder.

She knew she should have.

"No, Rivalz," she said firmly, locking away her regret. "You were always more of a friend than I ever have been."

He looked at her in surprise, perhaps more shocked at the truth in her voice than at her words themselves. He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Still, Suzaku is much more his best friend than I am. Ever since Suzaku appeared... it's like I don't even exist anymore."

"Of course you exist!" Shirley, who had been staring back and forth between her two friends in speechless confusion, interjected heartily, brows furrowed into a frown. "Lelouch wouldn't be who he is without you."

Rivalz just shook his head. "I haven't talked, really talked, to Lelouch in ages. And the last time he spoke to me, do you know what he said?"

"No, what?" Milly asked curiously.

He sighed dejectedly and admitted, "He came up to me and asked me where Suzaku was."

They both gasped.

"I mean, I get that they're friends, but he could have at least explained himself, you know? Tell me, 'now that Suzaku's here, I don't need you anymore, Rivalz.' Literally anything would be better than silence," he reasoned with audible annoyance. Startled, he glanced up and asked, flustered, "Do you think I'm being too irrational?"

"No." Milly said instantly. "That doesn't at all sound like the Lelouch I know." Milly frowned; he at least would normally have better tact.

Rivalz smiled brightly at them both, but there was something bitter in his expression that made them swallow. "That's when I realized that the best friend of my best friend has never been me, and will never be me."

"Do you really think that?"

All three students jolted, startled by the youthful, timid voice that joined their conversation. Rivalz's eyes widened in horror when he looked behind him, only to be greeted by the sight of Lelouch's younger sister herself.

"Nunnally!" Rivalz practically shouted, heart leaping to his throat. "N-No, of course not," he reassured, stumbling over his own words. "It's just—well, I haven't been getting much sleep lately. I'm sorry."

A smile flashed on her face at his obvious lie, but she didn't point it out. Instead, she whispered, "My brother, he has a hard time, you know? So I'm really sorry if he isn't the greatest friend, and I know it's incredibly selfish of me to ask for such a huge favour, but I was hoping that you could forgive him for his faults."

Rivalz stared at her, honestly unable to find the words to reply.

Luckily, Milly stepped in for him. "Oh, Nunna," she cooed. "Please don't worry yourself about it. It's just Rivalz being Rivalz, you know. We're sure Lelouch is just being a concerned friend for Suzaku."

Rivalz grinned a little halfheartedly. Normally he'd whine about Milly's words, but he didn't want to upset Nunnally. Not only was she Lelouch's precious sister, but she also genuinely did not deserve it.

Nunnally's smile became more sincere. "Thank you, Milly." Despite her blindness, she managed to turn her head to face Rivalz directly. "About my brother asking for Suzaku... that was because of me entirely. I'm sorry."

Shirley gaped. "No, no, Nunna!" She jumped to soothe the young girl, who was quivering slightly. "I'm sure it wasn't your fault!"

"But it was," Nunnally whispered, face clouded with guilt. "I... I was worried about Suzaku. Usually, I ask my brother to invite him over for dinner at least once every few days, but recently, Suzaku's never been able to make it. So I asked my brother to see if Suzaku was okay, and I guess because you're his roommate, he figured you would know where he was."

"Oh," Rivalz said, dumbfounded. He flinched, feeling slightly guilty for being so upset with Lelouch, who was only following his sister's wishes.

Nunnally managed to regain her bearings and smile. "So, you see, it really isn't my brother's fault at all. Please don't blame him."

"Don't worry," he assuaged. "I don't."

Her smile became one of relief.

"Nunna," Shirley started. "We're really worried for Lelouch. Do you know why he hasn't been coming to school lately?"

Nunnally's happiness, small and brief as it was, vanished completely at Shirley's words. "He... he hasn't been feeling well," she said finally.

Milly blinked rapidly. "But he never gets sick!" I swear, it must be a talent of royalty. Aside from the occasional cough, I've never seen you terribly ill either, Nana.

Nunnally nodded in agreement. "It's not the physical kind of sickness that can be cured," she explained vaguely.

Shirley sucked in a deep breath. "You mean he's—upset?" she wondered, confused.

"Upset?" she echoed. "Well, I would say that he is, yes." She wheeled herself closer in an imitation of leaning in. Milly, Shirley and Rivalz hurried to her side, frightened for Lelouch despite themselves; he was always in control of his feelings. If there was one word Shirley would use to describe him, it would be composed.

He never let anything affect him.

"I don't think my brother would like me telling you this, but, well, I think maybe you can help him where I cannot." She smiled mournfully. "A few days ago, when I asked him to find Suzaku for me, he promised me Suzaku would eat dinner together with us. Instead, neither of them showed up for dinner, and I ate alone."

Rivalz almost shuddered. Lelouch's love and adoration for Nunnally bordered on the possessive—nobody mattered more to him than the girl who was his sister.

What could it mean that he'd left her to eat by herself?

"The next day... he didn't show up for breakfast, either. Sayoko told me she found him crying in front of the door."

---

twelve

When he found her—his ex, he mused bitterly, the term rolling around his mind with distaste—glancing around with surprising fondness, he had to calm his stampeding heart before he could approach her, schooling his expression into a resentful scowl. It was a scowl that should never have graced his face in her presence. Now, it was a scowl she caused.

She didn't turn from where she stood, facing the wall and admiring a picture of himself and his fellow Student Council members, but she seemed to know exactly who he was. "Lelouch," she whispered. He ignored the softness in her voice even as his chest tightened painfully.

"Your Highness," he returned in greeting, choosing not to comment on her visible flinch at his words. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

She finally glanced at him, and he was stunned to find tears in her eyes. He steeled himself, furiously locking away the part of him that longed to wipe them away. He had to remind himself that she wasn't his anymore.

She was his best friend's.

"Lelouch," she repeated. "I just came to apologize. That's all."

His brows furrowed and he parted his mouth to retort, the scathing words ready on his tongue even before he'd fully processed her statement.

She shook her head and cut him off quietly, "I know that nothing I say could ever make up for the pain I put you through, and I know that I won't ever be able to give you back the time and love I took away from you, but I'm sorry. I really am, Lelouch. And I... I was a fool. Through and through. I wasn't thinking—Cornelia always likes to tell me that it's what I do that lets people think of me as a puppet princess, and she's right. I never think. I'm sorry that it had to come to this."

He laughed dryly. "Like you said, no matter what you say, no matter how many times you apologize—none of that could make up for what you did. I loved you, Euphemia, I really did. And you repaid that love with betrayal."

She closed her eyes and turned away from him, hugging herself as if in denial. "Please. I'm sorry, Lelouch."

He continued as if she'd never apologized at all, "But thank you, Euphemia. Whatever else you did, you taught me one valuable lesson." He cracked a sarcastic smile and finished, "You taught me to never trust anyone else."

"Please," she begged, her voice and pitch wavering. "I still love you." She sounded hungry and desperate. "I always have. Even when we were younger, I loved you."

"Then why?" he yelled, his patience finally running thin at her insistence. (He had always had a volatile temper, she thought with a sad smile.) "Why would you do it? If you loved me? If you knew I loved you?"

"Because I let it get to my head!" she whimpered. "I let the moment overpower my love for you, my willpower, my rational line of thought. And I hate myself for it every single day."

"Willpower?" he wondered aloud, and then laughed again, sounding more broken with every second he stood in her company. "You know nothing of willpower." He thought of every man and woman he'd manipulated to his cause, everyone he'd wielded like weapons using his Geass, and he winced guiltily. He was no better than her.

But, he tried to console himself, even though he knew nothing could ever excuse or justify what he'd done, at least I would never betray or use someone I love.

"Lelouch," she sobbed. "Please. If there's anything I can do, anything at all..."

"No amount of apologies, even if you say it a thousand, a billion, times, could rewind time and make me foolish enough to ignore what's happened and forget."

"Anything, Lelouch," she pleaded.

"Are you even listening to me anymore?"

"Of course I am!" she protested. "But I love you, Lelouch. And I just want to make it better."

"Better?" How could anything make this better? He barked with cruel laughter and noticed the way she grimaced and averted her eyes. His own mood sobering at her reaction, he sighed and considered it. "There is one thing I want to ask you, though," he finally said, lifting his gaze from the floor.

She inhaled sharply and jerked upwards, eyeing him hopefully. "Yes?" she asked without wait. "Anything, Lulu."

He frowned in distaste, knowing he'd told her not to call him that. Still, he said nothing of it and instead asked, so quietly she shivered, "Was it worth it?"

Her eyes widened. "W-Worth it?" she repeated, trying to wrap her mind around his question.

He nodded. "Was it worth it?" he asked again. "Suzaku? Was he worth it?"

She flinched bodily, understanding his question and hating it. "No," she said instantly. "Of course not. Nothing could make losing you worth it."

He smiled bitterly. "If only your words meant something, Euphemia," he whispered, almost to himself.

And she stared at him, as though she had lost something but she could not place it, and he wanted to yell at her. He wanted to scream, and shout, and cry, so that she could see how much she had wounded him. Her face, stained with anguish, begged him to say something—anything—but he closed his mouth in finality.

There were no words. Not for this.

She closed her eyes to him and wept silently, knowing finally that she'd truly caused the end of what they'd shared. In his eyes—in the way his mouth instinctively formed the name Euphemia instead of Euphie—she found goodbye. She'd lost him forever. And it's all my fault.

---

"Lulu?" another voice called out to him, using that same nickname he'd grown to despise hearing, especially after the one girl he'd loved seeing had twisted the warmth in it. "Are you okay?"

He lifted his head, finally identifying the voice as Shirley's. He could lie. He should lie. It would be so easy to stand, dust himself off, smile at her, and tell her everything was fine—tell her he was fine.

But he couldn't smile, and he wasn't fine.

He swallowed roughly and stood. His eyes crinkled at her genuine concern and, finally, he managed to say, "I will be."

Shirley frowned. "I'm your friend, Lulu. You know that, right? You can trust your friends."

"Yeah," he said distantly. He envisioned Suzaku in his mind, arms and legs wrapped around Euphemia's, and felt a wave of nausea roll through him. The image wasn't helping. "I know," he said thickly. He'd trusted them both—he had wanted to trust them. Almost more than anyone else.

"Don't worry about it, Shirley," he said. He smiled reassuringly, withstanding it despite the taste of poison burning his lips. "I'll be fine."

"Lulu—" she protested.

He walked away before she could finish, his heart begging to be allowed out of its cage.

Shirley, he thought. You're just like her. Or just like the person she used to be. The person I want to remember.

---

eleven

"Let's go, Rivalz," Lelouch urged. "Before Milly finds us."

Rivalz eyed Lelouch in surprise and confusion. "You forgot your chessboard, Lelouch," he laughed. "Hurry and get the briefcase."

Lelouch hesitated, and then he shook his head, and Rivalz blinked in shock. "Forget it," Lelouch said dismissively. "I'll use a set there. I need a new one, anyway."

"W-What?" Rivalz sputtered. "Have you lost your mind, Lelouch? You love that chessboard! Don't you remember? I touched it once, spilt coke on it, and you almost skinned me alive."

He winced. "Maybe I did lose my mind, Rivalz. Who knows?" he retorted and chuckled bitterly. "I don't remember why I cared so much now."

Rivalz shook his head. "Okay," he said finally, shrugging.

Lelouch sighed in relief when Rivalz stopped pestering him. He tilted his head upwards and watched as the sea of blue peeked out from above the clouds. It reminded him of Euphemia, and it stung. He wanted to ignore it, but he couldn't help but remember the serenity on her face when she gazed at the skies and smiled at him.

She had loved it.

He had loved her.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but even the darkness closing in on him did nothing to save him. Visions of her appeared everywhere, inescapable and unavoidable.

He clenched his fists. He saw her laugh with him, wrap her arms around him, squeeze him tight and cry with him. He could imagine her in his life, treading through snow and ice and the deserts with him; they were surrounded by droughts and famine but she was still with him, and it was enough.

But it wasn't anymore, he reminded himself. She was no longer the constant in his life. She'd strayed.

"This is for you, Lelouch," Cornelia said, smiling at him tentatively. "From your brothers and sisters, who love you." Beside her, Clovis and Schneizel stood, one arm around one another, drawing support from their mutual grief.

"Nelly," he sobbed.

Euphemia crept out from behind her elder sister's legs. "Lulu," she wept. She presented him with a large box, tied neatly at the top with gold ribbon. "You're coming back, right?"

