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"I believe there is an organization you are a part of that would be… interested in what I am proposing."
That was the second thing Lelouch VI Britannia had said to him when he magically appeared to liberate him from prison. THE Lelouch VI Britannia.
Rolo could have wept tears of joy back then — if he had been the sort of person to coddle those kinds of irrational emotions.
Several weeks past since. And his enigmatic hero had already bewitched the hardened and clouded hearts of the Black Knights members with his unassuming amenity and — to be expected — his star quality. They didn't mind the quirks of preferring to work with them clad in his latex-tight and elaborately costumed attire, or wearing a cloth visor over his mouth when addressing them. It had been one of those times as Rolo returned from his brief mission outside headquarters —personally requested by their new leader, he gloated to himself.
Since Lelouch VI Britannia's control on their affairs, the Black Knights were a fully integrated organization with what remained of the disheartened Japanese Liberation Front — and prowled the inner-city in the guise of nightfall to minimize the activities of major drug runners. It may have seemed like small chips to anyone else… but they were cleaning up the most violated areas of the settlement.
That was only the beginning. Their savior was planning something huge. And Rolo couldn't wait to be let in on it.
He smiled smugly as he entered their leader's private quarters, wiping it clean from his face as he bowed — not even bothered this time with the arbitrary bouts of jealousy that happened to surface when the bizarre, green-haired woman hovered close by Lelouch's side. "My Lord Zero, I have acquired the items you requested."
He remained bowed as the older man took them from his hands.
"Thank you, Rolo." The boy glanced up through his fluffy bangs to see Lelouch had pulled down his mouth visor and grinned warmly down at him. Rolo could have sworn that he felt his heart stop sharply. Even for this brief moment. But he was a logical boy. Even so… he might have been... captivated.
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"That little boy out there has it bad for you. Surely you realize that…" Cee-Cee drawled, folding her arms together elegantly and stepping around him to stretch out down on a nearby sofa, the curtain of her lime green hair draping across her side. "…And you are cruel enough to lead him on, you no-good fiend, you."
He responded with his back to her, giving her a preoccupied hand gesture, "If it inspires him to become more motivated so be it. I need him."
"Suzaku would disapprove," she pointed out, examining the backs of her hands and her dulled fingernails. When he cringed at his lover's name, when she craned her neck to examine his tensing form, Cee-Cee added perceptively, "You still can't find him?"
"I'm not worried. That meathead probably got himself into some trouble — and I'll just have to get him out of it," Lelouch said as nonchalantly as he could manage, wandering from corner to corner of the room absently, searching. When she raised an eyebrow at his behavior, as if he could sense its presence, he turned at the heel to her, insisting again, "…I'm not worried."
"I heard you the first time."
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The medics in the high-security prison dressed his mutilated neck and collarbone with sterile pads. Along with stiff gauze, however, also prevented Suzaku from moving his head in certain directions and gave him throbbing neck aches. He was thankful, however, that his vocal chords had been undamaged from Schneizel's prior visit to his cell. It was routine now. Being kicked by the guards during mealtime; on his bathroom breaks; when they had free time… and seeing Lelouch's older brother had became less unexpected as well.
He often came into Suzaku's cell to inquire about his health.
"You look livelier today," the blond man this time commented with a practiced smile upon entering. His guards as usual waited outside for their boss, exchanging grim looks. And for a brief moment, Suzaku felt terrible for them. After all… they were responsible for cleaning up the mess Schneizel left behind as he had calmly hacked away at Suzaku's defenseless body. The mess must have terrible. He wouldn't know though. He had blacked out by the blood loss a couple minutes in.
When Schneizel reached into a hidden pocket deep in his lavished, white coat — Suzaku braced a little for that nightmarish glint of silver.
Schneizel chuckled at the Japanese man shrinking away from him, slipping into the open a small, folded square of laced fabric. "I wasn't aware that the Elevens were superstitious against linen handkerchiefs." He said, gently dabbing the back of his neck, "I have news from the outside, Suzaku Kuruugi. And unfortunately, you may not take it kindly." His periwinkle eyes furrowed with flourishing sorrow. "Dearest Lelouch's body was found this morning in an alleyway... located in the Tokyo settlement."
