Hello everyone! First... an apology is in order. I actually had this essentially done on Monday of last week. *shame* RL then decided not to let me have a good, solid, uninterrupted stretch of time to read all the way through it (in order to make sure it flows right, check for errors, add delete little things etc. etc.) until now. (Although, some of the things distracting me were actually fun, and good, and happy, so yay to those things! Not-yay to the AP US History! *glares at textbook*) So, I am terribly sorry for that, and I hope the it was worth the wait!

Like usual, I don't own Code Geass, the characters, Beauty and the Beast, the original idea, and so on.

Mmmkay! Please enjoy! ^_^


Suzaku had never remembered waking up to be this painful.

Every shred of sense left in his head recommended his body to simply not move, at least not for another few minutes. If he just did that, then maybe the throbbing in his side and head would go away.

It occurred to him after a slight delay, that he had not injured his head when he fell from the horse. Had he not been so uncomfortable, his eyes might have flown open. Instead, they fluttered, hesitantly lifting to see where he was.

It took him a second to realize it was not his bed at home that he lay in. Instead, he was alone in the room that was now being called his own. The blankets were loosely thrown over him (though it seems he had pushed a good deal of them off) and all of the candles were snubbed out. It did unsettled him, but the silence was the worst part—the only thing he could hear was his own breath. (Which had evened out by now, though he had hardly realized it quickening in the first place.) Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound.

And then it hit him: all the things that had happened over what could have only been the last few hours were real. This really was a castle, an enchanted castle ruled by some bitter young master and his cast of living objects to function as servants. It was wrong, wrong, wrong, all of it. He should have been waking up to find himself in a small bed in a little cottage on a hillside, with the sound of clanking gears and the thoughts of his chores the next day to keep him awake. Instead, he found a vast elaborate room, a bed that felt like it was about to swallow him up and a vaguely empty feeling.

He reached forward, forcing himself to sit up and causing some paper beneath his hand to crinkle with a soft noise made so much sharper by the eerie quiet upon him. He drowsily looked down to where a smashed piece of parchment was bunched underneath his palm. Fisting it, he lifted it to his eyes, squinting at the scribbled letters from a readable distance.

"Terribly sorry about this, Suzaku. You looked so down, so I figured you needed some sort of help. It really was supposed to help, it's just that…you weren't supposed to drink that much of the tea and I'm afraid it backfired on you. The headache will go away in a few hours, and you shouldn't be foggy for too long… but you probably won't sleep well tonight. And your stomach may not hold up. But hopefully that's not the case, right? I'll talk to you in the morning, dear, I'll have something nice and warm for breakfast. Promise!

-Milly~"

With that, Suzaku groaned and flopped back down onto his bed. He was fairly certain, if he had read it correctly, (and he read it twice more, just to be sure) that she had just drugged him. If he was angry, embarrassed, or still just uncomfortable, he couldn't be sure. But any way he put it, he decided that he would have to be far more careful around all of them than he had originally thought; if their apparent leader was so keen on putting things in their troubled guests' drinks on a moments notice.

Perhaps that Lelouch had something going with his distrust. Suzaku shook that thought away. Not the time to be bitter. On the flip side, he had vague recollections of enjoying himself at the dinner itself—and that served as some reward for his current misery.

Slowly, he made his way back to a sit (the more he moved, the more he didn't want to know just how much of whatever it was had been in that tea) giving himself a second's rest to let his vision even out and his spinning head settle, before checking the dresser beside his bed in hope of answers.

Apparently, the object-servants still needed sleep, for Shirley was undeniably out cold. Suzaku shrunk back in guilt as soon as he noticed how she slouched over in that certain way, slowly expanding and shrinking with what could only be called breaths. Unwilling to wake her, and certainly not for a little question that could be easily answered in the morning; he gave up on that plan. Sinking back into the cushy mass of a bed, he shut his eyes, trying to close off all the strangeness and ignore it until the morning.

It took him less than a minute of a churning stomach and wandering mind to realize that it was not going to work.

Once again, he creaked back up, scanning the room for something (just what, he didn't know) to at least partially relieve him of his symptoms. As far as he could see, Milly meant well enough—so it made sense to him that she might have left something to get him though the night.

At last, a glass on a nightstand to the right of the bed caught his eye. Pulling himself over to the other side, he lifted it from its place, revealing another scrap of paper beneath it.

"Please drink. It'll help. –Milly~"

He took a sip—cautiously—so as to make sure he wasn't about to put anything else strange into his body. But it seemed to be only water. Still, he hesitated, wondering briefly if there might be some tasteless substance in it that would only make him feel worse, but he quickly ignored it and drank the whole thing. Though it could have very well been nothing but his imagination, he did feel somewhat better afterwards. However, as he quickly discovered, it was not enough of an improvement to allow him sleep properly, and heaving a sigh, he dragged himself to the edge of the bed, and slipped out. Not to his surprise, a dizzying wave hit all his senses the second he reached his feet, but after one, two lurches forward, he stabilized.

