One and only Son

by Juubi-K

Written for Zaru. Bismarck Waldstein regrets only one thing; that he has no son. When he claims an orphan boy for his own, the course of history takes an unexpected turn.

25. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Narita National Park, Gunma, Area 11

It had been going on for days.

Alexander Waldstein watched, tight-lipped, as the work went on. Men and machines swarmed over the landslide; knightmares hefting away heavy boulders, soldiers picking carefully through the mud and debris, in the hope that someone might still be alive.

A vain hope. Thus far only corpses had emerged. These were taken to the nearby tents, cleaned, checked for any means of identification, and then zipped into bodybags and passed on to their intended destinations. The identified bodies went down to the railhead for transport, the unidentified to the storage tents; where they lay in wait of friends or loved ones to come and claim them.

Alexander forced himself not to wrinkle his nose, or to allow any of the sickening despair coiled around his heart to appear on his face. He had wanted to leave, to get away from that place of dead flesh and agony. But he had his own duties to perform, his own mission to carry out. Princess Cornelia had tasked him with overseeing the digging-out of the buried JLF base, and making sure any intelligence found there was passed on to her.

And keeping an eye on Suzaku Kururugi.

Alexander had seen him several times. He had insisted on staying, on using his knightmare and his bare hands to dig at the mud and the rubble, to toil with the others in that same vain hope. Professor Asplund had remained too, along with his staff; apparently for no more reason than to indulge his young protégé.

Was he a kinder man than anyone knew? Or did he have some other reason?

Alexander did not know, and he didn't particularly want to find out. He just wanted to finish up and get away from there.

His task was all but done. The base tunnels had been found, and the excavation all but complete. They had found the command centre, concealed behind a traditional chalet far up on the mountainside; hidden behind sliding walls, like something out of a children's spy story. And they had found the tunnels, many kilometres of them, snaking around the insides of the mountain like a termite hive. They had found all manner of things inside. Half-repaired armours, APCs, and knightmares. Great stockpiles of supplies, everything from food and medical kits to field rations and uniforms, not to mention weapons of all kinds.

And there were bodies. Mostly men, of a variety of ages, all clad in the old uniforms of the JSDF; some staff officers, but mostly technicians. Those bodies whose uniforms marked them as combat personnel had been spread out across the mountain, or concentrated in the defence bunkers; from whence they had manned gun turrets converted out of mine carts, or sallied out to strike at the attackers from unexpected angles.

Some had died swiftly, crushed or asphyxiated by the mud and the rubble. Others had been unlucky, becoming trapped in air pockets and lingering for hours, or days.

Buried alive.

Alexander forced down the image, before it could overwhelm him. The battle had not been in vain. A major base had been captured, and the JSDF had lost valuable personnel and a substantial stash of supplies. Even if Katase had gotten away – his body was nowhere to be found – then at least his movement was weakened; perhaps considerably.

But he wanted to get away from there. He had put in his report, detailing the completion of the excavation, and the extraction of the datacores from the base computers; those still in a remotely salvageable condition. He had even reported on Suzaku's behaviour, his heart unsettled by the notion of having to spy on a fellow officer like that. He just wanted to get his recall notice, tidy up the small room he had taken in the prefab barracks then get back to Tokyo on the next train; even if it meant riding on the roof.

But he couldn't just go, not like that. He was a knight, and he knew the Three Bonds and Five Virtues; the code of Britannian knighthood that any child could recite by heart. By he knew, as only a true knight could, of how these ideals could conflict. But of the three bonds, Duty was always the simplest, and his duty was clear. He had been given orders, and he had not been given leave to go.

The three Bonds. Duty, Loyalty, and Honour. The Five Virtues. Bravery, Dignity, Chastity, Piety, and Mercy. The shackles that a knight willingly donned when he swore his oath, the sacred laws that made him more than just a professional soldier, or a mindless killer.

How thin they seemed in this place, how distant, how unsettlingly empty. What did those things mean in the face of so much death?

His comm earpiece buzzed. His heart lightening with hope, he reached up to activate it.

"Waldstein."

"This is Darlton," came the familiar and very welcome voice of Andreas Darlton. "We've got your report. Good job. Looks like we gave them a real kicking."

"Thank you, sir."

He was surprised by how much the compliment meant to him. It wasn't as if he had done all that much; even if it was in a place like that.

"What's Kururugi up to?"

Alexander glanced towards the cluster of ASEEC vehicles, where the Lancelot crouched; its gleaming white armour out of place amid the mud and ruin. He could see Suzaku there, drinking from a bottle of water, talking with Lloyd Asplund and Cecile Croomy.

"He's been working at the landslide all morning, sir. His pattern is unchanged."

"Right." There was something in Darlton's tone, something that might have been sympathy. "Anyway, finish up and come home. Don't hang about that place, Sir Alexander."

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir."

The message ended. Alexander glanced towards Suzaku again, and felt a twinge of guilt. He felt he ought to say something, but he didn't know what to say. Suzaku had fought so well, saving Princess Cornelia from capture or death, and throwing the Black Knights into confusion.

While he had been across the mountain, fighting his own battle, too far away to do anything. Too far away to help his Princess.

He did not bear Suzaku any ill will. How could he? But then something had gone wrong. Suzaku had gone chasing after Zero, on Cornelia's orders, only to let him escape.

And he had been found, near a wrecked Burai command model, firing his VARIS rifle into the air and shrieking like a madman. When he had calmed down enough to get him out of the cockpit, he had been a pale, gibbering wreck; his mind seemingly gone.

The ASEEC personnel had been worried. And Euphemia had been worried too. She had seemed reluctant to go, to leave Suzaku with them; at least until Cecile had gently promised to look after him.

Alexander understood it, at least in the ASEEC's case. Like all modern knightmares, the Lancelot used a Neural Synchroniser; a Mind-Machine Interface system that controlled some aspects of the machine by picking up on the devicer's brainwaves. The early version, such Alexander himself had trained with, had been comparatively crude. It took a great deal of concentration, and zen-like management of one's own thoughts, to get any kind of reaction out of it. Some found it so painful, so exhausting, that they just switched it off and made do with the joysticks and pedals, like in the old days.

Either way, it had opened the door to a new form of warfare; a new age of knighthood, in which elite individuals – those with strong hearts and minds as well as strong bodies – could excel and stand out. Those who would be knights had their sync-rates tested, and those with the highest rates were given priority for acceptance; regardless of their birth. Those whose minds adapted best to the new technology were the best-fitted to serve as devicers.

Alexander knew that ASEEC had been trying to make a better version, a more sensitive version that responded more easily. But this, if the rumours were to be believed, was not a simple matter. Make it too sensitive, the rumours went, and things could go wrong. The system could pick up on subtle shifts in mental activity, on thoughts and impulses the conscious mind could not easily, or at all, control. It was also whispered that the sheer strain of trying to master one's mind to that degree could lead to changes, or breakdowns.

Of course ASEEC was worried. If that was what had happened, then their project would be in jeopardy. There had been rumours of other methods, that the EU and China were experimenting on cybernetics; on adding implants to the brain, or finding ways to directly attach the nervous system, or the brain itself, to the knightmare's controls. If ASEEC's approach failed, they might find themselves side-lined.

And of course Euphemia was worried. She had told him of how they had met one day, and taken a pleasant wander through Tokyo Settlement, only to have it interrupted by Jeremiah Gottwald nearly being assassinated by his own followers. She had taken an interest in Suzaku, and was starting to look as if she cared for him.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Alexander was about to head towards Suzaku, when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned, and saw a handful of civilians moving across the field from the railhead. One of them caught his eye; a young girl with long auburn hair, wearing a yellow dress.

"Miss Fenette?" The name just slipped out, and it was enough to catch her attention.

"Oh, Sir Alexander!" Shirley Fenette looked almost as surprised as he was. She paused, turning to look at him; and as she did so, an older-looking woman did likewise. They looked quite similar; and Alexander wondered if this was her mother.

Did that mean…

"Miss Fenette, have you been called here?" It was a stupid question, but he couldn't stop it from slipping out.

"Uh, yeah…my lord." Shirley smiled awkwardly. "Oh, uh, this is my mother."

The woman bowed her head, regarding him warily. Alexander bowed, the short bow for when one is uncertain of another's station. The Virtue of Courtesy was probably the trickiest of all the virtues. To not bow at all would be rude, but to bow too low would be condescending.

His heart sank, as the meaning of their presence sunk in. They must have been called because Joseph Fenette had not been accounted for. They must have been called because a body had been found, and it was for them to identify it.

But how? How could it have happened? He was supposed to have left just as the battle was starting! Had he been delayed? Was this all some terrible mistake?

"If you are here for a viewing, it's this way." Alexander gestured towards the main mortuary tent. He thought of offering Shirley his arm, but thought better of it; her mother might not react well.

He led his way to the tent, silently praying that their journey had been wasted. As they reached the entrance, he led the way inside.

Inside were a line of bagged bodies, respectfully spaced out, some with possible friends and relatives around them. His heart clenched at each cry of recognition, each sob of grief.

Had he actually believed in any sort of God, he might have prayed harder. Prayed for this innocent, kind girl to spared what he knew awaited her.

And his heart clenched again, as he saw who was in charge of the viewings.

"Lieutenant Waldstein," Lieutenant Villetta Nu greeted him, with a questioning look.

"Lieutenant Nu, this is Mrs Fenette and her daughter," Alexander introduced them. Villetta looked down at her datapad, her eyes weary.

"Yes. This way please."

Alexander's stomach clenched as Villetta led the way along the line to one bag in particular. Two orderlies, recognising the moment, crouched down to either side of the bag, ready to open it.

Villetta looked to Mrs Fenette, who nodded. Villetta gestured to the two orderlies, and they opened the bag.

For a strange moment, Alexander felt nothing. He saw the pale face, but somehow could not register it. It was neither Joseph Fenette, nor not Joseph Fenette. It was…

A horrible scream made his blood run cold. Mrs Fenette fell on the body, shaking with great, racking sobs.

It was Joseph Fenette. It was him. He was dead. Alexander had seen him, and hours later he was dead.

"Daddy…"

Alexander turned at the sound. Shirley was staring down at her father, pale and shaking, tears welling in her eyes.

"Daddy…"

Alexander could not bear it. He had faced death in countless battles, watched cities burn, and seen rivers run red with blood. But he could not bear to see her like this. He could not bear to see her cry.

"I saw him…"

He opened his mouth, searching for something to say, for some comfort to offer. Euphemia would know what to say, wouldn't she? She would know what to do. She always did.

Shirley rounded on him, throwing herself against him and burying her face in his neck. He could feel her shaking as she sobbed, her heart beating against his own, her tears on his cheek.

He brought up his arms, and wrapped them around her; ignoring the look Villetta was giving him. He couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to stop himself.

It was all he could do.

(X)

Tokyo Settlement, Area Eleven

A grim event.

Not that this was unusual. In the experience of the Reverend Allelujah Haptism, funerals were rarely happy affairs; and those that were, he found more disturbing than those that weren't.

He fixed his eyes on the grave, and the just-visible coffin at its bottom, as he gave the final blessing.

"The Lord is merciful

As a father pities his children

For he knoweth from whence we came

And of what we are made

He knoweth that we are flawed and sinful

He remembereth that we are as dust.

He could see, in the corners of his eyes, the mourners gathered around the grave. The men and women who had come to bid farewell to Joseph Fenette, and to support his widow and daughter. The widow Fenette had been looking frail since she got there, more-so than when he had first seen her to plan the funeral. The daughter, Shirley, seemed to be holding up. It was as if her tears had already been shed, and all that remained was the numb emptiness of grief.

It was better that way.

The days of man are as grass

For he flourisheth as a flower in the field

And as soon as the wind goeth over it, it is gone

And the place thereof shall know it no more

But the mercy of the Lord endureth

For ever and ever

He reached out his hand, and crumbled the earth within it, letting it fall onto the coffin below.

Into thy hands, O Lord, we commend his spirit

Our brother, Joseph Fenette

We commit his body to the ground

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust

We beseech thee to take him unto thee

Among thy Saints and Angels

Among the innocent and the good

Of all the nations

And keep him there in safety

Until the day of glory

When all sins shall be forgiven

And all sorrows ended

The dirt was gone. It was almost over.

Now unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible

Honour and glory, forever and ever

Amen."

He made the benediction, and the mourners crossed themselves. Thumb and forefingers, forehead, right shoulder, left shoulder.

It was done.

Allelujah nodded to the sextons, and they began their work. Their spades cut into the heap of soil, and piled it into the grave.

"No! Don't bury him again! Please!"

Allelujah's heart sank, as the Widow Fenette fell to her knees, sobbing in despair. He had feared this would happen. He had seen enough of them, at enough funerals, to know the signs. He saw her daughter kneel by her mother's side, embracing her.

The sextons paused, uncertain. Allelujah gestured at them to wait, and watched as the sobbing lady's companions drew her back from the graveside. He waited until she had calmed, then gestured for the work to continue.

There he stood, watching as the grave was filled, and the last soil neatly laid, and the last flowers laid.

"Conclamatum est," he whispered, "amen".

He heard the whispered amens from those who knew the rite. Technically only he was supposed to say it, but it did no harm.

Allelujah watched as the mourners dispersed, wandering away in ones and twos, or small groups; heading to where the cars awaited. From there they would drive away, to the wake, to their jobs, or their homes; to the rest of their lives. He paused, letting them go. His part in this was over, as was theirs.

Eventually the only ones left were the daughter, and a group of young people of about her own age, clad in the uniforms of Ashford academy. They were mostly girls, apparently friends of the daughter, but one or two boys too. Their singing voices had been a pleasant addition to the rites. He wondered if Miss Ashford - the tall blonde one, who had approached him to perform the funeral - had selected them for that purpose.

After a little while, the youths headed off towards the cars, leaving the daughter alone at the graveside. Allelujah steeled himself. He didn't want to force her away, but it didn't do to be alone at a time like this.

"May I be of help, Miss Fenette?" he asked, stepping up to join her.

"Oh, Reverend Haptism." Shirley turned to face him, an awkward smile doing little to hide the sorrow in her eyes. "I just…I wanted to say thank you for performing the ceremony. Mom was so happy when you agreed to do it. You did... an amazing job."

"I am a priest of God," he replied gently. "I go where I am needed, and minister where I can."

"All the same, thank you. It really meant a lot."

They stayed a while, in silence.

"Reverend, is there…can I ask you something?"

"By all means, Miss Fenette."

He gestured towards the path, and Shirley followed, Allelujah falling in beside her. They walked in silence for a time, as Allelujah waited for her to find her voice.

She was beautiful, that much was clear. Perhaps not in the conventional sense, but she was certainly not lacking. More than that, there was something sincere about her, something warm and charming. He was certain that her father had loved her more than all the world, and that love and not duty had brought so many of her schoolmates to the funeral. They had all looked so sad.

"Don't you just wanna peel that pretty dress off her?"

A shiver ran down his spine. Why now? Why did it have to be now? Of all times?

"Reverend…I…" She faltered, a pained look on her face. "Can I tell you something, in confidence?"

"Oh hoho! Confession! My favorite part of this stupid job!"

"Down, demon!"

"What you say is between us and God, my child," he said, willing it to be silent. Shirley paused again, a soul in torment.

"I did something wrong." She gulped. "I…when I went with Mom to Narita, there was a man there."

"A man?"

"Yes…a knight." She looked down, but there was a smile on her face. "I met him once before. He was so chivalrous…and so kind."

"Go on."

"When I saw Dad's body…" Another pause, a drawing of breath. "I just fell apart. Like everything just…collapsed. And he was standing there…and…"

She stopped, clutching her arms.

"I just wanted him to hold me," she went on. "I wanted him to hold me, and protect me, and make it all go away."

She sighed.

"That's hardly sinful, my child," mused Allelujah. He was starting to wonder where all this was going.

"But…when I got back to school…" She faltered, and gulped. "There was…there was a boy there."

"Oh yeah haha! Two-timing slut we got here!"

"Silence, beast!"

"i…". Shirley stopped, and lowered her head. "I…I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I just wanted him to…."

Allelujah let out a sigh, quietly enough that she did not hear it.

"My child, I fail to see what is sinful about that."

"But I kissed him!"

A kiss? She had just buried her father, and she thought a kiss was sinful? Was she truly that innocent?

"Bet she isn't~!"

"Shut up!"

"My child, there was no sin in what you did," he said gently, hand on her shoulder. "There was no malice in your heart. You were suffering, and needed comfort."

"But…". Shirley blushed. "But…with two of them! That's wrong, isn't it?"

"Are you involved with one of them?"

"What? Oh, no, nothing like that!" Shirley flapped her hands in panic. "I…I just felt like I did something wrong. I apologised for it, but he hasn't been the same since that night. It's like…something really hurt him."

"The Knight or your school friend?"

"T-The latter, Reverend."

So it was him. Allelujah had seen him, the boy with the black hair, when Shirley had been talking with her friends. He hadn't been able to hear anything, but he could not ignore the look on that boy's face. They had all looked sad, but none half so much as him. He had the eyes of a damned soul.

Allelujah was fairly sure the kiss wasn't the reason. He had seen enough human suffering, enough broken hearts, to know that whatever was tormenting that young man, it was something far, far worse than a random kiss.

And even if it somehow was, how could he condemn Shirley? Assailed with death, she had sought life. Drowning in grief, she had reached out for love. Alone, she had sought oneness with another; not in lust, but in utter desolation, that she might never be alone again.

Allelujah knew something of that. He knew the difference between being physically alone and spiritually alone; to be understood by no one, cared-for by no one, loved by no one. To be loved, to know it for certain, could sustain one through mere isolation. To be unloved was to be utterly, utterly alone.

No one should live that kind of life. Not his worst enemy.

Not even him.

"You must be honest with yourself, my child," he said. "And you must be honest with him. If he will not tell you the cause of his suffering, then there is little you can do."

"I guess you're right."

He escorted her the rest of the way to the cars, and watched as they drove away. His duty done, he turned back towards the funerary chapel. Time to settle up with the sextons, and make sure the chapel was in order before heading back to the mission. The next funeral could be along at any time, thanks to Narita.