"I don't believe you," came Suzaku's automatic, deadpan reply.
A quick flip of Schneizel's video-phone revealed an excellent quality, moving image of a swarm of people in black face-visors and dark uniforms—a tall, costumed man with a chess mask pointing a gun at a lean, young man with black hair — and then the gun went off loudly despite the small size of the speakers of the phone. Suzaku's chest, already bound by his straitjacket, clenched up instinctively so as the young man in the image fell limp to the floor of the alleyway.
(It can't be. It isn't. Why would it—he—?)
"The man who killed Lelouch VI Britannia is calling himself Zero."
Suzaku felt his cracked lips shift apart as he repeated back, uncertainly, "…Zero?"
Schneizel's tone was so soothing, so sympathetic, and so... sincere. "He is the leader of a new terrorist group. They go for small acts and produce devastating civilian deaths with all intents of striking fear into the hearts of Britannia's citizens. My siblings you have made friends with decided to return to the settlement from where they were hiding, and to the greatest misfortune of all, it led to Lelouch's death. The evidence is right here."
The blond man sighed heavily, as he flipped his phone shut, and reached into another pocket in his coat. Black rimmed glasses were presented out to Suzaku; the left side of them twisted as if stomped on. Blood glistened vividly between the fractures in the lenses. Suzaku couldn't breathe. (Couldn't...)
"Regardless if you believe me or not…"
Schneizel went down on one knee in front of the stunned prisoner, those wide, emerald eyes staring into him with pleading, torn, and hypnotized by his so sincere voice. "This Zero is out for blood. Blood of innocent people. Who knows who might be the next casualty? Your boss? His assistant? Your friends? Nunnally?"
"I…"
"Will you sit quietly in this underground cell room as the world outside it screams for your protection?"
"can't…"
"You are a trained soldier, young man. You are for the people."
"…...yes…"
"Protect what is left."
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"Ashford's personal records?"
Lelouch nodded as he lifted the locked case from the box of miscellaneous items and fiddled with the mini electronic code pad. "He knew something. Something Britannia's government didn't want him to leak out. That's partly why they killed him in cold blood..." He kept the angered quiver from his voice, and with another finger tap, the case popped open.
"I'm impressed." Cee-Cee said blandly from the black-and-gold-decorated sofa, "Perhaps you -are- a warlock."
"There's no magic to it. The code's number was Milly's birth date." His purple eyes softened up in pain. "...It's always Milly's."
Shuffling. His shining, black gloved hands halt between the second and third stack of manila files he held up in the air. "That's…"
"What?"
Without looking at her, Lelouch presented out a rough pencil sketch of the interior layout of the Britannian Embassy positioned in the inner settlement, and several more sketches of the set up of a detailed bombing system. Several more of anti-government files. He shook his head, forehead wrinkling. "That's… not right. The Ashfords had always been loyal to the nation. Why would he…?" Another slip of paper he skimmed through was immediately crushed in his right hand.
"Bring Rolo in here, now," he muttered back to her.
Silence. Footsteps. The door fell open. Rolo peered in as the gold-eyed woman motioned him inside. "My Lord…?"
He frowned befuddled when his leader approached him from across the room, fury written on his pale expression.
"How long ago was it when the Black Knights formed? How did you get the resources for this base? The money? You needed a substantial amount of money to get where you were at when I joined this organization!" Rolo's purplish-red eyes ticked up in shock.
"Uh—well, we had an anonymous donation… he gave us enough to start acquiring the necessities for everyone—…"
"You never inquired to a name? Nothing at all? How do you know you weren't being tricked by some Britannian official?"
Rolo huffed a little at the accusation of carelessness.
"We weren't going to turn down the amount he offered! It was so much. He said it went to a better cause… because…" The boy scratched his cheek, shuffling mentally through his memory for the words, "…because he 'wanted to see the children of both nations safe from harm'. Eleven or Britannian. He had a 'soft spot for children'." Still befuddled, he watched the green-haired woman leaning on the nearest wall and their stupefied leader exchange pithy glances.
