A/N: I really did not have time to write at all, and I do apologize for going for a month (it was a month, right?) without updating. Spring break is coming up not next week, but the week after the next, so there'll be another update at around that time. But, um… Without further ado, here it is.

Disclaimer: Code Geass is not my property.

Important note: Somewhere in that mess of words below, there's a word that is spelled like 'Nya' and pronounced something the likes of 'knee-uh'. Yeah. Now you can go.


Chapter Seven: The Shackles of the Heart


Lelouch vi Britannia was a dignified prince. He was a- Well, he had been a dignified and omnipotent prince and emperor. But even men of noble and royal birth, with all of their haughty pomp and grandly extravagant manners, grew tired. Even they needed rest, and, if one took into account the amount of work the man had managed to accomplish during the past few days, Lelouch vi Britannia, the had-been-dignified-and-omnipotent prince and emperor, most certainly needed sleep.

So why the hell was he lying awake at 2 in the morning, silently staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling above with bleary eyes? Especially after a particularly grueling day of onerous labor?

Oh, right.

Because the goddamn witch had elbowed him in the ribs.

It wasn't really that he was weak (after all, no one could deny that he had grown considerably stronger and more able what with the physical work harvesting and farming demanded; not even C.C. could easily dismiss the change), nor was it that he had been lying right besides the woman, or even the fact that she possessed the world's sharpest elbows. The reason why his side was feeling sore didn't really have anything to do with his physical condition or position. It was more because she had shoved her goddamn bony elbows into his ribcage with all she had. Which was apparently Herculean strength.

(There was also, he admitted, the other (minor) fact that he had been pleasantly sleeping, and therefore completely had his guard down when she had decided to viciously attack him. But that wasn't as important as the other explanation, the true justification.)

The raven-haired man gingerly brushed the throbbing injury, only to groan. God, it hurt so much… He was fortunate in the way that he was immortal, and that his immortality lent him the abnormal ability to heal at an impossible speed, or else he feared he'd have been in danger of not being able to use his right arm (or the right side of his torso in general) tomorrow… Well, later this morning (since it was technically 2 AM, and thus, the last day of their stay at Dion).

Biting his lower lip to choke down any protests from his body (much to his dismay, he only partially succeeded; a guttural moan slipped out, which he quickly muffled with a well-placed hand. The she-devil was a ridiculously light sleeper at some of the most ludicrous and inopportune times; there was absolutely no chance he was going to wake her at 2 in the morning), he carefully reached over the currently-docilely slumbering woman's shoulder to grab a hold of her precious plushie. Lelouch knew all too well (from past experience) that once her savage sleep-ambushes began, they wouldn't end until he was black and blue all over. And quite frankly, he wasn't going to put up with that. Not if he had anything to do with it. Not tonight.

Cautiously leaning over her, he reached for Cheese-kun, who was currently hanging over the cool wooden floor, precariously dangling from the witch's outstretched arm. Sighing over how she victimized even her beloved pet, he gently stole the yellow mascot away from his fate of certain death. She shifted once or twice while mumbling incoherently (was that 'pizza' that he heard coming from her mouth? Of course), and both times, the immortal froze. His eyes, which had once been hooded and drunk with sleep, immediately widened and became alert as he stared at his companion, all the while silently praying that she wouldn't wake. If she discovered him kidnapping Cheese-kun, there would be hell to pay (but despite the danger, Lelouch dismissed the idea of surrender. He needed the amorphous, smiling cushion to serve as a buffer between him and the woman's painful sleeping habits. And so, because there were no pillows to spare, and because he refused to go through a sleepless night filled with nothing but torture, he stubbornly held onto Cheese-kun and silently waited for her to be still again).

Having managed to successfully abduct the golden plaything, the Warlock lay back down. Cheered by his victory, he padded his side with the soft doll. As he tugged the cotton blanket back up to his chest, he found his mind wandering to another (though this one was less life-threatening) riddle (that had been plaguing him for quite some time (now that he thought about it)).

Why did C.C. toss and turn in her sleep so excessively?

If Lelouch were to be honest, throughout those hectic and stormy two years, from the first time they had shared a bed after she had waltzed into his life, up until the morning of the Zero Requiem, he had to acknowledge that, because the woman had moved around in her sleep so much, he had begun to suspect that that was how she managed to burn all of the calories she so carelessly consumed. Of course, over time, he had become accustomed to her habits (and had even somewhat tamed her, much to his pride), but after another two years of sleeping separately

God damn it.