"Of course," he assured. Cornelia shot him a sharp glance, which he ignored. Lie or not, it was what both he and Euphemia needed to hear. "I'll never stay away from you for too long, Euphie."

She smiled tearfully. "I love you, Lulu," she whispered, pressing the gift into his hands. "Promise me, okay?"

"Anything," he said desperately.

"Promise me you'll keep playing. Promise me you'll become the best at chess, so when you come back, you can beat our big brother Schneizel, and I can cheer you on, okay? Keep playing, Lulu, and you can think of us when you play."

He laughed. He spared Schneizel a glance, and saw that even his brother was suppressing sadness. "I'll be sure to do that," he said. Cornelia's eyes prodded at him; he made sure to keep his stare directed at anything but her. "I'll beat you one day, Schneizel."

"I'm sure you will," his brother said softly. "I can't wait for that day to come."

"So you see, you have to come back," Euphie added. "To beat Schneizel."

"I will," he swore. He wanted to. He did.

Euphie's eyes shimmered with her tears, making the soft lavender a glowing violet. "Did you hear that, Schneizel?" she crowed, blinking back tears. "The black king will topple the white king."

"Only if his queen stays by his side," Lelouch said, smiling at her. She beamed at him gleefully.

He could still see her staring at him, still feel the weight of her gaze pressing down on him.

"It doesn't matter anymore," he muttered to himself under his breath, ignoring the look Rivalz shot him. None of it mattered anymore, because she was dead to him. She should have always stayed that way.

They were princess and commoner, separated by the boundaries of society and rank. He had known that from the start. And he shouldn't have let her ideas of peace and unity fool him. They would never be on the same level, not anymore.

"The Black King is waiting for us, Rivalz," Lelouch sneered. "Let's topple his king, shall we? After all, every great king has a queen standing behind him, and the Black King has none. White will win, today, and black will fall."

"I thought your side was always black," Rivalz pointed out, smiling cheekily. He laughed and added as an afterthought, "If every man is backed up by a woman, who empowers you, Lelouch?"

Lelouch smiled. "I have Lady Luck to support me this time, remember?"

Sorry, Euphie. But I think I knew from the start: I can never come back. Not for you, and not to defeat Schneizel. I will stand for what is right, what I believe is right, and Zero shall emerge victorious. Zero shall win. And this time, nothing you can do will stop him, ever again.

He'd been away from the board for too long, already.

---

"I think Nunnally was right," Rivalz muttered to Milly, Shirley and Kallen one day, during their Student Council meeting. Nina sat in front of her computer, as always, and he wondered if she cared about what they were talking of.

The only person he'd ever really seen her talk in depth to—always about science or physics or the political state of the world—was Lelouch, and the realization cut him. Whenever any of them had needed someone to lend an ear and talk to, Lelouch was always ready to help, and yet they were nowhere and they were helpless when he needed them.

"What do you mean?" Shirley asked curiously. "Right about what?"

Rivalz frowned and glanced behind his shoulder worriedly, as though he feared that a ghost would appear behind him and listen in to the conversation. "About Lelouch," he whispered, leaning toward his friends.

"About Lelouch?" Kallen echoed softly, and he remembered that she had been absent when Nunnally had last talked to them.

Milly jolted, concern in his eyes. She frowned and demanded, "What about Lelouch, Rivalz?"

He wished her worry would be for him, for once, but he ignored it in favor of Lelouch, because he knew his friend, and he knew that Lelouch had never once played a game without his personal set—or at least not willingly.

He remembered that he had asked, once, and Lelouch had only said that the chessboard brought him luck. Later on, on the day he'd made the biggest mistake of that year and knocked a plastic cup of coke over onto the board, he'd spotted a few words scrawled onto the back of the chessboard in a child's messy handwriting: Rise and keep playing. You will be the king in our hearts, always.

He'd never dared bring it up to Lelouch, but he had never forgotten those words. It was engraved into his memory as surely as it was seared onto the board.

"You know when she said he was upset?" he asked rhetorically, shaking away the thought. He saw Kallen blink, and explained briefly, "We were worried because he'd been missing school for a few days, so she told us that he had been crying, or something."

Milly and Shirley both nodded. Kallen's jaw dropped—he understood her sentiment. He'd felt the same way, when Nunnally had first told them. He sighed and revealed, "Okay, so I know we're not meant to be gambling or anything, but please just let it go for once, because I think she's onto something. Lelouch has always, always, kept this one chessboard that he brings around to play on, unless his opponents are really insistent about playing on their own boards. But, anyway—today he completely forgot it. And when I asked about it, he told me he needed a new one."

They blinked.

"It makes no sense!" he insisted. "You probably think I'm crazy, and that it's nothing, but I'm telling you—he loved that board."

They blinked again. Shirley pursed her lips, like she wanted to say something, but he cut her off before she could speak. He said, "I'm serious! He loved it like it was his lover, like in a really creepy way. I'm pretty sure he would have killed for it. Died for it, maybe."

Shirley arched an eyebrow. "Rivalz," she said, deliberately slowly and condescendingly, as though she was talking to an unreasonable child. She rolled her eyes and sighed as if in disappointment.

"No," he said, shaking his head rapidly. "Just—it was really important to him, Shirley."

"I'm sure it was," Shirley said sarcastically. He gritted his teeth at the blatant disbelief in her voice.

"Shirley," Milly said quietly, and he, Kallen and Shirley turned to look at her in unison. They were all stunned by the quiet warning in her voice.

"M-Milly?" Shirley asked.

Milly sighed. "Maybe Rivalz is right, Shirley. I remember that board, too. It was a present, I think." And you're right, Rivalz—he did love it, because it represented happier times, for him. Times when he never had to worry about food, or money, or his sister, because they were loved and they had family.

Rivalz froze in shock. Not really at her words, but more at the understanding in her voice, and the grief in her eyes. She didn't say it, but he had the feeling that she knew more than she was admitting to.

"What are you saying, Madame President?" Shirley asked, her voice small and broken as she remembered the day she'd found him, misery in his eyes.

Rivalz wondered why Shirley's hands were shaking by her sides. Maybe she, too, had an idea of the depth of Lelouch's despair.

"I'm saying that—"

The door slid open. Automatically, Milly fell silent, sitting straighter in her seat and flashing a practiced, wide smile at the student who had strolled into their workroom. Rivalz didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"Hey, Lelouch," he called out as casually as he could, trying to ignore the way his voice quivered.

"Lulu!" Shirley yelped. She jumped in her seat, turning to face Lelouch and smiling at him. Rivalz noticed that the corners of her lips were trembling.

Kallen said nothing, only nodding and smiling slightly at Lelouch, but even she seemed tense. He saw her grimace and her hands curl into fists.

Lelouch cocked his head sideward. "Hey," he said finally, shrugging and taking his usual seat. "So what's the plan for today, Madame Pres?"

Rivalz caught a glimpse of sorrow masked beneath the sheen of glory in Lelouch's amethyst eyes, and he wondered how he had ever missed it before. It wasn't obvious, but it was there, and Rivalz turned away in shame.

Milly, too, must have noticed it, because her smile became just a little more fake, and just a little more forced. She widened it, but the luster in it had dimmed. "Nothing much," she said. "Just budgeting. You can do that in your sleep, right?"

He snorted, but he said nothing as he pulled the stack of papers toward him.

Normally, Rivalz wouldn't have paid attention, and he definitely wouldn't have cared enough to notice it, but this time he realized that Lelouch was taking marginally longer than he usually would have. There was no ease or grace to the way that Lelouch flipped through the pages and scrawled down his calculations—he did it tensely, with stiff shoulders and furrowed brows.

He did it as though it was a chore—and while it was, Rivalz supposed, budgeting had always been an effortless task for Lelouch. He had never had to think twice about it before. But now he did, and Rivalz couldn't help but ask himself what had happened, and what it meant.

Finally, about an hour after Lelouch would usually have completed the task, Lelouch groaned, raked his fingers roughly through his hair, and pushed the stack back towards Milly apologetically. "Sorry, Milly," he said with a heavy sigh. "I really am. I don't know what's happening. I haven't been getting enough sleep lately, I guess."

Milly pretended to scrutinize him carefully, but Rivalz knew from the sadness in her eyes that she already knew what was happening. "Alright, Lulu," she sang. Her voice lacked the cheer it normally had. It hurt him just to hear it. "You better get some rest, then. Your eyes have bags, Lulu. Honestly, it's unbecoming of a princess."

Lelouch cracked a smile, and this time, he didn't even try to argue against her teasings. It only highlighted the differences in his behavior. "Thanks, Milly," he said and stood. "I should get going. Nunnally's waiting for me to have dinner."

Milly's facade of calm dropped instantly. She paled and she rushed to him, tilting her head and staring into his eyes for a brief second before her jaw set and she slapped him, hard. Rivalz winced. Kallen blinked, stunned. Shirley's jaw dropped, and even Nina gasped.

Lelouch did nothing.

"Have you gone insane?" Milly hissed. As quietly as she'd asked it, Rivalz still heard her. "Don't you remember? Nunnally's eating with her friends today. Someone's birthday or something. You gave her permission over a week ago!"

Lelouch blinked. Realization dawned on his face, but even then, he didn't bother to rub his cheek, which was beginning to swell red. "Right," he said, exhaling through gritted teeth. "Sorry," he said again. "I don't know why this is happening."

Milly fell back into her seat in dazed disbelief. She stared at him sadly. "Get your act together, Lulu," she said, almost silently. Her hand covered her mouth and she gulped down a sob. Rivalz watched them wordlessly.

"Milly..."

"What's happening?" she asked, sounding the most panicked any of them had ever heard her be. "You're always in control. You're on top of everything. How can you forget about Nunnally's plans?"

Lelouch frowned and looked away in the face of Milly's accusations. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've just—it's kind of messed up."

She smiled weakly. "Go to your room, Lelouch," she said. "Make sure to sleep. You might as well bail tomorrow, too. I'll cover for you."

Lelouch stood and graced her with a grateful smile. "You're the best, Milly."

"Don't I know it?" she murmured to herself as he exited the room. As soon as the door slid shut behind him, her mask shattered completely and she caved in on herself, convulsing.

For a moment, Rivalz had to wonder if she was laughing. But then he saw her face, and he knew that her shoulders were shaking because of anguish, and not humor.

---

ten

"Lulu," Shirley whined. She was on an official assignment from the President, as it was put.

As soon as Lelouch exited the room and the doors closed firmly behind him, Rivalz jumped up and declared, "We have to get him back on his feet!" He was still feeling guilty about being thus far unable to really make a difference in helping his friend, and he was raring to start trying.

Kallen nodded eventually, reluctant but not hesitant. "Definitely," she agreed. "I haven't been around for too long, but even I can tell that when Lelouch forgets something to do with his sister, it's serious."

"That's true," Shirley said. "We have to do something. Madame President?"

Milly was unresponsive. She hadn't budged from her position, sitting on her seat and staring at the door, as if she could still see Lelouch.

"Madame Pres...?" Kallen prompted.

Milly blinked. "Oh, right!" she said. She seemed to cheer herself up somewhat, because she smiled at them and schemed, "All right. We know Nunnally's birthday is coming up, so if one of us asks him to do something in relation to that, it won't be entirely suspicious... who wants to go?"

Nobody moved, because they all wanted to do it; they all wanted to help the boy who had never seemed to need helping before. They exchanged tense glances, as if silently challenging each other to speak first. Finally, Kallen suggested, "Maybe Shirley should be the one to go."

"Eh?" Shirley muttered in surprise, having expected the redhead to want to go herself.

"I mean, you're close to both Nunnally and Lelouch, right?" Kallen reasoned. "Sorry, Rivalz, but it might be unexpected if you ask Lelouch to do something about Nunnally's birthday—if it was about gambling or something, sure, but since this is about Nunnally's birthday specifically... and Milly, no offense, but Lelouch will probably realize something is up if you do it."

Milly just smiled and waved it off, "None taken." No one noticed the pained grimace she tried to hide behind her cheerful facade. She'd never before realized how much her friendship with Lelouch was based on fun and games; there used to be more, used to be tears and comfort too, but she'd faded into the Milly that loved only to joke around and she regretted it. When was the last time she had had a real conversation with Lelouch?

"That's fair enough, I guess," Rivalz mumbled disappointedly.

"Okay," Milly sighed. "So, Shirley, I guess you should ask him to, say, help you pick out a present?"

"Sure," Shirley said with a nervous smile. "I'll do it."

"Don't worry," Milly winked. "We'll be there tailing you two the whole time, just in case you ever need any help!"