Even if she had put something in his tea, he'd at least have to thank Milly for what whatever was in that water, for he was fairly certain that without it, he'd still be in the bed.

After lighting a candle (found conveniently on the same nightstand that held the semi-cure for his spinning head) he headed for the doorway, bypassing his shoes along the way—the less noise he made, the better. After creeping past Shirley at the slowest speed he could manage in an attempt not to wake the affable dresser, he finally reached the door, hurriedly cracking it open and sliding out into the hallway without a sound.

The candle's tiny flame cast a soft reddish light over the stone halls, carving out a hazy sphere of visibility for Suzaku to progress within. He didn't linger around for long; letting his feet take him wherever they pleased, wherever they saw fit for easing his heart and mind. At each turn, he lit one of the candles resting inside small coves in the wall to serve as a trail back to his room once the walk had done its job.

He had meant to simply clear his mind for rest, but it quickly occurred to him that it was not the sole reason for this walk. There was an entertaining, curious thought still tickling at the back of his subconscious mind, telling him to explore the place a bit further, to take advantage of the supposedly short stroll he was on. The first explanation he could think of was because it hailed him back to his childhood, the part before he came to what he would now call his hometown. He would play with a cousin, or venture deep into some forest, escaping his chores and diving into a great 'unknown.' Of course, it wasn't such a carefree investigation this time, but the childish, nostalgic feeling of adventure was still there in some tiny form.

Like the shapes of trees or the location of a bird's nest that had stood out to him in the woods, such details of the castle served a similar purpose. The corners and statues for the most part carried a similar theme—a chessboard and its pieces, particularly the king, recognizable by a crown with a cross at its peak. The theme reappeared throughout the castle, from the obvious carvings, to things more subtle, a small design on a door or a checkered pattern caught out of the corner of his eye. It was everywhere.

From the artistic details of palace, he began to wonder about its origins, if it had been built specifically for its master, or if had existed beforehand. Had it been originally owned by some family? Or was it Lelouch's alone? Had its status changed over the years? It could have been altered from its original form, or even completely rebuilt at some time.

Inadvertently or intentionally, the multitudes of staircases had finally led him back to the main hall of where he had first entered the castle. He lifted the candle higher, the curiosity from when he had first entered returning to him now that he was there.

The unlit version had inspired wonder, and now, even with only a faint light in his hand, the hall truly was even grander than how he had first perceived it. The candlelight revealed swirled stone floors, (the chessboard pattern was evident here as well) and carved railings embellished in gold. By now, he was certain that it'd be quite a sight to see it in fully-lighted glory, and when ignoring the reminder of his imprisonment that it brought, he was almost looking forward to seeing it in the morning.

The sheer amount of space was overwhelming, and Suzaku was quickly glad that at the moment his only light source was a candle—if he could have clearly seen any farther than a meter or two in front of him, he wouldn't have known where to start. He carved forward into the darkness with candle outstretched before him, heading to no one part of the hall in particular.
It didn't take long for something to catch his eye and positively draw him in. He was up on a platform above the rest of the room that stretched around the sides leading to multiple doors and presumably stairways. A wide staircase in the center led to the upper portion and divided the two sides, while two slightly smaller ones provided shortcuts to either the left or right. The object capturing his attention was on the exact opposite side of where he had recently emerged from—and so he could only imagine it to be the door leading to the west wing of the castle.

The closer he got, the more the door stood out. Among the chess-related images delicately carved onto its stone surface, there was a crane, its wings sweeping out over the rest, along with a dozen other gentle images of birds and grasses. There was something undeniably warm, something that stood out about the door and what may lie behind it. It didn't take long for him to go from staring at its beauty, to actually pushing it open and walking inside.

Against expectations, the actual interior of this new hallway was not much different than the one at its opposite. In fact, from what he could make out, it was nearly identical. At first glance it seemed the unique door did not denote anything special about this stretch of castle—it was simply another long, vast hall, same colors, same layout, same décor.

Or not. The light from his candle fell upon something hanging upon the wall to his left in a quiet splendor—another painting, but one far larger than the ones he had seen in the other halls. His interest caught; Suzaku turned towards it so as to further illuminate it.