He could only hope that he had done some good; that he had been of some help to that poor girl, and her mother. It was all he could hope for, at a time like that. It was the purpose he had chosen for himself, long ago.

"Are you feeling better, Allelujah?"

He saw her face in his mind. It was a comfort to him, as it always had been. She had taught him so much, with only a smile. She had helped him grow, with only a kind word. She had shown him the truth of love, and of generosity. She had proved to him that to give was better than receive, and that love was more powerful than hatred.

To give without thought of reward. Not to dream of storing some great treasure in heaven, or even of being acknowledged, of being famous. To give because there was a joy in giving, and because to give was to never be alone.

Except…he was never entirely alone.

The chapel was empty, as he had hoped. There would be plenty of time to make sure the place was presentable before the next funeral arrived.

One of the windows caught his eye. A stained-glass window, showing an image of Lazarus rising from his tomb; appropriate for a place such as this. It wasn't actually a stained-glass window, but a replica within two sheets of plexiglass; an unfortunate necessity in that unhappy land.

He could see his reflection in the plexiglass. That narrow, still-youthful face, his dark green hair curling around it, covering his eye.

No. The wrong eye. The golden eye…

"You know," it said, the face splitting into a horrid smirk. "For a two-timing wench she was kinda cute!"

Allelujah felt sick. The horror overwhelmed him, chilling him to the bone.

"Maybe she wants to go for three?"

"Shut up!"

His hand closed around the nearest object, a hymn book, and threw it at the window. The book bounced off, landing on the floor in a flutter of pages.

And he was gone. The golden eye was gone, as was the smirk.

He was alone.

Tears pricked at Allelujah's eyes. He turned to the altar, to the great cross that stood over it; the cross upon which had hung the saviour of the world.

"Help me…" he whispered, his voice a hopeless croak.

But there would be no help. No relief from him. He was always there, lurking in the back of his mind like an unspoken threat. He was never far away, always ready to make himself heard, to voice the thoughts he dared not think, and the desires he dared not desire. He was apt to torment him, to whisper obscenities, to conjure wickedness, to fill his thoughts with horror and darkness.

All of it he suffered. All of it he endured. All of it a cross, that was his alone to bear.

Hallelujah.

(X)

Shirley Fenette felt strangely empty.

The funeral had gone fine, all things considered. The hymns, the chanted psalms, the strange magic of the words. It had been comforting, somehow, in a way she couldn't explain. Maybe that was why people still did such things. She had been raised as an Imperial Anglican, in a conventional sort of way, but she didn't think of herself as particularly pious. Apart from one or two she knew, most of them girls, she didn't know anyone who took religion all that seriously.

The only really bad bit had been when her mother had broken down like that; begging them not to bury her husband a second time. She had half-expected something like that would happen, but it didn't make it any easier. She was so glad that Reverend Haptism had agreed to perform the ceremony; and she could have kissed Milly for asking him. He was such a nice young priest, so kind and understanding; both with her mother, and with her.

It had felt good. It had been a relief to get it off her chest, to tell someone what had happened, what she had done. He hadn't judged her, or condemned her, no matter how much she feared she deserved it. He hadn't even laughed at her.

She had been right about him. She had been amazed when he'd turned up to the pre-funeral meeting. He was so young, and yet he was a priest, and a monk before that. Yet he hadn't seemed like a young man, somehow. The only really youthful thing about him had been his hair, how he'd grown it to hang down over one eye. He had seemed…older somehow, as if he were carrying some terrible burden.

She hadn't felt threatened by him, not there and then. She had been…well, she wasn't sure what she had been. She hadn't really thought he would try something, but still, at the back of her mind, there had been…something.

An assumption. A prejudice. People would rather believe that the monasteries were all dens of iniquity, and that all priests were corrupt perverts who'd take any chance they got, than believe that someone could take a vow of chastity and actually mean it. And she, in the end, was no better. She had assumed, or a small part of her had.

But…he was so young. He must have spent his teenage years in a monastery. Who in their right mind would willingly do that? And to swear to a lifetime of chastity? To never even kiss someone? Could anyone actually do it?

And yet, there hadn't been anything. Not the slightest indication. She knew what a guy checking her out looked like, and he hadn't been.

Maybe…maybe that life just suited some people.

"Are you sure we can't take you straight to the door, miss?"

The voice drew her from her reverie. It was the undertaker seated next to her, the one who'd offered to accompany her back to school.

"No, it's okay." A quick glance revealed that they were on one of the streets near the academy. "Just drop me hear. I need some air."

"As you wish, miss."

The car pulled over, and she got out. She paused to thank the undertaker, and the car drove away, leaving her alone in the street.

She took a breath, drawing in the air that had become so familiar, then turned and headed back towards the academy. The undertaker was only trying to be kind, but she wanted to be alone, at least for a bit. That way she could think, really think.

Yes, the reverend was right. All she could do was be honest with Lelouch about what had happened. She had apologised back at the cemetery, but it didn't seem to do him any good. It seemed like something was badly wrong. She had thought it was because of their kiss, but after what the reverend had said, she wasn't quite so sure.

If she was honest, she really didn't know anything about Lelouch. He had always been cold and arrogant, except when Nunnally was present. She was the only person he seemed to care about, and certainly the only one he showed any warmth to. She liked to think she got along with them, and neither had ever said otherwise. Nunnally had always been so sweet, and sweeter than ever since learning of her father's death. And while Lelouch could be distant, and sometimes sharp-tongued, he had never really treated her badly.

But…who was he really? And what could be tormenting him so?

"Miss Shirley Fenette?"

She stopped suddenly, hearing her name. She looked up, and saw a woman standing in front of her. She had dark skin and steel-blue hair, and a slim figure clad in a black cape and red skirt; complete with stockings and suspenders. There was an air about her, a look in those yellow eyes, that made Shirley nervous.

"Oh, uh…" she faltered, taken by surprise. "We met at Narita, didn't we?"

Yes, they had. This was the female officer who had greeted her and her mother, and led them to her father's body.

"I am Lieutenant Villetta Nu, of the Imperial Britannian Army." The woman held up an ID wallet, letting it fall open to reveal the card inside. It was indeed a military ID, with Villetta Nu's face on it. She had seen one in a Relationship Education class once, along with a lecture about how to avoid prowlers.

"Oh yeah, that's it." Shirley smiled a smile she didn't feel. "Uh…thank you for being so considerate back then."

"Would it be possible for us to talk in private?" Nu gestured towards a red car waiting nearby.

Shirley faltered. What was going on? Why would an army officer want to talk to her? What had she done?

"Please don't be frightened," Nu said, her tone softening a little. "You're not in any trouble. I just need some information."

Shirley's blood ran cold. Did she dare believe this woman? She had heard all kinds of rumours about the OSI, about people being assassinated, or just disappearing. Was that about to happen to her? Would anyone be able to help her? Would anyone even know?

Yet, what could she do? She supposed she should run, or cry out, but she couldn't. She was so scared.

Shaking, Shirley followed her to the car, and stepped inside. There was a man sitting in the driver's seat, but he didn't look at her, or even move. The woman sat next to her, pulling the door shut.

The car didn't move. A good sign.

"That dress is very nice, by the way," Nu said, smiling. "Very tasteful."

Shirley did not reply. She was too afraid.

"Do you recognize this man?" Nu opened a dossier with a blue cover, and laid it on her lap. There was a picture inside it, a picture of Lelouch.

"Oh, yes," she said. "He's my classmate, and we're on the student council together."

"What's he been doing recently? Where has he been going?"

Shirley didn't know what to say. A part of her wanted to blurt out that he'd been sneaking away with Kallen Stadtfeld for romantic interludes. But she didn't know for absolute certain that they were; and in any case, there was no point in getting her into trouble too. This woman had Lelouch's picture, but she hadn't said anything about Kallen.

Yet.

"He's been away a lot, recently," she said, cautiously.

"Did he say where he was going?"

"No, never. He's very private. He doesn't tell anyone anything."

The woman didn't say anything, for what felt like forever.

"I'm sorry to have to say this," she finally said. "But we have reason to believe that he's involved in terrorism."

Shirley's heart stopped. Cold dread wrapped itself around her soul. It couldn't be true. It could not be true.

"No…" she whimpered. "No…not Lulu…"

It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. Lelouch wouldn't get involved in something like that! He wasn't capable of that!

"He was seen near the Shinjuku Ghetto, during the battle in which Prince Clovis was killed," Nu went on, her face grim. "Did he say or do anything unusual on that day?"

"What? No! He just…!"

And her blood ran cold, as she remembered.

"He…he called me."

"Yes?"

"He asked me…if there was anything on the news."

She stared at Villetta Nu, searching for some sign that this was a joke, or that it wasn't as bad as it sounded. But those golden eyes were as cold as they had always been.

"But…he can't be…." She started shaking again. This was too much! "He can't be a terrorist! He can't have…"

"There could be an innocent explanation," mused Nu, in a tone that implied the exact opposite. "But you must understand how this looks."

"Why?" Shirley was at her wits end. "Why? Why are you doing this? If you think he's a terrorist then why haven't you just arrested him? Why are you doing this to me?"

She couldn't take any more. She'd just had to bury her father, comfort her distraught mother, deal with all sorts of distant relatives, work colleagues, and passing acquaintances whom she'd never even met. And now this woman had waltzed into her life and was doing her level best to turn what was left of it upside down!

And Lelouch Lamperouge, the boy she kind-of, sort-of liked, might have had a hand in her father's death!

"Because I am a soldier," Nu replied. "I hold myself to a code of honour, even if I cannot always live up to it. If we do not deal with this, then the Office of Secret Intelligence will almost certainly become involved. Believe me, Miss Fenette, you do not want them barging in."

Shirley could bear no more. The OSI? She'd heard the rumours, of course, and seen the news reports. What might they do if they got it into their heads that Lelouch was a terrorist? Would they raid the academy? Arrest everyone? What about Nunnally? What would they do to her?

"They can't!" she sobbed. "I'm loyal! My family's loyal! I don't know anyone who isn't! We haven't done anything!"

"The OSI hold honour and chivalry in contempt," Nu went on. "As a soldier I loathe them as much as they despise me, but I can do nothing about them. Whatever you've heard about their methods and their mindset, believe me, the reality is far worse."

"I'll tell Sir Alexander!" The words shot out, unbidden, from a place Shirley did not know. "I'll tell him you've been harassing me! He'll tell Princess Cornelia!"

He had to. He had to. He would protect them all from this! Like he had protected her at Narita! Surely he would do something!

"Lord Waldstein cannot protect you from the OSI," Nu replied, sternly. "I'm doing this for his sake, as much as anything else."

"But why?" demanded Shirley, her heart sinking. "He's not involved in this! He can't be!"

"He visited Ashford Academy few days before the Battle of Narita," Nu continued. "He came for a certain…festival, stayed the night, and spent most of the next day there."

She reached over and turned the page. Shirley looked down, and her heart jumped into her mouth as she saw one of the pictures; a shot of the student council showing Alexander the grounds. It had been taken by one of the students, and posted on the school website.

And in the middle was Alexander Waldstein and herself; arm in arm as if they were at a noble's garden party. They were smiling, and their eyes were bright.

Who was that girl now? It was a girl who looked like her, but not one she knew. Would she ever be that girl again?

"I believe you, Miss Fenette," Nu said. "I know that you are blameless, as are your friends and Lord Waldstein. "But there are all too many others who will assume otherwise. The mere fact that he was there, in the same school as a terrorist, will be enough to damn him in their eyes. At the very least it will be used to justify arrest…and interrogation."

"No…"

"I need your help, Miss Fenette." Nu turned and looked her straight in the eyes. "If you help me, we can ascertain whether or not your friend is guilty. And if he is, we can tell Princess Cornelia, and she can settle this herself. We can deal with all of this before the OSI finds out, and no one else has to be harmed. But I need your help, Miss Fenette."

Shirley felt utterly drained. A part of her knew this was madness, that she should just deny everything, jump out of that car, and run as fast as she could; anything, just get away from this whole messed-up situation.

But she couldn't. The thought of Sir Alexander being arrested…tortured…

"What do you need me to do?"

"This is my number." Nu handed her a small, printed card with a phone number on it. "If your friend does anything suspicious, contact me immediately."

Shirley took the card, and with shaking hands slipped it into her purse. Villetta opened the door, and stepped out to make way for her.

"It is best if you not tell anyone else," she said, as Shirley got out. "The fewer who know, the better. As I said, if he does anything suspicious, call me on that number."

And with that, she got into the passenger seat, and the car pulled away, leaving her alone on the sidewalk.

Alone. More alone than she had ever felt in any time in her life.

(X)

"Well, that was uplifting."

Villetta Nu sighed, as Graham Aker drove their car through the deserted streets.

"I got about as much as I could have hoped for," she replied. "She confirmed his identity, and that he was away from school during the battle."

"That's not gonna stand up in court, my lady."

And it wouldn't. As desperate as Villetta was, she knew he was right. Lelouch Lamperouge's behaviour might have been odd, maybe even a little suspicious; but nowhere near enough to convict him. She needed solid evidence; something beyond question or doubt.

"You're right about that." Villetta looked out of the window, the grey sky doing nothing for her mood. "But she's our best chance, for the moment."

"All the same," mused Graham, unhappily. "Did you have to scare her like that?"

Villetta did not know what to say. She wanted to say that it was necessary, that she had only told Shirley Fenette the truth. But the girl had been scared indeed; scared out of her mind even. To have piled such a burden on her, so soon after the death of her father…

"Should I have kept quiet?" she asked, half-rhetorically. "Everything I told her is true."

"Yeah, yeah."

For a time they were silent. Despite Graham's presence, Villetta felt very, very alone. She hadn't exactly broken any rules, but if someone in authority decided to object, her actions would do her few favours. Her career was already all but ruined; a misconduct verdict could end it once and for all.

She had no choice. She had to go on, to expose the terrorists and reclaim her honour; no matter the threat to what was left of her career, or the pain it might cause a certain Shirley Fenette. To do otherwise was to admit defeat, to let the career she had worked so hard for, given everything for, wither away into nothing; to live on as a shamed, disgraced shunned officer, without prospects or hope.

But for all that, she understood Graham's disquiet. She could see Shirley Fenette's face in her mind's eye; that look of shock and terror, those eyes too dry from mourning to shed any tears. She had hurt that girl, Villetta knew. It might be necessary, even justified; bearing in mind that danger that boy was putting her in. But all the same…

"You don't have to do this, you know," she said.

"I told you," Graham replied. "I'm sticking with you until this is done."

Villetta sat in silence, uncertain what to say.

"That said…" Graham went on. "You do owe me for this."

Villetta sighed. She should have known this would happen.

"The Silverlink Club?" There was a twinkle in Graham's eyes, that same twinkle from before. "Tonight?"

In spite of everything, Villetta could not help but smile.

"Deal."

(X)

Better. Somewhat.

Lelouch flopped onto his bed, burying his face in the pillow. The long, hot shower had helped, at least a little bit. It had washed away the sweat that had clung to him all day long; and eased the weariness that had sapped at him since that terrible day. He might even be able to sleep that night.

But it could not wash away what was clinging to his soul.

"Will you embark on the path of blood?

The words reverberated around his mind like an echo in a deep, dark cave. He saw Taizo Kirihara's face in his mind, that vicious smirk as he saw through the mask, and realised who the mysterious Zero really was.

It made his blood boil, and he welcomed it. Anger was so much better than sadness, than that sick, cloying despair that had hung around his soul since he had met Shirley in the gardens that night.

He allowed himself to be angry. He let himself rage at the world, at his father, at his family.

And most of all, at himself.

He had known this would be hard. He had known, for it was only logical, that there would be troubles, that there would be blood. He had known that lives would be ruined, hearts broken. He had known that people would die, many of whom would not deserve it.

But why did it have to be him? Why Shirley's father?

"Shirley…"

He rolled over in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Why did it have to happen? How did he go from building a better world for Nunnally to breaking an innocent girl's heart? How could so pure an intention have such dire consequences?

And that wasn't the half of it. Alexander had been there too. Alexander, the great rising star of the Imperial army; and one of Cornelia's personal knights. His mother's faithful page, for whom he had caused such trouble. His childhood companion, who had always been so considerate, and so protective. The brother he had never had.

Would he have to fight him too? Him, and Suzaku? Would he create a better world, only to leave it devoid of the people he cared for?

"Can't make an omelette without breaking eggs," he muttered, bitterly.

The old excuse, the excuse for the guillotine and the gulags; for bodies piled in heaps, and barren lands populated by walking skeletons. The sorts of things his fellow students saw only in their textbooks, while their teachers ranted about the folly of unconstrained democracy, and the danger of revolution.

He heard his phone ring. With a growl he sat up, his head aching as the fluids inside it shifted.

"Hello?" It was CC, in the next room.

Lelouch stood up, and stormed through the door. CC was lounging on the bed like a lazy cat, surrounded by empty pizza boxes. In her hand was his phone, her other hand over the mouthpiece.

"Who said you could answer my calls?" he snarled. CC gave him that look, and handed it over.

"Zero?" It was Ougi. "We've been trying to call you all afternoon."

Lelouch felt that familiar thrill; half-fear, half-anticipation.

"What is it, Ougi?" he asked.

Only then did he remember that this was the other phone, the one he had paid a talented young man in the ghetto to modify for him. Said young man was likely wondering what to do with such a large amount of money, and why he couldn't remember receiving it.

"Well, two things actually… and, you can say it's utterly strange but, t-trust me, they aren't related at all I swear!" Ougi exclaimed.

"What would that be? You can tell me." Lelouch asked, looking out the window. It was raining again.

"Well…first there's this Britannian claiming he knows what Cornelia's going to do next. He wants to talk to you in person."

"Where is he now?"

"Here, under guard.

"Did he give a name?" Lelouch asked, walking over to the desk, where his laptop was. CC sat watching, glomping the Cheese-kun toy she was so fond of.

"Yeah, Diethard Reid. Says he's in the media."

Lelouch typed in the name.