"See what I mean?" Kallen pointed out with a grumble.

Milly pointedly ignored her. She perked up. "Hey, Nina!" she called out, and the bespectacled girl timidly glanced up at her. Milly smiled welcomingly. "Do you want to come spy on Shirley and Lelouch with us, later?"

Nina blinked.

"It'll be fun," Milly reassured.

"Sure it will," Shirley groaned under her breath, having expected to be able to spend the time with Lelouch herself. She really should have known better.

"Please," she begged. "I need to look for a present for your sister, and who better to ask advice from than the brother himself?"

Lelouch frowned in distaste, the memory of his meeting with Euphemia the day he found the necklace for Nunnally sweeping into the forefront of his mind. "And you desperately need to find her one today?"

"Of course!" she declared. "Her birthday is in a week!"

"I know when her birthday is," he said, raising an eyebrow skeptically. Milly might think I've lost my mind, but I'm not that insane. Shirley flushed and looked away, mortified with herself. "But fine, why not?"

Shirley's eyes widened. "Really?" she asked, beaming with joy. "Thanks, Lulu," she said, sighing with relief. Operation: Cheer Up Lelouch Lamperouge, is a go.

"Anything for my sister," he said, and she winced visibly. He smiled patiently. "So where do you want to look first?"

Shirley smiled back, a little nervously. She laughed as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and suggested, "Maybe we should eat first? It's a little past noon already, so..."

"If that's what you want," Lelouch said with a shrug. Together, they walked to the train station, where he purchased two tickets, one for each of them. He gestured for her to follow him and maneuvered through the crowds, slipping into one of the crowded platforms and stepping onto the train, all the while unaware of the group of students following his movements carefully.

"Okay, so we'll go get lunch, and in the meantime, I can browse through the shops' collections through their windows, so we can know ahead of time which stores to scrap completely," Shirley said. "What do you think your sister would want, Lulu?"

He shrugged. "Anything, I guess." He hesitated, saw her genuine interest, and admitted, "After an... accident from when we were little, she learned to accept and cherish everything. We both learned, the hard way, to appreciate the little things while we still have them." He sighed, smiling painfully. Brows creased, he looked away momentarily, regaining his composure and locking away his memories before glancing back at Shirley. He belatedly noticed her grimace, wondered if she blamed herself for bringing it up, and hurriedly added, "And besides, you have great taste. I'm sure she'll love whatever you get her."

Shirley knew she should leave the topic alone and head for a new one—she could practically see Milly, Kallen, Nina and Rivalz waving frantically for her to stop—but her mouth moved before her brain could shut it down: "An accident?" she wondered. He flinched, and her eyes widened in flustered horror. "Oh, do you mean when she was blinded?"

Sorrow flashed across Lelouch's expression, just barely, and Shirley scolded herself—wasn't she meant to be cheering him up? "No," he said eventually. "Well, yes, but not quite." It's my fault, he thought. It's because of me and my big mouth that we were exiled and she was thrown away from all forms of support and medication. It's all because of me.

"I'm sorry," she said instantly. "I shouldn't have—"

"No, it's fine," he said, waving dismissively. "Don't worry about it. It was a long time ago."

Shirley sighed, feeling like kicking herself. "Still," she said. "I'm sorry. That must have sucked."

His eyelids fluttered, and he laughed. "It did," he agreed. He smiled a little more sincerely. "Thanks, Shirley. Most people are sympathetic—or they pity us—but few care to admit the truth. It does suck. And I hate pity, so that sucks too. Their apologies mean nothing to me—it's not their fault, anyway. I just want her healed."

Shirley nodded. "I get it. Your sister's really strong, Lulu. Really, really strong. I don't think I could be half as strong if I were in her position."

"Few people can be," he said quietly. "She was lucky..." He hesitated, recalled a flash of pink and purple when he closed his eyes, and admitted, "She had a best friend"—a sister—"who loved and supported her."

"And what about you?" Shirley whispered, stepping closer to him. Her eyes were fixated on his, and her hands wrung unsurely behind her. "Didn't she have you?"

Lelouch smiled sadly just as the train careened to a halt, arriving at their destination. Shirley squeaked, and he caught her before she could fall. "Maybe," he said as he fixed Shirley into an upright position and led her off the train. "But I wouldn't have been enough. I'm still not enough."

Shirley frowned. "Of course you are," she protested. "Nunnally loves you! You're the best brother any girl could ever ask for."

That's not what I'm talking about, Lelouch thought, but he feigned a smile and said, "Thank you." If I was enough, then why did Euphemia need Suzaku? If I was enough, why couldn't she have been satisfied?

"Where do you want to eat, Lulu?" Shirley asked.

"Wherever you want," he allowed. "I don't particularly mind."

Shirley sighed, unsure herself. Finally, she pulled him to a nearby stand, which sold a variety of snacks and meals, and ordered one pizza for the both of them. "I hope you don't mind pizza," she said.

Behind her, Lelouch grimaced, reminded of a green-haired witch. "No, not at all," he lied. "In fact, I've grown quite an appetite for pizza lately."

Shirley smiled, relieved. "I'm glad," she said. They both headed for a nearby bench and waited for their food, eyes flitting from one storefront window to another. "That one looks interesting," Shirley said, pointing halfheartedly to one window. It was decorated by a spread of headbands and other accessories. "I mean, they're pretty, and it's an easy way to style your hair."

"Even for blind people, who'd usually have to worry about heat with things like straightening and curling irons?" Lelouch asked, smiling wryly.

Shirley flinched. "That's not—I'm sorry, Lelouch. I just thought—"

"No, don't worry about it," he said. "You're right. And they are pretty." He eyed an orange and yellow one in particular—it looked like a wreath of flowers, only it had autumn leaves instead of blossoms. Nausea rolled through him, unbidden, when he realised exactly what he was seeing when he looked at those leaves; Euphie sprawled atop a bed of warm colors, grass interspersed in her hair, her cheeks glowing faintly with bliss, her eyes drawn to their tree and the anchor of their relationship.

"Sorry for making you wait, ma'am, sir," an Honorary Britannian waitress said, approaching them with their order. He silently thanked her for interrupting his unwelcome memories. "Enjoy your meal."

He forced himself to forget. (He hated that even now, he could see her in everything, everywhere. Her eyes and her smile and her kindness. A kindness that had turned against and destroyed him.)

"We will, thank you," Lelouch said when he was confident that his voice would come out steady. Shirley grabbed the tray; he smiled and dug into his wallet for his money before offering the waitress a wad of bills.

"Lulu!" Shirley protested. "I can't let you pay for this!"

Lelouch rolled his eyes. "And I can't let you pay," he countered. "Just let me, okay, Shirley?"

She sighed and nodded. "Fine," she said. "But I'm paying for dessert."

He rolled his eyes and laughed. "We'll see," he said finally.

"Forgive me, sir," the Honorary Britannian interrupted apologetically, an embarrassed blush dusting her cheeks. She flinched when he turned to stare at her and dropped her gaze to the ground, fidgeting nervously. "I'm sorry, but we're all out of change," she said, swallowing thickly.

He blinked.

"Not a problem," Shirley stepped in quickly, shooting Lelouch a triumphant grin. "I'm sure I have exact change somewhere..." she said, rifling through her purse.

"Not a chance," Lelouch said. He snorted and gently pushed Shirley behind him. He sent the waitress a charming smile and said smoothly, "That's fine, ma'am. You may keep the change for yourself."

Her eyes widened in abject horror. "I can't do that, sir!" she protested. She spared the wad of bills in her hands another glance, almost looking regretful. She held them out to him. "Please, sir," she begged. "This is too much."

He widened his smile. "It's for you," he assured her. "I insist."

The waitress frowned and looked away. "I couldn't possibly—"

"I insist," he said sternly, but not unkindly. He neared her and whispered lowly, so only she could hear, "Britannia, my birthplace, stole away your home. At the very least, please allow me to repay you in any way I can, even if only by a fraction of a fraction."

Her eyes teared. "Thank you," she whispered gratefully. She clutched the money to her chest. "You're too kind."

He wondered what Euphemia would say about that and shook his head, banishing the thought. Why was she always on his mind, even now? "I'm only doing what is right," he said. "You have submitted to Britannian rule already; you deserve this."

She hugged herself and looked behind her shoulder, at the portly man standing by the booth. "I couldn't possible take all this for myself," she whimpered, terrified. "My boss would—"

"It isn't for your boss," he said. He suppressed a snarl. "Consider it a tip."

When she continued to look between her boss and him doubtfully, he clasped her hands, and the money, between his own and winked conspiratorially. "What he doesn't know can't hurt him."

She smiled shakily. "I'm eternally grateful," she said, bowing hastily. "My children will know that it is a Britannian they must thank for this kindness."

He laughed. "I'm not doing this to be thanked," he said. He stepped away from her and sat back on the bench beside Shirley, who looked on with tense curiosity.

The waitress nodded slowly and left, a bounce in her step that hadn't been there before.

"Wow, Lulu," Shirley said. There was a tinge of awe in her voice. "That was incredibly kind of you."

He shrugged, his eyes remaining on the woman's back. "She looked like she needed it," he said.

Shirley smiled warmly. "I'm impressed," she chuckled. "Who knew Lelouch Lamperouge was so generous?"

"Careful," he warned. Laughter simmered below the surface. "I might just decide to retract my generosity and let you pay for dessert."

"One can only hope so," she said.

He rolled his eyes. "Hope is an inconsequential thing," he countered, even though he wanted to believe in hope, just as he'd wanted to believe in Euphemia. He snarled inwardly and shoved the presence of her away.

Shirley frowned. "You're such a killjoy, you know?" she muttered.

"I know," he said with an unconcerned grin. "Either way," he began, "you better finish this pizza. I'm not too hungry." He'd eaten a slice already, but by the time he was finished, he was too sickened by the image of C.C. devouring whole boxes of the food to continue.

Shirley glared at him. "You've got to be kidding," she said. "I can't possibly finish all this on my own!"

C.C. would be able to, he thought to himself. "Then you can bring it home," he said.

"Oh, come on," she protested, but he only smiled, unfaltering. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and grumbled, "Fine."

She quickly finished one more slice before they called for the waitress, who came to them with a smile that was wider and kinder than it had originally been the first time she'd gone up to them. She brought the pizza back to them in a box and a plastic bag, bowing. "Thank you for choosing to eat here," she said. "Please come again!"

Lelouch snorted silently. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm sure I'll be back sometime." Most likely because C.C. drags me here.

Shirley nodded in agreement, smiling back at the waitress and accepting the bagged pizza. "The pizza was lovely, and you were a brilliant hostess," she called out as she and Lelouch headed for the store with the headbands.

She mulled over it for a long time, but eventually Lelouch groaned and urged her to make her decision; and at the end she chose six different types of headbands and bought Nunnally two of each. One of the versions, Lelouch noted, was the same one he'd noticed earlier, with the colors of fall marked on it in an array of leaves.

The cashier wrapped the twelve headbands neatly for them in a beautiful sheet of parchment paper before overlapping it with wrapping paper, decorated in summery flowers. "Enjoy your day," the cashier bid, handing the wrapped headbands over in a bag.

Shirley could feel Milly, Rivalz, Nina and Kallen following them around, but for the moment she couldn't care less. "Thank you," she said to the cashier, grabbing the present. "Come on," she said to Lelouch, nodding at the exit.

When they were out on the streets, Shirley said, "Do you mind if we go around? I got my present, but it's still kind of early, so I was thinking we could get that dessert, and maybe take a few pictures?"

He almost froze at her second offer, but he kept his pace and nodded eventually. "Since we have the time," he said, a little uneasily, and nodded.

She smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Lulu."

"What do you want, Shirley?" he murmured to her as they stood side-by-side and stared at the countless vendors, ranging from cupcake vendors to ice cream vendors.

She hummed, staring around the square with wide-eyed awe and he grinned slightly at her amazement—just like a little kid. "Let's get sundaes," she suggested after a moment of thought, beaming hopefully up at him.

He chuckled. "Sounds great," he agreed. She skipped over to the ice cream vendor ahead of him, and he rolled her eyes and watched her as she giddily approached the stand, as if she really were a six-year-old child, for a few seconds before he hurried over.

"Lulu," she cheered. "What flavor do you want?"

His eyes raked over the list. "I'll take vanilla," he said finally.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Huh," she said. "I didn't think you'd like vanilla. But, anyway, any toppings?"

He shook his head.

"How boring," she teased him, before turning to the woman running the vendor. "We'll take one vanilla, no toppings, and one strawberry topped with Oreos."