The light exposed the painting's subject—three richly dressed people. They seemed to be a family, not only by the similarities in their appearances, but by the gentle way their hands seemed to rest on one another's, or how their shoulders lightly touched together. Whoever the painter was, they had to be a master. The figures' expressions were lifelike and an indisputable connection pulsed among them—he had almost turned away upon getting the full view, feeling as though he had intruded in a private moment of the trio, and that he should apologize and leave. In the center was a woman dressed in blue—the mother, he imagined. She was a beautiful lady with a pretty smile (one that seemed to conceal a certain playfulness, or a wit, a sarcasm) and raven-colored hair that rippled down her back. From an elegant sit she wrapped her arm around a small girl, no older than six or seven, brown hair in tied with ribbons into pigtails and a sweet (innocent) face. Her hands were lovingly clasped around those of a boy seemingly a few years her senior, with hair to match his mother's in color, and bright, intelligent violet eyes that seemed to define everything about him perfectly.

He'd seen that face before—and not some long time ago, but a few hours ago, and few years' older version of it. He had no doubt by now that it was a portrait of Lelouch and his family—or at least a part of it.

Suzaku's first reaction was how odd it was, to see someone who left such a striking impression of powerful resentment and anger, so warm, and content. At first, it became more uncomfortable to look at with that thought in mind, like he really was deeply invading the privacy of the young man merely by looking at a painting on the wall. But slowly, it soothed him. The peace that reigned in the brushstrokes seemed to extend out to the person viewing the piece, welcoming him in as an honorary member of the family, and reassuring him that sweeter times existed for everyone, in the past and with hope, in the future.

Abruptly, he drew his thoughts back away from the painting and to the questions it brought about—the ones he had somehow ignored since becoming a prisoner. Among the poignant family ties shown in the painting, it also seemed to exude an aura of wealth and royal status in both its quality and in the manner and dress of its three subjects. This was a castle, and Lelouch was clearly its master, so what entitled him to such a place? He still didn't have the faintest idea of just who he was. A noble, a wealthy inheritor, a prince—anything seemed likely, but little seemed possible to discover.

He considered asking Milly or Shirley, or any one of the servants, but it didn't take long for him to realize that it was more likely than not that Lelouch had them sufficiently quieted. Even an unspecific answer would satisfy him for now—so perhaps Lelouch himself might be willing to give it? Once again, he didn't know. A soft sigh escaped him, and he reluctantly began to move away.

The hall did not allow him to linger on his questions for long—a single door appeared on that same wall only a few steps away. Within his sphere of candlelight, he could make out no other doorway, and a few more steps confirmed this to be a trend. The same design adorning the entrance to this section of the castle decorated the single door, but this time in white marble and gold, as if to openly state its purity and importance. There was something special, something enshrined about this entrance, something that seemed to represent what was on the other side. Instinct said to open the door, and reason said to ignore it, but Suzaku had never been one to deny an impulse, and he soon found his palms pressed flat against its surface and the door swinging in.

Cool air rushed against his face, originating from a pair of windows wide open on the other side. From above it, two white curtains, as snow white as nearly everything else in the room, rippled slowly outwards in signification of the breeze. They brushed against a large veiled object nearby—a bed. The faint, inexplicable presence of life could suddenly be felt—he was sure this was someone's room. With the feeling, his own feet began to move beneath him, carrying him across the room on their own accord, his hands soon trembling against the swaths of translucent fabric covering the bed, hovering slightly over it, but unwilling to touch.

"…Ah?" The tiny voice shook Suzaku from his daze, despite its softness. Had their been even the slightest trace of more noise in the room, he was certain that he wouldn't have heard it at all, and his hand pulled back to his sides. What was he thinking? That would be an invasion of privacy.

He heard it again. It had gained no volume from the first time, so it shouldn't have been such a force that it was. Only moments after the second time it sounded, he had lifted the veil, and slowly, hesitantly, slipped inside.

This was indeed someone's room, but the person who inhabited it seemed barely alive. In the center of the massive bed lay a tiny figure wrapped in blankets, her skin so pale that it melted into the sheets and covers around her. Only a sweeping fan of wavy brown hair, stretching out around her head and back, and a single rose resting on her chest seemed able of indicating her existence. Suzaku found his eyes open wide and his hand reaching gently out towards her. Comfort. That was the only thing he could think of doing—bringing her some sort of comfort if he possibly could. And when she formed an actual word—

"…Brother?"

—He reacted instantly. He carefully slid onto the side of the bed, his hands lowering to search for hers. They came and accepted them, her frail palms layering around his.

The girl paused, head tilted at a small angle and mouth slightly open, as if considering just what she could say now. It was puzzling, both to her and to him, and each was letting the other know in some way or form.

"…You aren't brother." She said at last. Her tone was not quite disappointed like he expected it to be, but contemplative and curious, despite its striking fragility.

"…No." For such a small little thing, she left a powerful impact, and Suzaku could think of nothing else to say in reply.