Diethard Reid. A man in his thirties, with long blonde hair, and a sour look. A member of one of Britannia's biggest news outlets, and a reputation as a capable journalist; with several big-name stories to his credit. His first big scoop had been about ten years ago, during the Drakenland uprising; the same uprising that had caused Britannia to send in troops, and transform the country into Area Eight.

He had only been a young boy at the time, still living at Aries Villa, with Nunnally bouncing off the walls because Cornelia was about to graduate from the military academy, and that meant Alexander was coming home.

"I'll come over and talk to him in person," he said, forcing away the memory. "And the other thing?"

"Well, a parcel turned up for you, in the dead drop," Ougi went on. "It was addressed to you personally. Reid swore he knew nothing about it."

Lelouch perked up. A parcel? For him?

"A prank?"

"I don't think so. We checked it out, it seems harmless. But we put it away just in case."

"I'll come right away. Treat Reid well, but don't let him see or hear anything important. I'll deal with the parcel myself."

"Are you sure, Zero?"

"Yes, I'll deal with it. I'll see you soon."

He hung up. Ougi was quite capable in his own way, but he was a little too nervous for his own good. He would be a much better leader if he could learn to be more confident.

"Going out again?" CC asked.

"You think?" Lelouch headed for the bathroom to dry his hair. "And clean up that mess."

CC responded by taking another slice of pizza, and munching on it.

(X)

It took Lelouch the better part of an hour to travel from Ashford Academy to the warehouse district. He had gone by a circuitous route to throw off any tails, hoping all the while that he didn't get randomly stopped. He had four different explanations for the Zero costume worked out, and the costume alone was nowhere near enough to convict him of anything, but it was a complication he didn't need.

Once there, it was a simple matter to find a hiding place – one of several he had previously identified and prepared – change into the Zero costume, hide the bag that had contained it, and then slip into the pre-arranged meeting warehouse via the back office entrance; for which he had the lock code.

"Zero! There you are!" Ougi called out, as the assembled Black Knights saw him emerge into the light. "Sorry to call you in like this."

"It's fine." Zero replied. "How is our guest?"

"We've got him in the basement," Ougi replied. "But he still wants to talk to you. Oh, and the package is over here."

He gestured towards a storage container, with Tamaki and Minami guarding it.

"Hey, Zero!" Tamaki waved enthusiastically. "Yeah, it's in here, just in case. We had the Britannian guy in here too, but then you said to go easy on him, so we put him down in the basement." He shrugged. "Why're we being nice to him anyway?"

"He may have something useful to tell us," Lelouch replied. "But he can wait. Show me the box."

"R-Right," Minami got to unlatching and pulling on the door. "We had it checked. Every way we can."

"Could use some sniffing dogs," Tamaki said. "Those are always a real bitch to fool, but having some for this stuff might be really handy!"

Zero ignored him, walking into the container as it opened, and there it was. A simple brown box, not even half a foot long in any dimension as he knelt down and saw the tag.

To Zero only

Lelouch opened it, seeing what was inside. There was some napkins for padding, and a cell phone. With it was a printed note.

Open Recent Calls, and call that number. If the one calling is not Zero…

Lelouch narrowed his eyes.

"Call that number…" Ougi muttered, looking over his back. "Zero, what if it's a bomb or something? Or a tracking device?"

"A tracking device?" Tamaki asked. "Wait they can do that in cellphones now?!"

"You question this, yet don't question the existence of knightmares?" Minami asked dryly.

"Enough." Zero spoke, opening the flip phone. Obviously cheap, kiosk-bought; a burner. Under Recent Calls, there was only one number.

"Zero, are you sure about this?" Ougi sounded scared.

"If there's a tracker in this, they'd have moved by now," Lelouch replied, with a confidence they did not feel. More likely, they would move as soon as they reckoned he was there. But if they were in a position to do that, then it was already too late.

As for it being a bomb, he supposed it was possible. But if he didn't try, he would never know.

"Go outside, shut the door, and stay away from it," he said, sternly. "If it goes out, the container will direct the blast straight out at the wall. If that happens, run."

"Zero…" Ougi stared at him, stunned. "You can't…"

"Ougi…do it."

For a moment, it looked like Ougi might refuse. But then he nodded, and strode out of the container, the door swinging shut.

Lelouch only then realised that he hadn't seen Kallen there. She was probably back at the academy, resting after the long day. He didn't blame her for it. The funeral would have been hard on her too. For all her devotion, she was not without compassion; and could tell that she was beginning to care about her Ashford Academy friends, for all that she felt frustrated and trapped there.

Well, no going back now. With a touch of the call button, the phone began to ring.

"Is this Zero?"

The voice was low, almost a growl; yet sleek and oily.

"Yes, it is."

"Hmmm…yes, you match the sample…" mused the voice. Its words sent a shiver down Lelouch's spine. Did this person have voice-recognition gear? "Yes…yes you seem to be the real deal."

"Who may I ask is calling?" asked Lelouch, keeping his tone calm, casual.

"Who am I?" the voice made a noise that might have been a chuckle. "Well…that depends on how this goes. I might just be a friend, or maybe you'll never know."

"In person, I take it?"

That much seemed obvious. Why else would he have sent a burner phone?

"Indeed. I represent certain people who have taken an interest in your little group. They would very much like to help you, and they've entrusted me with handling the preliminaries."

An offer. There had been several, but few of them good for much. He hoped it wasn't the mafia again.

"I will need some indication of who I'm talking to," he said. "And who you work for."

The man made that chuckling sound again.

"I am…you may call me…Lisan al-Gaib…" the voice mused. "As for who I represent…unfortunately, I promised them I would be discreet. Let's just say for the moment that they are a…consortium of varied interests, with the power to make you very happy, very miserable, or very dead."

Lelouch paused, wondering just who or what he was dealing with.

"If you want to meet with us, I can provide a location."

"As fun as that sounds, I'm afraid I must insist on a private meeting. What I have to say is not for your flunkies to hear."

Lelouch shivered. A one-on-one meeting?

"Unfortunately, I will not be able to meet you in person," he said. "I will send someone in my stead."

"Really? And why's that?" the voice sneered. "Oh, lemme guess, to hide your pretty face behind that mask of yours?"

"You've given me no reason whatsoever to trust you," replied Lelouch mildly. "Besides, we already have powerful friends."

"Oh, you mean Kyoto?"

That was enough to give Lelouch pause. How could he possibly know about that?

"Yeah, I know a lot of things," boasted the voice. "And my employers know a great deal more. And if you know Kyoto the way they do, you'll know that they're fair-weather friends at the best of times. You need insurance, and my employers can provide it."

Lelouch willed himself to calm down, to think.

To meet with this man alone was madness, no matter the guise he used. If he went as himself, he risked being exposed as Zero, or simply being arrested in the wrong place at the wrong time. But if he went as Zero, alone, he risked being overpowered and unmasked.

Nor was there any point in taking the Black Knights with him. They had shown their true colours at Mount Fuji, as he had known they would. One snap of Taizo Kirihara's fingers, and they had unmasked him for all present to see; only to find CC underneath. He had gotten the drop on them all that time, but the lesson stood. As useful as his Black Knights could be, he dared not trust them, not ever.

His only alternative then was CC. She was no ingenue, but nor could he trust her to negotiate, not at least without some means of supervising. And if this man was half as shrewd as he seemed to be, there would be no way even to eavesdrop, let alone stay in contact. And if this was indeed a trap…

No. He would have to do this himself. It was, bizarre as it was, the least-worst option.

"Very well. Name the time and place, and I will send my representative. He has my complete confidence, and he is unknown to the Black Knights, or anyone else for that matter. This is my condition."

The man made what might have been a scoff.

"All right, that'll do. Do you know the Silverlink club?"

"Yes."

And he did. He had played chess matches there, but it wasn't to his liking. Too loud and too noisy, and unlike his usual haunt, it didn't have Rivalz tending the bar to provide a convenient cover for him being there. His last afternoon at the Silverlink had been profitable, but had earned him an earful from the headmaster. Apparently, the sight of an Ashford Academy uniform in a place like that could still upset some people.

"Good. I'll be in Room 4, VIP floor. The reservation is in the name of Gary Biaggi, for two people, at eight-thirty. Shave and a haircut."

Lelouch glanced at the clock. Ten past four.

"You do know what that means, don't you?" asked the man with just a hint of a sneer.

"Yes. My confidant will be punctual."

"I hope so, Zero. It would be a shame if we couldn't do business. And in that spirit, make sure you're not holding this phone when my call ends."

Lelouch's blood ran cold. The call ended, and he dropped the phone, stepping away in reflex. The phone sparked, and let out a crack like a thunderclap. Lelouch flinched, covering his masked face, as a flash of light all but blinded him.

Then it was over. And all that remained was scorched, black wreckage.

"Zero!" The door swung open, and Tamaki poked his head round. "You okay? What was that?"

"I'm fine." Lelouch stepped past him, out into the warehouse. "Self-destruct."

"Tachibana!" Tamaki rounded on one of the other Black Knights; who had clustered around, drawn by the sound, "You said that package was clean!"

"I swear it was!" protested Tachibana. "I couldn't find anything!"

"It's not his fault," Lelouch spoke up. "There was no bomb, just a battery explosion. There was nothing to find."

"Zero, who was that?" Ougi asked.

"A potential backer," Lelouch replied. "And a paranoid one at that."

"I'll say!" declared Tamaki. "That could've taken your hand off!"

Lelouch looked around the group. They looked worried, and he got the impression they all agreed with Tamaki. This mysterious Lisan al-Gaib was not to be trusted.

"Leave him to me. I've got someone to handle this," he said. "In the meantime, let's see to our guest."

(X)

The place in which Lelouch found himself, mere hours later, was as unlike the warehouse district as anywhere could be.

The Silverlink Club was located in Tokyo Settlement's downtown; in the third precinct. This was the fun part of the settlement, the glittering paradise of the super-rich and those with the means to hang around them. The wide boulevards swarmed with limousines, party buses, and ornate private cars. Well-dressed revellers flitted back and forth, in and out, amid the clubs, bars, restaurants, and pleasure-palaces; offering amusements of myriad kinds.

From the rear side window of the taxi, Lelouch could see it all. Colonists, people from all manner of backgrounds, enjoying themselves like there was no tomorrow.

Did any of them care what had happened at Narita? Did any of them pay much thought to what was going on across Area 11, and the world?

Or was that the whole point?

"Yes, it is."

Lelouch glanced at his companion. CC sat next him, glad in an elegant black and green gown, her hair done in a high ponytail. For all that she spent her days lounging around eating pizza and making his life difficult, she could brush up nicely when she felt like it.

"Yes it is what?" he asked, a little testily. This place was getting on his nerves.

"Yes, they come here to forget," CC replied mildly. "As people have always done."

Lelouch wasn't sure what to think or feel. CC knew him too well by half, but he could not bring himself to entirely resent that fact.

The taxi pulled up outside the Silverlink Club. Lelouch and CC stepped out, the ride having been paid-for in advance, and headed towards the entrance. There was already a long line, though some arrivals went straight to the door, and after a brief exchange were let inside. Clearly they had reservations, or the right connections.

"Here we are." Lelouch checked his watch. Eight twenty-five. "I trust you won't go far?"

"Of course." CC patted her purse. "I can't have you dying on me."

Only then did Lelouch see the handgun concealed inside the purse. She was taking this more seriously than he'd realised.

"I have no intention of dying," he replied, forcing onto his face the confident smile of a young man on a night out, without a care in the world.

"I'll hold you to that," said CC, smiling. "if you need me, I'll be in the nearest pizza parlour."

"Try eating something else."

CC presented her hand. sighing inwardly, Lelouch took it, and brushed his lips over the knuckles. This done, CC sashayed off along the boulevard. Lelouch steeled himself, and strolled towards the door.

"Do you have a reservation, sir?" asked the clerk on the door. Beside him, a very tall and well-built bouncer looked down at him with the emotionless stare of a consummate professional. Lelouch would almost have preferred an angry glare.

"Yes," he said, keeping his tone easy. "In the name of Gary Biaggi; Room 4 in the VIP section, for two."

The clerk glanced at his laptop.

"Ah yes. You are expected sir. Welcome to the Silverlink."

He nodded at the bouncer, who held open the door.

"Thank you."

The walls of the entrance corridor were lined with silver and velvet. Lelouch strode on, heading straight for the elevators. One slid open as he approached, disgorging well-dressed revellers into the foyer. Lelouch stepped in, standing at the back of the car as a few more stepped in beside him. A couple of older businessmen and their wives from the looks of it.

"Pardon us!" called a young man as he slipped through the closing doors, followed by a young woman. "Just made it, right babes?"

"Don't call me that," retorted his partner.

The young man, with a mop of blonde hair, grinned a carefree grin. But Lelouch's eyes were on his companion; with the silver hair and the dark skin.

Her.

Of all the times. Of all the places. Of all the washed-up knights.

Her. Whom he had last seen in Shinjuku ghetto, as he geassed her into handing over her knightmare frame.

"Seriously…" Villetta Nu admonished, without much conviction. "This is our second date."

"Hey don't blame me," replied the young man, still smiling. "You look so cute when you're flustered."

Nu blushed, her small forming into a smile.

Behind them, Lelouch clenched his teeth behind his lips, forcing himself not to make a sound. He could not draw attention to himself. He could not let her see him. She was the only person in the whole world who could connect him to Shinjuku ghetto, to Zero's first appearance. He could not let her see him.

"And besides," the young man went on. "I'm sure you're as eager to dig into that filet mignon as I am. Not to mention the champagne."

"You're lucky you're treating, Graham."

"It's what a man has to do for his fair lady, Villetta."

Graham…

Lelouch looked down, scrolling through the emails on his phone. A tardy assignment notice, Milly's bulletin, something he sent for himself to remember…

"And here we are!" declared Graham, as the doors slid open. The couple strolled on, followed by one of the two older couples. The door slid shut, and the elevator began to ascend.

"Young love," mused the elder woman, earning a chuckle from her husband.

Eight twenty-eight…

The car stopped, and the doors opened. Fourth Floor.

The older couple strolled out, and Lelouch followed on. This was the VIP floor, with rooms for club-goers to hold their own private parties. From what he knew of the place, some of those using this floor were wealthy and powerful, and the parties could involve escorts; many of them Numbers.

Lelouch walked down the hall, forcing himself not to hurry. As he rounded a corner, he passed a tall, well-dressed man - almost certainly a Britannian - with his arm around the waist of a woman – almost certainly Japanese – who looked about half his age. He gave Lelouch a cheerful look as he passed, laughing as he led his nervous-looking date away.

Lelouch pitied her predicament. But there was nothing he could do. Not now anyway.

He reached Room Four, and glanced at his watch. Eight twenty-nine.

He knocked. Shave and a haircut.

And waited.

Without a word, the door slid open. Lelouch gulped, hoped he wasn't making the worst, and last decision of his life, and stepped inside.

The suite inside was luxurious indeed. It consisted of a large room with a series of couches and chairs in the middle, and a large viewscreen on the wall. There were doors leading to other rooms; almost certainly bathrooms and bedrooms. The ideal place for a small but very enjoyable private party.

"So you are Zero's representative."

Lelouch jumped, and swung his head round. A man was standing in an open doorway, leaning on the doorpost in a casual sort of way. He had long, spiky red hair arranged into a ponytail, and a lean yet muscular body clothed in an expensive-looking suit. He looked like a young-ish man – maybe in his thirties – of means, exactly the sort of person who would hire a suite like this for a private party, or a secret meeting.

"I am," Lelouch replied, once he was sure the door had closed behind him. "Mister Gary Biaggi?"

"Well, for today anyway." The man smirked, and stepped slowly away from the door. Behind it, before the door slid shut, Lelouch saw what looked like a small kitchen or bar.

"Do please sit down," Biaggi went on, gesturing towards the couches. Lelouch obeyed, seating himself on one of the couches while Biaggi took a chair.

"I confess I never expected him to send someone so young," Biaggi went on. "You're going to give me a bad reputation."

It would not have been funny even if Lelouch wasn't so on edge. If Milly or anyone from Ashford Academy found out about this meeting, he would never hear the end of it.

And he was on edge. There was something about that man, those amber eyes.

"Zero finds me useful," he replied. It wasn't entirely a lie.

"Perhaps."

Biaggi picked up a jug of water and a glass from the table in front of him, filled the glass, and then offered it to Lelouch. Lelouch paused, narrowing his eyes.

"Did you expect me to poison you?" Biaggi took a gulp from the glass, smacking his lips. "Clear, untainted, Japanese water. Still fine to drink, in spite of everything."

He poured Lelouch another glass, and Lelouch took it.

"I take it this room is secure?"

"I debugged it myself," replied Biaggi, with the air of a craftsman proud of a job well done. "Remarkably clean, though privacy is good business for establishments like these."

That much was true. The owners of the Silverlink must have been sorely tempted by the blackmail material the VIP floor generated every night, but it could only ever work once. If word got around that they were bugging their own rooms, that particular river would dry up fairly rapidly.

"So then," Lelouch took a sip of the water – it was indeed very good – and set the glass down. "What exactly do you want with Zero?"

"What do I want?" Biaggi smirked a smirk that sent shivers down his spine. "I don't want anything. My…employers now…Mister…?"

"Louie." It was all he could think of.

"Well here's the thing, Louie," Biaggi drawled. "My employers have taken an interest in Zero's successes over the past couple of months. Killing a Britannian prince, rescuing the Lake Kawaguchi hostages, and then Narita, of course. An impressive run, so far. And even better, it means your group isn't in cahoots with those silly samurai-wannabes."

"Your employers have no interest in helping the Japanese people?"

"Oh no, they have nothing but compassion for the Japanese people." There was more than a hint of sarcasm in Biaggi's tone. "It's their self-appointed leaders and defenders they have a problem with. Kyoto and the JLF are, let's face it, the old guard. They lack public support, and have little chance of getting it. The Japanese people need new leadership."

Lelouch narrowed his eyes. This man was well-informed, or at least his employers were. This hypothesis needed some testing.