The woman nodded and punched in a few buttons, and before Shirley could do or say anything, Lelouch pushed in front of her and held out a few bills, eyeing the reading. The woman's eyes widened in surprise and recognition. "Y-You are..." she trailed off, realized where she was, and flushed. "Sorry! That will equal to..." She bit her lip, calculating the total and the amount of cash he'd given, when he shook his head and shushed her.

"Keep the change," he said dismissively, having noticed her shock as she recognized him. He stared at her face, and despite the lack of bruises, he remembered where he'd seen her before. "I'm glad to see you're alright now," he said with a charming smile.

She gaped. "I—you—it's all thanks to you," she managed to say softly. "I can't thank you enough. And I already can't possibly repay you without the extra change you're offering."

"You don't need to repay me," he insisted, pushing the money into her hands. "And I'm not offering—I'm giving. I will not accept refusal."

She blinked rapidly, as if trying to assess the situation, before she smiled at him, wide yet shaky, and nodded uncertainly. "Thank you, again. I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't helped me, that day."

He nodded, suppressing a grimace. He hated the submission of the Japanese. Britannia had no right commanding their obedience, and yet they did. It was despicable. More than anything, he detested the fact that his father, and the other members of the court, refused to even acknowledge the suffering of the Numbers.

The Honorary Britannian held out their two cones of ice cream, and he grabbed both with a thank-you. He turned to Shirley and offered her one.

"You know, I asked you to come with me and help me with buying your sister's birthday present, but I never thought that I'd be seeing so much of you that I never even dreamed of," she commented as they walked down the pavement. She smiled up at him, her peridot-green eyes glinting at him through her thick, curly lashes. "I mean, who knew you had such a soft spot for Honorary Britannians?" she asked with a chuckle as she kicked along a pebble.

"I don't," he countered. She blinked. He smiled wryly and corrected, "Not for Honorary Britannians. For all Japanese."

"Why?" she whispered. "I mean, not that it's a bad thing, but... I never thought you would. Why?"

He just shrugged. "We conquered them. They cannot be who they are or who they want to be anymore, because of us."

"I understand that, but—"

"Did you know that I lived here before the war?" he interrupted. Her eyes widened, and when her head snapped up so that she could stare at him, she saw that he was looking down, eyes burning with brewing anger. "I know this land from before it was invaded. It was a beautiful place, you know. More beautiful than Britannia. And it was peaceful. The people were kind, and even though we were Britannians, they accepted my sister and I easily."

She said nothing, at a loss for words, and he laughed dryly. "They shouldn't have. It is our homeland that declared war on them, and for what? Why was any of it necessary? The people I saw as farmers, shopkeepers—mothers and sons and daughters—I ended up having to see splattered on the ground." Their shadows were burned into his memory, and their blood a reminder of Britannia's sin.

Shirley swallowed back the bile rising up in her throat, horrified by his description. Nausea swept through her. "I guess I never thought about the people who died," she said in shame.

"We rarely do," he said, taking her reaction in stride. "These people—they used to be proud people. But now they are hard-pressed to even acknowledge that they are strong, and they don't want to accept extra change; accept that they are worth it." He laughed breathlessly. "They've survived the war. But it might be the Britannian pedestrians on the street who end up killing them."

"...I'm glad," she whispered. "I'm glad I had this chance to see this side of you. It rarely shows up, but it's amazing, the way you understand and empathize with them. Not many people would have the compassion to."

He snorted. "I'm sure most people have the capacity to feel guilty. People could extend their kindness, theoretically. They just don't want to."

"That's what makes you all the more amazing," she said earnestly, and he looked away, almost embarrassed.

He crossed his arms in an attempt to hide the part of him that enjoyed her praise. "We should go take those photos you want done," he urged, gulping.

She laughed. "Okay." She smiled. "Let's go to the nearest photo booth."

By the time they arrived at the photo booth, they'd finished their ice creams. Lelouch rifled through his wallet hurriedly, retrieving a series of coins to insert into the machine. When the last two people before them exited—a young man and woman who gazed at each other on the other end of intertwined hands, Shirley observed, blushing—they entered the booth and arranged themselves quickly.

"Okay…" Shirley said, reaching forward and hastily clicking the button. She beamed at the camera as the countdown started.

Click.

"Lulu!" she whined. "Smile wider! Like me!"

He cringed and, warily, he broadened his smile until it became a full-fledged grin.

Click.

"Yes," she said gleefully, and he heard the beginnings of a laugh escape her. "Exactly like that!"

Click.

"Do I have to keep smiling like this?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Of course!" she insisted. "One more," she promised when he frowned, nudging him slightly. "Please?"

Click.

She burst out laughing as their pictures came out. "We look great," she remarked sarcastically as she pointed at their faces, still laughing. "I've never seen you smile like that before. You should do it more!"

He rolled his eyes and groaned stuffily, muttering incoherently under his breath.

"Oh, shush," she said over her shoulder. "Here, you can take two, and I'll take two."

He nodded slightly, and she spread the four pictures out like a fan for him to choose from. He picked out one which had both of them grinning like little children, and then another one, with Shirley poorly hiding a giggle and with him sighing and looking at her oddly.

"We should probably get going," he said. "We're holding up the line."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, startled. She laughed guiltily. "Right. Let's leave."

He did, and while she dragged him away into the streets, with her hands in her pockets, still clutching her two pictures, he smiled and took out his wallet again. He hesitated, glanced at his pictures of Shirley and him, and he flipped open the wallet.

His gaze landed on the sole picture displayed in his wallet. It was of him together with Euphemia, taken a few days after their first picnic in the park, when he'd been too taken by her to consider his actions clearly and he'd kissed her without thinking.

He gulped, his stomach clenching painfully. In his other hand, his pictures with Shirley quivered.

"What's that?" Shirley asked him, drawing him out of his thoughts, and he jumped as if caught red-handed. Guiltily, he looked up at Shirley, and then back down at the photo of him and Euphemia, arms wrapped around each other and lips pressed together as they embraced in front of a familiar oak tree.

They looked unkempt and off-guard, as though they were drunk men chugging down their drinks, or blind, drowning men feeling for their lifeboats in an unfamiliar world as they inhaled the air that was made of their love and roamed their hands around, memorizing the feel of each other's bodies.

They'd carved their initials into that oak tree, he remembered and laughed bitterly.

"It's nothing," he told her firmly, but inside he wavered. The light inside Euphemia's eyes still sparked a flame inside him, and it refused to die out.

"Come on, Lulu!" the princess laughed, pulling his arm as she twirled happily in front of him. "Hurry up," she said, tugging on him. "You're such a slowpoke."

He laughed with her, rolling his eyes and assenting to her control. "All right, all right," he conceded, hastening his pace. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"That's a surprise," she said. She looked back at him, over her shoulder, and winked.

"Out into the public?" he wondered. "My, how daring of you, princess," he teased.

She grinned. "Anything for you," she said. He finally caught up to her, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer as she giggled and skipped down the road.

"Anything?" he murmured into the crook of her neck.

She squealed. "That tickles!" she whined, trying to disentangle herself from him. "Lulu," she protested when he refused to let go.

"Never," he said to her unspoken question. "You're staying with me," he said stubbornly.

She shrugged, stopping her struggling. "I have no qualms with that," she replied slyly. She hummed with laughter and heralded them both forward, until they had arrived at the same park they'd met in many times before. Their first meeting place as girl and boy. "Our home," she said, and he smiled.

"Our home," he agreed.

"Follow me," she whispered, leading him to the back of the large tree they identified as their own. She stood by the trunk for a brief moment, admiring the view as she always did, before she whirled around to face him and she declared, "He should be here soon."

"He?" Lelouch wondered.

She nodded, grinning cheerily. "So we are burned into eternity, together."

He blinked and descended into silence for a few stunned seconds. "Burned into eternity...?" he echoed. "Should I be afraid?"

Her smile broadened, almost teasingly, and she said nothing. His question was answered, however, when a man dressed in a black suit strode around the bend. Behind him, a group of men and women, similarly dressed in professional attire, approached, struggling as they heaved and carried a large black camera over their heads. Others brought with them heavy boxes.

"...a cameraman?" Lelouch deadpanned, his eyebrows knitted into a skeptical frown.

She nodded, pleased with herself. "Of course!" She grinned. "Come on, Lelouch, please?"

He sighed in exaggerated annoyance. Still, he couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips. "Fine, fine," he agreed. "Just this once!"

"Yes!" she exhaled, beaming with joy. "Thanks, Lulu," she laughed.

He nodded distantly, wondering who the cameraman was that Euphie trusted him enough to keep his identity and their relationship a secret. He wondered if they were even aware of who he was.

The next hour or so were blurry in his memory as he and Euphie were pushed around and positioned everywhere and into every pose. "Yes, yes," the cameraman would say, nodding approvingly. "Marvelous!"

He bore it for her.

When it came time for their last picture, he ignored the team's suggestions and grabbed Euphie around the waist. He dragged her to the edge of the lake, and together they watched as the water rippled while the cameraman hustled to reposition his camera.

"Euphie," he started.

"Yes?" she asked, breath caught. When he looked at her, he didn't see the princess, the emperor's daughter—he saw her rosy, flushed cheeks and her eyes, which shone with unadulterated and unrestricted happiness. Unbound by the chains of royalty, he saw her as she had always been: a child in love with life.

He felt blessed to see her this overjoyed, this cheerful. "I love you," he whispered throatily, unable to stop himself.

Her eyes widened. Out of breath, a silent laugh escaped her lips and they blossomed into a broader smile. She blushed, and in her, he saw a girl who found freedom in spite of her position. "Not as much as I love you," she responded.

He admired her earnest desire for peace, for harmony and unity amidst their warring world. He admired her love for everything.

He delved into the endless cosmos inside her eyes and lifted her by the waist, too overcome by joy to control himself or to feel her settling in his arms. She was weightless—a feather carried by the winds of change—as he pulled her flush against him and kissed her. He kissed her because he wanted to, because he loved her, and on her lips, he tasted a future. Theirs.

He closed his eyes, savored their love, and felt her hand in his hair. He squeezed her tighter, never wanting to let go.

"It's perfect," one of the women whispered, breathless with wonder as Lelouch heard the click of a camera, and his eyes snapped open as he remembered where he was.

He kept Euphie close for another second before they parted for air, and he watched her eyes crinkle with surprised laughter. "It's so easy to fall for you," she said, voice shaky and full of want, and he almost dove for her again.

"Yes," they heard, and his arms dropped from Euphie's hips with a start. It was the cameraman. They swiveled around to face him, faces red like deer caught in headlights, and he grinned joyously. "Perfect, indeed."

He regained his composure first. He cleared his throat, stepped forward so he was partly shielding Euphie, and said politely, "Thank you for your time."

"Y-Yes," Euphie agreed unsteadily, cheeks still burning brightly. "Thank you so much."

The cameraman laughed in amusement. "No, princess, it is I who thanks you; it was a pleasure to work with the both of you," he said sincerely. "I will have the photos emailed to you immediately, and as soon as I have them printed, I will have one of my workers bring them to you."

"Ah," Lelouch said. "Perhaps it would be best if they are sent to Ashford Academy."

Euphie nodded eagerly. "Yes," she agreed. "Please, when they are printed, have them brought to the Dean of Ashford Academy. Give him the name Lamperouge, and he will give them to us."

The cameraman smiled. "Of course," he said, and he hurried to his computer. He uploaded the pictures and sent out the email before he bowed once and left the park. His workers followed behind him.

"Finally," Lelouch exhaled. He grinned at Euphie. "Now it's just you and me, princess."

She laughed. "Indeed," she purred.

He grinned, taking her by the hand and heading over to the tree. He sat down, glanced up at her, and invited, "Won't you join me?"

She said nothing, but she gracefully bent down until she'd laid herself on the grass, with her head plopped up by his legs. She hummed absentmindedly and traced her name on his wrist, as if to claim him as her own.

He bent forward and kissed her forehead tenderly. "You're mine, princess. Forever."

She smiled up at him through thick lashes sticky with tears. "Tonight," she said, rolling onto her side and resting her head on his chest and relaxing. "Tonight, Lulu, I am not a princess."

"Oh?"

She nodded, one arm reaching around him and playing with the hem of his shirt. "Tonight, we are just girl and boy, reunited under the stars. We are not princess and student, or the celebrated and the exiled, or the honored and the disgraced. We are not segregated by the rules the emperor has bestowed upon us. We are just Euphie and Lulu, me and you," she whispered into the enveloping fabric of his jacket.