"You're hands…" She softly ran her fingers over his. "…Are much different than brother's. They're bigger than his. And your fingers aren't as skinny or long." She spoke in the gentlest voice, even gentler than Euphemia's. "They're rougher too, and much stronger. You're a hard worker, aren't you?" Suzaku grasped hopelessly for an answer to her words, but found himself unable to deliver one. "It's okay. This is how I learn about people, I'm sorry if it's frightening to you, or…"

"N-no." Suzaku struggled to say. "I don't think its odd… it's remarkable." She gave a small giggle, an infectious one that made him smile and laugh along with her.

"…Are you one of brother's guests? He hasn't had one in a long time." Her head tilted once again, now angled towards him, despite her firmly closed eyes. It struck him then that she was in fact blind—and that's why she hadn't know it was someone other than her brother until she had held his hand.

He sighed, and clasped her hands a little tighter. "…I suppose you could say that." A prisoner, a guest, what was the difference? She didn't need to hear the truth. "But I'll be staying longer than the other ones…much longer, I think."

"Do you have a home?" She asked quietly. Suzaku flinched. It should have been an innocent question, but the girl had now way of knowing just why that wasn't the case.

"…Yes and no." An unsure smile twitched at the corners of his mouth before he remembered she could not see it. "…Things were kind of funny back there. I had people who loved me, but a lot of people who didn't as well."

"But won't they miss you now?"

"No, it'll be all right… I'm staying here because it helps those people." The concern—an incredible, genuine concern, still refused to leave her face. "And I suppose never really…fit in there." Instead of trying to smile, he attempted a chuckle in hopes of reassuring her, but ended up making a sound the exact opposite of what he had been aiming for. He didn't think she was fooled anyways.

"Well, I like you," She determined in the strongest voice she could seem to muster. "…Even if you don't like yourself. Hands tell a lot about people, and you have good ones—honest, and strong…" Her smile seemed to pierce though all of the sickly air that surrounded her, lifting up everything and everyone it reached. "…Kind too. Definitely kind."

"…Suzaku." He whispered. "My name is Suzaku."

"Suzaku…" She paused, nodding as she turned it over in her head. "Nunnally." She replied, that beautiful smile still showing. "Nunnally Lamperouge."

He had been aware of it the entire time they spoke, but it failed to fully connect until she said it herself. The portrait outside, the pure white door, the little girl, everything came together, and it was almost hard to believe that such a bitter young man could have such a remarkable, extraordinarily gentle young sister.

"Suzaku…"

"…What might you be doing here?" It had not even been a day and Suzaku was already well able to identify the voice coming from behind him, although its tone was slightly different than it had been. It was calmer than what he was becoming accustomed to, although a sharp tension spiked through the façade for the briefest of moments, purposely, but subtly giving away his displeasure.

Lelouch's arm was raised to keep the veil he was partway under pushed aside, as he stared at him, eyes hard and deriding. All Suzaku could do was stare back blankly.

"Brother?" Nunnally's voice broke into their stares. "Suzaku is going to be here for some time?"

Everything about him softened the minute she spoke, his expression, his voice, his posture and entire being, they all seemed to easily slip from cold into warm with the simple sound of her voice.

"…Yes. He'll be living here from now on. I was coming to tell you, but it seems he accidentally beat me to it." Lelouch's eyes flicked over to glance at him. "I hope you don't mind, Nunnally, but it's a bit of a complicated arrangement."

"Oh, I…" She trailed off before she could finish, suddenly dropping into a fit of violent coughs that sent Suzaku to his feet, and Lelouch lurching forward.

"Nunnally!" She shook her head weakly in response and took a gasping breath, before settling back down into exhaustion.

"I'm fine." She whispered hoarsely. "I..." She then seemed to slip out of consciousness, and Lelouch, now out from his place halfway under the canopy, bent over his sister with wide eyes.

Wide eyes that soon narrowed as they were directed at Suzaku.

"…Out." He ordered calmly. "Get out now." Suzaku didn't respond right away. It took him time to hear the command, to respond to it, and to slide his hands away from the unhealthy limp ones he held, all earning him more of Lelouch's ire. Numbly, he did as he was told, too tired to resist or explain, too tired to do it at a regular pace. He stumbled away from the bed and out the door into what seemed like endless darkness, despite the candles burning not far away.

He stared back at the door, wondering 'Why?' and a thousand other things. And when Lelouch came out not a minute after he had, he wished that his arrival could mean some answers, even if only a few.

But he had seen enough already to know that wouldn't be the case.

"Why were you wandering?" His arms were crossed, and his stance and words were impatient, but his tone was eerily calm—all his fury appeared to be compressed within it. "You were wandering the halls. The western halls, at that."

"I didn't know that I wasn't supposed to be here." Suzaku defended, focusing on keeping his voice low and relaxed when he answered. "I haven't been told anything about—"

"You were told to stay in your room until the morning, I think that should have been clear enough." Lelouch cut him off coldly. "Meaning that you shouldn't have been out here in the first place. Did those servants tell you it was perfectly all right, or is this some escapade of your own?"