No matter. He'd simply lecture her in the morning; the most ideal timing would be on the return trip to Helia, since she wouldn't have anywhere to run to escape from his reprimand. Not that it was going to accomplish anything; she'd still ignore him, and even if she didn't… Well, it didn't matter if she heeded his words or not; how she slept and what she did in her sleep would no longer be any of his concern the moment they crossed over the threshold of the main plantation. It would only unnecessarily waste energy and breath, both of which he would need for the tasks he needed to complete later…

Ah, what an overly-complicated web of indecision he had woven in his head…

Closing his eyes, he roughly shoved away the debate screaming and bickering in his head and decided to at least try to catch a few more hours of sleep. God knew he'd need it when traveling for an entire day with a cantankerous and fussy person. After all, C.C. was, in no way, similar to sweet, angelic Nunnally who-

As he felt the blanket being torn away from him to leave his slender (and shirtless) body to the mercy of the cool summer nights, the former prince fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

What was she doing now?

Brow twitching out of irritation, his eyes fluttered open tiredly. He turned his head to the side to investigate, expecting to see the witch greedily cocooned in their covers. But she wasn't. In fact, what she was doing made him pale considerably.

Apparently having had enough fun giving him bodily harm, the woman had (quite literally) moved on to inflict mental and emotional stress onto her companion.

She had begun to roll away from him. At first, he had been perfectly fine (even happy) that she was. It meant that the danger to his body and health would be removed, that he could finally return to sleeping comfortably without having to constantly watch his back (in his own bed, he had noted with a tinge of exasperation coloring his voice). In his point of view, her moving from him halved the chance of him waking up in the morning with more than three bruises. And so, Lelouch, pleased to have the immediate threat eliminated, began to lull himself back to sleep.

Until she continued to roll.

And then that was when he was no longer fine and happy and pleased with the latest development.

If Lelouch hadn't known that she was completely and truly asleep, he'd have accused the immortal of conspiracy. It was as if she had decided to trouble him as much as she possibly could, and had taken up the task of rolling her way off of the mattress until she fell of. And if she fell…

The elbowing he had suffered would be nothing compared to what she would do out of retribution. Not to mention the likelihood of her inculpating him of pushing her off, which certainly wasn't the case.

And so, to save his hide and skin, the young man acted with (surprising) swiftness.

Just as she was about to plummet from the precipice of the bed, he (gently) grabbed her wrist. Slipping his arm underneath her waist, he slowly pulled her towards safety. When she was returned to her rightful spot (which was away from the treacherous edge), he came upon an unexpected conundrum.

Was he supposed to let her go now?

It was indubitable that, once she woke in the morning and discovered his arms to be wrapped around her, it (although it would be a separate nightmare) would be as hellish as the other consequence.

Speaking of the other consequence…

What if she tried to roll off again?

Which scenario would be more disadvantageous for him?

Well, they were equal in regard of the result, but honestly… He sighed. Honestly, he didn't particularly mind the former. And he didn't quite take to the idea of her getting hurt (even if it was only a fall to the wooden ground from four feet in the air, and the fact that she had been subject to more traumatic and agonizing abuse). So, trying not to think too much about how their bodies seemed to fit perfectly like jigsaw puzzles made for each other, or the way the ambrosial perfume of fresh jasmines seemed to envelope her, or even the way that something within him quietly asked the heavens to put off the arrival of dawn, he brought her closer (after unceremoniously tossing away Cheese-kun (he could care less about that irritating… Thing) and secured his hold around her slender frame.

It was unfortunate in the way that, as he closed his eyes, he missed the appearance of the emerald-haired woman's golden irises.

As she felt the rise and fall of his chest ease into slow steadiness, she trained her focus on the softly-glowing bathroom doorknob. How long had it been since her heart had raced this quickly?

'Yesterday afternoon would be a good answer.'

Was he even conscious of the effect he had on her? Was he aware of the way she couldn't concentrate on anything when he came close to her (much like now, in fact)? How she was always thinking of him, looking at him, dreaming of him? Was he doing this intentionally? He didn't suspect her of her… Affection for him… Did he?

"Sleep, C2."