Her breath licked at his chest, and he shivered at the warmth. "Me and you," he echoed, prying her fingers away from his shirt and taking them into his own hand.

She smiled into his chest, closing her eyes and inhaling his scent, and his strength. "Always," she said. "My heart is yours, Lulu." She guided the hand that wasn't on her hip to her chest, to the layer of skin that hummed above her beating heart.

"As mine belongs to you," he said. His hand freed itself from hers and he nudged her head closer to the left side of his own chest, and she let the darkness claim her as she listened to the stampeding of his heart.

"Hey, Euphie," he prodded.

"What is it?" she mumbled, almost incoherently, as she snuggled deeper towards him.

He laughed, and though it was all breath, it was sincere. Her hold on him tightened. "Look up, Euphie," he coaxed. She hummed and tilted her head so that she could see him and the ocean reflected in his eyes. He smiled. "The stars smile at us, Euphie."

Her head lolled back and she leaned against him as she peered out into the sky. Countless constellations of countless stars blinked and chimed above them, and she pictured them beaming. "It's breathtaking," she remarked. "A sight worthy of kings and queens."

"I thought that you said we are just boy and girl," he reminded her, amused.

She nodded. "But I'm not talking about the emperor or empress. I'm talking about the rulers of the world of chess."

His eyebrows skipped upward on his forehead, and he gazed down at her fondly, a smile playing on his lips. "So we rule chess, then?"

"Of course," she said quickly. "You will take up the mantle of the black king for me, won't you?"

"So long as you will play queen," he answered.

"I will," she said. Her eyes remained on the stars even as he noticed the dreamy, faraway quality to them, and her voice longed for his embrace.

"If that is the case, then will the queen lead her king to paradise?"

She rolled her eyes in exasperation and pushed off him. He grinned lazily down at her. "Paradise?" she repeated with a laugh.

"Paradise," he echoed. His stare turned serious.

She nodded with a smile. "She will," she whispered. Thirst and hunger mingled with desperation as they danced on the fringe of her voice. Her eyes smoldered with desire.

"Lelouch?" Shirley asked, concerned. "Lelouch."

He blinked and glanced at her. His eyes stung with unshed tears. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?" she said. She pursed her lips and kept one eye on the picture in his wallet. She frowned. "What's wrong, Lulu?"

"Nothing," he mumbled in denial. "I'm fine."

Shirley sighed pensively. "Who is she?" she asked curiously. She heard the jealousy lacing her own voice and winced.

Lelouch smiled, just barely visible against the somber graveness of his face. "She was... a close friend," he said after a beat of silence. "I think I might have loved her."

Shirley blinked owlishly. "Past... tense?" she inquired, and she wondered if that was hope in her voice.

He stilled, and the smile faded from his face. Before she could race to apologize and retract her question, he nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Past tense."

She said nothing more, and he kept his own silence.

He didn't want to admit it, but he was lying. He still loved Euphemia, even despite everything that had happened. He loved the memory of her; he loved the person she used to be. It would never be past tense, he mused, because, to him, she would always be the girl who wanted to love an ideal, where he and her were equals.

He remembered the fire burning between them, tying them together, and he remembered their intertwined hands and aligned hearts as they sought to immortalize their love for each other, and he thought that, maybe, he had also wanted for them to have a chance to love and live without the judgmental eyes of others staring them down.

"I will love you until I die," she said.

He thought of C.C. and the eternity that stretched out ahead of her, and he wished he and Euphemia could share her unending life, if only so he could have Euphemia's heart forever. "And I will love you to the ends of time."

(Because he knew that life was short, but the universe was not.)

He emblazoned them into his memory as they were in their photo—in love and together—etching the lines of their smiles and the light of their hearts onto the back of his eyelids until he could never forget.

He shoved the images of him and Shirley, smiling at the camera, one after the other, into the pocket of his wallet so that it covered his old picture, and so that it hid his hope for he and Euphemia from even his own eyes.

---

"So," Milly said brightly. "How did it go?"

Shirley rolled her eyes. "You ask me that as though you weren't following us around yesterday," she accused. "You can't fool me, Madame Pres."

Rivalz laughed nervously. "Sorry, Shirley. Milly insisted."

"Traitor!" their president exclaimed, but she was smiling through her glare, so Rivalz only smiled back. "And it's Madame President, Rivalz," she added as an afterthought.

Rivalz wilted and amended, "Right, sorry, Madame Pres."

"But it went fine, as you know," Shirley said. "I think, at least."

"What do you mean, you think?" Nina asked shyly.

Shirley laughed nervously. "Well, there were times where he shut down, you know. Like, on the train, when I asked him about Nunnally. Or at the end, after we took our picture."

"Speaking of which," Milly interjected. "I can't believe you guys got your photo taken together! That's so cute!" She was practically brimming with excitement.

Rivalz snorted. "Madame Pres here wanted to run and jump in, just so she could be in the picture."

"Thank you for holding her back, then," Shirley said with a laugh.

Milly grinned. "You two are adorable," she cooed. "It makes me glad I didn't burst into the picture. At least now you can show people the picture and tell them you're dating!"

Shirley's jaw dropped. "Please, Madame President!" she whined, blushing.

Milly winked. "Don't thank me yet," she sang. "But you can thank me later on, when that picture is the first one you show to your grandchildren."

Shirley groaned. "You've got to stop dreaming, Madame Pres," she said ruefully, but she couldn't help but imagine it herself. She smacked herself in the head and turned away defiantly from Milly, who laughed loudly.

But even then, she remembered the other picture Lelouch kept—of him and that other girl—and she faltered. She remembered staring in shock at the desperation and desire she saw in their printed selves. She remembered the way Lelouch looked as he laid bare his heart and kissed a girl who wasn't her.

And she never told Milly or anyone else about it, because maybe she didn't want it to be true. Maybe she wanted to be able to believe that she'd dreamed it all up, the vision of Lelouch in love, and if she said it out loud, she wouldn't be able to deny it any longer.

"She was... a close friend. I think I might have loved her." His eyes were sad.

It was no hallucination, she thought soberly. He... he said it was past tense. But nothing could erase the faraway look in his eyes, and she recognized it as the same look she would have whenever she looked into the mirror and thought of him.

---

nine

He was in the middle of discussing the Black Knights with C.C. when he noticed the group of students heading his way. He groaned and dropped the call with little explanation, only telling her, "I have to go; I'll contact you later with a plan."

He was shoving his phone into his pocket when they arrived, cornering him. He tilted his head and eyed them curiously, wondering what this was all about. Shirley frowned and looked around him, as though she had expected to find someone with him. "Where's Nunnally?" Shirley asked, frowning.

"…she's inside with Sayoko," he answered eventually. "She's sick, so whatever you have planned, leave her out of it."

"Oh, come on, Lelouch!" Rivalz whined. "You don't even know why we're here."

He snorted mirthlessly. "I know enough," he said. "I know it can't be good, not if Milly's smiling like that."

Milly's mouth fell open with an exaggerated sense of sarcasm. "You wound me, Lulu," she mocked, one hand on her chest.

He raised his eyebrows, unimpressed as he stared her down. She sighed and dropped her hand, letting go of her hurt expression with a roll of her eyes. "Now, what are you here for?" he demanded.

She grinned. "The SAZ, of course."

He worked and reworked his mind, trying to find a response. His mouth opened to let him retort, only to close again. He shook his head and sighed. "What about the Specially Administrated Zone?" he asked tiredly, giving up on figuring out her motive.

Her grin broadened. "We're here to drag you along with us," she crowed. "And don't think you can escape, Lulu."

He blinked.

"Stop saying it like that," Shirley scolded, jabbing Milly in the ribs. She stepped forward and smiled disarmingly. "What she meant to say, Lulu, is that we want you to come and watch it with us."

"I meant to say exactly what I said, Shirley," Milly protested. "If he refuses to cooperate, I will drag him. No, wait, Rivalz will drag him!"

"Wait, what?" Rivalz spluttered from beside her, turning to stare at her, appalled.

She just smiled innocently. "Well, if Suzaku, our resident soldier, isn't here to carry out orders like that, then I suppose I'll have to rely on you to do all the heavy-lifting."

Shirley pointedly ignored them. "Let's go, Lulu," she pressed. "You should come with us!"

He winced, his eyes darting frantically to Milly, who grinned at him, to Rivalz, who smiled nervously, and then to Nina, who shuffled uneasily as she avoided his searching gaze. He heaved a sigh. "Actually, Shirley, I just remembered I have something to do today."

Milly's eyes narrowed and she took a step forward, cutting off Shirley's reply, "I don't think so, Lelouch. What could be more important than this?"

He gaped at her in shock. "But—but—I thought that you were the one who..." he trailed off, glancing at their audience and snapping his mouth shut. He glared at her, trying to convey the end of his sentence to her silently. She had to know what he was talking about.

"Lelouch, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Milly demanded, her stare accusatory as she stepped into his room and locked the door behind her. She scanned his room tentatively, as though she feared that, much like his behavior, it had changed, too. She was relieved to see that it was still recognizable to her.

He arched an eyebrow and looked up from where he was scrolling on his laptop, through the list of Black Knight applicants. He closed the lid of the laptop instantly, trying to maintain a facade of calm. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

Her eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. "The Specially Administrated Zone of Japan," she hissed furiously. "What are you planning, Lelouch? Why do you want to go?"

He froze. The Specially Administrated Zone of Japan. He still needed to meet Euphemia there as Zero. And he couldn't let what had happened between them ruin the natives' chances at the right to call themselves Japanese again. "You're right," he said finally, his voice strained. "I don't know what I was thinking. Rest assured, I've cleared my priorities. I'm not going."

Her eyes widened. She hadn't expected him to admit defeat so easily. "You..." She shook her head to clear the surprise. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I was being stupid. I mean, how foolish can I be? I've long since lost the chance to choose when it comes to something like this. The secret of my identity is too important to risk, especially for a single event such as the Specially Administrated Zone of Japan."

"Lelouch..." she murmured. Hesitation danced on the fringe of her voice as she searched his eyes for something, anything. She must have found what she was looking for, because she recoiled and stepped backwards, guilt on her face. "I... I understand," she said, inhaling shakily.

He watched as she turned around, shoulders squared and tense as she strode out of the room. His jaw set firmly. He'd go only as Zero, and only because it was required of him. Because as the masked leader of the Order of the Black Knights, it was his duty to represent all Japanese, and ensure that Britannia's intentions would aid towards the betterment of Japan.

"Shirley's right, Lelouch. You should join us." Her stare, no matter how much he probed it, remained unwavering. "This'll be good for you. And besides, didn't you say it was a great move for peace?"

He blinked rapidly, his chest squeezing painfully. Milly... "I did say that," he muttered, but then shook his head. "But I can't go, Milly. You know that."

"Don't you get it, Lelouch?" Milly interrupted. For once, her voice was desperate, earnest. He swallowed thickly. "We're not taking no for an answer. Whatever prior commitment you have will just have to wait."

"Milly—"

She smiled at him, and though it was an honest smile, it was small and not nearly as overbearing as her usual smiles were. It cut into him better than any knife ever could. "That's Madame President to you, Lelouch," she said levelly. "And as president, I command you to join us."

It was almost funny, he mused. He wielded Absolute Obedience, and yet he still had to submit to the whims of his closest friends. He'd had to succumb to Euphemia, too, when he'd been forced to stare reality in the eye and acknowledge that she wasn't his, had never been his.

Milly bit her lip and dropped her gaze when he kept his silence. A few, tense seconds stretched out between them before she exhaled and lifted her head to meet his eye. "Please," she whispered.

His eyes widened in surprise, despite himself. She had never genuinely wanted something before, much less begged for it. But here she was, lowering her guard and pride for the sake of his attendance during the SAZ.

Shirley, despite her own shock, nodded hastily in agreement. "She's right, Lulu. We won't accept a refusal."

He sighed in defeat. "Fine," he snapped, glowering at them. He crossed his arms over his chest and hissed, "This is the last time I'm letting you pull rank over me, Milly."

"Madame President," she reprimanded, voice singsong. She smirked at him, mischief on her face, but there was relief and something else in her eyes, so he let it slide.

He scowled and lagged behind them as they continued on to the subway, digging out his phone and pressing C.C.'s contact. Change of plans, he messaged. You're on your own for this. Masquerade as Zero and stall her until I can arrive.