Suzaku lowered his head in a quiet surrender. Arguing was hopeless with him, and questions were flat out impossible—prisoner, was once again becoming the more accurate term. He looked up to see Lelouch within an arms length of himself, heightening his imposing presence further and sending needles shooting down Suzaku's spine. Lelouch's eyes were sharper and colder than any time earlier that night, and all of his anger was directed precisely into Suzaku's own, leaving him unable to look away. He couldn't stop it, and cringed.

"The west wing of this castle is forbidden to you. Do you understand that? It's forbidden to everyone except myself, unless I give specific permission. If I find you there again, I won't hesitate to rid of you in whatever way I see fit." Suzaku continued to meet his crushing gaze, struggling against its force and trying not to falter or show any sign of yielding. He imagined he was failing to do so, and in turn making it worse for himself. He was fighting a losing battle, and everything he did only seemed to send it sinking down further and further.

So when he spoke back, he could hardly believe the words that came from his own mouth.

"It's because of her… isn't it?" Lelouch abruptly stepped back, suddenly struggling to remain in control. "That's your little sister in there… she's ill and you're trying to protect her." Lelouch was losing control of the conversation now, and he seemed to be resisting an urge to pull farther and farther away from Suzaku. "I'm sorry about her, really…I didn't know anyone would be in there, or that she'd be sick." He paused. "So I probably deserve to be yelled at—" He then stopped, realizing he was making things worse for both himself and Lelouch. The young man, though only very slightly, was trembling beneath a mask of calm and control, and he knew that he had struck at Lelouch's most vulnerable point—and the young man was slowly losing all his composure from the inside out.

"You're… you're…" His voice was frighteningly quiet, threatening to snap and roar out violently at the slightest provocation. "…Just leave, and now." He briskly pointed down the hall with a sharp flick of his wrist. "I don't care, go wherever you please, but get out of this hall and don't come back." Suzaku blinked at the request and didn't (or couldn't) move. "I said now." He repeated, the distinctive icy bite returning to his voice on the final word. Now, Suzaku listened, turning his back to Lelouch and beginning to make his way down the hallway, trying hard to push the guilt, and the feeling of all his steps being watched, to the very back of his mind. He wouldn't blame Milly or any of the servants for telling him it was okay to roam, or giving him the drink that in the end made him to do so. He couldn't blame Lelouch for his anger or fear, but he couldn't help himself from being plagued with questions, doubts, and wishes to help. He couldn't even blame himself, for entering the room, for being curious. But Lelouch refused to yield.

A small noise sounded overhead, one that shouldn't have commanded any attention. And it didn't— Suzaku walked on without paying thought to it. It came again, somewhat louder this time, until it burst open.

Suzaku hadn't even gone ten steps.

The sound was more than just recognizable—he had heard it that very night. It was smaller then, and farther away, but the basic sound was a constant and equally startling—it couldn't be shaken from his mind.

And had his senses been up to their usual standard, he might have been able to register it and he'd certainly be able to dodge whatever was about to come. But they weren't. They simply weren't and he had no time to react, no capacity left in his mind to move himself away. In an unmoving fraction of a second, his head drifted upwards, pointed towards the sound in a daze.

And the next thing he knew, he was on the ground and too stunned to speak. It wasn't the first time that had happened, and he doubted it'd be the last.

But what made it even worse this time—was the body curled on the floor in front of him.


Had it not been the situation that it was, Cecile was later certain that he might have enjoyed the looks on their faces as burst through the doorway without any forewarning, in his typical Lloyd fashion.

The cup of tea instantly dropped from Cecile's hand upon his sudden arrival, but she didn't take notice of the fact that it was spilling its contents all over the tablecloth. Instead she came to her feet as quickly as she could manage.

"Lloyd!" She wasn't even sure of exactly what sort of intonation her shout held, but seemed to be part-surprise, part-relief, and part something entirely more angry.

"Aheheh, Cecile…" Lloyd knew it was coming, and she could tell. She wouldn't deny his prediction either.

"You moron!" She landed a first-rate slap on his face; making Euphemia, watching them from a seat at the table, jump in her chair in the same way she had when he entered. The tea cup was frozen in her hand, her eyes were fixed on the two of them, and she was unable to stop listening to the stream of reproach shooting from Cecile's at a breakneck pace. Lloyd, however, had seemed to have already tuned out this gush, and after listening through his obligatory time, slipped past Cecile and into the first chair he could find, sprawling out over the table.

Cecile suddenly quieted as his mood became apparent along with what was missing. "…Where's Suzaku-kun?" Lloyd shifted slightly on the table, but did not answer yet.

"Where is he?" Euphemia repeated. Her voice trembled at first, but she found her strength—and audibly poured it all into asking those three words.

"He's not here." Lloyd finally replied. "He's just not." Cecile unsteadily walked back into the kitchen, dropping soundlessly back into her chair.

