To all my latest reviewers: One, thank you for your praise and your undivided time and attention. It's truly humbling and gratifying. Two: I've been seeing a lot of Suzaku talk, and I'd like to throw in my opinion on the matter, just to even the arena of action.
I believe Suzaku is one of the most tragic characters on the show, if not the most. Yes, he is impulsive, hypocritical, and more than willing to stab others in the back in order to get what he wants. However, I'd like to point out that Code Geass takes pains to show that he and Lelouch suffer from the same ailment. When it comes down to it: how much of Code Geass is really just two grieving boys trying to undo all the tragedies that have taken place in their lives?
To me, Suzaku is a kind-hearted, polite, well-meaning young man, but due to his traumatic memories (and deep-seated suicidal desires) that essentially robbed him of his family and childhood, he simply doesn't have the (semi) healthy state of mind Lelouch has. Lelouch was given funding, support, and friendship by the Ashfords, given time to dwell over everything and formulate a plan. Sure, Lelouch was still heavily traumatized, and he never did let go of his hatred, but at least he was given some breathing space. Suzaku had no-one to rely on and nowhere to go to. He had to join a military full of commanders who hated his guts; he had to watch his home country become a cesspool of racism and violence hidden beneath a façade of technogaianism and wealth.
And he has to live with the terrifying fact that it's all his fault.
He was left absolutely alone, without the support of his best friend, the love of his cousin Kaguya, or the attention of the Kyoto House, who basically disappeared to attend to their own plans. That kind of guilt would break anybody, and I'm honestly amazed Suzaku handles it as well as he does. He certainly handles himself better than I would have in his shoes.
Thank you all so much again, and enjoy.
[*****]
ASHFORD ACADEMY
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
Lelouch slammed his fist atop the alarm clock, making no further motion behind that, instead reveling in the feeling of being ensconced in his warm, safe comforter in his paid-for room and board, complete with security in the form of a martial artist maid. After finally producing a modicum of consciousness, Lelouch tried to snap out of dreamland and rose from his bed, stumbling over to his closet to get dressed; after splashing some water on his face and combing his hair, he could feel his brain slowly start to work.
Last night sucked.
Lelouch's rescue plan was, objectively, a success. The plan had gone off without a hitch; it was a perfect display of sabotage and deception used in a calm, methodical manner, and it came with the added benefit of Clovis screwing himself over on broadcasted television. It also gave the Japanese rebels an added boost of confidence and faith in Lelouch, which would be key to gaining their support and time. However, personally, it was a failure. Lelouch had been satisfied to have a moment alone with Suzaku, without any time or circumstantial restraints. No poison gas, no Royal Guards, no anything. And yet Suzaku had still seen fit to turn his back on him.
He can't even see the errors of his ways. Lelouch was primarily angry because he couldn't fault Suzaku's reasoning for turning his back on him, but it was also a matter of pride and friendship. He had no desire to fight his best friend on the battlefield. Lelouch groaned, gathered a shirt and pair of pants together, and went to the bathroom. He stripped naked, silently remarked how thin he'd gotten over the last year or so, and took a hot, quick shower. That done, he put on his clothes and a pair of slippers, and went into the kitchen to prepare something for breakfast.
Sayoko already does enough, and I'm pretty good at cooking anyway… wait.
Lelouch stopped in his tracks and went back out into the living room. He felt his breath stop when he realized he wasn't alone.
He laid his eyes open the figure sleeping on his couch. Even in the cool dawn light, there was no mistaking her bright green hair, or her Britannian prisoner uniform, almost identical to the one Suzaku wore last night. Although she was turned to her side, presumably asleep, Lelouch could tell she was young, slender, and short; above all, incredibly familiar.
That girl!
Memories of Shinjuku immediately flooded back into his mind's eye, and Lelouch slid against the wall, dazzled and out of breath.
How the hell is she alive?!
"So you're awake?"
Stunned into momentary silence, he let his eyes fall back upon the mysterious girl. She was now sitting up, and Lelouch could make out her golden eyes. He'd forgotten what the color of her eyes were, but he hadn't forgotten her smoldering soprano voice, the voice that gave him his Geass so many weeks ago.
Impossible! I saw her die! She got shot in the head! I may not be a doctor, but I'm fairly certain people die from that!
"Am I so beautiful you've found yourself speechless?"
"…"
She abruptly rose and began walking down the hallway and turned, oddly, into Lelouch's room. Lelouch's lips curled into a tired frown and he turned to walk back to his room, careful not to wake up Sayoko.