"The JLF enjoy considerable sympathy," he mused. "They've fought Britannia longer and more consistently than most. They are seen as honourable and pure-hearted by many Japanese."

"That much is true," oiled Biaggi. "But it hasn't done them much good now, has it?"

"Their ideals and values are alien to much of the population," Lelouch went on. "The Japanese revere them, but have little in common with them. And the JLF make no effort to change that. They are soldiers at heart, and only recruit people like themselves."

"And that is their greatest weakness," continued Biaggi. "They haven't the resources to fight a conventional war, not against a halfway competent soldier like Cornelia. They had seven years to adapt themselves to this reality, yet they did not. What does that tell you?"

"That they are trapped in the past. They cannot accept their reality, and therefore they cannot adapt. They are incapable of leading a guerrilla war, or a national uprising."

Biaggi paused a moment, regarding him with those amber eyes.

"We seem to be on the same page," he said. "Your master has come to the same conclusion as mine. That'll make things much easier."

"Which begs the question as to who your masters really are," Lelouch cut in. "Zero needs to know, and you have been less than honest about their identity."

He knew he was taking a risk, but he was out of options. If he was to learn who and what this man was without resorting to his Geass, he would have to go on the attack. Time to test his theory.

"I fear you have the advantage of me," Biaggi said, with a smile. "Would you care to explain that reasoning?"

"You identified yourself as Lisan al-Gaib," Lelouch went on, forcing himself to sound casual. "This can be poetically translated as voice of the outer world, but a more literal translation would be speaker of unknown things. A rather presumptuous title, wouldn't you say?"

The first thrust. But Biaggi was a cool customer, and gave nothing away.

"Not bad, for a Britannian." The parry. "But I fear you may be reading too much into it. It was really just my little joke."

"More than a joke. It would also serve to convince anyone who happened to be listening that you represent a middle-eastern group, possibly with an Islamic ethos of some sort. It would be enough to fool any halfway competent OSI analyst."

"And…why would I do that?" asked Biaggi mildly. "If someone was listening, then they would know we are here."

"That was always a possibility, though highly unlikely," Lelouch said, smirking. "Nevertheless, it ensures that so long as you are not captured, Britannia will have no real indication as to who your employers are. This suggests an ethos of subtlety, and an organisational preference for not getting found out."

"An interesting way to look at it." Biaggi took a sip of his water. "Let's say that was my motive. Who, then, am I working for?"

"If a middle-eastern group is ruled out, then your resources and abilities suggest one of the major players. They have the savvy to demand the best, and the money to keep them. If this isn't an OSI sting, then that leaves the Veiled Pavilion or EuroSec. The strategic importance of this country would also suggest their involvement."

"Fair logic," Biaggi mused. "So then, which is it?"

"The Chinese Federation is already backing ideologically acceptable groups elsewhere," Lelouch went on. "And they haven't seen fit to contact the Black Knights. That leaves EuroSec."

For a moment, Biaggi just sat there, regarding him with those amber eyes.

"An interesting theory," he mused. "But that's all you really have. A theory that happens to fit certain facts."

"That is not, technically, a denial."

Biaggi chuckled.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, I don't have all night. Yes, I represent EuroSec in this matter, and they've taken an interest in your little group. As you say, the Chinese Federation have their claws pretty deep in this country, so EuroSec is looking for a worthwhile investment. Something that can lead a real national uprising, and establish a functioning state."

"And they think the Black Knights may qualify?"

"They actually bothered to rescue the hostages," Biaggi continued, still smirking. "They've been doing a fair job of suppressing drug gangs and corruption. They've even taken down fellow resistance groups who…cross the line. The whole knights of justice act is…actually quite convincing."

"Convincing?" Lelouch suppressed his annoyance. "You believe that Zero is insincere?"

"I have a lot of experience with terrorists," Biaggi replied. "That's why they keep me on retainer. I've seen plenty of groups start out all idealistic and noble, wanting to right wrongs and triumph over evil, staying squeaky clean all the while. But they never stay clean for long. Oh, some of them are sincere to begin with. They try to hold things together, keep their hands clean, keep the other guys in line. But it gets them down in the end, always. And then there's the ones who think that their cause justifies anything, and of course, the ones who just want to watch the world burn."

Something in those eyes, in that tone, sent a shiver down Lelouch's spine. A part of him wanted to scream at Biaggi, to rant that he didn't know anything, that all he was good for was cheap, armchair moralising; that he had no business criticizing those who were trying to make the world a better place.

But he didn't. Or rather he couldn't, because he knew the man was right.

"That doesn't bother the Chinese Federation, or Britannia for that matter," he replied mildly. "Why does it bother the EU so much?"

"Because although their ideals are just ideals, they do try to hold to them at least some of the time." Biaggi's smirk widened. "It's good for the self-esteem, you see. People like believing that they're the good guys, that what they're doing is right, or at least justified. One day, you'll find out just how far some people are willing to go on that logic."

Lelouch knew perfectly well. He had seen what some of the other so-called resistance groups had down, what they had allowed themselves to believe was right, or what they were too burned-out to feel remorse over any more. He could see the EU's logic as well; whether for public opinion or their own peace of mind, they didn't want to back him only to discover that he was just another butchering maniac; slaughtering countless innocents with weaponry they had given him. That sort of thing could be…awkward.

"And what would it take to convince them that the Black Knights are sincere?" he asked.

"That's easy." That smirk again. "The first step is to convince me that they are worth backing. The next phase will involve a support team, who will make their own judgements. If they concur with me, then your organisation's position is assured."

"And how do we convince you?"

"By allowing me to join your little organisation. I can provide my own equipment, and I even have my own knightmare frame."

Lelouch forced himself to keep smiling. If the man was half as capable as he pretended, then he might be useful. But how would the others react? There was something about him that just…well…it set his teeth on edge. Just what would he be bringing into their midst?

But if this was all true, and he was who he said he was, this could be the turning point. The support of the European Union wasn't something he was in a position to turn down; not if it was freely offered. He needed Kyoto's support too, but Biaggi was right; they were fair-weather friends at the best of times. An alternative to fall back on would be useful.

And…it wasn't as if he had not already taken risks.

"I think Zero would be okay with that," he said. "And there should be an opportunity for you to prove yourself quite soon."

"Oh?"

"We just got a tip-off from an…unusual character," Lelouch went on, remembering the tall, blonde man who had been waiting for him in the warehouse basement. "He claims that General Katase is intending to escape by ship from Yokosuka, and Cornelia intends to stop him. Her raid is to take place tomorrow night."

Lelouch watched him closely, looking in vain for some kind of reaction.

"Sounds interesting." Still that smirk. Still those eyes. "Especially interesting, since a correspondent of mine noted a detachment of Royal Marine Infantry hanging around the naval base at Yokohama a few days ago. They had new knightmares with them, of a type he hadn't seen before."

Interesting indeed. Royal Marine Infantry, the Imperial navy's answer to the Royal Panzer Infantry, and quite likely to be equipped with the new Portman amphibious knightmares. Katase's chances of a successful escape had dropped a few points.

"If Zero wants me on this operation, I'm in," Biaggi went on. "But what exactly does he have in mind?"

"You'll hear that from Zero himself," Lelouch said firmly. "Is there some way he can contact you?"

Biaggi reached into his jacket and handed over a phone; similar to the burner phone from earlier.

"This is another burner. It can be used three times before it explodes. Have Zero call me on it, and we'll meet up. I'm available any time."

He stood up, adjusting his tie.

"An interesting evening, Louie. I hope this is the start of a mutually profitable arrangement."

"I hope so too," Lelouch did likewise. "Expect a call from Zero either tonight or tomorrow morning."

"I look forward to it."

Lelouch left the room, forcing himself not to move too quickly, and headed down the corridor to the elevator.

He was so glad to be out of that room. He wasn't sure he could have taken it much longer. That strange feeling, that cold feeling, like he was being stalked by an apex predator.

He shook his head. Time to catch up with CC, and figure out what to do next. As soon as the elevator doors slid shut, he pulled out his phone.

"How did it go?" asked the familiar voice.

"Fine, no problems," he replied, keeping his tone casual on the off-chance that the elevator was bugged. "Were you okay without me?"

"Apart from being endlessly propositioned by unimpressive men, it hasn't been a bad evening."

Lelouch smirked in spite of himself.

"Mind if I join you? There's something rather important I'd like to discuss."

"Of course. There's plenty of pizza."

No such luck.

(X)

Port Yokosuka, Area 11

Alexander Waldstein shivered.

The night was unseasonably cold, made worse by the wind blowing in from the sea. It whistled between the warehouses, chilling him to the bone despite his g-force suit. Above, the sterile light of the port floodlights glared down, cold and lifeless, blotting out the stars above.

The warehouses loomed around him; blocky, featureless, identical. Dozens of them made up the warehouse district, directly adjacent to the Yokosuka docks. They were made to a standard design, with no way of telling what was inside. It could be anything from foodstuffs to electronic goods, or maybe less salubrious wares; like weapons, or drugs, or maybe even people. Some of them were used regularly, with containers moving in and out on a daily basis as ships came and left. Some were hardly used at all, or had no current renter; making them valuable hiding places for those who didn't want to be found, or who didn't want their activities observed.

He was not the only one there. Several others of Cornelia's knights were also present, including Rai, and Sir Gilbert Guilford. They waited outside the warehouse, while workers unloaded their knightmare frames from the military supply trucks that had carried them from the HQ tower to the port.

What was going on? Why had Cornelia ordered them out there in such a hurry? And why send their machines inside the supply trucks? Was this a raid?

He heard the sound of a car approaching. Alexander looked up, and saw that it was a military staff car, pulling up nearby. The door opened, and Princess Cornelia stepped out.

"Knights, please excuse this subterfuge" she said, striding up to them as they saluted. "Time was of the essence, as was stealth."

"We await your command, your highness," replied Gilbert.

"Good, let's get on with it then."

Andreas Darlton stepped out of the car behind her, along with a staff officer. Both moved up to join them, and Alexander saw that the officer was carrying a military laptop; the sort that looked as if he could bludgeon someone to death with it. The officer opened the laptop, and on the screen was what looked like the map of a dock.

"This is the dock right next to our location, just over there." Cornelia gestured towards the waterfront. "Within this particular dock is a freighter, the Asahi Maru. Officially registered to a local shipping company, it is currently being occupied by General Tatewaki Katase and several of his surviving followers."

Alexander shivered, though not because of the cold. So this was a raid, and a big one. Little wonder she had moved so suddenly. But why hadn't they been told until now? Why were they only now learning about this? It wasn't the first time they'd had to come up with a battle plan on the fly, but not like this.

"In case any of you were wondering, we are meeting like this for security reasons," Cornelia went on, before nodding to Darlton.

"We have reason to believe that there are moles inside the administration," he said, gravely. "Whether they are spies, or just blabbermouths who ought to know better, there are information leaks going on at high levels. For that reason, no one in the HQ besides her highness and myself know about this operation. The only other information is a press release I personally prepared, and sent to the media for release tomorrow morning. If the enemy did somehow get prior warning, then the list of suspects has been considerably narrowed down."

Alexander understood. From what Darlton had revealed of his ongoing investigation, the settlement administration was rotten to the core. Officials at all levels, aside from Cornelia's inner circle, were either being bribed or blackmailed, or in some cases both. And evidence was mounting that the National Administrative Council, based in Kyoto, was behind it.

It unsettled him deeply. The use of collaborationist administrations was nothing unusual, but few got away with half as much as the NAC seemingly had. Areas Seven and Eight – otherwise known as Krugis and Drakenland – enjoyed a fair degree of autonomy. But Krugis was his father's personal domain, protected by his will and Imperial tradition. Drakenland, in turn, had attained satellite status two years earlier. Both had earned their privileges with the blood of their people; whether shed in Britannia's wars, or the ruthless sacrifice of anyone who dared to rebel.

So then, why? Why had the NAC been so coddled? Why had their corruption gone unnoticed for so long? And in an area so vital to the empire's very survival?

"Our mission is to capture the freighter, and secure Katase and as many of his followers as possible for interrogation," Cornelia said. "The actual boarding will be carried out by a platoon of Royal Marine Infantry, currently hiding in this drydock." She pointed to one of three drydocks visible on the map. "They will be using the new Portman frames."

Alexander perked up at the mention. He had heard of the Portman amphibious knightmare, but had never actually seen it in action.

"The marines will attack the ship directly, and we will provide fire support from the waterfront," Cornelia went on. "The ship is believed to be carrying a full load of liquid sakuradite. If it explodes, it could destroy half the port, not to mention all of us. For that reason, you have been issued with anti-personnel rifles. You will shoot anyone on deck until the marines are on board. Their mission is to secure and stop the ship, whereupon the prisoners will be removed and the port authorities will take charge. If they cannot stop the ship, it will be allowed to continue into the bay, where there is a submarine waiting to destroy it at a safe distance."

She paused, fixing them with hard, cold eyes.

"Even if the enemy appear to be unarmed or surrendering, do not hesitate to fire. These are desperate men whose honour has been stolen from them. They are capable of anything."

Alexander shuddered. A part of him rebelled at the thought of killing helpless men who raised their hands in surrender; for all that he had seen far worse in his time. But he also knew, in his bones, the depths to which they had plunged. Josui Kusakabe's crimes had marked them, stripped them of the lustre of soldierly honour, turned their green uniforms into stigmata of shame. And even as their comrade's disgrace had robbed them of honour, Cornelia had robbed them of hope; as she had hunted down their bases one by one.

They were capable of anything, for they had lost everything. Everything but their lives, and perhaps the hope of escape, of carrying on the fight in some distant land.

A hope that was about to be dashed.

"You have your orders." Cornelia drew herself up. "The ASEEC will be joining us within the hour. Unless told otherwise, expect to commence operation at 2300 hours. That will be all."

(X)

Kallen Kozuki could not quite believe what she was seeing.

The man stood next to Zero, clad in an expensive-looking suit; his curly red hair tied back in a low pony-tail, giving him a rakish look. Behind him, a freshly-uncrated knightmare frame knelt, looming over them like some ancient, silent statue.

"This man is Gary Biaggi," Zero said, gesturing to the man. "He will be joining us for tonight's mission. As you can see, he has done us the courtesy of bringing his own knightmare."

The assembled Black Knights stared, their faces a mixture of bewilderment and suspicion. The only one who did not seem unsettled was Diethard Reid, who regarded Biaggi with one eyebrow cocked just slightly.

And that had been a surprise too. Diethard Reid, a Britannian news hack, who had apparently got wind of the Britannian operation and brought it straight to Zero. Diethard Reid, who now wore the black jacket, hat, and visor of the Black knights.

Kallen was torn on that. She wasn't totally against non-Japanese joining; considering her own background, she was hardly in a position to object. But she just couldn't bring herself to trust or even like the man. A part of her rebelled at the sight of him wearing that uniform, the uniform of the Black Knights, of those who would liberate Japan.

She knew the real reason, of course. It was like Narita all over again. If he was caught in this place, wearing that uniform, he would have one hell of a job talking his way out of it. And even if he could somehow ditch the uniform and slip away, they had all seen him there. Zero was giving him no choice, no way out. He was stuck with them now, come hell and high water.

She still didn't trust him. There was something about him that set off alarm bells inside her head; a coldness, a distance.

But that was as nothing compared to this Gary Biaggi character.

"Zero, who is he?" Ougi asked, plaintively. "Where did he come from?"

"Yeah, I wanna know that too," Tamaki cut in, to growls of agreement from some of the others.

"I represent an interested party," Biaggi cut in. His words were smooth and confident, his voice husky, almost growling. "They don't want to reveal themselves just yet, but they've taken an interest in your little group. Consider me…a free sample of what they can offer."

Kallen could barely believe what she was hearing. A free sample? Some guy turns up out of nowhere, claiming to speak for some group somewhere he won't even name, and Zero just let him come along?

"And what about that thing up there?" demanded Tamaki, jabbing a finger at the knightmare. "Is that a free sample too?"

"It's mine," Biaggi replied, with just a hint of venom in his tone. "We're an all-inclusive package, this machine and i. And there's plenty more where that from, if your little organisation is up for it."

The mood shifted, the hostility fading, as the Black Knights began whispering and glancing at one-another. Kallen had to admit it was an impressive-looking knightmare, though it wasn't a model she had ever seen before. Its overall dimensions were similar to those of a Britannian Sutherland or Gloucester, but its armour was smooth and rounded, and its head was somewhat smaller; with a chevron visor. It had the look of a hunter about it, a predator about to leap up and attack.

"It's an Orlando."

The whispers fell silent, as all eyes fell on Kento Sugiyama. The blue-haired young man, an old comrade of Kallen's brother Naoto, fixed Biaggi with suspicious eyes.

"Orlando?" Tamaki asked, mystified. "Isn't that an EU model? The one they made out of Britannian parts?"

"Yeah, it is," Sugiyama went on. "A mark three, I reckon. You with EuroSec then, Biaggi?"

More whispering, this time fearful. Gary Biaggi merely smirked.

"Not an authentic mark three, unfortunately," he replied. "A little too recent for my suppliers. This one's a unique creation, one I've been working on for many years."

Kallen didn't know what to think. Was Sugiyama right? And if he was, why hadn't Biaggi just admitted to working for EuroSec? Did he think they were ignorant? Or was something else going on?

"Time is short," Zero cut in, ending the debate. "Ougi, has the boat arrived yet?"

"It'll be here any minute," Ougi replied quickly, seemingly glad of the change of subject. "Is the operation on then?"

"Yes. When the boat arrives, I, Kallen, and the other Burais will get on board. Ougi, you'll be our spotter for tonight. Mr Biaggi here will conceal himself nearby, and join the battle once we make our move."

"So we're going for it, right?" asked Tamaki. "We're gonna rescue the JLF?"

"Kyoto has asked that we do so," Zero said. "I have disagreed with them in the past, it is true. But that is no reason to leave them to the Britannians."