At the sound of his worn out (and rather croaky) voice (which she admittedly found endearing), she flinched. How did he-

"We have a long day ahead of us. Don't be under the illusion that I'll allow for you to shrug off your share of work come time to leave."

"… How did you know I wasn't asleep?"

"I know you like the back of my hand," he breathed. His concise explanation was laced with exhaustion, and she felt a pang of regret rattle her once-ice cold heart. But despite her guilty conscience, she could see through his words and cheekily replied with, "Just the other day, you were complaining about how you couldn't seem to figure me out even with all of the time we've spent together. How can you claim to know me like the back of your hand? Are there random patches of your hand that you don't know of?"

"You know what I mean…" he mumbled.

"I don't, actually."

Turning over so that she was on her back, she silently said to herself, 'So could you explain to me what you meant by knowing me like the back of your hand? There are only so many things I can learn as an immortal, Lelouch. Reading minds isn't one of them. So I need you to tell me-'

"I'll tell you tomorrow. When we're going home. But for now, sleep. You need the rest, Witch."

"Isn't that something I should be saying to you, Warlock?"

He gave her a faint smile, which soon faded away by the pressing demands of fatigue.

C.C. continued to lie awake in the dark. Much like her companion previously had, she studied the intricate lattices of the ceiling above, until her eyes drifted towards him. With unblinking eyes, she stared at the hideously ridged scar blemishing his solar plexus.

Withered red scarred his body, and she (ever so lightly) traced the sigil of the power of the king.

She wasn't alone.

She truly wasn't alone.

Not anymore.

No longer would she indifferently drift through lifetime after lifetime. No longer would she have to endure the irrepressible desolation and grief of being alone, no longer would she have to watch happiness from afar with wistful eyes, for she-

"Peace, C2. How can I possibly sleep if you're throwing C's World into a frenzy of chaos?"

"How indeed…"

"I'm not going to go anywhere."

"I never said you were."

"Hmmm…" And with that, before she could even open her mouth the deliver the fatal blow in the impromptu battle of the wits, he whispered, "I promise you I won't. Must I have… To tell you… This myself? You won't be alone… After all, aren't… You… My…"

Disappointment and frustration blackened her expression as he fell asleep, clearly having been defeated by weariness. As she lay there, she mulled over whether she should shake him awake and demand for him to finish his sentence, but eventually decided against it. He was tired, as was she. Besides, he had said that he would tell her tomorrow. And, as proven by their eternal brands, the Witch and the Warlock had all the time in the world.

So, she closed her eyes.

Because she trusted him.

Because she would always be with him, and he would always be with her.

And that was all that really mattered to her.

. . .

As he waited for the steaming cup of tea to cool down enough for him to drink without scalding the roof of his mouth, Lelouch looked over his (faithful) household accounting book. They had either used a majority of the supplies they had brought with them (i.e. ingredients) or were leaving behind certain things their return (he was, in no way, finished with the renovation of the grove; already in his head, he was planning the next visitation). With the reduced amount of luggage, that meant the wagon would weigh less; therefore, the return journey would be shorter (although not by much). If they started out at around 8:30, and they took a short 30 minute break at the halfway point, then-

He was roughly pulled out of the kitchen table chair. Stumbling, he stared at the back of C.C.'s head, who had actually woken up in the early morning. She quickly dragged him up the stairs and into their bedroom. Pushing him onto the bed, she said, "There's someone who I need to speak to. Wait here until they leave."

"Wha-"

"Just be quiet and amuse yourself with… Whatever it is you do in your free time, until they're gone."

"C2, who's-"

"Not one sound!" she hissed. "He's here."

And before he could even recollect his composure, she closed the door on him.

Dazed, the raven-haired man sat helplessly on the bed, wondering what exactly had happened. And why it was bothering him so much that C.C. had said 'he', instead of 'she'. Not to mention how he was still trying to wrap his head around how the woman (who had been (somewhat) agreeable for the past few days) had thrown him into a prison (albeit a comfortable prison, but a prison all the same). But more why it was bothering him so much that she had said 'he', instead of the 'she' he'd have much rathered.

"Get yourself together," he growled. "This isn't the time for you to be lying in bed."

And with that, the former emperor, who was now feeling quite angry, rose before striding to the door.

. . .