She doesn't seem dangerous… When Lelouch re-entered his room, she was climbing into his bed.
"…How did you find me?"
"It wasn't too hard," the girl responded, cryptically, pulling the covers over her.
"Why are you…?" Lelouch began, then paused. "No, a better question is, how are you still alive?"
"Maybe I'm a ghost. OoooOoooOOooo…" she muttered, even waving her arms around.
Awfully childish for a Geass contractor. "Very funny. Now answer me. How are you alive?"
"I have the curse of bad luck. How is your Geass working out?"
Lelouch felt taken aback by her directness. Shaking his head, he lifted his hand to his left eye. "Very well. I'm thankful. You saved my life, and this has been… useful. For the most part. It's gotten me out of a few tight scrapes."
"Are you usually this nice or are you just tired?"
Lelouch sighed impatiently. "Do you have a… Geass?"
"Not really. I just give them out. I'm like a distributor of Geass powers."
"…Oh. Right," Lelouch said, groaning and collapsing into a chair. "We made a contract. You're probably here to make sure I own up to my end."
"Yes," she said, searching his face.
"What do you want? If it's money, I can see what I can do. If it's slavery, I may have a few choice words about that."
"You'll know soon enough. Since you were on your way to go make some breakfast, could you do that? Some toast would be nice. If not toast, then pancakes. Or better yet, both."
I'm in her debt. Great. "…Fine. But this doesn't mean you can just barge into my house uninvited and stay here."
"Actually, I can. The military's likely looking for me."
Lelouch smacked his forehead. "That's even worse!"
"Because you're Zero?"
Dread engulfed Lelouch and for a moment, his words froze in his throat.
"Oh, right. Sorry. I don't intend to turn you into the military or anything – I'm as fond of them as you are," she continued, fluffing up some of Lelouch's pillows. "Could you please get me some breakfast? I haven't eaten in two nights."
"…Whatever," Lelouch mumbled, leaving the room and going into the kitchen. If time could slow down for a little, that would be excellent…
As Lelouch prepared breakfast, thoughts flew through his head at a rapid pace. Who is she, where is from, and how does she know the things she know? Clearly she's immortal, or heals quickly, or has some kind of superhuman endurance, but she was shot in the head, point black! And clearly she knows things, like where I live or that I'm Zero! And if she knows I'm Zero, has she told anybody?! Have other people put two and two together besides her?
Suddenly, facing the day ahead seemed like a very dreadful experience.
Lelouch brought some buttered toast, strawberries, and a glass of milk back to his newly-occupied room and placed it on the nightstand. The girl eyed it for a moment.
"No pancakes. Well, that's alright…" she muttered, sitting up and taking the plate.
Nervous adrenaline was still roaring through Lelouch. "How did you know I'm Zero?" he asked, trying to be as quiet as possible about it.
"I have a connection to you, the connection of contractor to contractee."
"Like telepathy? Like what you did in the Shinjuku Ghetto?"
"Yes." Her voice rang clear in Lelouch's head, and dizziness engulfed him.
You will live unlike any other person… "Don't do that again," Lelouch muttered, pained.
"I can't read your thoughts, however, unless you directly transmit them to me via telepathy," she continued, taking a bite of the strawberries. "Not half-bad."
"…I don't know how to do that," Lelouch confessed. "Do I have to use my Geass on you to… telepathically communicate with you, or whatever?"
She grinned mysteriously. "No. I'll show you in good time."
"Is there anybody else who has this power? Were you hired by somebody to give this Geass to me? What the hell is my end of the contract?"
"You ask too many questions too early in the morning."
"You broke into my house," Lelouch went on, glaring at her. "How do you expect me to act? Casual?"
"A good host would be more polite about it."
"I could always kick you out."
She gave an almost childish pout. "You're no fun. But don't worry, I'm here to help you."
"Help? How?"
"If you die, you can't fulfill your contract."
Lelouch blinked, and any response he had planned died before he could say anything. What a cryptic response.
"Shouldn't you get ready for school?" she asked, taking a gulp of milk.
"For someone who hasn't eaten in two days, you sure do take your time eating," Lelouch grumbled, before standing up. "Listen to me very closely. I am grateful for what you did. I really am. And I have no reason to kick you out, either. You can stay here, but under a few caveats. One: don't go onto campus grounds. It would raise too many eyebrows. Two: Sayoko will inevitably run into you, so make up an excuse for your being here."