Kallen supposed she agreed. She had never liked the JLF much. Her brother Naoto had treated them with cautious respect, but otherwise had no time for them or their ideals. To his generation, they were a bunch of stuck-up fuddy-duddies who thought they were so much better than everyone else, and the only Japan was their Japan. When she had met some of them once, they had given her the go home and play with your dolls look. She had endured far worse in her time, but it was still irritating.

Nevertheless, she understood the respect in which they were held. They had fought longer, and harder, than most in Japan. Kusakabe had let himself go and become a murderer, but Katase had never done anything bad, at least not as far as anything knew. To leave him to be captured by the Britannians didn't sit right with her somehow.

"Zero!" someone called from the side door. "The boat's here!"

"Right." Zero drew himself up. "Everybody to your places. Diethard, stay with Ougi for tonight, and don't give him any trouble. I'll be along in a moment."

And with that, he turned and headed off with Biaggi. Most of the Black Knights did as they were told, but a few, Ougi and Tamaki among them, paused a moment; watching Zero and Biaggi as they vanished behind the knightmare.

Kallen saw the way they were looking, and she couldn't blame them for it. She didn't like the idea of that man being close to Zero. How long would it be before he started worming his way in, getting his feet under the table, pushing the rest of them aside?

No. She didn't want to believe it. Zero couldn't possibly be that naïve.

But that didn't make Gary Biaggi any less…unsettling. There was something about him that set her teeth on edge, made her nerves tingle the way they did in battle. There was…an air about him, an air of violence, of danger. She could almost smell blood in the air around him.

He was a killer. And he was in their midst.

She trusted Zero. But she could only hope he knew what he was doing.

Or they could all end up dead.

(X)

Lelouch waited.

Before him, the dark waters of the harbour washed against the concrete of the dock, splashing and falling away, again and again and again. Around him, the sounds of the port; the clunk of containers, the hum and grind of cranes, the shouts of the stevedores.

All so strangely peaceful. All so obscenely peaceful. How unlike the hammering of his heart, the terrible waiting for it to be over. How could the world be so peaceful, so predictable, while his soul roiled in chaos?

It could, like it always could. Like it had always done, ever since his mother had bled out on Aries Villa's grand staircase. The wind had blown, and the flowers had bloomed, and the cicadas had chirped, heedless of the agony that young prince was bearing.

And the agony of countless others, in some many places, and so many ways. The world was heedless. The world did not stop because one person was going mad with anticipation, or a young boy's heart had been broken. If it did, he supposed, all anyone would ever do was mourn.

It was all he could do to stay behind the warehouse door, safely out of sight, his masked gaze fixed on the open stretch of waterfront nearby. It was enough to make him wish he had gone himself. He could swim well enough, for all that he disliked exercise, and he could even handle scuba gear; though he hadn't had much practice.

But no. This had been the better path, or the least worst path. Better to let him handle it. Better to let him take the risk. It was a convenient enough way to prove that was serious.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

He forced himself not to look out, not to glance around the warehouse corner towards the Asahi Maru. He was fairly sure it wasn't moving. He had spent enough time at the docks, mostly in his Zero guise, to know what a freighter under power sounded like. Besides, all it took was someone to see something, and to wonder what it was. Even if it was just some bored security guard, checking out something he was fairly sure was nothing, it was a complication he didn't need.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

Then finally, the sound of something emerging from water. A clunk of metal as hands gripped the ladder, and a groan as something climbed up.

Lelouch stayed where he was, waiting with bated breath, as the figure came flip-flopping into the warehouse. In any other time or place, the sight would have been comedic.

"Is it ready?" he asked.

"All set," replied Gary Biaggi, as he pulled off his breathing mask and goggles. "She's in position, and good to go."

"I hope so," Lelouch replied, more sternly than was entirely appropriate. "Getting that thing wasn't easy."

"But unlike you, I've handled them before." Biaggi smirked that unsettling smirk. "It'll work just fine. And your location was just right too. Not bad for an amateur."

"I take it that's a point in our favour?"

"Oh yes." That smirk again. "To be honest, the way young Louie described you, I was afraid you were just another bunch of idealists. But I have to admit, I'm glad I was wrong."

"You have no problem with this."

"None whatsoever." There was a dark gleam in his eyes. "If anything, I respect you for it. Pretty smooth, I have to say."

Lelouch shuddered, hoping his costume concealed it. There was something deeply unpleasant about being respected by that man.

"Very well then. Get ready, we'll start in…"

Then Lelouch trailed off, as a figure stepped into the doorway.

It was Kallen, with a look of mild bewilderment on her face. A face that slowly fell, as her eyes took in the scene.

She knew. She had figured it out, Lelouch was sure.

"Zero…".

Biaggi turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. Lelouch twitched his face to the right, indicating that he should go away and stop lollygagging. Biaggi shrugged, and stalked off.

"Uh…I'm sorry…!" Kallen blurted out. "I'll…"

"Second thoughts?"

Kallen faltered, and lowered her head, casting her eyes in shadow.

"I thought our goal was justice," she said, sounding as pained as she looked. "I fought for all this time because I thought it was right. I could live with it all, with the killing."

She paused, and then she rounded on him, her clenched fist pressed to her heart.

"Is this real?" she demanded, her voice shrill with anguish. "Is this going to change the world for the better?"

"Yes it will. Or rather it must."

For a moment, Lelouch wondered where the words had come from. Then he realised that no other words would suffice.

"Yes, but…"

Kallen faltered. She had always been so confident, and brazen; at least when she was in this persona, and not the fake one she presented at school. He had never seen her look so unhappy, so uncertain.

He knew why. He had known since yesterday morning, and even before then.

"Shirley…"

"There's a girl at school…" Kallen said, her voice hoarse. "Her father was killed at Narita. He was a civilian, but he got buried in the settlement."

Lelouch kept silent. He had seen the pain in her eyes at the funeral, and knew that she felt this way. That it made him feel better was sickening, but he couldn't help it.

"I don't like going there," Kallen went on. "Those people, all of them just sailing through life without a care in the world. I know that makes me a hypocrite, but…!"

She trailed off. Lelouch could see the battle behind her eyes.

He knew who she was, and how she had come to be there. How she had begun her life as Kallen Kozuki, a life she had lost along with her country, her brother, and even her mother for a time. How she had become the daughter of her Britannian father, and lived the high life as Kallen Stadtfeld; enjoying all the comforts and benefits of the system she professed to despise.

He also knew the pain it caused her. The pain that had driven her to despise her own mother, who had toiled as a scorned and lowly maid in her former lover's house; comforted only by refrain, and by a mother's love for her child. It was only by a quirk of fate, by a mission he had decreed, that she had finally learned the truth, and understood what her mother had endured, and why she had endured it. Only then had they been reconciled, and Kallen had gotten some of her self-respect back.

And he knew, only too well, what tormented her now.

"If you're a hypocrite, Kallen Kozuki, then so am I," he said. "And so is all humanity. If you have doubts, if you are ambivalent, if you see those you thought your enemies as human, then it only means you haven't lost your soul."

Yes, she had seen it. She had seen him bring Shirley into the student council building that night, soaked to the skin and half-mad with grief. She had seen Shirley weep, heard her cry, seen her stare down at her father's grave, her sorrow hanging around her like a shroud.

"You are still human, Kallen, and I am glad of it. To be human is to be imperfect; and it is better to be imperfect. Perfection is inhumanity, and to seek it is to become a terrorist."

He paused, as he gathered his words.

"But for all that, we have no choice. We've spilled blood to get here, and we'll spill more before this is over. The world may see us as cowards and murderers, and they will be right. But if we give up now, then that's all we ever will be. If we give up now, it will all have been in vain."

He looked her in her big, blue eyes. They were uncertain, troubled, full of pain; yearning, and yet hesitating.

"You do not have to bear this, Kallen." His heart clenched as he said it, fearful of what she might do, but knowing he had to say it. "If you cannot bear it, then go now, and forget all of this. Even if the world condemns you for it, I will not."

Kallen closed her eyes, and for a moment Lelouch feared she would do as he had said, that she would walk away, vanishing from his life, and his cause, forever.

"I've made my choice," she said, opening her eyes and smiling. "If you're in this to the end, then so am I. I'm with you, to the very end."

Lelouch allowed himself to sigh with relief.

"I'm grateful, Q1."

(X)

It was on.

The warehouse doors slid open. Alexander paused a moment, letting his fellow knights move out ahead of him; the Lancelot at the head. As the last of them moved, he touched on his pedals, falling in behind as they raced out onto the waterfront; Rai just behind him.

He could see the Asahi Maru clearly. It was only a middling-sized freighter, less than two hundred metres long. But it loomed in the harbour before him; a monolith in green and red, sitting in the water, seemingly unmoved by what was happening all around it.

The Gloucesters ahead of him stopped. Alexander did likewise, taking up position and raising the anti-personnel rifle. A conventional 20mm assault rifle would have done the job reasonably well, but those rounds were considered overkill for anti-infantry work. Besides, the much smaller anti-infantry rounds had no hope of penetrating the hull, and setting off the liquid sakuradite concealed within.

For all that, he was glad of the 20mm pistols secured to his Gloucester's waist, just in case. And he didn't much envy the marines, whose task it was to board the ship, and face the danger head-on.

He didn't much envy Suzaku Kururugi either. Whatever their choices, and their allegiances, they had been his people once. Had his life turned out a little differently, might he have been fighting at their side? Might he have taken up his father's mantle and led them?

Who knew?

He didn't, and neither did anyone else.

"Contact!" declared General Darlton over the comm. Alexander looked, and saw the tiny figures hurrying along the Asahi Maru's top deck. A moment later his factsphere responded, marking them as contacts. With a tap on his joystick rollerball, Alexander zoomed in the camera. In the pale glow of the harbour floodlights, there was no mistaking the green tunics and matching kepi.

It was the JLF. And they meant to fight.

The first shots fired. Alexander saw one of the men fall backwards, then another, and another. He watched, feeling almost bewildered, as the JLF soldiers dropped like targets in a shooting gallery.

"Lord Waldstein! Open fire!"

The barked command shocked him from his reverie. He tapped his rollerball, letting the computer aim for him. He squeezed the trigger, and saw the target fall. A little roll to the left, and another one fell. And another.

It felt wrong. It felt…pathetic, more like bullying than fighting. It felt…like murder.

"Sir!" It was Suzaku. "They're broadcasting a surrender over an open channel!"

"Ignore it."

"But sir!"

The ship began to move, throwing up a veritable maelstrom of white wash as it drove hard away from the dock. Alexander watched, amazed at its sudden speed. Had they upgraded the engines? Or had they been kept spooled up, ready to go?

"All right, cease fire," ordered Darlton. "The marines can take it from here."

Around him, the knights lowered their rifles. Alexander did likewise, glad his part in the brutal farce was over. He only hoped Suzaku wasn't too hurt by it all. Perhaps he should say something later.

Out in the harbour, the Asahi Maru sailed on. The six Portmans circled around it like sharks, and Alexander could see bubbles rising in clumps from the stern. They must have been working on the propellers, trying to disable them without using their torpedo launchers.

The wash stopped, and the freighter slowed. Two of the Portmans emerged from the water, firing their slash harkens over the deck. The anchors locked on like grappling hooks, and the Portmans hauled themselves up, leaping onto the deck. Two more followed, and then the final two, until all six machines stood on the Asahi Maru's deck.

"There she goes," said Darlton over the comm, with an air of satisfaction. "We'll be done soon."

Alexander glanced along the waterfront. Sure enough, he could see the small inflatable boats moving away from the drydocks, where they had hidden along with the Portmans. Before them, the freighter was slowing down, and would soon be slow enough to let the marines board in safety, and start the work of clearing out the ship; deck by deck. He fixed his eyes on the ship, if only for something to do, some way to occupy himself now that it was all over.

The ship bucked, and he felt a gust of wind wash over his knightmare. An instant later there was a terrible crack like a thunderclap, and the Asahi Maru came apart, before vanishing in a flash of light.

Pink light.

Alexander shut his eyes in reflex, even as his screens darkened against the terrible light. An instant later it was gone, and a howling gale washed over him, chunks of debris bouncing off his armour. A great wave slammed against the waterfront, rising up and crashing into him, forcing him back against the warehouse behind him. It was all he could do to say on his feet, even as his fellow knights were washed away.

"Rai!" he called, jabbing at the comm. "Rai, are you all right?"

"I'm all right, my lord!" Rai called back. Alexander looked, and saw Rai's new Gloucester struggling to regain its footing. Filthy water sloshed around their knightmares' heavy feet, and for a moment Alexander was sickened by the sight of it.

Then a flicker of movement caught his eye. He looked up, and saw something racing around the opposite docks; curving tight around the sinking remains of the Asahi Maru and heading straight towards them. It was a small, white cargo hydrofoil, going well beyond port speed.

Puffs of smoke erupted from beside the wheelhouse. And only then, with a stab of horror, did Alexander make out the metal tubes set to either side of it.

"Take cover!" he roared. But it was too late. He heard the crump-crump as the mortar rounds landed, saw the bright flashes and billowing smoke. One of them landed nearby, the explosion blowing apart one of his comrades and scattering the others across the waterfront. Alexander staggered, struggling to keep his footing, and looked up to see the hydrofoil's upper hatch slide open. Two dark shapes emerged, forming into humanoid torsos, heads, and arms.

Knightmare frames, in black, with distinctive masks.

Burais.

Alexander moved, just as the two Burais opened fire. He darted down the gap between the two warehouses, Rai hot on his heels, as missiles tore into the warehouse doors. He turned, dropping his rifle and drawing his pistols, just in time to see the hydrofoil moving away, heading for the drydocks.

Where Cornelia was.

Frantic, Alexander looked down at his sensor screen. Aside from Rai, all of his fellow knights were down. There was nothing he could do for them, not now.

Heart pounding, he spun around and jammed down the pedals, speeding along the waterfront. In front of him, the hydrofoil had drawn up, and the two Burais were laying down covering fire while yet more knightmares leapt up onto the dock. One Burai, then another, and another.

And then a red one. Crimson even, with a slim waist, a narrow, almost avian head set into its torso, and an oversized, clawed hand.

Guren Nishiki.

Alexander shivered at the sight of it. He had only seen it in camera footage, but he had some notion of what it was capable of. What was more, its presence meant only one thing.

The Black Knights. They were here.

Did that mean he was here too?

The two Burais on the boat saw him, and turned their rifles on him. Alexander shot back, but it was all he could do to dodge their fire. Behind him Rai did likewise, but the anti-infantry rounds bounced uselessly off their armour.

Ahead of him, the Burais spread out across the waterfront, while the Guren vanished into the warehouse.

Alexander gritted his teeth, and turned a hard right, racing down the gap between two warehouses, Rai close behind. They emerged, and Alexander found himself in a channel between two long rows of cargo containers. He turned left at the first gap, only to find himself in yet another channel, between yet more containers.

He felt himself beginning to panic. Where was he? How far did these containers go? Where was Princess Cornelia? He couldn't see her anywhere on the sensor screen!

"Sir Alexander!" It was Darlton. "Get to the back of the warehouse! On your left!"

Alexander leapt, his Gloucester soaring into the air and up onto the row of containers. He skidded to a halt, and looked down.

There was the warehouse he had seen a moment ago, to his left. In front of him was a wide open space, with containers stacked in long rows all around; with channels formed between them, leading away at right-angles.

There was the princess' Gloucester, lying slumped against a container. In front of it stood a Burai, this one with a decorative mask in red and gold, aiming a rifle straight at the Gloucester's plastron.

Zero.

Alexander snapped up the pistols and fired. The shots hit the Burai's gun hand, sending the rifle scattering away across the concrete. The Burai turned, but Alexander was already moving, firing as he leapt down. The Burai fell back, launching its slash harkens. Alexander dodged one, and knocked the other aside with his knightmare's forearm.

"Sir Alexander!" It was Cornelia. "Hold them a second while I power on!"

So that was why she wasn't on the sensors. Alexander took up position between her and the Burai, pistols at the ready. The Burai stopped its retreat, and Alexander took aim.

A crimson blur filled his vision. He dodged, and the Guren's claw scored down his left arm, the metal shrieking at its touch. He swung his arm at it, but the Guren was too fast, sliding away and coming around in an insanely tight arc. Alexander's heart leapt to his mouth, as he saw the red machine angling towards Rai, his knightmare stooping to pick up the dropped rifle.

He fired, almost hitting Rai. The Guren moved, its body swaying from side to side, the shots whistling past. Rai began to back away, the Guren's claw slashing across his cockpit.

Alexander's heart hammered, as the Guren came around again, so fast he could barely register it. That was no ordinary knightmare, not like any he had ever seen. It was so agile, more like a dancer. He had never thought a knightmare could move like that.

There was no time to stow his pistols. Instead he let them drop, drawing the curved sword he had taken at Narita. He slashed at the Guren as it came on, hoping to catch it in that narrow waist. But the Guren stopped, pirouetting lightly around the blade and lashing out with its claws. Alexander dodged backwards, but the claws caught him, scoring across his plastron. A flicker of movement made him dodge again, barely avoiding a long-bladed dagger in the Guren's off-hand.

He thrust, aiming the glowing chain-blade for the Guren's plastron. But the red knightmare moved, wafting away from the blade as if it were made of water. He felt a shudder as the dagger caught his right arm, warning buzzers squawking in his cockpit. He swung frantically, but the Guren wasn't there. It was slewing away again, bent low like a predator ready to pounce.

The Guren jumped back, tracer rounds flashing all around it. Alexander looked, and saw Rai holding the dropped rifle, firing frantically at the strange machine. The Guren turned and leapt at him, clamping its claw around the Gloucester's gun arm.

Alexander's heart clenched. He had seen that footage too. Already the clawed hand was glowing a malevolent red, releasing the radiation that made knightmares erupt from within.

"Rai! Purge your arm! Get away from there!"

Rai obeyed, disconnecting his doomed arm and falling back. The Guren staggered a step forward, caught off-guard. Alexander saw his chance, and leapt at the Guren, sword thrusting for its heart.