"That will be all, Rolo." The boy hesitated, internally flinching when his leader then glared at him for it, and obeyed hurriedly. Lelouch ran his hands over his face. "Cee-Cee, phone Kento Sugiyama. We're going ahead with the schedule tonight. There needs to be another sweep of the Shinjuku ghetto before dawn breaks."
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Her bullheaded and insufferable ass of a charge insisted on deviating from the rest of the troop of Black Knights in the abandoned warehouse, once the group of drug runners they captured were stripped of their ammunition and proceedings, and were tied up safely (nursing a bruise, sprain, maybe a broken nose or two).
"Call it a sudden feeling," Lelouch murmured through his voice-modifier, successfully vanishing from the others with her.
Moments later, they heard a commotion. A squeal of car tires.
From around the bend of the warehouse's south exit, a gray, unmarked truck veered around them before crashing with its side propped into the wall. Smoke welled from the now wrinkled metal hood. The driver stumbled from the unscratched door of the passenger's seat, but the person himself professedly intact and unimpressed as he untangled his gold-lined, blue cloak from around his middle. A fringe of brown curls hovering above two intensely green eyes.
There was…something decidedly numb about them, the woman thought to herself…
But Lelouch did not see it as plainly as she could… maybe love did make one blind… and walked towards the other man…
…and continued walking even as Suzaku retrieved his gun from his belt-holster and aimed for his abdomen. She knew she couldn't stop it even with the short distance.
And she hated herself for it.
Her charge's blood ornamented the grimy floor of the warehouse beautifully with his life, like a painter with savage deliberation.
One of his gloved hands covered the open wound to his kidneys as his other clawed the air limply at his side. Lelouch swayed, his helmeted head tilting frontwards as his body collapsed. When Cee-Cee took a step to the bleeding man, Suzaku leveled his gun at her instead, his eyes dimming from their intense color with detached realization, emptiness.
"You've been helping him this entire time, haven't you? How could you tricked us?"
"You…" she snarled, faintly, "are a fool… an absolute fool. Do you have the slightest comprehension of the deed you've committed here?"
"It goes against my beliefs to harm anyone. I know this…" He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her as the handgun trembled wrapped in his fingers, "I know this… but I am under orders to protect the people of this country."
"...Humans are disgusting. You are all so easily swayed by what others determine is 'right'. So, what did the government offer you? What could it have possibly have been? The chance to become an official citizen to Britannia? More lovers than what could possibly satiate your greedy disposition?" She leered nastily at the word 'greedy'. When the crumpled form on the ground whistled a agonized gasp through his helmet's visor, the woman stepped forward again.
At the click of the gun trained to the center of her forehead, she grinned viciously. "Oh, please. Do shoot me."
The gun shook harder. Suzaku's voice maintained its evenness. "You were a friend."
"The use of past tense is appropriate, I'll give you that much." Her gold eyes flared up with determined malice. "...I don't know what you have been hearing all this time, boy, but I hope… I hope to the very bottom of your heart… that you are satisfied with your actions today."
With that, a rain of bullets bore down on them from the ceiling. As the young Britannian soldier ducked from them, seeking shelter for the smoke-veil of the truck— she raced headfirst without falter to shield the shuddering form curled in his own blood. Cee-Cee tucked his helmet under her chin, feeling all sensations at once (the hot bullets puncturing her unguarded flesh; the cooling, sticky liquid on the ground caking to her hands; his droopy heartbeat with her chest pressed to his).
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Suzaku—
(baby-faced; his one bruised eye covered; his tan, boyish fingers fumbling clumsily but steadfast to work the skinny, red tie from his cream-yellow sweater vest...)
Suzaku—
(a shadow of stubble under the pucker of his lower lip; his eyes beet red from crying; those fingers clutching him were stronger than he remembered six months ago...)
Suzaku—
(flushing darkly over him; his brown hair dripping from the rainfall; he smelled like musk and the woods even in his hands sliding down his body attentively...)
Suzaku—
(no longer baby-faced; a thin, concentrated wrinkle between his eyebrows; those hands; something both hot and cold ripping; those hands not meant to kill...)
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Hands... Hands holding his. Dry hands. Feminine, willowy hands.
His drowsy, violet eyes opened to unblinking, gold eyes.