---

C.C. stared down at the screen of her phone with irritation. Not much of a plan, Zero, she thought with a sigh. She frowned but shrugged on Zero's outfit and cape nonetheless, putting the mask on last. By now, she was almost used to the way it filtered the world, dark and distant and numb. She maneuvered the Shinkiro to land on the stage, reveling in the awed murmurs of the crowd.

She noticed the hopeful smile on Euphemia's face, expectant and relieved at the same time, and wondered if she knew. There was something warm about the way she welcomed Zero, something like trust. It was almost foreign to her.

The princess led her to the G1, ignoring the fuss she caused as the soldiers and her knight, Kururugi, worried about her. C.C. rolled her eyes and followed Euphemia away.

The door closed behind them and the power shut off, even more darkness pervading her system. "I've turned everything off," Euphemia said quietly, sitting down. Her shoulders were hunched, so unlike a royal-born lady. "Won't you take off your mask, Lelouch?"

C.C.'s eyes widened in surprise. She hesitated for a moment, Euphemia's eyes begging her, before she removed her mask swiftly. "I'm surprised he told you," she commented idly.

Euphemia blinked, taking in her green hair, her gold eyes, her unfamiliar features. "Who... are you?" she asked, brows furrowed.

C.C. paused. For a prolonged moment, the question struck her and echoed relentlessly in her ears. Who was she? To Zero, to Lelouch, who was she? "An ally to your brother's cause," she said finally.

Euphemia's eyes widened. Confusion stirred in her lavender gaze, and C.C. reveled in that unease. "Is there a difference?" Euphemia asked quietly, noticing the distinction. Not her cause—peace, she thought faintly—not Zero's cause, but Lelouch's.

"Enough of one," C.C. answered, and her voice reminded Euphemia of Lelouch—a facade of softness frozen over the icy cold that reigned within. A suppressed, once-forgotten rage that simmered—for the briefest of seconds, Euphemia thought she might have understood why it was C.C. who wore that cape, that mask, as Zero's trusted.

She didn't want to pry further—didn't want to know what C.C. meant. What did her brother fight for? "Where is he?" she wondered, and a pinch of anger twisted in her gut, quickly followed by a nauseous guilt. Had he fled? Was he so unwilling to face her that he had chosen to forgo the meeting altogether? The SAZ… She didn't want to believe it. Didn't want to believe that he'd let their personal misunderstandings stand in the way of justice.

C.C. shrugged, plastering the same feign of nonchalance that had gotten her through the last decades. "Where he needs to be," she said noncommittally. C.C. didn't know where he was, but she did know that what lay beneath the surface of his parents' face was an angry, monstrous thing that writhed. For his vengeance, he wouldn't shirk off his duties.

Euphemia frowned. "And where is that?" she pressed.

"He would have told you if he needed you to know, wouldn't he have?" C.C. sneered. She crossed the room in a handful of long, even strides, and sat herself down in one of the chairs. She swung around and faced Euphemia. "He'll be here soon," she muttered.

Euphemia fidgeted, discomfort clear on her features. But she said nothing as she followed C.C. to the cluster of couches and grabbed a seat for herself. "I'd hope so," she said eventually, her voice stiff. Uncertainty wove through her mind.

"I'll be yours forever," he promised, a sweetness he usually reserved for only Nunnally entering his amethyst eyes.

She blinded herself to the reminder of their father—of what he had done—and buried herself deeper into his blanket. "When we were children," she reminisced, "you guarded Nana like she was your treasure. I remember being so jealous of her. Only four, and already she had a knight of her own. But I decided that I didn't want a knight—not in you, at least. No, when I saw you, I saw your kindness first. I saw a prince."

He stilled against her touch. She flinched, but pressed on, "That's when I first realized who you were to me. My prince."

"A prince without a crown," she heard him murmur darkly. "A prince without a title, without a people."

"I don't care," she breathed. "I am yours."

"Is that a fact?" he whispered into her ear, inhaling her, exhaling her. Being her.

Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn't find the words to answer him—in the end, when her voice failed her, she chose to nod and gaze up at him through her lidded eyes. Yes, her eyes answered him, where her mouth could not. Fact, fact, fact.

Euphemia stifled a sob, familiar in its ache and weight. God, she'd loved him. So much. More than that, she'd loved them. Alone, without him, she was suffocating. Drowning in herself.

She really had loved him. She knew she had. But she'd also known that he was made of thunder and lightning—and at the end of the day, she was afraid of a little rain.

And Suzaku—

—he'd just been there. He'd thought she loved him, and maybe, if she hadn't had Lelouch, she really could have. Loved him, she meant. He was everything she'd always imagined in the perfect knight—he was compassionate, selfless, generous, kind, loyal, and too just for his own good. But he'd been a knight—

—(That's when I first realized who you were to me. My prince.)—

—and maybe what she wanted was a prince. Hers hadn't even been able to look at her the last time they'd met, but she couldn't just pretend that she didn't remember; the way he tasted, the feeling of his hair in her hands, his fingers tracing circles on her back. It hurt, and remembering what she'd done—how she'd killed them in a way they couldn't come back from—hurt more.

She couldn't forget. She could always feel him. Feel them.

---

"I hope that one day you can forgive me for what I've done," Euphemia whispered earnestly after they'd settled down. Her fingers quivered with the weight of her statement, her constant wish, and he pulled his eyes away from them.

He contemplated her words for a moment, noticing that C.C. had left the room and silently thanking her for it. Witch or not, at least C.C. understood. He picked up his mask from where it lay on the table, reliable and solid and unfathomable. He put it down again, slowly and reluctantly, and faced his sister, his enemy, his ally. "Have you ever understood?" he asked quietly.

She jerked upwards at his statement, her shoulders subconsciously broadening and her chin lifting slightly. Her eyes squinted. "Understood?" Movement drew her eyes to the mask of Zero, his mask. Her lips pressed together into a thin line. "Understood Zero?"

He nodded firmly. "Do you understand why I took up the mask? Why I needed to fight?"

"...because of father," she said after a moment of hesitation. "Because of what happened to your mother, your sister, you. Because of your vengeance."

He laughed bitterly. "You're smart, Euphemia. And it did start out that way."

"Start out?" she echoed, pointedly ignoring the way he'd addressed her—because it stung, and Euphemia should never belong on his tongue, not anymore. It should always be Euphie, Euphie, Euphie.

He hummed noncommittally. "It's because of hope," he answered. "The Japanese hope for a brighter life, a future. And I hope for the same for Nunnally, for her smiles and for her happiness. The people of Japan have come to rely on me, princess. They count on me and put their hopes in my hands, as my sister has. And I won't let them down."

She nodded, staring at him with a weathered gaze.

"When you first proposed the SAZ... I was so angry." He laughed again, quick and loud and sharp, cutting through skin and bone. "I wanted you to understand—to have a taste of the war I've been through. I wanted you to realize how foolish your dream was, is. I wanted you to know what it means to be brought to your knees, as I do."

"...I'm sorry," she said, her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes watered. "I didn't know," she whimpered, half-pleading, half-unsure. "I thought... I thought you'd want it, too. The SAZ, that is. A place where we can be together, regardless of status. I thought you shared the same dream I have."

"I do," he said harshly. His voice slashed through her like a blade—better than one. "But this... I've stared our father down, Euphemia. He is not the kind of man to accept a peace like this—a tentative peace not won through war, not won through blood and chaos. He's a man who'd play his children like puppets."

"I know that, Lelouch," she hissed. "I saw it, too, when he chose to exile you. I saw it! That's why I renounced my title as Euphemia li Britannia. Why I forsook my heritage, my lineage, everything that makes me superior under his decree."

He was quiet for a long moment, and everything was so still she thought time had frozen. She wished it had, so she could move heaven and hell with nothing but her will, so she could bend everything and erase her decision.

You knighted me, princess. So let me be your knight.

She shuddered as the terrifying intensity of Suzaku's voice ripped through her for the millionth time. Ruptured by fear, she silenced his words, tore his breath and voice from him, and closed his eyes so she could no longer see the warmth in his too-green eyes. The kindness. She flinched. She didn't want to think of how kind he was, of how every bone in his body was alit with the selfless flames of a hero. She didn't want to remember.

She didn't want to.

Finally, her brother moved again. His face shifted first. It was apprehension she saw at the beginning, gentle and unsure as it probed the muscles of his regal face. Those eyes, those high cheekbones, that defined jaw she'd traced a thousand times in her sleep. And then slowly, so slowly she wondered if she was imagining it, his face crumpled with defeat.

"Does it move you too?" he whispered finally, his voice less solid and more shadow, slithering through the unmoving air into her skull. "Do you feel it too?"

"Lulu—"

"Is it peace you fight for?" he demanded. He must have really been distracted, she thought, to not even bat an eye at her use of his nickname. "Is all this for the hope of a people that will never belong to you? For their future, even though they will never thank you for it?" He hesitated, the words he wanted to say dying on his tongue. Though he refused to voice them, she could see the question in his eyes: Do you seek the same thing I do? Do you fight for their lives as I do?

Her smile was weak, fragile. She didn't know what to say but: "What else is there to fight for?" But he was wrong. She wanted to claim that motive, she wanted to ride the high tide of a savior and bask in the glory of knowing she'd looked out for the misfortunate. But it wasn't the weak who'd surfaced in her mind, when she had first thought of a Specially Administered Zone and picked up her pen. It wasn't the poor, the defenseless.

It had been the strong that had emerged. So powerful, so beautiful, so like the old gods her mother had woven tales of. With hair black as night and eyes violet as a tyrant's, the earth had trembled beneath his feet. And she knew it would tremble again.

Don't you see? she wanted to say. The words strained against her lips, but she didn't budge. Even now you don't understand. Perhaps he never had. Behind her wide smiles and earnest let us build a new world together's, the SAZ wasn't for the Japanese, the suffering people of a forgotten nation. It was all for him. It had always been so.

He stiffened a second time, and she took the chance to trap him in her gaze. In the dim light of the G1, she saw him as he used to be, ten years old and standing strong under the starlit skies. Their favorite constellations burned bright above him, spattering flecks of silvery light onto his collarbone.

"You are just as naive as you used to be, Euphie," he murmured, and her heart wilted at the familiar look in his eyes. The familiar sound of his voice as he whispered her name like a prayer, caressing it with his voice. But then his eyes hardened, and she felt him draw up his shields again as they returned to the reality she had fractured, carelessly spilling Suzaku's determined formality over Lelouch's too-easy smiles. He let go of her name and it shattered on the ground, somewhere between them.

She didn't dare look away.

He no doubt saw her anguish because he choked out a breathless laugh. "I'm giving it a chance, Euphemia,"—his voice was cold, hard, emotionless as though he'd locked himself into a closet and all he could feel was the need to regain control—"if only because you're right. I do want this, just as you do. A world where equality, and peace, are celebrated. One where we can coexist without fighting."

"One where you forgive me?" she begged impulsively. She couldn't help it; there was nothing she desired more than the hooded look in his eyes when he took her hand in his and pressed his lips to her knuckles, than the small crease of a smile touching his eyes when she brushed her fingers against his chin. Her eyes mirrored her voice: broken, full of longing, of missing.

A second passed. And then another, and another, and just when he was beginning to give in to their mutual want and dip his head into the slightest nod, a familiar rage washed over him. But this time, staring into the molten fire in her drowning gaze, it drained out just as quickly.

His Geass, coursing through his veins, thrummed quietly behind his eye, and he suppressed it with a snarl. He hesitated for a moment, saw the quiver of her chin as she tried to be strong, and sighed. He let the floor fall out from under his feet and nodded sharply, hating her fear, hating her sadness. "Perhaps," he allowed.

She smiled at him through her tears; a small, shaky smile, but it was still a smile. She extended her hand to him, and after a second of silence, he pressed his mask firmly to his face—he ignored the weight that came with it as it settled, new and unfamiliar—and accepted. Together, they headed out of the room and made their way toward the waiting people.

Maybe it would work. No bloodshed, no infighting, no discrimination. Just peace. He hoped.

Perhaps in premonition, his Geass itched. The pain spread from his eye to the back of his mind, but the chatter of the people drew him out and reminded him what it was at stake.

---

eight

He pounded his fists against the cold tile of the bathroom wall and swallowed a slip of a sob. He couldn't do it—couldn't look his friends in the eye and smile and pretend don't worry, everything's fine.

Nothing was fine. Not the world, and certainly not them.

He couldn't lie when the taste of his fairy tale still burned on his lips like venom, reminding him of the fire of their ending with every breath he took. He couldn't when her meek, terrified lavender eyes still burrowed holes into his skin, and every time he closed his eyes her face shadowed by the dark of the G1 haunted him.