Something smashed into him, knocking him sideways. Alexander struggled to regain his footing, and saw the coiling, whipping slash harken cables as they rushed back to their origin. It was that masked Burai from before, come to the Guren's assistance. He stopped hard and pulled back, the Guren's claws screeched across his plastron and shoulder. The Guren fell back, light as a cat, crouching to leap. Behind them, two more Burais appeared, rifles at the ready.

A white blur flashed past him. Alexander stared as it rushed at the Guren, a human shape in gleaming white armour.

Lancelot.

The two knightmares met, gleaming swords meeting slashing claws. The Guren dodged and slashed, darting and striking like a snake. But the Lancelot was just as quick, just as light. It struck at the Guren with twin swords, forcing the red machine back.

The two new Burais stepped forward, firing their rifles. Rai was hit, his already-damaged Gloucester staggering back. Alexander readied his sword, and prepared to charge.

Then a golden rocket flashed past, smashing into one of the Burais and blowing it apart. The other staggered away from the blast, but a burst of gunfire blasted away its legs, and the cockpit launched; flying away into the night.

Alexander looked, and his heart leapt to see Cornelia's knightmare on its feet at last, dropping the empty haft of its Shot Lancer. The masked Burai fired its slash harkens again, but Cornelia batted them aside and fired her own, tearing away the Burai's arms. The Burai backed away, but Cornelia leapt at it, Stun Tonfa swinging into place on her arms. She caught it a glancing blow, sending the Burai staggering, and then another, hurling it across the concrete and down one of the channels, out of sight.

"Nicely done, both of you," Cornelia said, turning her Gloucester to face them as she took a fresh clip from her belt. "I thought he had me for a moment there."

"Please forgive us for not coming sooner, your highness," replied Alexander loyally, stooping to pick up his pistols.

"No need for…".

Cornelia's voice degenerated into a crackling slur. Alexander furrowed his brow, and tapped at the comm screen.

"Your highness?"

"Something's wrong." He could just make out Cornelia's voice, but the sound was distorted. "I can't raise Darlton or…"

Then even that was gone. The effect was getting worse. It was as if they were being jammed.

Alexander was confused. How could anyone be jamming them this close to the settlement? The Black Knights had never done anything like this before. It would take more than a Burai's jammers – improved over the original Glasgow's, but not by much – to create an effect like this.

So then, what was it?

Then his heart stopped, as he saw the shadow rising into the night sky above them.

He screamed, and threw himself at Cornelia. His knightmare stuck hers, shoving it back as the shadow leapt, coming down at them like a hunting bird swooping on prey; or the karasu tengu of native myth.

His knightmare lurched as something struck it, red warning lights flashing on his monitor. He struggled to regain control, willing his damaged Gloucester to respond.

He managed to turn. Cornelia was unharmed, and had turned to face the terrible shape that had landed among them. A tall, humanoid shape, its curved armour painted with a pattern of swirling, leaping flames, its hands clutching a pair of long, black scimitars.

That knightmare. The custom Orlando they had faced at Seraphaum.

It was here.

Cornelia thrust her stun tonfa at the Orlando. The knightmare moved, spinning around and swinging its scimitars at her Gloucester's neck. Cornelia slid back, the blades whistling past. She attacked again, but the Orlando dodged, neatly evading the thrust and slicing downward at her cockpit. Cornelia evaded, but the blades scored down her cockpit wall with a horrid shriek.

Alexander gritted his teeth. His Gloucester was damaged, perhaps too damaged. But he had to get in there. He had to help his princess! He had to…!

Rai moved first. Alexander gaped as the damaged Gloucester charged, hurling itself at the Orlando. The Orlando turned, not half so gracefully as the Lancelot or the Guren, but still it moved like water. Alexander let out a scream as the Orlando knocked aside Rai's thrust and swung with its free arm, the blade cutting into the Gloucester's waist. Rai was sent staggering away, and the Orlando leapt after it, scimitars brandished high.

Alexander's scream became a roar. He jammed down the pedals and charged, ignoring the squalls of the warning buzzers. He swung his sword down hard, scoring down the Orlando's back and right pauldron. The Orlando spun, catching him in the waist with its sword hilt, knocking him backwards. As Alexander fell back, the Orlando rounded on him, leaving Rai's wrecked Gloucester to slump to the ground.

Then the Orlando lurched, as tracer rounds spanged off its armour. It was Cornelia, firing her rifle in short, tight bursts, sliding around to park in front of Rai. The Orlando dodged, jinking left and right as it came hard around, readying to attack once again. Cornelia readied the stun tonfa on her free arm, readying for the melee.

Alexander knew what to do. Cornelia would catch and hold him, and he would attack with his sword. They would finish this monstrosity together.

The Orlando attacked, jinking right at the last moment and swinging upward for Cornelia's torso. She dodged, bringing her gun arm down towards the Orlando's head, and lashing out with her stun tonfa. The Orlando peeled away, barely dodging the twin blows. Cornelia recovered, firing at the Orlando as it tried to retreat. Shots spanged off its rear armour, but Alexander's heart leapt as he saw flashes and sparks. A hit!

The Orlando spun round, radiating fury. It swung hard at Cornelia, slicing away her left pauldron as she fell back, catching the other scimitar on her stun tonfa. The weapon crackled and screeched as the blade slid off it. Cornelia dropped her rifle and activated her other stun tonfa, thrusting it for the Orlando's chest. The Orlando twisted away, the tonfa crackling as it scored down its plastron.

Alexander charged, sword brandished high. Time seemed to slow down as he closed with the Orlando. He willed the motion, bringing the sword down.

At the last moment, the Orlando saw him. It moved, with a speed he could never have imagined, trying to break free from the trap it was it. The blade caught its head, slicing down through the armour and into the delicate electronics within. The head sparked and sputtered, but then the Orlando was gone, racing away across the concrete, and spinning around to face them.

"Alexander!" It was Cornelia. He must have taken out the jammer. "It's him again! Be wary!"

So she remembered him too. Alexander wasn't surprised. He had come so very close to killing both of them.

But what a marvellous victory this would be, to take down him and Zero in one night. It would be worth all the losses, all the damage. It would be…

The Orlando was still moving, coming around in a tight arc. It charged at them, sparks still flying from its ruined head. Alexander stepped forward, sword at the ready, heart brimming with confidence. He would end this now!

Then the Orlando jinked, quick and hard to its left. It turned to face him as it did so, and swung its left sword. It let go, the black scimitar swinging through the air towards him. Alexander raised his sword to block it, but his movement was too slow, and the sword caught him in the left arm; cutting clean through it and slamming into his plastron. The alarms screeched as Alexander staggered, thrown sideways by the momentum. In an instant the Orlando was on him, a stiletto spike erupting from its wrist and jabbing hard for his waist. He pulled away, but the blade scored across his waist, tearing through the armour and ripping it open. The alarms screamed.

"Alexander!"

Cornelia threw herself at the Orlando, driving her stun tonfa into its chest. The Orlando jerked as the deadly energy washed over it, and for a moment Alexander through the battle was won.

Then the Orlando let out a roar, and grabbed at Cornelia's Gloucester. It spun around, driving its knee into Cornelia's waist, and then threw the Gloucester with all its might. The Gloucester flew, hit the ground hard, and screeched away into the darkness.

Alexander's heart burned with rage. His knightmare was all but wrecked, and his princess was down, maybe hurt. He had to stop that thing! He had to!

He charged. The Orlando was straightening up, turning to face him, but Alexander slammed into it, throwing it backward. He swung, his sword slashing across the Orlando's plastron and ripping it open in a shower of sparks. The Orlando swung its sword as he back-slashed, catching his sword-arm and tearing it away. Alexander cried out, and hurled himself at the Orlando, wrapping what was left of his arms around it. He jammed down the pedals, spinning the Orlando around, and then let go. The stricken knightmare shot away, crashed into a row of containers, bounced away, and then fell to the ground, sliding away in a shower of sparks, down one of the channels and out of sight.

On his main screen, there was a warning notice; politely informing him that his power was about to fail.

And then the screen went dark. And the cockpit went dark.

And Alexander felt himself falling.

(X)

Lelouch's legs jarred as he dropped to the ground.

Damn it! They had been so close! He had been so close!

His head swam as he tried to master himself. He had hit it on something while his Burai was rolling along, and it ached like nothing he had felt in a long time.

He hoped it wasn't a concussion. He might not be able to make it home.

He jumped, as something exploded nearby. He could see the smoke, but nothing else. Was it a knightmare?

He staggered, found his balance, and looked up at the Burai. It was wrecked, a write-off, blasted and battered almost beyond recognition. It hadn't seemed half this bad from the inside.

Oh well, there was nothing compromising in the databanks anyway.

He looked around. He was in a gap between two rows of containers; looming up around him like the walls of some ancient castle. There were gaps between the containers; just wide enough to open the doors. To his right was the waterfront. He must have slid some distance from the warehouse. He would have to…

Then he froze, as he turned his head, and saw who was standing to his left.

Shirley Fenette, standing there, looking like she had just paraglided over hell, a gun clutched in her hands.

A gun, like the one at his belt. The gun that, as he frantically grabbed at his belt, was not there.

It was her. His eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him. It had been her, standing there, just as he had Cornelia on the ropes.

What was she doing there? Why had she come to a place like this? Why?

"Zero…" Her voice was hoarse, quavering. "I'll…I'll pay you back…for my father!"

Lelouch's heart sank. He was going to die here, in this place, at the hands of Shirley Fenette, of all people.

And it was no more than he deserved.

No! He couldn't die! Not like this! Not even for Shirley's sake! He couldn't fail, not now! He couldn't leave Nunnally all alone!

He had his Geass. But what to say? What command to use on her? He couldn't think of anything! If he just had a little time!

"Think carefully before you do this," he said, keeping his voice low, and calm. "If you must do this, then do it now, and without regret. But be sure you know the reason."

Meaningless prattle. But if he could plant a seed of doubt, or at least make her hesitate a little…

"He never did anything wrong!" shrieked Shirley, the gun wobbling in her shaking hands. "He never hurt anyone! But you killed him all the same! Him and all the others! You don't care who dies! People like you never do!"

A part of him wanted to snap at her, to call her a hypocrite and a spoiled brat. What did she know of suffering? What did she know of the levelled cities, the burned fields, the corpses piled along the roadsides? What did she know of those whose homes had been burned, their loved ones blasted apart in front of them? She, whose father's salary had been paid for with the wealth of empire? She, whose comfortable, peaceful life had been paid-for and maintained by all that suffering?

Except, how could he? If she and her father were therefore guilty, then so were a half-billion Britannians all across the world. And why? Just because they were Britannians? Just because they paid taxes, and did their jobs? All because they benefitted in some way?

If so, then he was guilty too. And so was Kallen. And so was Nunnally.

"You're not Lulu!" she went on. "I don't care what she says! Lulu wouldn't do this! Lulu's kind! Lulu cares about people! You're not Lulu!"

A dagger. A dagger of cold ice in his heart.

Was that really how she saw him? Did she really think so well of him as that? Did she somehow think he was a kind person? Did she…care for him that much?

He hadn't…well, he hadn't disliked Shirley. They had little in common. They lived in completely different worlds. She wasn't stupid or intellectually lacking, she just didn't think about things the way she did. She had other priorities, other needs, other things to do with her life.

And he had thrown that life into turmoil. He had robbed her of something so simple, yet so very precious. Her father would never see her graduate, never see her in her wedding dress, or walk her down the aisle. He would never sit his grandchildren on his knee, watch them grow up. He would never be there for her again, never to offer a smile, or a kind word, or a shoulder to cry on.

He had taken the book of her life, and torn out half the pages. The life she had expected was gone, leaving only an empty void, a path strewn with thorns, winding away into the darkness.

And she thought he was kind.

"That's quite enough, Miss Fenette."

The voice drew him from the darkness. Lelouch's heart somehow managed to sink some more, as another figure stepped into the light alongside Shirley.

It was her. Villetta Nu, whose knightmare he had stolen at Shinjuku. Villetta Nu, the oldest living victim of his Geass. Villetta Nu, whom he had barely avoided running into at the Silverlink Club.

Villetta Nu, who had seen his face, and his school uniform, just before he got her with his Geass.

Villetta Nu, who had a gun in her hand, her grip casual, her aim unwavering.

"So this is the infamous Zero," she said, eyes bright with triumph. "I thought you would be taller."

She paused for an instant, and then let out a laugh. There was a mad, almost predatory look in her eyes.

"I'll bring you in to the Vicereine myself," she went on, lip curled in a triumphant smirk. "She'll restore my honour, and make me an Imperial knight! Maybe even a noble! Real nobility!"

Behind his mask, Lelouch glanced around; from Shirley to Villetta, to all he could see. He could make a dash for one of the gaps between the containers; but this wasn't like the movies. One twitch, and he would be dead; and Villetta would be little worse off with a dead Zero than a living one.

His eyes fell on Shirley. She looked confused, scared, bereft; as if the bottom had fallen out of her world.

"Your honour, Villetta Nu?" he called out, in a bitter tone. "You call this honour, to drag a young girl into your schemes?"

He saw the surprise on Shirley's face. Villetta just glowered at him.

"You've got some nerve!" she growled. "After what you did to me! After what you stole from me!"

Then her smirk returned.

"I'm sure they'll spend a long time interrogating you," she went on, with evident relish. "They'll extract every last secret, every little thing you did, especially that iittle trick you pulled at Shinjuku. All your connections, all your friends, all the fools you tricked and the traitors you bribed and suborned. And when they're done, they'll grant you some suitably grand execution, something particularly creative. And you'll be glad of it, when it finally comes."

"Wait…"

Villetta paused, her brow furrowing.

"Don't worry, you'll be rewarded too," she said, in what she clearly thought was a friendly, reassuring tone. "Yes, and Graham too."

For just a moment, her eyes softened.

"What's going on?"

Shirley froze at the sudden cry, in a voice Alexander had heard before. She looked past him, and her eyes widened in disbelief. Lelouch turned, and his heart clenched as he saw who was standing there.

"No…" he whispered, eyes widening behind his mask.

Why did it have to be him?

(X)

Alexander's blood ran cold.

There he was, standing there in front of him, right beside his wrecked Burai. Zero, the terrorist who had killed Prince Clovis, and thrown Area 11 into disarray. Zero, who had outfoxed even Princess Cornelia, and brought a mountain down upon her army.

Zero, at bay, at the mercy of two gun-toting women; both of whom he knew.

"Lord Waldstein!" Villetta Nu called out, overjoyed. "This couldn't be more perfect!"

"Lieutenant Nu?"

It was definitely her. She was wearing a short red skirt and a black cape over a white blouse, rather than her usual uniform; but he remembered her well enough from the academy.

"Lord Waldstein, do please bear witness!" declared Villetta. "This is the terrorist Zero, whom I have captured with this girl's help."

"With…".

Alexander looked at the girl, who was staring at him as if he sprouted horns.

Yes, it was her. It was Shirley Fenette, whom he had last seen at Narita. But what was she doing there?

"Is this chivalry, Alexander Waldstein?" demanded Zero. "To use a young girl like this? To lure her into this dark world of ours?"

"Oh, you've got a nerve!" retorted Villetta, rounding on him. "After what you did to me!"

Alexander ignored them, turning his attention to Shirley. She looked so frightened, terrified even. This was no place for her, not someone like her.

"Miss Fenette," he said, stepped slowly towards her, as if to a skittish horse. "Miss Fenette, why are you here?"

"I…" Shirley was shaking. "I came because…because I thought he might be…"

"She thinks he might be a boy she knows," Villetta cut in. "Unfortunately, if he is, that won't save him."

"Can you justify this, Alexander Waldstein?" bellowed Zero. "Is this what you fight for?"

Alexander faltered. Zero's voice was distorted by his mask, but there was something about it, something…familiar.

"What does he mean?" Alexander rounded on Villetta. "Are you responsible for this? What did you do to her?"

"I sought her help, that's all!" retorted Villetta, irritably. "She came of her own accord, and she led me right to him! It's not as if she won't get a reward!"

Alexander was appalled. He could only imagine what Villetta had endured since Jeremiah Gottwald's disgrace, but to get an innocent girl involved?

And besides…

"Why are you here, Miss Fenette?" he asked, returning his attention to Shirley. "What are you doing with that gun?"

He had to get her out of there. He had to get her out of that horrible place, that place of death and destruction, where men had died in agony and despair.

"I…I had to…" Shirley whimpered. "He...he killed my father!"

"Miss Fenette…"

"He killed my father!" The gun snapped up, aimed at Zero. "I want justice!"

"What are you doing?" bellowed Villetta, appalled. "You can't do this!"

"Don't try and stop me!" Shirley snapped the gun towards Villetta. "You lied to me! You said you were going to make everything all right, but you only care about yourself!"

Alexander felt sick. He couldn't bear to see her like this. This wasn't the Shirley he knew. Not the Shirley who had been kind to him at Ashford Academy. Not the Shirley who had wept in his arms over her father's dead body. Those hands had no business carrying a weapon. Those eyes should not have been crying such tears.

"Miss Fenette, please…" He reached out his hands. "Don't do this. Please, just give me the gun."

"No!" Shirley spun towards him, aiming with quivering hands at him. "Don't take it! Don't take it from me! I want justice!"

"Receive it from the Emperor's hand!" Alexander pleaded. "Don't take revenge! Your father didn't want that!"

"How do you know?" demanded Shirley, eyes flashing with anger. "You never knew him! Besides, you're both knights! You do this kind of stuff! Why not me?"

Why not her?

Because Alexander knew. He knew, as his heart ached for her. He knew, as he knew the love he had seen in Joseph Fenette's eyes, on the last day of his life.

"He loved you, Miss Fenette." Tears pricked at his eyes as he said it. "He cherished you, more than all the world. I know it, Miss Fenette. And I know he did not want this. He didn't want you to suffer so."

Shirley stared at him, her big green eyes full of fear, and pleading.

"He's gone," she whimpered. "It broke my mom's heart. I'll never see him again. He'll never see my graduation, or my wedding, or my children. He'll never see any of it!"

"He lives in you, Miss Fenette." He didn't know where the words were coming from. He could only pray that they were working. "All the good he did, and all the love he gave. It lives in you. So I beg you, Miss Fenette, do not do this. Let me bear the burden. Let me do that much for you, Miss Fenette."