In C.C.'s defense, there simply wasn't enough time to shed light onto the situation to Lelouch. The village boy was due to arrive any moment, and if she began an explanation, the immortal would be constantly interrupting her with questions, all of which she was too busy to answer.

So, there was no choice but to leave him in the dark.

But it was only a temporary arrangement. As soon as she sent the boy away, she promised herself that she would tell him everything and answer every single one of his questions, no matter how exhaustingly tedious and scrupulous they were.

And so, though it made her uncomfortable and uneasy, she ignored his call for clarification. Once she had calmed down, she moved downstairs to the kitchen, only to have alarms go off in her head. The ledger and mug of tea were still on the table, right where Lelouch had left them before she had dragged him upstairs. She had to put them away before-

Three knocks on the door, and the arrival of her early morning guest was announced. Smoothing the skirt of her pastel yellow sundress, she inhaled once, and then exhaled once, before opening the door.

"Good morning, C2."

"Alexei."

"Er… These are for you," he said nervously. Hastily handing her a small bouquet of flowers, he sheepishly spoke. "I try to avoid visiting people's homes empty-handed if I can, but a majority, if not all, of the shops were still closed… So I picked some flowers instead. You're not allergic, are you?"

"No. Alexei, I need some time right now. There's som-"

"Were you doing your budgeting?" he questioned, catching sight of the freshly scribed ink on the accounting book that was still in the process of drying. "You have extremely elegant penmanship."

"… Thank you. Let me put this away, and we can-"

"Oh yeah, I meant to ask. Do you want any help with moving back to your home? I mean, taking things in and out of houses can be really tiring, and I'd be glad to help-"

"There's no need," she brusquely replied.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not alone, so you don't have to offer."

"When you say you're not alone, are you referring to your Emperor?"

"I… Yes."

"Where is he? I'd like to meet him."

"He's still in bed right now. I was just brewing a pot of tea for his migraine. Take a seat at the table, and we can get underway with our business after I give him medicine."

"Oh, sure. Take your time, measure his temperature and stuff. I guess he caught your cold?"

"We have yet to know," she said in a tight voice. Going to the stove, she poured a new mug of tea and gathered the various ledgers in her arm. As she climbed up the stairs, her mind feverishly worked to invent a quick explanation that would satisfy-

C.C. nearly let out a soft shriek as she ran into something solid and warm in the dark hallway. What-

"C2, who is he?"

"Go into the room," she hissed, "Or risk the fruit of your labor."

And with that, she herded the lost sheep back into his pen.

. . .

"Witch, what-"

"I brought you a cup of tea and your book. Now stay in here. He's only here briefly to discuss something."

"But what exactly-"

"I'll explain later. But not now. He's waiting, and-"

She was about to leave, when he reached for her arm. Refusing to let her go, he led her to the bathroom and turned the sink faucet on. As cool water blasted into the basin, he put his arms around her so as to trap her and forced her hand into the stream of water.

"What are you-"

"You burnt yourself."

"I'm fine. I'm immortal; this is nothing compared to-"

"Who exactly is this man that you don't even care about your body, C2?"

"He's not anyone impor-"

"Then why won't you tell me anything about him? Why are you protecting-"

"His name is Alexei Aleksandrovich, and he has asked for my help on a quest he's been on for over a decade."

"… Did you make a contract with him?"

"The contract I made with you has yet to be fulfilled, Lelouch," she quietly said. Pulling away, she walked to the door and said, "Stay in here. He'll leave soon enough, long before we're due to leave Dion."

"C-"

But she had already left.

He stood there numbly, and what seemed like half an eternity passed on until he slowly turned the faucet off. Leaning heavily on the edge of the sink, he studied his reflection in the mirror. His eyes… They were burning, smoldering with anger and irritation. But beneath the anger, he could see… Anxiety? Nervous tension, worried speculation…

But why? Why was he feeling like this? What was it even called, this emotion? It was… It was… It was-

'Jealousy.'

'You're jealous.' The critic within his mind sneered at him. 'You're envious of that Alexei Aleksandrovich, for being the center of her attention, for receiving her help. For being the reason why she woke up in the morning. You're resentful that she cares about him, and not you. You want that, you want to be the reason why she bothers to live day-to-day, you want to be the one she smiles at, to be the one she looks at, to be the one who she lov-

Lelouch slammed the bathroom door behind him. Sitting down, he brooded over the taunting voice, until he couldn't take it anymore. He was so unaccustomed, so unfamiliar with this strange mixture of anger, irritation, and desire. There was so much frustration and discontentment, he felt as if he were going to snap if he didn't do something.