C.C. put her index finger on her chin. "…Sure. I'll tell her I'm an exiled girl from the E.U. you're having an affair with."
Lelouch sighed with exasperation. "Three: if you absolutely need something from the outside world, contact me first. Here's my cellphone number." He grabbed a scrap of paper and hastily scribbled down his digits and handed it to her with more force than necessary. "Any questions?"
"…Can I order some pizza?"
Lelouch stared at her for a moment, then fished out twenty dollars from his vest pocket. "Anything else?" he said, squaring his shoulders.
She shrugged. "Do you have anything you want to know?"
"Plenty of questions."
"I'll only answer one."
"Do you have a name?"
"C.C.," she said, her hands pressed together. Everything about the way she held herself made her appear even smaller than she actually was.
"See-Two? Not See-See, but pronounced See-Two? What a strange name," Lelouch muttered. "I would tell you to not try anything, but it's a moot point; Sayoko would stop you before you even thought about it. But keep my requests in mind. You got it?"
"Of course. Lelouch." Without any further acknowledgment of his presence, she fell back into his bed and closed her eyes. "Now let me sleep. Don't be late for class."
[*****]
OUTSKIRTS OF TOKYO SETTLEMENT MUNICIPAL COURT
Suzaku Kururugi sat on the staircase leading up to the courthouse, a dazed look on his face. His arms hung loosely at his side, and he felt exhausted, having not slept in over twenty-four hours, but relieved.
Innocent. When Suzaku had turned himself into the authorities at a military police outpost in Shibuya, putting up no resistance, he was completely prepared to be found guilty and suffer whatever repercussions would come from being guilty. Last-minute reprieves were not unheard of, but they were particularly rare for Honorary Britannians, especially Honorary Britannians accused of political crimes or treachery. When he'd walked into the courtroom, feeling the eyes of the jury, the justice, and the audience, he'd tried his best to keep his shoulders straight and accept whatever punishment came his way with dignity, but he hadn't expected there to be no punishment whatsoever. There was no vengeance; only reconciliation and forgiveness.
"In light of Suzaku Kururugi's thus-far astounding military service, and the lack of concrete evidence surrounding the events of August 28th, wherein a canister of toxic gas was stolen under mysterious and undefined circumstances, the jury has declared that Honorary Britannian Suzaku Kururugi is no longer a key suspect, and is hereby set free to be placed under the watch and responsibility of the Britannian Area 11 Special Corps; namely, the watch and responsibility of Lloyd Asplund and Cecile Croomy..."
Lloyd and Cecile. I remember them. They visited me in the hospital. I wasn't aware they gave testimonies in my favor, or that they were dismissed. That was very kind of them.
Suzaku inhaled shakily and absorbed the light breeze of the morning air. He could smell the sweetness of wet, recently-mowed grass, the tart aroma of herbs and plants that were so carefully tended to filling his senses. For a moment, he felt at peace, like the air had changed and a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could continue down the path towards his endgame goal at last, find a way to make a difference and change Britannia from within, even if it killed him.
With the appearance of Zero, though, that path might be a little rockier. Suzaku still wasn't sure what to make of the masked revolutionary. He was wise enough to know that their paths would cross again, at some point – Zero certainly had the arrogance and showmanship to back that up. But something about the radical nationalist's words hit Suzaku. He knew, deep down, that Zero was right, that Britannia was rotten to the core, and that nobody in the military gave a damn about Private Suzaku Kururugi, Honorary Britannian and son of the former Japanese Prime Minister.
But his methods are wrong, even if his reasons are just. Zero spoke about all the people Britannia had killed, yet he didn't realize that all the deaths in Japan occurred due to the revolutionaries' actions. If they don't rebel, then we wouldn't have to fight them, and if we don't have to fight them, then nobody will have to die.
Still, I thank you, Zero. If you hadn't tried to save me, I would have been guaranteed to die… but I have to stop you, even if I'm in your debt. It's my job, and my duty… as a soldier.
He heard the revolving doors to the courthouse swing open; he fixed his gaze on Jeremiah Gottwald, who looked incredibly strange in a suit instead of in his usual Purist uniform, followed by his sub-commander, Villetta Nu. She had also been convicted as a suspect in the case, but Suzaku wasn't surprised when she was declared innocent of all charges. She had not only a knighthood to her name, but she was a member of an elite force of pureblood soldiers, doctors, and technicians; in addition, she had the combined testimonies of fellow Purist members Jeremiah Gottwald and Kewell Soresi.
