Blind for two days. I just had to touch Shirley in the middle of a mind meld, didn't I?

I hear water clunk into the sink somewhere in the kitchen. The faucet's leaking…again. I grit my teeth and pretend that the sound isn't there. Unsuccessfully. I debate whether to stumble blindly to the kitchen or to wait until morning and let Shirley take care of it.

Perhaps I'm just positioned awkwardly. I roll over onto my side and crunch into a ball, but the bed presses against my stomach and I feel my arm getting numb. Of course. It's probably one or two o'clock in the morning, but I can't see the alarm clock, for obvious reasons.

"Of all the—"

My voice breaks off, and I feel my chest tighten at the injustice of it all.

No! Get a grip….

Clunk…

Clunk….

Clunk…

I claw at my sheets and yank them over my head. They come loose, and I feel a cold puff of air on my feet.

"AUGH!"

I aim several frantic kicks at the base of the bed that only manage to dislodge the covers further. One of my ankles strikes the bedpost, and I feel a sharp shock of pain.

"Great!" I shout, not caring that anyone might hear. "Brilliant, Lelouch! Blind AND stupid, eh? Cripple yourself more, why don't you?!"

Besides, Shirley's asleep in the basement, and the only other person in the house couldn't care less—

I feel a hand on my shoulder. As if on command, tension drains from the spot.

"Shirley…?"

A very different voice replies.

"Hush," C.C. says. "Calm down and let me tuck your covers in again."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of it myself, witch."

Instead of answering, she walks to the edge of the bed. I hear the mattress springs creak as she folds them up and fits the sheets between them.

"I said—"

"I know," she says. "Consider it a favor from an accomplice."

I curl up with my back to her so she can't see my all-too-readable face.

"Why bother?" I snap. "Does it look like I'm in any state to repay you?"

"You'll recover," she says. Her voice carries more conviction than usual—doubtless from smug certainty rather than genuine emotion.

"Well, that makes one of us who's convinced," I say. "Thanks and good night."

The sound of a chair being dragged along the carpet. Three light footsteps later, I can hear the rhythm of her breathing as she sits a foot away from my bed.

"You're still here," I say.

"I wanted the company."

"So the antisocial witch wants company," I snort. "There's a first."

She sighs.

"I can tell you another story if you like," she says.

"You're joking."

"Do I strike you as a particularly humorous person?"

I shrug, squeezing as much disinterest into the gesture as I can.

"Fine," I say. "Why not? I could use the background noise to drown out the stupid tapwater."

A second or two of silence follows, save for C.C.'s breathing and my mattress's squeaks. Then C.C. begins her story.

"Once upon a time…"

Mommy's dead, dead, dead. Like the hangman on television says.

"…There was a sad little prince," my governess says. "And one day, a terrible thing happened."

I look up through teary eyes. I'm still shaking, and the insides of my robes stick to my skin thanks to my mother's dried blood. For the first time, the glow of candlelight seems harsh, like electric lamps turned on full power.

"D…did h-he get better, C.C.?" I ask.

She looks away. Her yellow eyes focus on a maid standing a few feet away from us.

"C.C.?"

"I…mmm?"

She shakes her head as if clearing it and turns back to me. I feel her arms wrap me a bit more tightly.

"Oh yes," she says. "He got…better. The little prince's parents called for a wizard, the greatest in the land. And he waved his magical wand of forgetfulness…"

A vague feeling of protest gnaws me.

"Forgetfulness?" I ask.

"Forgetfulness," she says. "And just like that, the little prince forgot the fact that he brought the dragon into the palace, and he only remembered the good times."

"But…but what about everybody else?" I say.

C.C. raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she says.

She's lying. This is the first time I've caught her lying. Her too-obvious eye contact gives her away.

"What about his family and friends and stuff?" I ask. "He remembered them, right? He did, didn't he?"

C.C. sighs and ruffles my hair while her other hand caresses my face. It slides quickly over my cheeks because of the tears. Again, my governess looks away.

"Most of them," she says.


"GAAH!!"

I bolted upright and became aware of painful throbbing in my head. Nausea, too. Someone had stuck me in a white room with glaring light. I squinted, and the shape of lacy curtains took shape. Voices spoke somewhere outside.

"But…but Your Majesty, he still has a concussion!"

Suzaku. Had to be Suzaku.

"Please, Kururugi. Your concern is noted, but this will only take a moment."