All at once, he leapt off of the bed and grabbed the steaming mug of tea. Promptly pouring its contents out of the window and down into the blooming flower bushes below, he flew to the bedside table. He roughly opened the drawer (it was because of his rapidly waning patience), he snatched the pair of eyeglasses he so rarely used and slipped them on before storming out of the room.

It was all so irrational.

His thinking.

His actions.

His 'disguise' and excuse.

His decisions.

But now was not the time to think about what was the logical, sensible course of action. Lelouch had passed that point long ago. What he needed to do now was not sit and mull over the best possible course of action. It wasn't remaining silent, remaining still while his relationship with C.C. was being put in jeopardy by the unexpected and sudden presence of a third party.

It was to go and to remove the obstacle, the enemy.

The rival.

The opponent.

Now was the time to destroy the threat.

. . .

C.C. warily studied the boy who had been staring at his lap for the past ten minutes. Was it really that much of a shock for him? He had asked for her answer, and she had complied and given it to him. Just as he requested. So why was he in such a state of surprise? Had she made the wrong decision and-

"… So… So you're telling me that she's alive? That my Nya is alive?"

"And well. She's due to enter her last year of secondary education this coming autumn."

"She's… She's alive. Sh- Can you give me proof? I need proof, cold hard evidence."

She could see the light of desperation in his eyes, and her deadpan countenance softened as she replied, "I have none with me at the moment, but I can arrange a meeting with her for you."

"You would do that for me?"

"I don't see why I can't. But don't think I'm going out of my way to help you, because I'm not."

"I- Thank you, C2. Thank you! Thank you, you- you're a lifesaver. A messenger of the Heavens, I- Thank you," he told her, stumbling over his words in his rush to express his sincere and overwhelming appreciation.

Then, before she could even open her mouth to rebuff his gratitude with nonchalance, he wrapped his arms around her. The emerald-haired woman immediately tensed, and nearly recoiled in shock as he touched her so intimately. He was so different from Lelouch. Lelouch was slender and thin, even with the muscle (albeit a modest earning) he had built up. And though both men were warm in both heart and body (of course, the raven-haired man would scoff at her if she told him, but he truly was a kind person), this just felt… Wrong.

But of course, it wasn't just the physical differences between the two; it was also the fact that she was in love, no, the fact that she loved one, and not the other, that made her want to shove Alexei away. If Lelouch saw this, she wouldn't blame him for misunderstanding. Couldn't blame him for misunderstanding. Everything, her treatment of him leading up to this moment, Alexei's actions, all pointed to the one assumption that she utterly dreaded. C.C., the tense knot sitting in the pit of her stomach tightening, made to (gently but sternly) tell him how uncomfortable he was making her, when she felt the shoulder of her dress dampen. What…?

He was crying.

He was crying.

The boy was shedding tears of joy and relief as his long and arduous quest finally came to a close, as he finally reached the summit of his climb.

Ah, but of course he was.

He was but a young man, and he had spent more than half his lifetime on one journey, to obtain one prize, to accomplish one goal. She could all-too-familiarly imagine the wild tangle of emotions he had felt; fear, anger, yearning, sorrow, loneliness, bleak hopelessness. The world had probably beat him down until he was on his hands and knees, and he was black and blue all over, until he wanted nothing more than to have the memory of the one he loved erased from his very life and existence.

Perhaps it was because he reminded her of the raven-haired man. Or maybe it was because she had grown to be more empathetic, or because she was getting to be soft and weak. Either way, C.C. breathed a light sigh and wrapped her arms around him like that of a mother would comfort her frightened child. As he wept away all and every remembrance of everything he had endured through, she patiently waited for his nearly-inaudible sobs to subside. Soothingly rubbing small circles on his back and softly humming an ancient lullaby, the immortal woman wordlessly consoled him, all the while apologizing to the one she loved in the sanctuary of her mind.

. . .

It was a peculiar sensation, having one's anger, which had been roaring like an uncontrollable wild fire, hiss and fizzle out into a heap of burning embers. It was as if the floor had been pulled out from underneath him. From the telltale unpleasant lightheadedness and lungs that felt as if they would burs, Lelouch found that he wasn't breathing. Hadn't been breathing. And how could he?