Suzaku took a moment to salute them as they descended the steps. He wasn't a fan of the Purists by any means, but they were his superiors, and they demanded his utmost respect.
Jeremiah glanced over; he looked exhausted and angry. "Hmph. At ease, Eleven."
Suzaku nodded, his eyes betraying nothing, and let his arm drop back to his side. Jeremiah continued walking, but Villetta Nu stared at Suzaku for a moment.
"…You saved me back in Shinjuku," Suzaku said, his tone soft and sensitive. "I'm grateful. You went out of your way to… Thank you. Thank you very much."
Villetta tightly nodded. "I had to ensure your safety," she recited. "It was of the utmost importance."
"…But I'm just an Eleven."
"Villetta, let's go," Jeremiah announced, angrily, as a car pulled up to escort the two of them away. Villetta hesitated for a moment and then nodded at Kururugi, taking her leave and resuming her usual imperialistic, uptight walk. Jeremiah and Villetta loaded into the car and rolled up the windows as it unceremoniously drove off.
A Purist, of all people, risked her life to save an Eleven. Maybe Britannia can be changed for the better.
The doors opened once again, and Suzaku saw a young, blonde woman in a blue police uniform march down the steps and turn to look down at him, her rifle hanging loosely at her hip.
"Private Kururugi, I'm here to escort you to Lloyd Asplund's laboratory."
Suzaku nodded and rose to his feet.
"Thank you. I'm ready to meet him… for good, this time."
[*****]
SHIBUYA DISTRICT
In the backseat of a "Britannian" Mitsubishi, one of the mass-production models new to Area 11, Jeremiah sorted through a mass of paper resting in his lap, feeling incredibly exhausted, too exhausted to accurately gauge the mystery and tragedy of what was going on. The day was a cloudy one, and Jeremiah could almost picture the coming rain. Villetta was drinking from a bottle of water, looking very uncomfortable and very ashamed.
"Is the world about to end, Villetta?" Jeremiah muttered, sorting through a handful of files, most of which consisted of the military records of the soldiers stationed at Shinjuku.
"…There are times when it seems like it, Lord Jeremiah," Villetta responded. "Especially with something as strange as Shinjuku."
"Mm. You sure seem awfully protective of Private Kururugi."
Villetta frowned. "I… I have to—"
"Ensure his safety, yes, I've heard. But you still haven't answered why…" Jeremiah slammed his fist on the stack of papers and set it aside. "…I think we've both come under the same condition. I did something strange last night."
"What happened there? I mean, could you explain it?" Villetta said, turning her head toward Jeremiah.
"A… a feeling came over me, a desire to make sure Zero didn't press the switch for that poison gas, to make sure he and Kururugi got away safely… and I don't know why I allowed them to escape, even aided them in escaping, but I just did! Kewell's suspicious now… I think Zero had something to do with it," Jeremiah added in, crazily.
"What do you mean?"
"It was only when facing him that I felt the urge to…" Jeremiah abruptly whipped around to face Villetta, which surprised her. "Villetta. Remind me once again. Were you alone in the Shinjuku warehouse?"
Villetta shook her head, toying with her earring nervously. "I already told you, Jeremiah… I can't remember anything. The more I think about what happened that day, the less I recall. All I can remember was saving Kururugi."
"Of course," Jeremiah muttered. "But what if you happened to run into Zero in the Ghetto?"
Villetta's eyes widened. "You think…" A red light seem to dance before her eyes.
"I'm almost certain of it. Please, Villetta, I need you to think about that warehouse, and if you saw anybody before, during, or after it."
She never gave a damn about the Elevens until she stumbled upon the Royal Guard in the warehouse. She had to have met Zero there, and Zero used some kind of spell or… something!
"I… I can't, Jeremiah. I'm sorry. I remember next to nothing," Villetta confessed, looking haggard.
Jeremiah's shoulders slumped, and he resumed leafing through his files.
"What are you looking for?" Villetta asked, turning her gaze to the windows.
"Anything that might help me figure something, anything, out about Zero."