Shirley didn't move. But Alexander saw something in her countenance, something shifting, retreating. He reached out, and laid his hands over hers, gently pulling the gun away, and holding it out for Villetta to take.

Shirley let out a howl, and flung herself at him. He jerked back in surprise, as she pressed herself against him, burying her head in his neck, sobbing like a child.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. He could not do otherwise.

And then he saw. A shadow, easing its way out of the darkness, a few containers away.

"Look out!"

He saw the flash, and an instant later heard the sound. The harsh, terrible drumbeat, the vicious whistle as the bullets flashed past.

He grabbed Shirley, and hurled himself towards the nearest gap. He darted around the container, pulling her along with him, the gunfire hammering on his nerves.

Then it stopped.

He strained his ears to listen, over the blood pounding in his ears. He could feel Shirley's heartbeat, and her terrified breaths.

Footsteps. Very light, like a hunting cat in the stalk. They drew closer, ever louder. Alexander reached for his holster, slowly drawing out his handgun. He dared not look out, not with Shirley there. But if the killer came, he would have no choice but to fire.

He had to protect her. He had to do that much. He could not fail her, not now.

The steps passed.

"You all right?" It was a low, growling voice, with an accent that was vaguely familiar.

"Fine." It was Zero. "Come on, we have to go."

"Right."

More footsteps, hurrying away towards the waterfront.

Alexander slumped back against the container, fighting to slow his pounding heart.

Him.

It was surely him. That same voice, from all those years ago.

It was him. And it had been him at Seraphaum too. He just…knew, somehow.

Then he remembered Shirley. He stepped back, still straining his ears for the sound of oncoming footsteps. None came.

"Are you all right?" he asked, quickly looking her over. There was no sign of any injury, fortunately.

"They were gonna…" Shirley was pale, and shaking. "They were…shooting at us!"

"I won't let them hurt you."

He glanced around. There was no sign of Villetta Nu either. Hopefully she hadn't been hit, but he didn't care go back there; not with those two still nearby. He had to get Shirley away from there; away from the waterfront, back towards the settlement, where his comrades most likely were.

"Come, this way."

He took Shirley by the hand, and led her along the side of the container. At the gap he paused, glancing down it, then darted across to the next container. Along they went to the next gap, and then the next one. He could hear the rumble of landspinners, and the thudding of footsteps, but none of them too close.

"Where are we going?" Shirley asked, looking fearfully around.

"I'm going to get you out of here," he said. "I'll get you to the streets outside, and then I'll call you a taxi. You must go straight home, and tell no one that you were here."

Shirley glanced at him with fearful eyes. Akexander's heart ached at the sight. She was so vulnerable, and frightened, and…

"Halt! Drop your weapon!"

Shirley cried out, covering her face. Alexander looked, and saw a handful soldiers forming up a few metres away, rifles at the ready.

"Long live the Emperor!" he called out.

"Advance and be recognized!"

Alexander stepped forward, placing himself in front of Shirley. After a moment's pause, the soldiers lowered their rifles.

"Oh, it's you!" The one in front, a corporal, snapped to attention. "Sorry milord, didn't see you right in the dark."

"What's going on, corporal?" Alexander asked. "Where is the Vicereine?"

"She's back at the warehouse, over that way, milord." The corporal jabbed a gloved thumb over to his right. "She's got us searching for the Black Knights. Sons-a-bitches scattered, milord. Ran for it like at Narita."

Alexander allowed himself a sigh of relief. She was all right. Maybe Rai would be all right too.

"I caught sight of Zero near the waterfront," he said. "He's with another man, and they're armed."

"Thank you, milord," replied the corporal. "Her highness ordered that anyone we find was to go to her right away. That goes for the young lady too, milord."

Alexander's heart sank. He could not see the man's eyes behind his electronic visor, and like most NCOs he had dealt with, his tone gave nothing away. But he knew what the man was trying to tell him. Even if he pulled rank, and told them to forget what they had seen, their visors were not so easily suborned. Even if they did keep quiet, the truth would come out.

"Very well. Carry on corporal. Bring him in for us."

"Much obliged, milord."

The corporal snapped his heels together, then stalked off, his men following after him without so much as a backward glance.

"Let's find that masked prick!" he ordered, and the team picked up the pace.

Alexander sighed. He couldn't just sneak her out, not now. He didn't care if he got into trouble, and that surprised him. But there was no protecting Shirley from this, not now.

"Miss Fenette, I'm afraid I must take you before the Vicereine." He paused, swallowing. "You have nothing to fear from her, I promise you."

He offered his arm. Shirley took it, but he could feel her shaking as she clung to it.

The journey through the docks did not take long, fortunately. After no more than a minute or two they reached sentries, who let them through into an open area before yet another warehouse. Standing there was Cornelia, surrounded by her staff officers, with Guilford and Darlton close by. As they approached, Cornelia turned to face him; a happy twinkle fading from her eyes as they fell on Shirley.

"Lord Waldstein," she said, her tone stern. "I'm glad to see you alive. Now you will explain who this is."

Alexander unhooked his arm from Shirley's, and stepped forward, snapping to attention.

"Your highness, this is Shirley Fenette, of Ashford Academy," he said, in formal diction. "She was caught up in the fighting, and I took steps to ensure her safety."

"I see." Cornelia did not sound impressed. "Perhaps she can tell us just what she was doing out so late, and in a place like this?"

Alexander silently gulped, choosing his words.

"Your highness…"

"I wasn't talking to you!" she barked, teeth bared, eyes bright with fury.

Alexander's heart jumped into this throat. Cornelia advanced on Shirley, glaring down at her as she were a maid caught silverware. Only then did Alexander see the livid bruise on the side of her head. Little wonder she was in such a foul mood.

Before her, Shirley wilted, whimpering in fear. She looked like a deer, frozen in the lights of a speeding car.

"Explain yourself!" Cornelia barked. "What were you doing here? What possible business could you have here? Are you involved with Zero?"

"No!" cried Shirley. She looked as if she was about to faint. "I wouldn't! I couldn't!"

"Then explain yourself!" snapped Cornelia. "Tell me the truth, and I might only turn you over to the police!"

"I…I…"

"Your highness, I beg of you!" pleaded Alexander, not knowing where the words were coming. "She is innocent! She had no part of it!"

"I will be the judge of that!" snapped Cornelia, rounding on him.

"Your highness." Darlton stepped forward. "The girl's scared out of her mind. You won't get a coherent answer out of her."

Cornelia glared at him, but Darlton stood his ground. He did not seem at all afraid of her anger; as if all he saw was her child-self, stamping her foot and screwing up her face.

"Very well then." Cornelia turned back to Alexander. "If she cannot speak for herself, then you may speak for her."

There was something dark and cold in her eyes.

"I have lost three good knights today," she went on. "Along with the entire marine detachment. Twelve Gloucesters and one APC have been wrecked, and this harbour is in a shambles. All we have to show for it are four downed Burais and one downed Orlando, with one Black Knight confirmed KIA. This had better be good, Lord Waldstein."

Alexander swallowed hard, praying silently that Rai was not among the dead.

"After my Gloucester failed, I was forced to bail out," he said. "I was returning on foot when I encountered Zero, who was being held at bay by Miss Fenette and Lieutenant Nu."

He saw the flash in Cornelia's eyes, and his heart sickened. She would not easily forgive him for letting Zero get away.

"Lieutenant Nu," she mused. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"She was the last survivor of Jeremiah Gottwald's unit," Darlton cut in. "She's currently under investigation over her involvement in his little coup attempt."

"Ah yes," Cornelia drawled, narrowing her eyes. "Now I remember. She was at the academy, wasn't she Guilford?"

"Yes, your highness," Guilford confirmed.

"I remember." Her lip curled, in a smile that brought him no comfort or ease. "So, she went after Zero on her own. Did she mention why this girl was involved?"

"Lieutenant Nu recruited her for some reason," Alexander replied, realising awkwardly that neither Villetta nor Shirley had revealed the reason. "She did not reveal why."

"And if Zero was at bay, then why is he not here?" she asked, a dangerous edge to her tone. How exactly did he manage to give you the slip, Lord Waldstein?"

"Miss Fenette was not in her right mind," Alexander continued, not knowing what else to say. "I managed to disarm her, and Lieutenant Nu had Zero under control. But we were fired upon, and I was forced to run for cover with Miss Fenette. I don't know what became of Lieutenant Nu."

"So…" Cornelia glared at him, with a glare he had never thought he would see directed at him. "You chose to protect this girl, and Zero got away. Did you at least see the person who fired on you?"

"I heard his voice, your highness. It was him."

It was all he had left. The only justification he could offer. He saw the look in Cornelia's eyes, the flash of recollection, of understanding, and dared to hope that he had saved himself.

"You are certain of this?" she asked, in a low voice.

"I stake my honour and my life upon it."

Cornelia returned her attention to Shirley, who looked no happier about that fact than she had a moment ago.

"I wonder if you understand the situation you are in." Her tone was calmer now, but all the more unsettling for it. "You have blundered into the middle of a combat situation, and forced Lord Waldstein to protect you. As a result, an enemy of Britannia has escaped justice."

She paused, letting her words hang in the air.

"That said, I am willing to believe that you have been ill-used," she went on, in a tone that implied she would rather have had Shirley taken away and shot. "Villetta Nu has proven to be a most unsatisfactory character. Also, Lord Waldstein has risked his life to protect you, and his reputation by defending you. I think, Miss Shirley Fenette, you owe him the courtesy of answering my questions."

"Yes…your highness."

"For what reason did Villetta Nu seek you out?"

"She…I was coming home from my father's funeral, and she stepped out and said she wanted to ask me some questions." Shirley took a ragged breath.

"She had me get in a car with her, and she showed me a picture of…someone I know. She said he might be a terrorist, and she'd seen him at Shinjuku."

"I see," Cornelia mused. "Was she in uniform?"

"No, your highness. But she had ID."

"And did she offer any other evidence of this person's guilt?"

"No!" Shirley pleaded, faltering suddenly. "I mean…she said that if I didn't help her, the OSI would come looking for him! I was scared!"

"You were right to be," replied Cornelia darkly. "They are a fearsome lot, and without mercy. But why did you come here this evening?"

Shirley gulped.

"She left her number, and said to call her if he did anything…strange," she went on. "He went out earlier, and wouldn't say where he was going. I called her about it, and then I went after him."

"So you went on your own initiative?" Cornelia's tone soured. "You were warned that he might be a terrorist, and you went after him?"

"I had to know!" wailed Shirley, her composure crumbling. "I didn't want to believe it! It's not true! It can't be true!"

"So, on the mere word of a person claiming to be a military officer, you became so convinced that your schoolmate was a terrorist, that you came down here yourself."

Cornelia regarded her with contemptuous eyes.

"I don't know what they teach you at that school," she went on. "But it clearly doesn't include common sense or judgement."

She glowered down at Shirley, who looked as if she wanted to sink into the ground and disappear.

Alexander felt utterly miserable. He couldn't blame his princess for being angry, and her criticisms of Shirley were all valid. But he couldn't bear the way she was treating the poor girl. She deserved compassion, not condemnation.

"Lord Waldstein, take this silly girl home!" she ordered. "And maybe next time she thinks of getting involved in matters that don't concern her, she'll think twice about it!"

She turned on her heel and strode away, Guilford and the staff officers falling in behind her. Only Darlton remained, a weary look on his face as he walked up to them, putting a fatherly hadn on her soldier. Shirley flinched, looking up at him with wary eyes.

"Don't worry about it, young lady," he said, managing a smile. "She was only trying to teach you a lesson. That was dangerous, coming out here like that."

"I'm ruined…" Shirley whimpered, hugging herself. "She'll ruin me…Mom…Milly…"

"That's not going to happen," Darlton insisted. "She's not like that, I give you my word."

"Promise?" Shirley looked up at him with pleading eyes. There was a fatherly air about him, that she seemed to find soothing.

"Young miss, I've known the princess since she was a toddler," he said, eyes twinkling with fond memories. "I can count on one hand the times she offered me a harsh word. She never bullied the maids, or picked on her half-sisters, or any of it. And she would never blacklist you just because you got caught up in something like this. It's beneath her dignity, and if anything, she hates people who do stuff like that."

Shirley seemed to relax, and Alexander felt better for it. He knew, in his heart, that what Darlton said was true. His princess wouldn't hurt Shirley. She wouldn't do a thing like that. Indeed, she would probably have forgotten who Shirley was by the end of the week.

"I'm sorry…" Shirley whispered, lowering her head.

"Apologise to your father," Darlton replied gravely. "As a father I can tell you, you did him no favours tonight. He wouldn't want you getting yourself into trouble like this."

"But why?" Shirley wailed. "Why did he have to die? He never did anything wrong! Why did Zero have to kill him?"

Darlton glanced at Alexander.

"He was buried in the mudslide, at Narita," Alexander said. Darlton nodded, understanding.

"I see. Your father was in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, returning his attention to Shirley, hand still on her shoulder. "It's the fortune of war. People die for no reason, at the hands of people who never meant it. That settlement was supposed to have been evacuated. Zero probably had no idea that anyone was still in there."

Shirley looked sad. Darlton sighed.

"Hate Zero if you need to," he went. "Hate can keep you alive when all else has failed. But it doesn't suit you, Miss Shirley Fenette. A young girl like you shouldn't waste her heart on hatred and revenge. You've got your whole life ahead of you."

He gave her a wry grin, and patted her shoulder one last time.

"Leave it to those of us stupid enough to become knights. It's what your father would want."

Shirley glanced up at him, and then at Alexander.

"I…I guess," she said, awkwardly, gazing up at him. "Thank you, my lord."

"Darlton, Andreas Darlton, at your service. And it's fine, young lady. For now, just let this fine young sir knight take you home."

Darlton held out his knightmare key. Amazed, Alexander took it.

"Don't worry about Rai," he said. "He took a bump on the head, but he'll be up and about in a day or so."

"Thank you sir." Alexander felt a lot better. "I'll return to HQ once she's safely home."

Darlton just smiled.

"Just don't keep her out too late, Sir Alexander."

There was a twinkle in his eyes, and Alexander found himself blushing. He glanced at Shirley, and found that she was blushing too.

Darlton chuckled, and strode off.

(X)

Why?

Lelouch forced himself not to shiver, as he strode through the old subway tunnel. It was a lot cleaner than many such places he had found himself in, but it was still cold and dark, with little light. He was sure he could hear scuttling noises somewhere nearby.

Why?

He was more glad than ever that he had thought to upgrade his mask with night vision. It wasn't much, but he could at least find his way in the darkness.

And keep an eye on the taller figure just in front of him.

He had to admit, in spite of everything, he was more than a little impressed with Gary Biaggi. He wasn't managing the darkness as well as Lelouch himself was, but he was finding his way well enough.

Why?

He forced down his anguish, pulling on the strap of his kitbag to haul it back into place. Having to carry it was an annoyance, but he had no choice. He had yet to try and explain the Zero costume to a monorail conductor, or a police officer.

He fixed his eyes on the tunnel in front of him. The layout was looking familiar.

"We're almost there," he said, loud enough for Biaggi to hear him, but in a tone that would not echo too far. For all their darkness and damp, the old tunnels were far from deserted.

"How d'you know?" Biaggi asked, mildly.

"We're just passing the signal gantry," he replied. "Not far now."

Sure enough, there was light up ahead. Lelouch turned off the night vision, and followed the light until they reached the mouth of the tunnel, a station platform clearly visible beyond it. Biaggi led the way, climbing up the maintenance stairway onto the platform, Lelouch close behind.

"So this is the station," Biaggi mused, looking around. "You sure this is the right place?"

"Certain."

And he was. He and the Black Knights had spent several knights carefully mapping and cataloguing the network of tunnels running under what had once been the Greater Tokyo area. They hadn't liked it much, but it had paid off tonight, and would pay dividends in the future.

"We made good time," he said, checking his watch.

"We would have made better time if you hadn't stopped for that bag," retorted Biaggi, regarding him with sour eyes.

"I didn't survive this long by leaving things lying around," he replied.

"Better not to need to." Biaggi looked around, clearly on edge. "Learn to travel light. I did, and I survived when others didn't."

"I'll keep that in mind." Lelouch glanced down at the gun in his hands. "Though I must say you have rather sophisticated taste in firearms. The Kruger KMX-2 is not often seen round here."

Biaggi glanced down at the gun in his hand.

"My supplier is from Drakenland," he explained, smirking. "And you have quite the eye."

"That, also, has kept me alive this long."

That much was true. The countless hours he had spent, carefully cleaning his costume and mask, as well as his gun; ensuring that not so much as an eyelash remained to expose him.

Yes, his gun. The gun that must have fallen from his belt, and ended up in Shirley's hands. The gun that Villetta Nu now possessed.

"I didn't see Villetta Nu," he said. "The tall woman, in the black mantle. What happened to her?"

"Her…" mused Biaggi. "I think I hit her, but I'm not sure. I couldn't see her after that, and there wasn't exactly time to check. The other girl, the auburn, got hauled off by that knight."

Lelouch felt sick at heart. Bad enough that Villetta was nowhere to be seen, and with his gun on her person. Bad enough that she had tracked him down, even if she hadn't managed to unmask him.

"Alexander…"

Why did he have to be there? Why him and Suzaku? Why his brother as well as his friend?

Why had he risked himself like that? Why had he gone so far to protect Shirley?

"Well, too late to do anything about it now," Biaggi went on. "You could go after them, assuming Nu's still alive, but that would only make things worse.

"They didn't see my face," Lelouch replied. "There's nothing to worry about."

"You sure about that?"

Lelouch did not like the look on his face. It was as if he could see right through the mask, even into his very soul.

"Nu had my gun," he admitted, forcing himself to meet that piercing gaze. "I think she dropped it when you started shooting."

"Hmm…" Biaggi seemed to be thinking. "Well, I hope you cleaned it right, or they've got your DNA on file."