I shot out of bed as soon as I heard that voice, but my knees buckled. My arms arrested my fall just in time, and I shakily lowered myself back into bed.

"Begging Your Majesty's pardon, but how could Lelouch be Zero? He—I mean—Zero killed Lelouch's sister, Prince Schneizel! This is ins--"

"Suzaku, I'm touched by your loyalty, but please step aside."

The voice sounded so patient, so reasonable. I scowled and propped myself up to face the music in as much style as I could muster.

"Your Majesty, he was on the Avalon when Zero got killed. I can't—"

"You don't have to," Schneizel said. "Guards?"

There was no sound of a scuffle, so I guess Kururugi went quietly. Good. He had enough trouble on his plate without me adding to it. The door clicked, and a crowd of men dressed in purple silk and frilly cravats stepped through. The room became hot and stuffy. Ever the showman, Schneizel walked in last.

I did what I could to ruin the scene.

"'Sup, bro?" I said.

Schneizel frowned.

"Your humor is not appreciated, under the circumstances. In case you're wondering, these gentlemen are—"

"—Two dozen of the most powerful noblemen in Britannia," I finished. "Nice of you to bring them here to watch my victory."

My brother graced me with a good-natured chuckle. I felt my fingers tense.

"Lelouch, this is your last chance," he said. "You can still come out of this in one piece if you confess."

"Not on your life."

He looked at me with the air of a reproving teacher scolding the school bully.

"It's your life that's on the line, Lelouch. Take off the contact lens."

You have no idea how badly I wanted to take him up on his offer and geass him, which is exactly why I didn't. Somehow—I didn't know how—he must have developed countermeasures. Or maybe he was just bluffing. Or maybe he wanted me to think he was just bluffing. Or maybe…

You see my dilemma. I smirked and tried to look amused.

"So," I said. "Still chasing evil eyes, brother? Where's Cornelia?"

Schneizel's face was impassive.

"Dead, as if you didn't know."

"I didn't."

His upper lip twitched slightly.

"Don't bother pretending you're upset," he said.

"I won't, because I'm not."

His eyes narrowed, but only for a moment. With machine-like precision, he slowly e…x…h…a…l…e…d.

"Thank you for making this easy for me," he said.

Schneizel turned to the guards, who looked at one another uncertainly. They must have known what was coming.

"Hold him down," Schneizel said.

I knew better than to bluster or fight, especially with the cavalcade of Britannian nobility watching me. I could only delay. Concussed as I was, I'm proud to say that I came up with a pretty logical objection.

"Don't you think you should check Zero's body first?"

The guards stopped. Schneizel waved them forward again.

"Some poor idiot you geassed, no doubt," he said. "Don't take me for an idiot."

Strong hands gripped my right arm. I tried to kick away and found my legs pinned to the bed. With my free hand, I reached for my phone and tried to call Gino's number. Maybe he'd—

The guard slapped it out of my hand. It clattered to the floor. I shut my eyelids, but they were forced open. A pair of dirty fingers jabbed me in the eye and scratched the mucosy surface until Schneizel was sure I wasn't hiding anything there. Then they moved onto the other eye. I kicked and tried to twist out of their grip.

"I'll have you hanged for this! D'you hear me, Schneizel?! I'll flay you alive and feed you to the dogs! I'll—"

He chuckled again.

"Go on," he said. "I'm taking notes."

The man above me clamped his arms around my head until I couldn't shy away. I saw dirty fingers and a bright light that reminded me of my time in the dentist's chair. Then the finger blocked the light.

"I wonder," Schneizel said. "Did you think it would end like this when—"

"Schneizel, ENOUGH!"

The finger stopped. The clip-clop of boots on a linoleum floor—one of the sweetest sounds I've ever heard—interrupted my brother's musings. The grips on my hands and feet loosened, but not enough that I could do anything about it. My gaze stayed riveted to the ceiling. Somewhere in front of me, Schneizel's robe fluttered as he turned around. His voice became stern.

"Kururugi, what you're doing borders on mutiny. Stand down this instant or I will be forced to initiate proceedings against you. And believe me; I will be only too happy to do so."

"He's not Zero!" Suzaku shouted.

From Schneizel's reply, I guessed that he was clenching his teeth.

"Suzaku, we've been over this before—"

"I saw Zero's body. His eyes had a geass sigil on them just like you said, Your Majesty," Suzaku said.

Total silence. Then—

"Excuse me?"

Suzaku's voice wavered a bit...but only a bit.