Jeremiah finishing searching and came upon the file of Suzaku Kururugi. Private Suzaku Kururugi. Age 17, Blood Type: O Negative. Born July 10, 2000; Hirosaki, Japan. Son of Japanese Prime Minister, Genbu Kururugi. Involved in Japanese resistance until the suicide of his cowardly father. Vague connections to the Japanese Liberation Force and Kyoto House. Implied to have escaped to the Chinese Federation when Area 11 was established, but returning years later to apply for Honorary Britannian status. After training in Niigata, sent to Tokyo Settlement to serve beneath Sergeant Kyle Skye. Good ratings all around, physical prowess, loyal attitude; handpicked to join the Royal Guard's excursion in Shinjuku under the pretense of "recovering Britannia's property", i.e. serve as their meat shield. Recovered by Villetta Nu, promptly imprisoned under Clovis' order… and the rest is history.
Jeremiah shook his head dismissively. Nothing adds up. This is very strange.
"Jeremiah?"
"Yeah?" he said, all without looking up from his papers.
"Have you considered the possibility that Prince Clovis is insane?"
That got his attention. Jeremiah put the papers aside, folded his hands on his lap, and looked up at her. "Villetta. What in the world are you talking about? And consider your next words very carefully."
"I heard about what happened last night. How Clovis seemed terrified when Zero brought up the poison gas. How quickly Clovis spirited it away to god-knows-where, when Zero left it behind. How unwilling he was to answer anybody's questions, especially the media's."
"Villetta—"
"I think he may be harboring secrets, or trying to do something against the military's best interests," Villetta summed up, her fists clenched.
Jeremiah hesitated. I have never heard her speak like this. She's never accused royalty of anything.
"And don't you think it's a little strange that Prince Clovis arranged interviews with Shinjuku prisoners and soldiers to ask questions specifically about the poison gas and events related to it? Not 'how did the rebels tap into her communications', not 'do we possibly have a spy in our midst', but 'what happened to poison gas'?"
"Villetta-?"
"And don't you think it's a little strange that there was no poison gas at all? Just colored smoke?"
At that moment, Jeremiah felt incredibly claustrophobic. He tipped his head forward slightly, and he stretched the muscles in his fingers. It was true that Jeremiah found the lack of genuine poison gas unnerving, to say the least, but he figured there were ways to justify it.
"…What if Zero had already opened the capsule, released the gas, and then filled it full of colored smoke?" Jeremiah offered, playing devil's advocate.
"We would have heard about it," Villetta countered. "And what reason would he have had to do that? He's a terrorist. An Eleven terrorist, most likely. They've used civilians as human shields."
"So Suzaku Kururugi is more than just an Eleven?"
"Yes. And don't change the topic," Villetta said. "You know I'm right."
Jeremiah gave a nervous, stagy shrug. "It was… unnerving, to say the least. Seeing Prince Clovis in such a state. He looked… ghostly. Like he'd seen the devil Himself."
"I think he's harboring secrets," Villetta muttered. "Why else would make finding that poison gas so secretive and such a priority?"
Jeremiah turned sharply to face her. "And what if he was?"
"Then he isn't fit to be a leader," Villetta responded quietly.
A long silence on Jeremiah's part. Treacherous words… but… there's truth in them…
"He is Area 11's Viceroy and the Chief of Staff in our military… in addition, he's a member of the Royal Family. Do you think his father, the Emperor, would have let someone untrustworthy be in such a sensitive position?"
Villetta said nothing and turned her eyes back to the windows. Her expression said everything and nothing at the same time. Jeremiah narrowed his eyes and rubbed his damp face.
So much mystery, uncertainty, raised eyebrows… too familiar. Too much like what happened to you, Lady Marianne.
As he recalled the Aries Villa, an idea struck Jeremiah.
[*****]
AREA 11 BRITTANIAN LABORATORY
Eleven A.M. The day was moving at a crawl, and it stressed Cecile Croomy out.
Everything seemed to be coming apart. The Britannian military in Area 11 was near-meltdown; Clovis had disappeared all of a sudden, leaving General Bartley in temporary charge of the military and police. And while it meant that the Honorary Britannians – namely, Suzaku Kururugi – were safe from the extremist policies of the Purists (though Cecile was technically eligible to be one, she despised the ideology), General Bartley was ill-equipped for the sudden onslaught of angry and confused Britannian soldiers, the media's dramatically-shifting opinions of the military, or the sudden rise of terrorist cells, empowered by the success of the mysterious Zero.
Cecile Croomy went to bed last night terrified of the world the next generation would inhabit. And although she'd had more than enough time to get over her fear, and Lloyd had tried to cheer her up in his own odd way, she still couldn't shake the feeling that things were happening too fast for their own good.
Cecile leaned against a railing and let her eyes roam over Lancelot, their newest Knightmare Frame. Even in its production modeling stage, it looked immeasurably superior to all other Knightmares, largely thanks to its intricate, white-gold design and imposing bulk and weaponry.