"Then…where is he?"

"Where else?" Lloyd mumbled, the words muffled by his arm. "He's at the castle."

Euphemia was the first to reply. With that same quiet grace she had just spoken with, she said the first thing she could think of.

"Get Gino." She said firmly. "He's his closest friend, and he needs to hear this too."

"He hasn't left for the city yet." Cecile whispered. "I'll go right now."

It didn't take long for her to return with the merchant, and his expression not too different from those of the other's—worried eyes, a creased brow, and a deep frown.

From there, the three listened as Lloyd recounted the story of the past several hours; of blacking out in the woods and waking up in a castle, of a sickly young girl, a crowd of cursed people, an order from a beautiful young man that he literally couldn't resist or properly remember. Then, of a prisoner's cell, of Suzaku's arrival, and finally—a trade. The room did not fall to silence after his account was finished, but burst a thousand directions at once, with Gino shouting, Cecile rapidly speaking in a hushed whisper, and Euphemia simply staring out in quiet horror. At last, Cecile stopped, put her hands tightly on Gino's shoulders, and eased him back into his chair.

"Calm down," He half-heartedly tried to get back up, but Cecile kept him still. "This won't get us anywhere." She glanced to Euphemia, her eyes not having left a single distant spot in some time. Cecile had invited her in for the very purpose of calming her down—the sight of the sweet girl sleeplessly wandering the streets at odd hours of the night was heartbreaking, and she figured they could both use the other's company. In the end, it probably was a good thing that Euphemia was already there to hear the grim new firsthand, but she clearly wasn't handling it well. Unfortunately, consoling was awfully difficult when she herself dearly needed it as well. "Miss Euphemia…" She leaned in, searching for her attention. Her wide lilac eyed slowly, very slowly, returned from wherever they had been and focused unsteadily on Cecile.

"Miss Croomy, he's…" Her head was shaking back and forth and her hands trembled lightly until Cecile gently took hold of her shoulder, deciding there was no better comfort she could offer. "Lloyd," Euphemia began. "Is there any possible way…is there anything we can do…?" He didn't answer, presumably because he didn't have one. No one had an answer to give anyone, and none seemed to be coming soon.

"…We need to start with what's good here," Gino broke in. "He's alive, and that's better than nothing. We still have a chance." Euphemia nodded faintly to this. "And things could be a lot worse, right?" He apparently intended for the question to be directed at Lloyd, but the inventor was unresponsive. "At least… we're fairly sure he still is." Silence from the rest of the group followed, unsettling all of them. With a shake of his head, he dismissed it. "So if we know he's there, and we can figure out a way to get there, there's a chance we could help him." Gino was beginning to get on a roll, the idea unfolding from his head to his mouth and out to the rest of the room.

"And how do you plan on finding it?" Lloyd's muffled voice countered, cutting his thoughts short. "I don't even know how Suzaku did in the first place."

Cecile sighed, trying hard not to let Lloyd's pessimism on the subject infect her own thoughts. She wouldn't let it—she refused to ignore the possibility presented to them, regardless of how flawed and problematic it might be.

Gino wouldn't take it quite so easily. "You can't just say that," Gino was up from his chair once again, his hands flat against the table and most of his weight put on them. "Are you mad? You adopted him, and somehow you don't want to at least try to find him? Dammit, get yourself together, you're—"

"Stop," Cecile warned, reaching her free hand over to Gino. This was getting worse—now she was trying to comfort two people, while still needing it herself. She silently wondered how much longer she might last. "He does care, it's just…" She couldn't quite find the right way to describe it; Lloyd had never been affectionate, at least not towards humans, or anything living for that matter. "…It's just the way Lloyd is." She explained softly. It was quick, it was imprecise, but it'd have to do for now. Gino wouldn't look at her, but his expression told enough for her to know that he accepted it—if somewhat begrudgingly. "Besides, we should focus on Suzaku-kun, right?"

"I'm sorry," He apologized, more to everyone than to Lloyd specifically. He sunk back to his chair (Cecile had lost track of the number of times he had been up and down in this one conversation alone) and shut his eyes.

"Gino…" Euphemia reached to Cecile's hand resting on her shoulder and lightly touched her fingers in a gentle signal that she was okay—that Cecile need not strain herself any further over trying to ease her worry. "I'm more than willing to give it a shot." Her hand was now closed in a fist, tightly resting in her lap, bringing small folds of her dress up between her fingers. "…I-I know it might not work out, and that we may not even be able to find that place, but… we just can't leave him. I know that much." She pushed a strand or two of pink hair from bloodshot eyes, and looked to Gino, then Cecile calmly before standing form her chair and announcing: "I'm going to talk to my sister."