"Markings, Your Majesty. We think he was Chinese, which makes perfect sense if you think about it. The guys at Pinkerton Branch're running an identity trace as we speak."

I was still pointed at the ceiling, so I regret to say that I didn't see my brother's face when Suzaku told him the news. Far be it from me to let it go, though.

"HA!" I shouted. "HA! HA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

As soon as the guards let me go, I sat up and grinned at Schneizel with a look of undisguised triumph. The noblemen around me wouldn't meet my eyes.

Oh yes, I thought. I'll remember all of you.

I took a deep breath and drank in the victory.

"Now get out, you son of a bitch."

Schneizel managed a rueful smile, bowed, and left.

Suzaku had driven the Black Knights against the mountains. I saw them when my jeep crested a hill, and almost wished I hadn't. The organization—my organization, if you really think about it—had been reduced to wreckage. The broken remnant of the army that nearly reconquered Japan stood shoulder to shoulder in a phalanx. Britannian knightmares were strewed around them, but how few remained….

We continued until we reached the Japanese lines. The drivers cast skittish looks at the wall of gunbarrels and blades. Taking the hint, I told them they were free to go and hopped out without another word. The ground yielded and oozed around my boots. I tried to pull myself out. Couldn't.

"A little help?"

The Japanese line parted and a red knightmare stepped through the gap. For the first time I can remember, I wondered why it didn't sink into the mud like I had. Come to think of it, the physics of knightmare combat in general…

The knightmare opened its cockpit, and a certain fiery redhead in a black jacket and miniskirt stepped confidently out. I shrugged. Some questions just aren't that important. For the briefest of moments, I wanted to rush up and hug her—an urge I'm very happy to say I don't get very often.

When I saw her expression, my mood did a nosedive.

"It took you too long," she said.

Kallen made a none-too-subtle nod at the Black Knights' depleted ranks.

"I was unconscious," I said. "Somebody shot down the Avalon."

"Oh."

"You're okay too, I see."

"Yeah."

"That's…good."

"Yeah."

Sad to say, our tender reunion got interrupted by a certain opium-smoking genius before it blossomed into bisyllables.

"Helllloooooooo Lelouch."

At times like this, I'd learned to roll with it. I dipped my head slightly.

"Hey, Rakshata. Thanks for the antidote, by the way. Worked like a charm."

She took a long draw on her pipe and smiled like a satisfied kitten. Odd, considering the circumstances…but then, so was Rakshata. She wrapped her arms around Kallen's neck and leaned against her shoulder.

"If I'm not mistaken, this is where it's customary to lay down terms," she said.

"Quite," I said.

With an almighty slurp, I heaved my foot out of the mud. It stuck in another hole as soon as I put it down.

"Um…I'd really appreciate a hand right about now…"

Kallen leaned against a smashed knightmare frame. Her body stayed rigid. If anything, the support made her look less comfortable.

"Just name your terms," she said.

I tried to meet her eyes, but she tilted her head away.

"Kallen, are you—"

"No, Lelouch, I'm not. Let's not have this conversation now, OK?"

I looked down kneaded one of my shoes deeper into the mud. My hands slid behind my back in an imitation of relaxed nonchalance, but my uneven foot placement didn't let me pull it off.

Yep. Definitely the foot placement.

"Mao's death is going to be a serious embarrassment to the Chinese government, especially with my 'upcoming marriage'"—I made little quotation marks with my fingers—"to Tianzi. They'll withdraw support from their puppets in Kyushu. Which means—"

"We're screwed," Kallen finished. "You screwed us all over and killed your sister for nothing."

Her face was like stone. I held out my palms defensively.

"Calm down, please. Seriously, Kallen….d'you think I was planning to get shot down?"

An odd look spread over her face. Crap. One more conspiracy theory planted.

"…I wasn't," I said quickly.

"Get to the point, Lelouch."

"I've squeezed the Chinese government for concessions. They're giving me Hong Kong as a marriage gift, and I'm declaring it an independent nation outside of Britannian control. The Japanese government-in-exile and the Black Knights'll share dual control until you guys figure out a constitution."

Kallen's crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Yeah, wonderful," she said. "A nation without people."

"I'm granting visas to any Japanese who want to leave."

Her eyes widened.

"How can you get away with that?!"

I smirked and waved my hand.

"I call it the Subversive Exile Act," I said. "How's that for spin?"

Rakshata leaned next to Kallen and whispered none-too-quietly in her ear.