How little he knew the irony. The authorities did indeed have his DNA on file. But it was in the name of Lelouch vi Britannia, not Lelouch Lamperouge. He wondered for a moment what they would make of that.

"I dismantled and cleaned it before I came out here," he said, with feigned confidence. "And I never touch it with my bare hands."

He showed off his cloved hands, eliciting a nod from Biaggi.

"Not bad, not bad," he mused. "If you're half as meticulous as you're making out, you might just get through this."

"I'll admit, you're not bad yourself," Lelouch replied cautiously. "You did well to face down two of the empire's best knights, and one of its rising stars."

"Those two I've faced already." There was a strange look on Biaggi's face that Lelouch could not quite make sense of. "Yes, the boy who made off with the auburn. Quite the devicer."

"His name is Alexander Bismark Waldstein," Lelouch replied, keeping his tone business-like to conceal his curiosity. "Son of First Knight Sir Bismark Waldstein. One of Britannia's finest."

"I can believe it." Biaggi smirked. "Your little redhead's not half bad either, but a lot of it comes from that knightmare of hers. I wouldn't mind one like that myself."

The clincher? Maybe. But he had received the Guren Nishiki from Kyoto, who had thus far been coy about revealing where they got it from. And while they probably knew about Biaggi – he couldn't be quite sure his Black Knights weren't telling them things – he didn't want them knowing who he worked for.

"If you hang around, I might be able to arrange it," he said.

"Fine, but you'll be wanting to contact the supplier directly," replied Biaggi. "I have a sneaking suspicion, but if you'll let a friend of mine take a look at it, he'll be able to confirm it. It all comes down to how much you want to trust Kyoto."

"And who is this friend of yours?"

"A professional for hire, by the name of Damian Hassler. I've worked with him for many years now, and he's also in my employers' good books. You can trust him, so long as he's paid. And considering I had to blow up the Orlando he customized for me, I owe him some paid work."

"Fair enough. But I want to see him first before he goes anywhere near the Guren. Kallen will have to be there too; it's her right."

"That'll be fine." He glanced over the platform at the main stairs. "Is this where we part ways?"

"I'm fine if you are. I apologize that the operation went wrong. Cornelia got away..."

"But you got pretty damn close." Biaggi mused. "I'll give ya this much. No prior group has put the Witch of Britannia on the back foot like that. So while the operation failed, I say you gave a decent impression."

"Will your employers be supporting us then?"

"I think I can justify recommending you. After that it's up to them. Until next time…"

He turned, and stalked off up the stairs, and out of sight.

Lelouch deflated, almost collapsing as the tension released. He looked around one last time, then fixed his eyes on the door to the toilet block; right where he remembered it.

He hurried over and tried the door. It clicked open, a little more easily than he had expected.

"It's only me."

CC stepped into the light. She was disguised, rather unconvincingly, in a shell suit; her long green hair hidden under a matching cap.

"Bad night?" she asked, flippantly.

"Whatever gave you that impression?"

Lelouch dropped the kitbag, unzipped it, and began stripping off the Zero costume; revealing the Ashford Academy uniform underneath.

"There's a problem," he said.

"Shirley followed you?"

"You knew?" Lelouch glared at her. Had she really been that lazy? Or was this some kind of stupid prank? He could never tell with CC.

"She went missing," CC replied, unperturbed by his glare. "The student council is in a panic."

Lelouch sighed. Kallen was out for the evening too, but she had told them it was family business. Him disappearing for an afternoon or evening was nothing unusual. But Shirley slipping out? Without telling anyone anything?

"She was there, with Villetta Nu," he said. "The one I borrowed the knightmare from at Shinjuku. It seems she's been trying to track me down, and she got Shirley involved."

"Did she see your face?"

"No, but she had my gun. Or at least she did before Biaggi shot at her."

"If it's been dropped, the Britannians will find it," CC mused. "Better hope you cleaned it properly."

"I know I did," retorted Lelouch, folding the costume and carefully setting it into the kitbag. "The problem is Nu, not to mention Shirley."

"Did they see your face?"

"No, but Nu clearly thinks it's me, and she's planted the idea in Shirley's head. She's in denial about it though."

CC did not reply. She seemed to be deep in thought.

"You can't do anything about Nu, not yet anyway," she said. "And besides, she's in enough trouble with her own side already. That just leaves Shirley."

"I won't kill her," replied Lelouch, arranging the mask in its proper place. "What about my Geass. Could I make her forget?"

"Possibly," CC mused. "It would depend on how you word the command, and how she interprets it. I can't say for sure."

"You can't say for sure?" Lelouch glared at her again. This was not at all helpful!

"No two Geass are alike," retorted CC mildly. "Their nature depends on the user, and what effect they have depends a great deal on the subject. You could maybe order her to forget, but it might not have the effect you intend. It could leave gaps in her memory, inconsistencies in her consciousness. Her mind may rebel, or tear itself apart."

Lelouch felt sick at heart. As supremely useful as his Geass was, he was still only beginning to understand it. There were so many things CC had not told him, or had described only in riddles.

Did he dare unleash such a power on Shirley? Was it worth the risk?

"She didn't see my face, so there isn't a problem," he said, as much to himself as CC. "I'll just have to convince her that I wasn't there. All she needs is sufficient proof, and that'll throw her off the scent."

"Got anything good in mind?"

Lelouch zipped up the bag, and pulled out his phone. As he switched it on, the screen filled with missed call warnings. Most of them were from Milly or the meeting room computer.

"You were right about them panicking," he said. "Time to lay the groundwork."

He dialled.

"Hello, Milly?" he said, as the line connected.

"Lulu? Thank god! Where are you?"

"I'm in the settlement." Not technically a lie, the station was just outside it. "What's going on? What's up with Shirley?"

"She slipped out not long after you did!" Milly sounded half mad with worry. "We didn't think anything of it, but then we got a call from the army! She was at Yokosuka, right in the middle of a battle!"

Lelouch paused, letting himself breath hard. Now, his worries were an ally.

"Why?" he asked. "Why would she go there? Did they say anything?"

"Some crazy woman accosted her after the funeral and told her that someone at school was a terrorist!" Milly almost shrieked. "That's what she told them, apparently! She was scared out of her mind! She must've thought it was you!"

So it was Nu. That answered that, at least. And if Milly thought Shirley wasn't in her right mind…

"But why?" he babbled. He tried to sound scared, and found he didn't have to try. "What could possibly make her think that? I…I don't understand!"

"Well apart from you constantly disappearing?"

He heard a noise, that sounded worryingly like a sob. He felt bad, surprisingly so. For all that Milly embarrassed and infuriated him, she was by no means a bad person. She cared about her friends, her family, and the school. She wanted those around her to enjoy themselves, to be at ease.

She didn't deserve this. Any more than Shirley deserved what had happened to her.

"I'm sorry, Lulu!" Milly said quickly. "They said this woman was in trouble for something and she'd gone rogue trying to find some terrorist. Apparently she's gone missing, so they haven't got a clue what she meant."

So it was because of that. She remembered him from Shinjuku, and had been obsessively chasing him ever since. If that was all, then she really had nothing. There was nothing to worry about.

Was there?

"I'm coming back," he said, zipping up the kitbag. "I'll do my best, but it looks like the trains have been disrupted. Where's Shirley now?"

"She's okay. They're sending her back with someone. Please hurry, Lulu!"

"I will."

He ended the call, and straightened up, pulling the kitbag over his shoulder.

"Time for us to go," he said.

(X)

Alexander could not remember feeling quite this awkward in some time.

Darlton's Gloucester was working fine, despite its tribulations earlier. The traffic was busy, but moving at a stead flow. Cars and trucks and buses moved along around him, with people staring out of the windows at him. Some waved, or took pictures on their phones.

The police had thus far not attempted to stop him; either because they saw his military transponder code, or because they didn't want the complications of having stopped one of Cornelia's knights while on legitimate business.

The problem was Shirley Fenette. Or rather that, because the cockpit was designed for only one person, she was having to sit across his lap.

He remembered that twinkle in General Darlton's eyes. As much as he respected the older man, his sense of humour could be…burdensome at times.

He turned off the main road onto an urban street; deserted but for a few parked cars. Not having to concentrate on the traffic, he relaxed a little.

And then remembered Shirley.

She sat there, in silence, looking down at her knees, his arm around her waist to reach the joystick. Her legs were narrow and well-formed, though that black skirt was far too short for his liking. Her waist was slim, though not unhealthily so. Her long, auburn hair was soft and fragrant, spilling over his arm.

He had never held a girl like this before; not for many years, not since he had carried Nunnally in his arms. He wasn't at all sure what to say, or even whether this was appropriate. She wasn't objecting, but then she wasn't saying anything at all. She just looked so weary, so vulnerable.

"Why are you so nice to me?"

The words caught him by surprise. Shirley was looking at him now, those green eyes gazing into his. She had a wary look on her soft, well-formed face, a face made for smiles and laughter, not such sadness.

"I mean only to help, Miss Fenette," he said, uncertain. "It's the least I can do."

"I probably got you into all kinds of trouble," Shirley moped, lowering her eyes. "Princess Cornelia…she looked at me like I was just…".

He couldn't blame her for being upset. Few would have wanted to meet an imperial princess under such circumstances. The embarrassment, nay humiliation of being told off like that would have been hard for anyone to take.

"Her highness bears you no ill-will," he said, as gently as he could. "She was angry with Lieutenant Nu, not you. If she had not troubled you with this, then none of this would have happened."

"All the same, I saw the way she looked at you," Shirley insisted glumly. "She was really angry. I've never seen anyone so angry."

"She was angry," he admitted. "But pay it no mind. There will be no consequences for yourself. Her highness is above such misbehaviour."

"I…want to believe that."

Alexander suppressed a sigh. He was going to have to offer something better than platitudes.

"I have known her highness since I was a young boy," he said. "In all that time, she has never treated me badly. Never have I suffered more than harsh words, and those I bear without complaint. Her highness is as given to frustration, to anger, to weariness as anyone else. If harsh words can give her ease, I bear them with gladness. I also know them for what they are, and they were not harsh words that anyone need fear."

Shirley did not reply, but she seemed to relax a little.

"Why did you say that about my father?"

Alexander blinked in surprise, then saw that she was looking at him again; more intently this time.

"I don't understand, Miss Fenette."

"That stuff about my father." Shirley looked away, her cheeks reddening a little. "I know you were trying to help me, but you couldn't have known him, could you?"

Alexander's heart sank, but he knew there was no escape. She deserved the truth.

"I met him once, and briefly," he said, his heart clenching at the sight of her eyes widening. "It was at Narita, just before the battle. He and his colleagues were evacuating the settlement, and he requested some help. I arranged for it to be given."

He drew a breath to settle his pounding heart. He was skirting the edge of legality by telling her even that much. But he could not do otherwise. Even If it meant she turned her agonized heart against him, he could not do otherwise.

"Miss Fenette…" His heart clenched. "Had I known…"

"No, please don't." Shirley's eyes had hardened somehow. "Don't say things like that. Don't try to take this on yourself. I don't want that."

Alexander was taken aback. He had not expected that. He had feared that she would turn on him, start blaming him for not somehow getting her father out of there. She would have had to be a saint not to at least consider it.

"Miss Fenette, i…" He felt his cheeks heat up. "I…I have no words, Miss Fenette."

"Then tell me, how did you know he was my father?" she pressed. Alexander steeled himself.

"He showed me a picture," he said. "It was yourself with your parents, outside the academy gate. You wearing…a pink pinafore. He said your mother liked that uniform."

Shirley looked away, eyes wide with what might have been amazement.

"It was in his pocket," she breathed. "They found it in his pocket."

She closed her eyes, and smiled a smile that made his heart leap; or would have done if not for the tears trickling down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry…". She sniffed, and dabbed at her eyes. "I just…he was always doing things like that…he just didn't…"

"He loved you, Miss Fenette," Alexander said, his heart clenching at her tears, yet dancing at her smile. "He never would have wanted you to suffer like this, especially not for his sake."

"I know, I know…". Shirley sniffed again. "It's so weird, but hearing it from you, all of it…I just feel so much better. Almost like…like I was able to talk to him, one last time."

She paused, and faltered.

"I'm sorry, that came out weird. But you know what I mean, right?"

"I have a good idea, Miss Fenette."

Finally, he saw his destination; one of the academy's side gates. The gate was open, and he drove through, rolling along a forest path until emerging beside the Student Council building.

Journey's end.

"We're here, Miss Fenette," he said, shutting down the knightmare and preparing to open the cockpit.

"Can I ask you one last thing?"

"Of course."

"It's a weird question but…" She fidgeted, and he found the gesture curiously touching. "Do you…have a little sister?"

The question took him by surprise.

"I fear not, Miss Fenette. I am my father's only issue."

"Oh, it's just that…" Shirley paused, and seemed to be choosing her words. "It's just that, I feel so comfortable around you." She smiled again. "I thought maybe…it was because of something like that."

She was beautiful. It was a strange thing to think, but he thought it, no, knew it all the same. He had not thought so at first, not when he had met her; the day after that ridiculous festival. She was far from unpleasing, in appearance or manner, but he had put her down as charming rather than beautiful. She could not have compared to the women he knew in his heart to be beautiful; women like Empress Marianne, or Princess Cornelia, or Princess Euphemia.

But now he knew he had been wrong. She was beautiful; as beautiful as any of them.

"Come, Miss Fenette."

He let the hatch behind him drop open, his seat extending out into the night air. Standing up, he helped Shirley to her feet, and put an arm around her waist, grasping the ascension cable. Slowly but surely, the cable carried them to the ground.

"Well…I guess…" Shirley said, awkwardly, once she was safely down. "I…Lord Waldstein…"

"SHIRLEY!"

A blur erupted upon Shirley, wrapping itself around her in a sobbing embrace. It resolved itself into Milly Ashford, who looked as if she had not slept for days.

"What were you thinking!" sobbed Milly, pressing Shirley. "You had us all worried sick! You'll make my hair turn grey!"

"I'm sorry!" wailed Shirley, hugging her back.

Alexander could only stand back and watch. He had seen plenty of scenes like this, but still could not bring himself to feel comfortable.

"Oh, my lord Waldstein." Milly dabbed furiously at her eyes, as Shirley hugged Rivalz Cardemonde and then Nina Einstein, who had come hurrying up behind Milly. "My lord, thank you, thank you so much for bringing Shirley back to us."

"It was the least I could do, Miss Ashford." He bowed. "After the kindness Miss Fenette showed me when last I was here."

"That said!" Her mood suddenly shifted, some of her old self returning. "I'm afraid that Ashford Academy will be issuing a formal complaint about this. One of your fellow officers has harassed a student in our care! We've been having trouble with prowlers round here, not that the police have lifted a finer about it, and this is beyond the pale! We must insist that your villainous colleague be brought to justice"

"Milly, no!" pleaded Shirley, looking desperately sad. "Don't be like this!"

"No Shirley, it has to be said!" Milly replied firmly. Alexander sighed.

"Miss Ashford, I can only speak for myself, but I deeply regret the way my fellow officer behaved. Her conduct was not merely shameful, but inexplicable. I can offer neither explanation nor excuse."

He bowed. He heard Milly sigh.

"Well, I suppose that'll have to do for now," she declared, her old manner fully restored. "Oh, but you will please stay for cocoa, won't you my lord? It's the least we can do."

"Thank you for your kind offer, Miss Ashford, but I must be getting back. I signed for this knightmare frame, and I cannot trouble you at so late an hour."

"Yes, it's gotten rather later," Milly admitted, sounding just a little disappointed. "But you must please come see us again. My conscience could not bear it if you didn't. In fact, come whenever you like. You may consider yourself a friend of the Ashford family."

"I am honoured, Miss Ashford."

"Now, Shirley…" Milly rounded on her friend. "What do we say? Have we forgotten our manners?"

Shirley gulped, and stepped forward; then genuflected in a manner that was technically correct, but just looked completely wrong with such a short skirt.

"Thank you, my lord, for everything." As she straightened up, her smile returned.

"It was my honour, Miss Fenette."

Unable to stop himself, he reached out his hand. Shirley hesitated, then slipped her hand into it. It was so small, and soft.

Alexander bowed his head, and brushed his lips over her knuckles. Her heard her gasp, and as he straightened up, he saw that her cheeks had turned red.

He saw the looks Milly and the others were giving him. He could see the lights in the near distance, and knew that someone was taking pictures. The whole thing would be on social media by morning.

But he didn't care. For some bizarre, inexplicable reason, he didn't care.

(X)

And…it's done.

I'd like to apologise for the delay with this one. I ran into some serious productivity issues over the last few months, but I hope I've managed to get past them. This chapter came out huge, and could conceivably be split; but I like to think it stands well as it is.

The single trickiest part was Lelouch's encounter with Shirley and Villetta. In canon, that incident pretty much doomed Shirley to her unfortunate fate for R1. She saw Lelouch's face, and shot Villetta in order to save him. To remove himself from her memory was apparently the only way Lelouch could think of to settle the issue; at the price of losing a friend that until then, he never knew he had.

The simple answer, in my mind, was to prevent Shirley seeing his face by letting him stay conscious. With Hamid there to give him some protection, that at least was plausible. The part that was actually hard was how to handle Shirley, and her own motives. Villetta was comparatively easy; she would want to haul Zero in alive and get her honour and status restored. But what of Shirley? She wants Zero to pay for killing her father, but she is also dealing with the possibility that he might be Lelouch. Her feelings for Lelouch were what made her turn on Villetta in canon, but this time she didn't see his face. Would she still try to shoot Villetta? For what reason might she refuse to just hand over the gun?

In the end, that was the best I could come up with, and I think it works. I like to think that both Alexander and Shirley were acting in-character. In Alexander's case, it's a combination of the chivalric (and arguably sexist) culture he was brought up in, and a genuine care for Shirley as an individual. In Shirley's case, she's been clobbered quite badly by life (specifically her father dying under such horrid circumstances), and Villetta Nu has messed with her head by persuading her that someone she cares for is a terrorist. So she wasn't thinking at all clearly that night.

I'd like to thank Zaru for helping me with the editing. And I hope you all enjoy this.