Cecile hesitated to reply—Cornelia had more power than any of them, and certainly more resources. But she also harbored a small hate for Suzaku, one that may interfere with the goal they were trying to accomplish. At the same time she'd do almost anything for her little sister.

"Euphemia…" She raised a hand out to stop her, to talk a bit further about how exactly she might go about this, but the young woman was already shuffling into her coat and heading for the door.

"I'll go too." Gino added, copying her procedure with his own coat and following her out. "We'll be back as soon as possible—just hold on!" He was halfway out the door already and quickly and he soon shut it behind him. Cecile waited for it to close completely before she sighed and buried her head in her hands—regretting having ever allowed Suzaku to go.


It didn't take long for Gino to catch up with Euphemia—his arrival was sudden, apparently having sprinted in order to catch up.

"Hey," He breathed, slowing to match Euphemia's hurried jog. A heavy silence then followed, during which Euphemia wished she didn't have to be wearing a dress so that she might be able to move faster, that she would have known where Suzaku had been going earlier, and that her older sister would be willing to help.

She always was a dreamer. Or perhaps more aptly: a wisher. She wrote stories in her head, daydreamed in the marketplace, and reached for the stars—sometimes even literally. She sang when no one watched (and sometimes when they did), she laughed freely, and most of all she made herself a list of wishes—and didn't care that not one had come true quite yet. After all, she was young, and her dreams were new, and even if they weren't fulfilled come the time of those years far down the road, well, she was sure she'd still believe in them anyway.

(As far as she was concerned, he had simply appeared one day, out of the blue and without any warning. He shifted uncomfortably when she talked to him, like he'd prefer to be moving rather than simply standing around.

"You're not from around here," she queried as she scrutinized his face with scrunched up eyes. Her rosy locks swept down with a bounce when she tilted her head—she had always liked that, since it showed just how long it was becoming.

Of all the wishes she had made, there was one that had stood in the center of all the others, and hadn't changed since the day since the day she met him.

(His face was slightly round-ish and very much his age—aside from his eyes. There was something inside those large, childlike eyes that didn't match up, there was some little portion that might have been too grown-up for a ten-year old boy.

"Sort of, I mean, in a way..." He answered, those green eyes blinking back at her. "I'm not from the Britannian villages or cities."

"Even one like this?" She asked, head tilting further. Some, like hers, had existed for hundreds of years before the conquering of the country it resided in. He shook his head. She then realized exactly what he was getting at.)

He was kind-hearted and a little out-of-place—that was clear to her right from the start. She supposed it shouldn't have been surprising that she liked him more and more with each passing year.

(She waited a beat, still staring into his eyes. They filled her with such a satisfaction, a joy, and before she knew it:

"Euphemia!" She said cheerfully, dipping into a polite curtsey. "But I'd really like it if you called me Euphy!"

The slightest hint of a smile appeared on his face, and that made all the difference. The slight sadness, the maturity that didn't belong, was drowned out when he began to smile. And it lit up her heart.

"Suzaku." The smile widened, only by a fraction, but it was marvelous, and she could still see it grow.

Suddenly, he had become the most amazing person in her world.)

"Euphy?"

Gino broke her from her recollections with this. The blonde sounded fine, if a little quieter than normal, but looked tired. Euphemia realized that she must have been the same way, or worse. Gino could at least to some extent, mask the troubles in his voice, while hers wavered and dipped beyond her control.

So although she turned her head to meet his call, she hesitated in replying to it.

"…Yes?" She squeaked out in a hushed tone, hoping that if she was quiet, he might not be able to pick up on the instability in her voice. Gino's eyes lit up victoriously when she answered; seemingly taking delight in the fact that she was still somewhat responsive.

"…Maybe this isn't the best thing to be asking right now, but," They were beginning to slow down. Euphemia wasn't sure if it was a sign that a conversation was about to unfold, or if they were simply getting tired, but the answer was probably more irrelevant than anything. "Why do you like Suzaku?"

Her hasty walk skidded all the way to a slow one when the question reached her. She looked at him, asking with blinking eyes and a slightly open mouth if he was really being so upfront and direct about this. Nothing about his expression said 'no,' and she quickly adverted her gaze, fingers folded and fidgeting in front of her.

"I…Well…" Regaining some poise (enough to get by) she turned back to him, forcing her fingers to stop moving so erratically when she did. "He's…" Now onto her third false start, she finally just let out a small laugh that blended together with a sigh. "…There's just something special about him. He's not quite like anyone else from around here—he works just as hard, and he's just as nice, but he does all of that regardless of how they all treat him." Her head had tilted back to face the vastness of the night sky, and the night's first real trace of a happy expression came over her. "…No, even more so. He works nonstop but doesn't complain at all—and then his smile, his laugh… they're like music," Her eyes caught a bright star shimmering up in the sky and their lids drifted shut. "And I wish I could do all of that too."