He couldn't when it was her voice that sung him to sleep every night, and then awoke him with a hideous shriek each following morning.

I—I can't—I'm going insane—

He knew he was. He could feel himself losing his grip on reality, feel the rope tethering him to the living world instead of his fading memories fray and tear.

He needed to forget her. To forget them.

---

seven

She'd taken to ignoring Suzaku. She knew she couldn't avoid him forever—she knew it was wrong, especially when his confused eyes continuously reminded her that none of this was her fault.

If only she could blame him. She wondered if that would be easier, pinning her loathing on anyone but herself.

Let me be your knight.

"No!" she howled, and buried herself into the fabric of her gown. Her tears stained the white, the pink, until her dress was as ruined as her soul. "No," she sobbed, gasping for breath. "Stop. Stop!"

She clutched at her ears as though that would stop the torrent of memories, the flood of Suzaku's words, clashing against Lelouch's in her mind.

Everything she'd said, too. Everything she wanted to take back.

Let me be your sword and shield. Let me guard your body from all who'd seek it. Let me protect you, Euphemia-hime.

I don't want you to give your life for me, Suzaku. You are my equal.

You know we can never be equals.

We can, she'd insisted. Now she wished she'd just smiled through the haze and walked away from Suzaku, walked away from all the sadness in his eyes. Let us be equals, Suzaku. All alone, there is none to judge us.

Euphemia-hime...

My name is Euphie.

...Your name is Euphie.

She shook her head, furious with herself now that she could replay all those fleeting moments in her mind and realize the ditch she'd been digging. Stop it, she willed herself. You're stronger than this. Stronger than the forest in his eyes. Show him, show Lelouch. Walk away from him—don't lose the only thing that's ever mattered since you were four.

Lelouch—his name slipped into her mind and she snatched it greedily, throwing it at Suzaku's hopeful gaze and sending dust flying. Lelouch. Remembering him was always easier, even if it came with the agony of her betrayal.

You are mine.

I am yours.

She flinched. When she thought of his words, she could still hear his voice echo in her head. She could hear the son, the brother, the student, the commoner, the prince, the revolutionary, the miracle-maker, the boy, in him. She heard it all.

We're just a girl and a boy, she thought, desperately clutching onto what was left of them. We don't have to be anyone but children. Just say the word, and we can turn back time to when we stood in your mother's garden, fearless yet shaken.

Say the word.

---

six

"Hey, Shirley." He hesitated, his pace slowing as he caught up to her. He still remembered their outing to the mall, when she'd asked him to help her pick a gift for Nunnally. And he remembered the shock in her eyes when she'd spotted the picture buried in his wallet, just as vividly. "Have you ever… loved anyone?"

He heard her inhale sharply and refused to meet her eye. "I have," she said after a long beat of silence. "Why?" There was a pinch of fear in her voice as her breath hitched.

He didn't know what to say to that. After all, he didn't even have an answer for her question. Why? Why?

"How did you know you loved that person?" he found himself asking.

"…when it began to be for his sake that I woke up in the morning. When I realized that every night before I sleep, I pray for him. When I realized that I'd do anything to see him smile. I figured out because every time I spot him in a crowd, I can't look away. And whenever he's near me, I can't help but hope."

He didn't notice that he himself was shaking until she stopped talking and walking altogether. "Hey," she said quietly, "you okay?"

It was the same with Euphemia. The night after he'd first kissed her, it was all he could do to fall asleep. And he remembered seeing her face, eyes kind and smile warm, as he awoke. He remembered thinking of her at school—every second of every minute of every hour, he was back by their tree, with her in his arms.

But, no, he corrected himself. It used to be like that with her. Past tense, he thought firmly. Now, whenever he imagined her face, all he could remember was how she'd looked in Suzaku's bed, curled up to him. How she'd fit so perfectly against Suzaku, as though the gods had carved and molded her to press into him like a missing puzzle piece.

He smiled bitterly. "I'm fine," he said, dismissing Shirley's concerns. Because he was fine. He had to be. He would be.

He paused a second too long.

"Lelouch?" Shirley pressed, her eyes worried—had her eyes always been that vibrant?

"How do you know when to let go?"

She froze. She calmed herself and plastered a mask of neutrality over her face, even as her heart thundered in her chest. Anxiety stirred inside her. "When it stops being love. When it starts to hurt, starts to stifle who you are and when you feel like it's a threat. When you stop being you because of it."

"Shirley," he breathed. Her words rattled something in him, something he'd once thought he'd buried deep. "How do you—let go? How can you?"

…You just do, she wanted to say. She wanted to beg—to ask him what's happening and to tell him I'm here for you if you need me. But he didn't even seem to see her. His gaze was clouded. "I don't know," she whispered. And she didn't. She'd never—never tried to. She didn't think she'd ever even wanted to stop loving him.

He swallowed roughly, but nodded at her, a bit thankfully. He said nothing, but maybe he didn't need to. He saw something familiar on her face, something that resembled home, and his forced smile twisted. Maybe it's time I let go, he mused. They were over, and he couldn't dwell on the feeling of her lips on his when she'd already taken the first step away.

---

five

"Your Highness," one of the secretaries said politely, standing outside the open doorway. The princess inside glanced at her in question, and she curtsied respectfully. "Forgive me for interrupting, Your Highness, but there's someone downstairs asking for you."

The princess blinked owlishly, and the secretary flinched. She had always known Princess Euphemia to be a kind, graceful, cheerful girl, but now it was as if that person had died and been replaced by a crude lookalike. The elegance and poise were still there, but she lacked her usually unrivaled joy. The person she'd once been had been turned around and sunk in the middle of a merciless, frozen lake, and the secretary didn't know why.

Even the princess' sister, Cornelia, had seemed perturbed when Euphemia stumbled into the bureau one day, no longer smiling. Now she hardly ever laughed—she hardly ever spoke.

"...someone?" Euphemia asked scratchily, and the secretary grimaced at the sound of her voice, unused.

"Yes, Your Highness." The secretary paused, remembering the dispassionate expression of the blue-eyed young man she'd left waiting at the front desk. "He referred to himself as... 'nothing more than a commoner student,' Your Highness. He said he was just a boy."

"Who are you?" she asked, squinting suspiciously at the boy in front of her. "What business do you have with the princess?"

The boy smiled cruelly. "I'm no one to be concerned about," he said, brushing off the question with a cold look on his face. "As for business... if she inquires into it, inform her that I have come to return something long overdue."

She blinked and glared at him skeptically. "She is a princess," she reminded him scornfully. "I would be a fool to let someone like you, who does not even deign to identify himself, approach her personally. There are security measures for a reason, and her safety is our greatest concern. Unfortunately, as you have not booked an appointment, and you are not here for anything of great urgency, I will have to ask you to leave."

He chuckled. "Oh, believe me, it is quite urgent." She did not waver, and he rolled his eyes. "If you insist, then I will tell you this: I am just a boy. Surely, you will let me pass? After all, I mean her no harm. I am nothing more than a commoner student."

"Sir, I'm afraid you should go."

"You'd kick out a boy who has done nothing?"

"I will not repeat myself," she said sternly.

"Please," he said, voice cracking, and she paused. "Just tell the princess I'm here, and if she refuses me, I'll leave."

"Normally, the security would escort him out, but in this case..." the secretary trailed off and sighed. "Again, I apologize, Your Highness, but he was quite insistent."

"Just a boy, you say?" Euphemia mused thoughtfully.

"Tonight, we are just girl and boy, reunited under the stars."

Her eyes widened in realization. She smiled just the slightest bit. "I will meet with him," she said instantly.

The secretary blinked. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again abruptly. Her Highness is smiling again, she thought, astonished. "Understood," she said at last. "Should I have him brought up here, Your Highness?"

Euphemia nodded giddily. "Yes, please do."

The secretary did not question her excitement, though she was confused. She bowed out of the room and returned to her desk, where the blue-eyed boy stood waiting impatiently.

"So?" he asked, arching an eyebrow expectantly.

She scowled at him. "The princess is waiting for you in her chamber," she said shortly, irritated by the knowing smirk that crept up the boy's face. She didn't understand what made the princess so happy. "This way, if you please," she said, gesturing at the stairway. She led him up, not bothering to look back at him, and stopped in front of Euphemia's tall double doors.

"Thank you," he said. He didn't look around himself, much to her surprise. It was as if he'd been here before.

The secretary knocked on the door. "Your Highness?" she called out servilely. "He's here." She shot the boy a warning glance, making a note to alert the guards to his presence in the princess' room, and reluctantly left his side.

The door opened. Euphemia, dressed as Sub-Viceroy, smiled at him shakily. She noticed his appearance and cleared her throat, greeting him uneasily, "Lelouch. Why the blue eyes?"

"I'm not exactly the beloved prince of the empire, if you haven't noticed," he said irritably, and she grimaced. "Anyway, I'm not here to discuss colored contacts with you."

"Right, of course," she agreed. "Why are you here, Lulu?"

He paused. "I'm not going to act like nothing happened," he said finally. "I can't. Ignoring is too hard. Forgetting, even harder."

"Lulu...?"

And he made sure to remember the sound of his name on her tongue, repeating it over and over again in his mind—memorizing everything from the silliness of the nickname, to the hopeful melody of a promise at the beginning, to the light accent of the vowel at the end, to her breathless wonder—because he knew it would be the last time he heard it.

"But I can't keep this," he said, retrieving an envelope from his messenger bag. There was only one name written on it: Lamperouge. He remembered Reuben's eyes, curious and concerned, as he called Lelouch into his office, sat him down, and pushed the envelope across the desk, to him.

"What are you planning, Lelouch?" Reuben asked worriedly. "A worker of one of the most famous cameramen handed this to me, with orders to give it to a Lamperouge. Now, this might not have raised such an eyebrow if it was any other cameraman, but I distinctly recognized the name on the card the worker offered me as the name of a man who works for the royal family."

Lelouch paused, pocketed the envelope with a fond expression that did not go unnoticed, and answered honestly, "I'm not planning anything, Reuben. Not this time."

"L-Lulu," she stammered, realizing his intent and hating it. "This—this is..."

He nodded curtly. "It belongs to you."

She wanted to argue. She wanted him to keep it, if only so that she could reassure herself that he would never forget what they used to be. "But—"

"Stop it," he said. "It's yours."

She wondered if he would burn it, if she didn't accept it. So she did. Later, after he had left and she was all alone again, in the company of only her own misery, she flipped through the pictures and sobbed at the smiles on their faces.

She laughed, through her tears, at the image of herself and Lelouch peeking out from either side of their oak tree, grinning from ear-to-ear and pretending to be little children again. She remembered promising him infinity as she saw a photo of them sitting by the lake, caught up in their own conversation. She saw them lying down on a bed of autumn leaves and almost broke down; she could still feel his heat beside her, and it hurt.

They were hugging in another picture: they'd waded into the lake and she'd perched on his lap, nestling her head on his chest and laughing out of the camera's sight as his arms claimed her forever. His body had molded against hers, settling perfectly as if they were crafted for the sole purpose of holding one another up—it made her weep.

Her eyes widened, however, when she reached for the only photo left untouched, and she came face-to-face with the memory of the two of them sitting on the tree's lowest branch, their legs swinging freely in the air as they held hands and laughed, staring at each other as if they shared a secret.

We did, she thought. Our love was our secret. The best secret.

She frowned, though. Where's the final picture? The last one we took?

It was nowhere, and she quickly logged into her email and pulled up the photo. A tear crawled down her cheek and dropped onto the keyboard, but she barely even noticed. She shivered at the sight of her and Lelouch, locked together in their embrace. It reminded her of how she'd felt in his arms every time he held her to him and kissed her, but the photo could never truly replicate the memory of what had happened.

She looked back down at the pile of photos on her desk. She grabbed the envelope again, but it was empty. "It's... gone?" she thought aloud. She thought about the meaning of its absence and she hoped, Does this mean he kept it? Is it with him, still?

She balled her hands into fists and clutched the printed photographs between her fingers. The film paper sliced into her palm, drawing blood and a sharp sting of pain that struck her with the force of a boulder. But she felt nothing.

She closed her eyes and apologized a hundred times over (if only that was all it took), wishing he'd open his arms for her as he'd done so many times before. The space between his hands used to be home to her, a tiny little cocoon she loved to think of as a safe haven, but now he wouldn't even look her in the eye.

That was how her sister found her a few hours later, pink hair covering her face like a curtain as she wrestled with slumber. She twitched every few seconds, but never awoke.

