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But seriously, for the one review I did get, thank you. You have a kind heart.

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

When Suzaku dreamed about Lelouch, there was always a terrible ache in his chest. He would wake up in the middle of the night, shaking, with a tingling feeling in his limbs. Like all the blood in his body was too chilled to flow back to his heart. He felt cold. Usually, he couldn't even remember what the dream was about. All he would be able to recall was soft white light and two sharp, sparkling gems the color of violets. After his dreams, he would get out of bed and pad softly across the carpet to the bathroom. He would run a shower, turning the dial as hot as he could stand, and soak in the scalding water until the freezing feeling under his skin was completely gone.

This dream was different, though. He remembered it vividly—Lelouch, asleep on someone else's bed. His pajamas were white and matched the sheets covering his body. He looked beautiful; his eyelashes softly spread out against his cheeks, ebony hair splayed out on the pillow underneath the side of his face. Suzaku could hear his breath escaping, body rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. He could smell the ocean and hear waves, like the house they were in was somewhere near the sea. The tangy brine tingled in his nose, mixed with the aroma of foreign flowers he'd never smelled before. A gentle breeze caused the curtains of the open window to flutter, along with the hair around Lelouch's face. He looked like an angel.

Suzaku watched him for what seemed like hours. He remembered the way the sunlight fell in from the window and landed on Lelouch's skin. But, unlike any of his other dreams, he didn't feel the familiar ache in his chest or the burning in his throat. He didn't even remember feeling sad. Instead, Suzaku felt oddly peaceful. That was what freaked him out. He should feel guilty, angry, distraught. It was his fault Lelouch wasn't there in the first place, lying in bed beside him and not in a grave or coffin or a bed in his dreams. But he couldn't bring himself to disrupt the quiet tranquility flowing through his conscious. It just didn't seem right.

The clock on his nightstand read 5:37 AM. It was still much too early for anyone else to be awake. He still had at least another two hours before Nunnally would even begin to wake up. Throwing the comforter off of himself, his stood up and began to quietly make his way to the bathroom. He didn't turn the shower on to boiling, however, deciding instead to run a bath at a comfortable temperature. He didn't even bother to throw his clothes in the hamper. In his peaceful state of mind, he just didn't care.

He sat in his bath for almost an hour, just listening to the sound of his own breathing. There no watery noises that usually accompany a bath; Suzaku sat completely still, submerged to his chin in pleasantly warm water that was like glass all around his body. Slowly, he drew in a long breath and held it, pulling his head under the water. Underneath it was totally silent. He could sit for a moment, pretending he wasn't there, he wasn't Zero, he wasn't a murderer. He was just alone. Just Suzaku Kururugi, eyes closed and hair floating about his face.

When the water started to grow cold, he realized his moment of peace was over and lifted the drain. He slipped a bathroom on, bare feet hitting the marble floors. He despised what he saw in the mirror. His face was still young—he still had yet to start shaving—but his eyes had lost their emerald luster long ago and he honestly thought it would never return. But that didn't matter; he had a mask to hide it.

"Good morning!"

Nunnally smiled to him, a cheerful sparkle in her eyes. Every morning, they had breakfast in her bedroom. She insisted upon it. Suzaku removed his mask, smiled back to her and sat at the foot of her bed. She was still in her nightgown, a tray of food in front of her. His own tray was still on the cart by the bed.

"Good morning, Nunnally," he murmured.

"How did you sleep?" she asked kindly.

"Not badly."

"I'm glad to hear it." He watched her struggle to pierce the skin of a grapefruit. He took it in his own hands and carefully began to peel it.

"Thank you." She blushed. He just nodded, smiling at her good-naturedly.

"You're very welcome," he said cheekily. She giggled and pinched his face.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to find Schneizel today; I know you wanted to talk to him about Lloyd's research budgets—"

"And how he's not to be trusted with the vast amount of money Schneizel gives him," he muttered.

"But," Nunnally giggled, "He's gone to Finland."

"Finland?" Suzaku placed the freshly peeled grapefruit back atop Nunnally's plate. She nodded.

"A former composer for the royal family passed away a day ago. Her name was Suvi Linninkavi; she lived in Tampere. Schneizel will be attending the funeral. I have a letter here."

She handed him a large envelope, inside of which held a small booklet. Printed on its pages were several pictures of a pretty woman; in nearly all of them, she wore thick, box-rimmed glasses and a slightly amused smile. It eerily reminded him of Lloyd.

"She died of pancreatic cancer," he murmured. She was forty-three years old.

"Her oncologist gave her an estimate of eight months to live, and she outlived that by about four years."

He read the obituary. She left behind no family, no descendents, and no heirs. Her estate went entirely to the aide that had taken care of her for her last three years, a boy named Mika Karppainen.

"Did you ever meet her?" he asked Nunnally. She shrugged.

"I'm sure I did; mother was fond of music. Schneizel said I was most likely too young to remember." Her face turned suddenly melancholy. "It's sad, isn't it?"

Suzaku blinked. "What's sad, lady Nunnally?"

"She died without anyone beside her. She had no children or family. All she had left was her life's work. And in the end, even after everything she accomplished, she was alone."

"I'm sure she wasn't alone, Nunnally," he murmured. "This boy, Mika. She left everything she owned to him. He had to have been at least some comfort to her before the end."

"I…" Nunnally's eyes rose to his face. "I suppose that's true. She must have cared for him in some way if she put him in her will."

Suzaku smiled and patted her hand. His breakfast, still on the food cart, had lost all its appeal to him. He opted instead to sip at the coffee from his tray.

Nunnally tilted her head. "I think," she mused, "That I would like to go to the funeral."

Suzaku's brows rose slightly. "To Finland?"

"Yes. To pay respect."

His eyes returned to the small booklet in his lap. A large picture of Linninkavi stared back at him, a pair of ocean blue eyes twinkling behind their glasses, a Mona Lisa smile planted on her lips. Her arms were crossed, a conductor's baton trapped between nimble fingers. It was almost as if the picture was encouraging him. Like Suvi knew something they didn't, that there was a surprise waiting for them.

"Okay." He looked up at Nunnally and grinned. "We'll go."

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