Her closed eyelids and dreamlike state having shut off most of her awareness to the world around her, she opened them to find they had stopped, and were standing along an empty cobbled road running down the center of the village.

"I-I'm sorry!" She stuttered, hands and feet in a flurry as she tried to wave off the heavy air and resume the walk. "I rambled didn't I? Oh, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that! You're probably bored out of your mind by now, listening to me go on about him…" She shook her head vigorously, sending her hair swishing back and forth in waves. This wasn't the first time she had drifted off about a certain topic, but it was the first time she had done that about Suzaku. Had she told anyone how she felt before? Surely she had… but had she gone on about why? That, she couldn't seem to recall no matter how hard she tried. And it was slowly driving her mad…

"Relax!" Gino planted a hand on her shoulder, slowing down her erratic movements in a way slightly similar to what Cecile had done to him earlier. "It's okay! I asked the question, remember?" She gradually drifted down from her mild panic, searching her company's gaze for a sign of support. He gave her a reassuring grin, one Euphemia suddenly remembered he was near famous for, and that was enough. She breathed out a long sigh, telling herself over and over again herself to rest, that Gino was right, and she was only being self-conscious. (And distantly—concerned.)

"…I agree." He said.

"…Hm?"

"He's all those things that you mentioned," He began slowly, in an uncharacteristically mellow and controlled voice. "And I don't think he's ever realized that he actually is all of those things, or that there are people here who care about him." Euphemia realized that he was beginning to grit his teeth, bitter thoughts more likely than not rising. "God, there are a lot of morons here."

Euphemia blinked, tilting her head in that same way she used to as a child. It didn't take her long to figure out what he was referring to, and in some ways, (when she thought of the looks they gave him, or the whispered 'Eleven' behind his back) she agreed. But…

"…They just don't see things clearly all the time." She decided, folding her hands so that her fingers were touched together at the tips and splayed. "So they end up ignoring the obvious things and act like that."

Gino's reaction wasn't quite one of disbelief, nor disagreement. He merely stared at her for several long seconds, seemingly reviewing every past instance where her words might apply in a short period of time.

"…Yeah." He nodded slightly. Euphemia knew that it was something she could only hope was true, something she had no solid proof for, and probably never would. Yet she still held on to it, because she didn't want to believe, that these people, her people, were anything truly twisted. "…It's no wonder you like Suzaku so much," Gino added, looking out into the distance with a calm smile. "You two are cut from the same mold."

Euphemia took a moment to register the compliment and the comparison, both of which she was certain she didn't deserve (but then again, Suzaku probably wouldn't have thought he deserved any of the earlier compliments either…) and quickly tried to dispel them once she did. She didn't have his work ethic, or his strength, his smarts, his charm…

"I wouldn't say—" She protested, only to be quickly cut off.

"Come on. He's waiting on us, right?" Gino tugged her wrist to start her walking. They had stopped not far from their destination; the front of her house was within sight and perhaps a minute's walk away.

"Wait, Gino!" Euphemia pulled to a halt before they could cover any real ground. She looked to the ground, now doubting if she wanted to say what she was thinking of.

"…Do you think my sister will even…?" She wasn't quite having second thoughts about consulting her sister, but if she were to be honest about it, she was afraid. Cornelia could very well disapprove of the idea of helping in a search, Euphemia wasn't even sure if she even cared much for the one they were looking for. Did she mind Suzaku? Her sister was simply unreadable sometimes.

A steady look met her gaze, quietly concerned, but with a positive glint in his eyes. "I wouldn't know. She's your sister, after all… but we'll have to try and hope for the best, right?"

Her reply came in a slight shift in posture, a flick of her eyes across the ground, and a careful (but heartfelt) smile.

"If she says no…" But, she didn't want to think about that, no, because she was going to say yes. "We'll just have to get her to reconsider, right?"

"There you go! We're not going to let her say anything other than yes," Gino, satisfied with this, reached an arm out towards the house, "Because as I said, Suzaku's depending on us." Euphemia was then certain that Gino's optimism and confidence were absolute blessings, just waiting for the right moment to shine. "After you?"

It wasn't anything grand or confident like Gino could muster up, but she nodded, and started to walk.


(Aha, with my longer fics... I always take so long to get to the SuzaLulu, don't I? Well, relationships take time, right? It'll be starting soon, I promise! ^_^)

Thanks for reading~! To everyone who has reviewed thus far: I love you guys. Seriously. All this feedback is really touching and encouraging, and all I can say is that I'm very much honored and touched by all of these reviews, and then thank you about a million times. ^_^ Feedback like this not only adds to the confidence level in all sorts of ways, but is also wonderful motivation. I hope this fic continues to live up to all of your kind, kind words!

(To everyone reading and enjoying who hasn't reviewed, don't get me wrong, I love you guys too!)