Cornelia smiled sadly and backed away from the threshold, quietly closing the door and affording her sister the privacy she'd always longed for. She never noticed the pictures Euphemia gripped tightly even in her sleep, never saw the autumn leaves peeking out of pale, shaking hands.

---

four

It wasn't until he came upon Shirley crying on the roof that he realized how far he'd fallen into the abyss. He'd come so close to the point of no return (some days he thought he'd already crossed that line), and the misery in her expression sent fire spreading through him.

It was his fault, her despair. He'd always ended up hurting those he cherished most.

A loud, keening wail wrenched itself from her chest and he found himself skidding across the floor. He gazed up at her from his place kneeling before her and his chest squeezed with pain when he saw her tears.

"Shirley," he breathed. She'd always been so strong, a steadying presence he'd always taken as constant, and he'd rarely ever seen her waver. (C.C. was powerful in ways that terrified him, and Milly with her untamable mischief and sharp wit had been a comfort from the day of his mother's death, but Shirley was innocent, was unfailingly sanguine, was one of the most admirable people he knew.)

If he had to be honest with himself, he didn't know what to do.

Her fingers were curled around something, clutching so tightly her knuckles were white and strained. He folded his hand over hers, not even thinking as he eased her grip. Her fingers finally loosened enough to let a small square of paper flutter from her grasp to the floor. He held her as he leaned down and caught the paper before it could fly away.

He turned it around and only immediately recognized Shirley in the photo. She was surrounded by two adults, both smiling warmly as they hugged her between them. Her parents, he knew they had to be.

He glanced up at her questioningly. "Shirley?"

"He would have turned forty today," she said quietly. Her voice was haunted and hollow; already too broken to crack again. "It's been months but... it's so hard, Lulu. Sometimes it's easy to pretend he's just gone on another business trip—it's easy to ignore the shadows and be strong for my mom. But it's not just another trip, because this time he's really gone."

Dread swirled dangerously in his stomach. He thought back to her father's funeral, thought back to the weeps that had torn their way out of Shirley and her mother—the grief he'd seen in them had been so real and different to the grief that had been present at his mother's own funeral. He thought back to the way Shirley's mother had caved in on herself and snapped, begging them to spare her husband, begging them to not bury him (again, she'd said).

"Do you need to talk?" he asked hoarsely, barely able to find his voice. She shuddered in his arms and he whispered a constant stream of 'breathe's and 'it's okay's in her ear. But it wasn't okay, and he knew it, and she knew it, and he cursed his lack of tact. To make up for it he squeezed her tightly and murmured, "I'm here, Shirley. I'm right here."

"He was buried in Narita," she whispered. "I can't... I can't even imagine how frightening that must have been. He died alone, Lulu. He died alone and in the dark and suffocating. And I wasn't there for him!"

His expression blanked. Inwardly his life careened to a halt. No, his brain boomed, as if that single word, his denial, could rewrite fact. No. No no no no no. No.

Narita.

The word was his damning.

He'd never meant to involve her, not her with the kind eyes and the too-golden heart, not her who'd always looked out for him (stop gambling, Lulu, it's not good for you!) even when he'd protested it.

"I'm so sorry," he managed to choke out, and when she dropped to her knees and sobbed into his shoulder, he hugged back. "I'm so sorry, Shirley."

He tried to ignore the sting when she replied scratchily, "W-Why are you sorry? It's not your fault, Lulu."

He could practically hear the words It's Zero's fault whispering from her mind to his.

He gritted his teeth and pulled her closer. He didn't complain when she buried her face in his uniform and dug her nails into his back.

(It wasn't until long after she'd settled down and dozed off that he put two and two together and realized that her father had died on the same day she'd gone to that opera she'd asked him to go to with her. Except he'd thought of Euphie then and refused.)

(If only he hadn't refused. If only he'd been there for her.)

(He'd left her alone.)

---

three

It was harder than he'd expected it to be, pushing the words through his numb lips and letting them fall harmlessly from his tongue. (Only there was so much harm to be caused; harm in the form of wide, blinking eyes that did not see him and a smile that no longer carried her adoration.)

"Lelouch Lamperouge commands you," were the words that tumbled into the empty space between them, "forget me."

Because he was Lamperouge to her, not vi Britannia, and somehow that made it worse. He wanted to take back the words, to rip them from her mind and stuff them away somewhere she will never hear them, but he could tell from the rigid blankness of her stare that it was too late.

He didn't want her to forget. Didn't want her to forget knowing him, hating him, yelling at him, lecturing him. Didn't even want her to forget thinking he was a lazy delinquent.

For the first time since the beginning of it all, he contemplated shoving C.C.'s so-called gift of Geass back down her throat.

(And Shirley peered up at him through those same, too-innocent eyes and she smiled and laughed and her voice was everything. She was everything. And goddamnit if he hated himself for pushing her away.)

---

two

Time passed quickly after that. Almost too quickly, and whenever Lelouch looked back on the weeks that slid out of his fingers he couldn't help but curse his own stupidity. His ignorance, his blindness.

He was so, so stupid.

Because he let her get close again, let her sneak in and make a mess of his prison cell. It was the same mistake he'd made years younger, years more oblivious, and he wanted to groan.

---

one

They became friends again. They argued often, throwing words and shouts at each other with a heated passion he'd so missed during the interim—but they laughed together, too, exchanging cheeky grins and knowing smirks whenever Milly's devious plans chased them through Ashford halls.

And if sometimes he looked at the peridot green of her eyes and saw another life, one he'd stolen from them, well... no one had to know.

(No one had to know that sometimes he peeked into his wallet and let himself remember that other life, eyes skimming across wide smiles frozen in time.)

---

She found her way back into his heart, bypassing all his gates and walls.

It was so slow, so gradual he hardly even realized it at the time.

And when he finally lost her, it sank in with a shrieking finality and a dizzying nausea how much she meant to him; she'd somehow become his guiding light, his anchor, and he'd come to look at her sweet smile with a desperation that reeked of need.

She'd been his, and he'd taken her presence for granted.

---

zero

She was beautiful, he thought, his stomach clenching painfully. Too beautiful, even now as death snaked around her.

Her skin was paler than normal, so ashen she seemed to sink into the polished white tiles of the floor. Her blood crept into her hair, slowly dyeing the golden sunset of her strands a darkening red. Her eyes blinked up at him, slow and sweet as though she wasn't sure where she was, where he was, where they were.

Peridot green. He wondered when he started seeing them everywhere, in the cafe when he stopped for croissants and in the bookstore when he ran an eye over the titles.

"There's something I've always wanted to do," she began breathlessly, "but I never had the courage to ask." Desperation built up in her voice, and Lelouch's eyes latched onto hers intently.

Anything, he wanted to say. The words itched at his tongue. Anything, whatever you want. When his voice failed him, stuck somewhere in his ribcage, he tried to convey the words with his eyes.

"Will you... will you kiss me?" she asked, and there was a note of hope in her voice that had him crumbling.

"Yes." He wanted to laugh and then cry. He wanted to take her into his arms and never let go. He wanted to love her. And this was never how he'd imagined their beginning (so close to her end).

(Not for the first time he could feel the obvious black of his phone glaring at him. It was a glare stained by blood, and he didn't let himself think. She wanted him more than safety, wanted his love more than the life a doctor might be able to breathe back into her, and he couldn't imagine why.)

But her eyes were pleading, and they prodded him apart so gently he couldn't help but cave.

Her face lit up with joy, so akin to the blaze of a shooting star that for the moment he could forget the blood coaxing her adrift.

Lelouch moved until he was hovering above her. He tried to ignore the falter in her eyes, the way her breath stuttered and hitched and she weakened. He didn't close his eyes when he finally lowered his head and captured her mouth with his. He didn't want to miss this, miss the way her cheeks flushed and her forehead smoothed over with peace.

And Shirley should taste like hopelessness, desperation and death, but to Lelouch she tasted like home, like family—like love.

She lifted her head weakly and demanded for more, her hand trailing up his side to come to a rest on his neck. She pushed them closer together, eyes sliding shut.

He couldn't help but think that she resembled hope. In the silk of her lips, he could see a life unfolding. Her hand in his as they stood beneath a brewing storm. Her head leaning against his shoulder, his hands wrapped loosely around her, dragging her ever closer. He saw them kneeling side-by-side, a wreath of flowers keeping them caged together. He saw them laughing, saw them smiling, saw them crying and screaming and kissing. He saw her bathed in the soft glow of the dawning sun, of the city lights glimmering faintly in the distance, of the moonlit skies above them. He saw her beside him always.

And he could have had all of this if only he'd let himself months earlier. If only he'd listened to the rhythm of her heartbeat, thumping in time with his because they were tied together. She'd fought and fought and fought and he'd never allowed himself to hear her words, never allowed himself to think and wonder and hope.

He could have had her. He could have loved her; he knew he could have, easily. Falling in love with her—it would have been as simple as breathing, he knew.

But now it was too late, because there was truth in the taste of her kiss too, and he knew the instant the press of her lips against his lightened that she was fading.

And when Lelouch looked down at Shirley, for a second he saw the woman she'd been as she squirmed across him all those months ago, asking him to the opera.

He should have said yes.

---

Shirley supposed she should be glad that their last moment was a happy one. It seemed to her like she'd wanted this forever; wanted him forever.

After everything... she'd lost him once already, to demonic red eyes and a sharp smile she remembered being more bitter than relieved. She'd lost him to the shadows that snatched greedily at her memories and devoured them.

She didn't want to lose him again.

And when she managed to force open her eyes and stare drowsily up at him, her muscles and her lungs and her brain begging for rest, she saw the tremor in his jaw and knew.

She didn't have anything much to say, and she didn't particularly feel like talking about the future, especially when there wasn't going to be one for them.

I love you, she almost breathed. I'll always love you. Over and over again, I'll fall in love with you. No matter where we are, who we are, when we are. It's always going to be you.

But there was a misery that stretched far and wide in his gaze, and she thought that maybe he already knew. So she swallowed the words, admired the violet of his eyes, and let the smile fall onto her lips.

"Thank you," Shirley whispered instead, her fingers slackening around his neck. Her hand fell, tumbling down his skin and brushing against his cheek—and if she felt him shaking, felt him crying, she would forget soon enough.

---

The words I love you rested on the tip of his tongue, begging for relief, but by the time his eyes landed on her again, Shirley had closed her eyes and it was too late.

Shirley's heartbeat skittered to a standstill, and Lelouch regretted never saying it out loud.

---

It was times like these that he couldn't help but wonder if maybe C.C. had been right all along. Even from the start she'd told him Geass was a curse, and this curse brought him solitude.

He should have listened to her.

---

A/N: This was supposed to be the "highschool sweetheart" section of his life, and at the beginning I'd planned to write Lelouch and Shirley's relationship as, well, more of a relationship—but at the end I kind of figured that it'd be unrealistic to have Lelouch get over Euphemia that easily. I mean, in this story he's loved Euphie for at least eight years, after all. So this was kind of a getting-over-it phase? And so Shirley's his anchor, and there's some love there too but not so much that he's just jumping from one relationship to another without any hesitation. I thought it'd be sadder that way, especially since Shirley ends up dying.

And as for that point, well: as you can see, I did end up agreeing with most of your comments and left Euphie alive (I'm itching to continue writing out the consequences of her betrayal, because even though Lelouch has closed that door she's still in his life and nothing ends that cleanly), however I decided to leave Shirley's fate as is, mainly because it's one of the most tragic deaths of Code Geass—aside from Euphie's and Lelouch's himself—and I thought it would be even more tragic this way, with Lelouch left wondering about what-could-have-been.

I hope none of you are too disappointed with how this one turned out. I just couldn't bring myself to write them in a romantic relationship after Lelouch only recently ended the one with Euphie. I love their dynamic in the show, though, and I hope I've somewhat successfully incorporated that. Their relationship is the kind that's like, they know there's something there but Lelouch isn't quite ready to explore it, even though he knows he could easily fall in love with her if he would just let himself and give it a chance.

As for the sections written in Euphie's perspective—my excuse for that is, again, even though they aren't in a relationship anymore they were once and so she's still in his life. Most of it was him finding closure, but, well, I'm kind of addicted to writing Euphemia. Either way, after all the ways their lives were intertwined she can't just drop out of his life like she never mattered. She'll always be there in the back of his mind, so this was kind of an attempt at showing that.

Okay, right, that was too long of an A/N, and I really ramble way too much. So, to end this finally: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and feel free to leave a review or PM anytime :).