Scrubbed

"How are they?"

"Alive, but unconscious. The Chinese are not pleased that we've taken them."

"To hell with the Empress and Xingke. They wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for our assistance, as far as I'm concerned they owe us one and I'm collecting."

"It may not be as cut and dry as you think. After all, they did try to assassinate you during a Chinese Federation celebration, some will think we are overstepping our charter."

"Those two are major security threats to Britannia and us. I wouldn't trust the Chinese to take care of them properly, they'd probably take them out back and shoot them for who they are. With us at least we have a way to disable them and keep them contained as we pick up the pieces. Damn my father and his twisted shit brother to the depths of hell, have you seen what they did to him?"

"I had to experience it. She's even worse."

"...I shudder to think what might have happened if you had not approached me witch."

"I have a good idea, but we bought enough time to keep them busy putting out fires."

"So what now? They will be completely out of sorts when they wake up."

"Now? We continue as is and work to repair the damage as best as we can."

"And hope for the best."

0000

Where was he was the first thought that raced through the mind of Lelouch vi Britannia as he slowly awakened. Everything seemed muddled to him, an inky blackness where his recollections should be that refused to give up its contents to him.

The second thing that occured to him was when he looked up at the dull metal ceiling of wherever he was was that he had no depth perception because his left eye was covered by something.

The third and final thing however was when he attempted to reach up to remove whatever was covering the eye, he found his wrist handcuffed to the bed. He laid there staring at the offending accessory with a look of confusion.

Why am I handcuffed? Why can't I remember anything?

Any normal person would more than likely start panicking, but he wasn't a normal person, he was Zero, and Zero didn't panic, he analyzed. But again, the only problem with achieving that was the fact that analysis required data, and all the data he had was not the kind that solved the problem.

No, wait, he thought with a deep frown, the last thing I remember was arriving at Kamine Island...Nunnally, that was it. I went to Kamine to rescue Nunnally who had been kidnapped. Kallen was there with me? Were we captured? Where am I? What's going on?

He raised his head up, an unconscious part of him filing away that it felt weird to life it's head, well, not weird, just...it didn't have a descriptor for it, it just felt off. The lack of depth perception though was starting to drive him insane, for one thing, he could barely make out anything in the dim surroundings of wherever he was, but he couldn't even gauge the distance to get a scale of where he was at. All he had was that the bed was comfortable and the actual blankets were of a higher quality than what he was used to at Ashford.

So was he a prisoner or what?

It was as he was scanning the room again he stopped as he realized there was someone sitting in the shadows watching him, his lone eye narrowed at the figure.

"Who are you? Why am I being detained? What do you want with me?"

He heard more than saw as the figure shifted in the chair, the sound of clothing rustling as it then stood up to its feet. It then began walking towards him, entering into the light and allowing him to see to see who it was.

A spike of cold fear shot through his stomach as the all-too-familiar visage of his elder half-sister Cornelia li Britannia stepped front and center. A flash of a memory of her laying battered and broken before the remnants of her person Gloucester a defiant look as she threatened to make him pay for what he had done to Euphemia.

Euphemia. That was right, he had killed her.

"So, I guess you won," he stated bitterly, bringing his head back to the bed, "here to take your revenge for killing Euphie?"

He awaited any response any type of condescension, hell, he figured she would shoot him now, but she did nothing, only standing there looking at him with a neutral expression, only confusing him further. He had expected Cornelia angry, screaming at him, crying, something, not Cornelia just standing there like a statue.

He sighed, closing his on eye.

"What do you want me to say before you kill me? I'm sorry? I'm sorry for what happened to Euphie? I didn't mean it? I didn't want it to happen? Cornelia, you have already destroyed the Black Knights, you won, just kill me because I refuse to be brought back to that man."

"You really don't remember, do you?"

His one eye snapped open.

"Remember what?"

Cornelia disappeared into the shadows again, causing him to chew at what she had just said.

"Remember what Cornelia? What should I be remembering? The battle? WHAT?!"

The lights snapped on, causing him to wince at the sudden brightness of the room before his eye adjusted to everything. It was now that he realized he was in some personal quarters of sorts, spartan, but with a hint of a personal touch to it. A picture of Euphemia lay off on a desk cluttered with various papers and tablets. He then looked to Cornelia and was taken aback at the clothing choice. Gone was the usual nightmare of Britannian military clothing, replaced by a more simplistic but stylish and formfitting jumpsuit of white and red with crape draped over her shoulders.

A part of him whispered that something was off. If anything Cornelia seemed...different. Older maybe. But her hair was a bit wilder, yet at the same time more regal, with the purple hair being slightly longer and more...aggressive looking.

"What was the last thing you remember," she asked.

He frowned, confused at the line of questioning. Why was she interested in what he remembered?

"Why do you even care?"

"If you truly regret what happened to Euphemia, then you will tell me what you remember last," she commanded, her voice stern even as her eyes flashed dangerously.

He remained silent for what seemed like an eternity, looking into that inky blackness that was his memory. Why was it so hard to remember? Why was there things he could not recall when he had a perfect memory? Had he been geassed? No, he wouldn't have such a widespread memory fault, it must be something else.

"I remember making it to Kamine Island," he finally stated, "I remember making it there with Kallen and then...and then," he closed his eye trying to focus, but he couldn't recall past that, it was like his brain refused to remember that event for some reason, "nothing. Now are you going to kill me?"

It was then to his shock as the expression on Cornelia's face softened, she reached over, grabbed a chair, and dragged it over beside him. That done, she then settled into the chair before letting out a sigh, looking at him.

"What's going on Cornelia," he demanded. What was going on? Why wasn't she going to kill him? Why was she toying with him?

"Lelouch, I don't even know where to start with this," she hesitated stopping herself to think, "but the Battle of the Tokyo Settlement was almost three years ago."

This is a fic that started out as a simple idea put forward by dw77 and kind percolated in my head until it developed into this. It is going to be a multipart fic, how many chapters I'm not sure yet and it really is a tertiary fic with all the fics I'm currently working on. But I should get to updating it sometime next month or so.

So? What do you think has happened to Lelouch? What has gone on in the last three years? Why is Cornelia not gutting him like a fish?

Y'all have to wait until the next chapter to find out.