He steadied himself against the wall. He was shaking, badly, and he wanted nothing more than to just run away, to turn his back, but it was as if he were rooted to the ground. He was motionless, all time having had stopped the second his eyes had locked on the image of the man, that Alexei Aleksandrovich, embracing her. Leaning on her. Touching her, breathing near her, saying her name, being the center of her attention, knowing her. That goddamn Alexei Aleksandrovich.

With a heavy heart, the immortal managed to drag himself back to his confinement. Crumpling on the bed, he stared at the neatly swept planks of the hardwood floor. He didn't know if she had made a contract with him, he didn't know if they were lovers. He didn't know anything about his conqueror save for his name being Alexei Aleksandrovich, and he certainly didn't know anything except for this damnable tempest of anger, envy, and grief he was drowning in.

He was miserable.

He was dejected.

He was wretched.

So Alexei Aleksandrovich was the secret lover, contractee, whatever, of C.C.

As he sat brooding desolately in the silent bedroom, Lelouch didn't quite understand. He didn't quite understand why she would ever do this to him, why she would ever love him who had probably never seen what made up the very essence of the mysterious woman, why he was reacting in such a way as he was, why such damnable jealousy was coursing through his veins, why he was feeling such heartache.

Heartache?

Why would he be feeling heartache?

He and the witch were black and white. No greys. No complications, no emotions outside of amiability and the occasional fling of competitiveness. There were absolutely no greys; that was the understood rule, the golden rule. It had always, always, always been the golden rule, and would continue to be so. So why was h-

'Are you sure?'

Of course he was sure. It had been that way since the beginning, and it wasn't going to change because he, nor the woman, desired any-

'Why is it that you run away?'

Run away? He wasn't running away. Nor had he ever run away. Running away implied that he was avoiding something that he didn't like, if not feared, and there was nothing Lelouch feared. Absolutely nothing. Least of all the loss of C.C.'s attention and favor.

'It's time you've faced yourself.'

But he had faced himself. A long time ago. He had seen how ugly and selfish and sinful he had been, how ugly, selfish, and sinful he was, and-

'I know you've ignored your heart because you were scared. I realize that, and I don't blame you; you lost everyone and everything you've ever loved, and because you couldn't bear the thought, much less the life, of being without C.C., you put up a defense and pretended that you didn't love her. Pretended that you haven't fallen in love with her. That you're not afraid to lose her."

He had not lost everything or everyone he had loved, he didn't love C.C., and he wasn't afraid of losing h-

'Euphemia. Your first love, and yet, you bloodied her name before killing her.'

'Shirley. One of your few friends, and she bled her life away because of you.'

'Rolo. He sacrificed his life for you, despite you pushing him away when you were consumed with an insatiable fury towards something he had no control over.'

'Suzaku. He must live, despite all that he's done. You granted him a slow death, a life of sin. A life that he must live while carrying the weight of killing his closest friend.'

'And Nunnally. Pure, darling Nunnally. Though she didn't die, you can never be with her ever again. And for the rest of her life, she must be burdened by the throne you bestowed upon her, along with the illusion that her beloved elder brother died for her sake.'

'You have been despairingly left by every single person you ever cared about, and now… Now, all you have left is C.C. Strong, bewitching, beautiful C.C. And if she were to leave you… If she were to leave you, your fragile heart, the delicate front that you've put up, can't weather the prospect of having to carry all of your accumulated sins. It can't bear the prospect of a life understood by no one, shared by only yourself, and known to none. And so, no matter how paranoid and insecure it is to, you refuse to admit that you-'

Why was this happening to him? Why did the voice keep insisting that he was in love with her? He wasn't, he truly wasn't, he was simply-

'It's high time you've faced your feelings, Lelouch. Stop turning away from them and-'

How many times did he-

'Does the sky not become brighter when she smiles at you?'

'Does your misery not dissipate with her presence?'

Gales howled in his head, slanted rain as painful as marbles hurtled out of dark, ominous thunderclouds as lightning struck and thunder clapped. Uncontrollable hurricanes and god-like tornados destroyed every thought and feeling of ignorance, struck down every wall he had built up as if they were a house of cards, tore off the heavy shackles wrapped around his Pandora's box with a divine vengeance. Lelouch merely struggled to keep his head above water.