The first-ever Seventh Generation Knightmare Frame. And it's still not operational yet.
"I think we should use the VARIS Rifle instead of the usual Positron," Lloyd announced beside her. He was holding a cup of coffee, filled to the brim with an ungodly amount of sugar and milk.
"The experimental, potentially dangerous railgun?" Cecile drawled, rubbing her eyes and glancing at a digital readout. "The one that nearly caused a terrible accident back at the Homeland?"
"The very one." Lloyd sipped his tea.
"Lloyd, isn't the safe, tested Positron good enough?"
"Good enough is never good enough. The uncertainty of the unknown will always butt heads with the limits of the known, but without people like us, to test those limits, we could never know what the unknown might yield."
He can be profound sometimes. "And venturing into the unknown equals progress?"
"Eh, most of the time," Lloyd said, adjusting his spectacles. "Lancelot is operating at a level of ambition most Knightmare Frames can't even dream of. And even if there are some stumbles along the way, or… safety hazards, it's better to reach the stars and fail than waddle in mediocrity. Like making more Sutherlands."
"Mm, I suppose," Cecile managed. "And even if Lancelot fails—"
"Which it won't."
"If it fails, maybe all of our research and time could inspire future developers to improve upon."
"Victim of its own success," Lloyd asserted. "But I refuse to stop working on Lancelot until it's perfect! Which is basically almost is. It could be improved in some ways… like having a VARIS."
"Be wary of the budget, Lloyd," Cecile sagely advised. "Prince Schneizel may be generous now, but a couple millions later, and he might think twice about funding us."
"Oh, please, Schnitzel loves me."
"He's not a food, Lloyd—"
"Um, hello?"
Wait. I know that voice.
Cecile grew silent; her eyes wandered to the source of the voice down below. For a moment, she couldn't believe she was staring at Suzaku Kururugi, but there was no mistaking him for another person, even from that distance. The huge brown curls, the rigid body language, the commanding yet silent presence; it all equaled up to one whole Suzaku Kururugi.
No way!
"Suzaku?" Cecile tentatively asked; it was the only one she could think of.
"Yes, ma'am?" He glanced upward, never losing that military-bred sharpness.
Cecile whipped around to look at Lloyd. "I thought our testimonies were dismissed!"
"All but one," Lloyd said, with a cat-like grin on his face. "Didn't want to ruin the surprise." Then, raising his voice: "Once again, you missed your chance to go to Heaven, Private Kururugi! How does it feel to be out of prison, eh?"
"Good, sir!" Suzaku said back. "Um, I'm to be of service to you, right?"
"You see that Knightmare Frame?" Lloyd said, wildly gesturing to Lancelot. "We need a devicer! And since you owe us one, you get to be the lucky one to do it!"
"Th-Thank you, sir! Um, should I… come up there?" Suzaku volunteered.
"Don't bother, we'll come down to you," Lloyd shouted back, and he chuckled at Cecile. "He's like a little kid."
Cecile gave a shocked laugh. "How did you…?"
"Who cares? We have a devicer now." And with that, Lloyd began walking toward the elevator. Cecile tightly followed suit, her smile growing even wider, feeling content and a little less on edge. After all, it pleased her to see justice have its day, especially on someone as unfortunate and put-upon as Suzaku Kururugi.
[*****]
ASHFORD ACADEMY
"After the events of last night, numerous questions have been raised about the whereabouts, identity, and lifestyle of Zero, the mysterious masked terrorist who appeared in the Toyko Settlement and captured Honorary Britannian Suzaku Kururugi, using a payload of toxic gas as leverage against Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald and Viceroy Clovis la Britannia. Numerous sources have hypothesized that Zero is an agent of the Japanese Liberation Force; others claim he is a foreign contractor sent by the Chinese Federation…"
"Captured" is a strong word. Lelouch, leaning against a withering cherry blossom in the Ashford Gardens, took a bite of watermelon and swallowed the black seeds. It had been at least four days since Zero's grand debut, and already he'd spread like wildfire. Lelouch was reading Area 11 Enthusiast, a trashy tabloid written by a circle of pop culture journalists without any genuine education or experience in professional journalism or writing in general, whose articles had recently been occupying – dominating, even – the newspaper vending boxes and kiosks in the Shibuya District. Lelouch had laughed at the large, gaudy headline Who is Zero?!, splashed across the cover like a messy paint job, and had laughed even harder at the absolutely insane articles contained within.