"See, this is why I stayed away from the social sciences," she said.

"Something you want to tell the class, Rakshata?"

She cocked an eyebrow at me.

"What about India?" she asked.

"It's a long term project," I said.

Rakshata's face fell. I'll say this for her, though: she hid it well. Her nonchalant mask returned…almost. Her lips pursed and eyes drifted downward as if she was steeling herself for something.

"You're leaving the Black Knights, aren't you?" I said.

For the last time, I saw her lips curl into that haughty smile.

"Meri Jhansi nahin dungee," she said. "I will not give up my Jhansi. You're familiar with the reference?"

I smiled.

"Phir milenge, little Rani," I said.

Rakshata shrugged and took another long drag on her pipe.

"Somehow I doubt it, Maharaj Kumar."

She was right, by the way. Rakshata went back to India and led her own rebellion, complete with enough souped-up knightmares to bring down an army. Not the Chinese army, though. The last I heard of my erstwhile gadgeteer genius was that they'd stuck her in a prison camp on the Chinese mainland. After the Cultural Revolution…who knows?

Nine hours and a crippling amount of jetlag later, I stood in a freezing throne room. I shivered—from the cold, I told myself. Yes, definitely the cold. This was completely, totally unrelated to my near-execution seven years ago when I'd been stupid enough to call my father out. The place seemed darker now, but not smaller; someone had turned off most of the lights, and I strained my eyes in vain to see the Rococo cherubs-and-clouds scene on the ceiling. It was just a black hole.

"F-Father?"

My breath froze into a little cloud. I hugged my body as tightly as I could without making it obvious. Dad hated weakness. That much, I remembered. Apparently, he also hated paying the electric bill. A voice boomed out from the shadow in the pit of the throne.

"Come here."

Well, well...didn't mince words, did he? I walked across the floor in stutter steps thanks to the cold. Unlike a certain Emperor, I didn't have three layers of protective blubber. Echoes from my footsteps bounced across the room, which was easily the size of a football stadium. Fifty-foot banners flanked my long walk on either side. They all showed the same thing: Britannia's lion and viper entwined in their eternal struggle against a blue field. When I was a child, the symbol had always struck me as a strange: deadly combat in a void. No food, no other animals, no territory existed to give rise to the conflict, yet there they were. The banners hung frozen, still; as if the breeze had never blown them.

My heart sank when I saw V.V. beside the throne.

"That's close enough," Dad said. "I won't give you the opportunity to use your geass."

Shit...

I struggled to keep my voice steady and appeasing at the same time.

"What do you want of me, Father?"

The man-mountain sat impassively, like--cliche though it is, I swear it's true--a living statue. He let me shiver for a few moments before he replied.

"Explain yourself," he said.

"How can I--"

"You have three minutes," V.V. added with a grotesquely cute smile.

A deep breath wouldn't have helped; not with the subzero temperatures. Irony of ironies, I closed my eyes and ran through the first thing Father ever taught me: Morphy versus Steinitz, Vienna, 1868. I crossed my hands behind my back and raised my chin in a gesture of confidence I knew I didn't feel.

And then?

Then I told the biggest whopper of a long, deceitful career.

"Isn't it obvious, Father? I planned it all from the beginning."

Was that a twitch at the corner of his mouth, or just the shadows playing with me?

"Go on," he said.

"Very well," I said.

I debated whether to start pacing. Better not. There's a fine line between confidence and arrogance.

"As you know, I started this scheme without any assets aside from Lucy and a low-to-moderate ranking in the succession. To succeed the throne, I needed three things: royal favor, dead siblings, and--well, scratch that. Actually, I just needed the two things. Unfortunately, Clovis had the Viceroyship. What to do?"

"I'll thank you to tell your story without the pseudo-dramatic footnotes--"

To my surprise, Dad interrupted the little troll.

"No, big brother...let him tell it his own way."

V.V. gave his "little" brother an indignant huff and piped down.

"As I was saying," I said, "Clovis had the Viceroyship, but he was getting harassed by terrorists. Not much--"

I shrugged melodramatically.

"--Just enough to be a nuisance. I wanted to turn Japan into a power base against Schneizel, but there was no way you'd appoint me Viceroy. I needed a political post, and for that...I needed Clovis to need me."

"So you created the Black Knights," Dad said.

I thought I could detect just a trace of interest in his voice, but I didn't get my hopes up.