Her favorite, tan blazer peppered with bullet scorch marks and bloody jagged holes. One of her hands untangled to touch his hairline.
"Suz—"
Cee-Cee shushed him with a patient murmur, trailing cold, blood-stained fingers across his clenching, ashen features. "The Black Knights had no choice but to retreat due to your injuries. The casualties of the ambush were few," she spoke informatively, bluntly, as if they were reviewing what could or could not be served for breakfast tomorrow, "You are dying. There is no way to stop your bleeding."
"...why—?"
She pulled away from him to rise to her own feet, her face disappearing for a moment behind the solid screen of her bright, fanning hair. "Ever since you were a child, you would question the world surrounding you, relentlessly challenging its morals, relentlessly challenging the 'righteous' system that impacted it." Those reddish fingertips plucked the shattered remains of the lead bullets from the pallid, lifeless skin of her arms as if they had been harmless pieces of grass on her skirt. "I thought to myself... with a mind such as this, what couldn't you achieve?" she mused.
"I'm going to give you my immortal life." As Cee-Cee said this quietly; earnestly — Lelouch jolted into a sitting position on the cot, clapping a hand over his abdomen and feeling another excess of blood course out from his body. She shoved him back down. "You don't get to make this decision for me. It was one to be made once we were successful, once we saw this through to the end..." Cee-Cee glanced the red, red blood fully soaking the sheets below him, his winded gasping, and pressed her lips together, tightly. "...I don't need it anymore. I have lived for too long with my burdens."
Her bright gold eyes widened in surprise as one of his bare, ashen hands shakily cupped her cheek.
She held it close to her cold skin, squeezing it, and rolled her eyes in mild exasperation. "Aaaah... what am I do with you? You are such a woman, Lelouch... you fussfussfuss over every little thing that I wonder how you manage to keep the ones you love sane..."
"Witch—"
She crawled over his prone body lying flat to the cot, opening her slim legs to hover in a half-crouch over him.
Her queer, little smile surfaced mischievously. "I always wondered how a gay man kissed..." Her wet, little mouth descended on his, like a block of ice against his flaming features. He felt his breath pull agonizingly from his weakening lungs into hers and then returning hotly; a surge of power that made his hair stand on end; that twisted and spasmed every muscle; his colored surroundings bleeding away...
.
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Humans are many things all together. Disgustingly predictable. Fragile. Stupid. Hollow. Meaningful. Infantile. Brave.
He is many things. Kind. Righteous. Ferocious. Calculating. Possessive. Stupid. Beautiful. Skilled.
We made love in Marianne's cottage that still stood unmarred. I had been a celibate, timeless creature for the past seven hundred years. Sex seemed foreign. Tasteless. Incriminating. Irresistibly human. He embodied all of these qualities, and made me eat my solemn words to avoid such encounters with my acquiescences. His skin was like molten caramel, flushing a sensual dark cherry color in his cheekbones.
At the cottage table the next morning, wrapped in nothing but a sheer tablecloth, I asked him if he thought I could love him. If he could bear the sickening thought of this deathless being carrying his children.
He eyed my hands clutching into themselves with those burnt-orange eyes. He swept away the tablecloth, letting it flutter to our feet, and embraced me with his muscled, long arms, placing his head on my shoulder like a child. I would always remember what he had spoken to me. How those words traced themselves into the white skin of my shoulder until I could no longer feel myself and slackened into him.
He told me that whether or not we were human... we were destined to be suspended without motion, and a life with that adjournment meant little to him. But if we could continue moving forward from our pasts and from our mistakes... life could blossom anew. And maybe one day...
We could, too...
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TBC…
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This has gotta be my longest chapter yet. And the most edited of them all. I changed everything I was going to do. O.O Rock on. ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT! ARE YOU EXCITED? -dodges flamethrowers and rocks- I want to attempt a less than a month update for this last chapter. Because I know how it feels to be waiting on a frustratingly long cliffhanger and it is not fair. So. Give me a few weeks with my workload. Kay?
...I realize that I thank my readers and reviewers in every chapter (and when I say thank, I really mean gush on and on endlessly) and that possibly it might be annoying...
-shrugs-
-walks away-
;DD ~~Love ya!