Still… I can't just disappear off the scene now. I'm too far into this to turn away. Lelouch, in the last couple of days, had begun to appreciate the soothing, unobtrusive rhythms of school life at Ashford, because he was fully aware that, when the time came, he'd have to cut his ties with everyone and everything at the liberal school, which had affectionately welcomed him like a dear friend for so many years. He'd have to return to the madness of war and dedicate himself fully to the Japanese cause if he'd wanted to make any sort of progress, and the weight of this task was considerably daunting. War was more than just an anarchist fantasy, something Lelouch had realized all too late – it was a way of life, something you'd have to put your all into lest it swallow you up.
Hopefully I'll have the strength to rise above my fears by that point.
Lelouch flipped through the pages of the magazine and came upon an article involving Clovis.
So you've disappeared and left one of your peons in charge. Trying to find C.C., hm?
"Do you always sit alone?"
Lelouch shot straight up and whipped around, fast as a bullet, and was surprised to find C.C. standing next to the cherry blossom. She'd pulled her Rapunzel-length hair back and tied it into two lengthy ponytails, and was dressed in what Lelouch recognized as the female Ashford Academy uniform, a yellow coat atop a white collar shirt and tight black skirt.
Speak of the devil… "What the hell, C.C.?! I gave you express orders to not go out unless it was an emergency!" Lelouch spat, startled to his core. He withdrew his paper into his vest pocket and folded his arms.
"I got bored. That's an emergency," C.C. said, sitting down on the grass in front of him and trying her best to look innocent.
Not fooling me, woman. Lelouch sighed irritably. "How on Earth did you get ahold of an Ashford uniform?"
"That's classified information."
"C.C.! This is serious. One would think you'd be more cautious about showing yourself in public, considering Clovis is trying to track you down," Lelouch asserted, thankful that they were somewhere private.
"This is a well-hidden school."
"You found me pretty damn easily," Lelouch grumbled. "Anyways, what do you want?"
"You wanted answers about Geass, and I was bored. So, I came to give you some answers. Also, your maid. Have you used Geass on her?"
Lelouch glanced up at the sky. "Yeah." He'd felt guilty about that, but to him, it was imperative if he'd wanted to keep his identity to secret.
"Sayoko, follow my directions carefully: you won't realize that I am Zero, or that Zero is Lelouch Lamperouge, until I say these words: I need you."
C.C. climbed to her feet and handed Lelouch a notebook, which he instantly recognized as his "Geass Notebook". He cautiously took it, too weary and irritated to ask her how she managed to find it.
"I read through this. It seems like you've learned a lot about your Geass in the relatively short time you've had it," C.C. said, toying with her hair.
He slid the notebook back into his vest. "I'm going to be fighting against an empire with a vast amount of resources and control. Innocence won't save me – experience and knowledge will."
"As much as I appreciate your caution, wouldn't it be much easier to simply use your Geass and take control? You're making it awfully hard for yourself."
Lelouch clenched his fists. "No."
"Oh? And why is that?"
"Don't you think that's a little evil? Taking free will away?"
"But that's exactly what your Geass has your capacity to do."
"So what?"
"Geass responds to the receiver's deepest wish."
A heavy silenced filled the air.
"…Come again, C.C.?"
"Your Geass' specifics manifest themselves based on what your innermost desires are," C.C. continued, without missing a beat. "Even though you say you put stock by free will, your Geass power gives you the ability to override free will. Interesting."
Lelouch grimaced and leaned wearily against the tree, suddenly out of breath. "You're lying to me."
"I have no reason to lie to you. I can withhold information from you, yes, but lying to you serves no purpose."
"I didn't want control! I wanted power!"
"Who are you trying to convince?"
Lelouch stared at the sky and watched the clouds move, the shock on his face evident. He seemed to have lost all interest in talking. She's mistaken. She has to be. I was cornered, and powerless, and I wanted to have power! I want to stop Britannia, not further its agenda!
"It must be difficult," C.C. muttered. "To decide whose will to break."
"Shut up." There was no feeling Lelouch hated as much as speechlessness in the face of someone else, especially someone as obtrusive and unwelcome as C.C., the seemingly immortal witch.
"Did the same thoughts pass through your head when you used your Geass on your brother?"
Go away go away go away! "Why are you asking me these questions?!"
"Or maybe you're just trying to justify unjustifiable actions."
"Enough!" Lelouch shouted, breaking out into a cold sweat.