'Do you not feel nervous whenever she so much as glances at you?'

Tension mounted in both his mind and body, as the tempest heightened the violence of its rage.

'Do you not think of her all day everyday? Are you not concerned for her well-being? Do you not wish to protect her from every harmful thing there is? Do you not wish for her to smile with all her heart? Do you not think of her as the most exquisite creature of your life? Do you not desire a life where she will always be by your side and your side only?'

He just couldn't lose her. He wouldn't, couldn't, dare risking it, not with what had relentlessly happened to him over and over in the past, without fail. He just didn't have it in him to survive that kind of blow, so that was why… That was why. That was why he didn't love her, it was why he hated her. He hated her for making him do this, for putting him through this hell, for pushing him into these storms. He hated her for filling his head with nothing but her, how he worried over nothing but her, how he felt the need to shield her from pain, how he felt a warmth wash over himself whenever she smiled, how in awe of her strength and beauty he was. He hated it all, and he hated her, but more importantly, he hated himself.

His elbows painfully stabbed his knees, and he forlornly tore at his hair, all the while begging for them to stop, to leave him alone; he couldn't take anymore, couldn't tolerate anything more, couldn't come this close to the truth that he so feared. To the reality he prayed would never happen.

'Do you truly hate her, Lelouch? Do you not love her?'

Terrified and livid by how close he was to the point of no return, he lashed out. His hand slammed into the innocent mug of tea which had quietly been cooling from where it sat on the bedside table. The jarring music of ceramic shattering was lost to his ears; the pain shooting from the tips of his fingers and up his arm was also numbed. The sight of his blood dripping from his palm went unnoticed. Everything was muffled to him, everything was colorless. Everything was meaningless.

Lelouch was unsympathetic. He was impassive, deaf, blind, and unfeeling.

But more than that, he was scared.

The voices had finally stopped, had finally shut up, but with their absence, he was now forced to reflect on his actions and his words.

Forced to reflect on how he truly felt towards C.C.

Forced to reflect on what direction he truly wanted his relationship with her to go in.

Forced to face his Pandora's box, now free from the shackles of his heart.


A/N: … I apologize for any out-of-character-ness. School can really make you lose your grip on character. So I do apologize. I hope it satisfied you, and you enjoyed it. I really hope you do, and please leave a review if you can! Thank you!

So… I realized that I've been really discourteous to everyone, and I would really like to change that. So here I am, trying to fix that (I'm sorry if I spell your username incorrectly).


To: BreezyDream and Dshow

Thank you for sending me a PM. I was touched; you guys cared enough to send me a PM. I hope you continue enjoying Operation Orange.


To: gowda, VaSander, iyfan635, everlasting night, Howlx100, A-Bot54, Black Phoenix 7777, Oceanous, Dshow, BreezyDream, Mortuus Finem, roger9481, WanderingReader10, exodia969, pokermaniac039, Richy1991, AeroSkywind, and AniiSilorai

Thank you so much for favoriting Operation Orange. I hope I live up to your expectations.


To: gowda, Aiko-333, Double the FlamEzz, everlasting night, Maximusspazicus, Howlx100, A-Bot54, furin-a, Oceanous, Dshow, BreezyDream, toejam18, Mortuus Finem, FinalTruth, juniperfalcon17, Sandric, Dreadtooth, ASDFG96, Keytchtee, HonestLiar333, Thaoes, AniiSilorai, Snizard, and pinta575

I appreciate your decision to follow Operation Orange.


To: Howlx100, jessaminego5134, and Dshow

I'm honored to be listed among your group of favorite fanfiction authors.


To: Howlx100 and Dshow

I'm really glad that you guys liked Operation Orange enough to follow me. Thank you so much.


To: The eagle's shadow, narusaku143, GravityTonttu, Keytchtee, SomebodyLost, Girl-zilla, TTY7, Angelsdream95, Guest, AKOSI AGATAR, Fireminer, renielle14, Xigtus, Ghibli Ninja, and KingOgnik:

All of you guys went above and beyond the call for help. I was amazed by the reviews you gave me, and I have to say, it's one of the few, if not only reason why I'm bothering to continue with this story. Thank you so much for taking the time to write a review; I know it's hard and tedious. I really am indebted to you.