"Yes," I said. "I used the Rebellion to cover up the growth of the nonviolent resistance movement. Every brutality that the Britannian military committed just made it that much easier to convince the Elevens to disobey. In the meantime, I could stand on the sidelines until Clovis and Cornelia made Area Eleven ungovernable. Then I could step in and take over. Unfortunately, Euphie's Special Administrative Zone moved events too quickly."

"You had her killed."

It was a statement, not a question. I nodded.

"Correct. Euphie was the perfect martyr. The Massacre gave me an excuse to attack Zero directly without looking like I was anti-Japanese, and it drove Cornelia into berserker mode."

"...Which made you look much more appealing by comparison to the Japanese--excuse me, Elevens," V.V. said.

"Right. And now, thanks to Narita, I've removed Cornelia and avoided suspicion from Schneizel at the same time."

Dad's voice became stern again.

"And what makes you think you'll get away with this?" he bellowed.

I shrugged.

"Call it a hunch," I said. "After all, Father...isn't this what you wanted? For your children to claw at each other's throats until one stepped out from the wreckage victorious? Well, here I am, Father. It's just me and Schneizel now. I've even arranged a marriage with Tianzi, so I'll have a power base in Asia when that day comes--may it be indefinitely postponed, Dear Father--when one of us will have to succeed the throne."

"Don't think your sarcasm escapes my notice," he said.

A long pause followed, and then he laughed.

"You are my son, aren't you? Ha! I was right not to exile you during that outburst seven years ago! Ha!...A chip off the old block..."

His voice trailed off, and I wondered if I heard the tinge of regret there. I doubt it. In fact, I wouldn't include it at all if it wasn't for...No, never mind. It's stupid. And anyway, Dad showed his true colors soon enough.

"Did you catch all that, Kururugi?" he said.

My stomach lurched as the last person on Earth I wanted to hear that speech stepped from behind a column. His head hung limply, and I was almost glad that shadows covered his eyes. I didn't want to see them.

"I...I defended you," he said. "You piece of shit, your own sister! You killed your own SISTER!"

I stared at him, slack jawed while my father laughed. I had to say something, but the words died before they left my throat.

"Suzaku, I..."

"You didn't think I'd allow you to infiltrate a friend into the Knight of Rounds without breaking you up, did you?" Dad said. "Come now, Lelouch! You think I'm stupid enough to fall for the same trick your mother and I played on Frederick? Ha! Arrogant boy!"

Too late now. What's one more painful lie, more or less? I affected an offhand sigh and opened my palm in an "oh well," gesture.

"Sorry, Kururugi," I said. "Reasons of state, you know..."

"You bastard!"

I twisted my face into a sneer. It was easy to look disgusted--at myself, if only he knew.

"Considering our audience, you might want to reconsider your choice of insults," I said.

Suzaku reeled and tensed as if he was going to strike me. He took a shaky breath. When he spoke again, he was calm.

"Lelouch, I really, really hope you're plotting against Britannia....because the moment you show your hand, I'm gonna treat you the same way you tricked me into treating my own people."

I rolled my eyes.

"Hmph! A threat?"

"A promise," he replied.

With painstaking precision, he bowed to my father and stalked from the room. I looked at the evil son of a bitch on his throne and bit back the urge to leap at him and tear him to shreds.

"That was...interesting," I said. "Well played. Anything else, Father?"

He grinned again. That sick, predatory grin.

"I want C.C."

No choice...

"Done," I said. "I want Area Eleven."

"Done," he said. "Congratulations, Viceroy."

I bowed deeply and turned to go.

"One moment, Lelouch."

I turned back and gave him a toadying smile.

"Yes, Father?"

"Shall I tell you why you're doing this, my son? What your motivation is?" he said.

Feed him to ants...No! Boil him in oil...No, too good for him. Electrocution...yes, electrocution. For weeks, and weeks and--

"I'm all ears, Father."

"You're spinning your wheels, boy. You don't have the guts to work outside the system or the idealism to imagine a better world like a true visionary could. Do you know what you are? You're a machine. A flesh-and-blood marionette who's dancing to the only tune he's ever known. The only one his upbringing prepared him for. Why? Because you can't do anything else. Think about that, son."

"I--"

"This interview is over," he said. "Good day, Viceroy."

I walked across the longest hallway of my life and closed the door behind me. My body shook like a leaf, and I couldn't pretend any longer that it was from the cold.

FROM THE FILES OF PINKERTON BRANCH

Ruben,

Alea lacta est, if you know what I mean. Burn this note.

--Lelouch