Several silent seconds passed. C.C. finally walked off and made her way down the hill, her expression indecipherable; however, she turned back toward him at the last second.
"Know who you are," C.C. advised. "Otherwise, you'll crumble beneath the weight of your own lies."
And with that, she was gone, leaving Lelouch alone with his thoughts.
[*****]
In a moment of requested privacy, Jeremiah Gottwald sat back and fished out his cellphone. He let his eyes wander over his office, which had become like a home away from home in the last few days; he'd begun pouring his days and nights into figuring out the truth, whatever that was. But after being spurred by the words of Villetta, stunned by the actions of Viceroy Clovis, and angered by the secrecy of the bumbling General Bartley – who gave the vaguest possible answers to his questions – he was motivated to work all hours into figuring out what was happening, and to regain his pride.
Jeremiah glanced up at a television set in the corner; some news anchor was, once again, spouting off nonsense about Zero. Jeremiah scowled.
Can't wait to execute him myself.
After a while of staring at the screen, not paying much attention to the goings-on, Jeremiah decided to finally act on his ever-growing misgivings and dialed a vaguely unfamiliar number. He took a deep breath as the phone rang once, twice. A man's voice answered.
"This is Lord Gilbert G.P. Guilford. Who—"
"Guilford. It's Gottwald."
For a moment Guilford didn't say anything. "Margrave Jeremiah…? It's… been a while. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Necessity call," Jeremiah said, sighing. "We'll catch up another time."
"I'm surprised you still remember my contact information."
"I need to speak to Princess Cornelia. Please. It's a matter regarding her brother."
"…Let me pass this on. Please wait a moment."
A long moment passed, and Jeremiah briefly wondered if Guilford had hung up for him, but then he heard his voice again. "Yes. You may speak to her, but please keep it brief and show her the utmost respect."
"She's earned it. Thank you."
"Jeremiah Gottwald?" Jeremiah was taken aback for a moment. Cornelia li Britannia's voice had changed considerably since he'd last seen her – it was deeper, harsher than he remembered. Cornelia li Britannia, the Soldier, sounded wholly different from Cornelia li Britannia, the head of security at the Aries Villa.
"Your Excellency," Jeremiah breathed. "Thank you for allowing yourself to speak with me on such short notice."
"I hadn't expected this," Cornelia replied. "Is this a courtesy call? If you're worried about how things are over here at the E.U., there's no need to be."
"So I've heard, Your Highness. Are you making good progress, if you'll pardon my asking?"
"Decent progress. We're at the threshold of Euro-Norway right now, and the European guns are trying to hold us at bay by the seaside. That infuriating woman, Viola Mancini or some such, is tenacious. But I don't get the feeling you called my Knight to see how I'm doing."
"I have some unfortunate news, Your Excellency."
"Time is of the essence, in that case."
"With all due respect, and with careful consideration, I have reason to believe that your brother, Prince Clovis la Britannia, is a traitor to the Britannian Empire."
He heard her breathe. "What?"
"All evidence at hand points to it, Your Highness."
"Can you back your statements?"
"It's a long, convoluted tale to tell, Your Highness. I don't want to consume too much of your time."
"I'll make up for lost time later. Tell me everything you know."
And with that, Jeremiah gave her an as-detailed-as-possible recitation and summary of the events that occurred in Area 11 involving Clovis, beginning on the battle in Shinjuku; throughout Jeremiah's summarization, Cornelia was silent as possible. When Jeremiah had told her everything he knew, her voice was quiet.
"This is… a lot to take in, Jeremiah. I… Clovis hasn't been in contact with me in a long, long while. He certainly never mentioned any gas or terrorists… is he in danger?"
"I believe so, and that's why I believe something needs to be done about this, Your Excellency. If I may ask: has Prince Clovis ever showcased any signs of insanity and dishonesty?"
"Nothing… evident," Cornelia muttered over the line. "And you said Clovis has suddenly disappeared?"
"Yes, Your Excellency."
Cornelia was silent for a good length of time.
"I'm telling you all of this in the best interests of the Prince, Your Excellency," Jeremiah said, praying he didn't come off as dishonest or treacherous. "Up until now, Your Highness, his behavior has never been so erratic, so paranoid. He's watched over Area 11 with a firm eye, and his leadership abilities were second-to-none. But after the Shinjuku incident, something… changed, Your Highness. The events that occurred during and after the confrontation with Zero in the Tokyo Settlement exemplify this thoroughly. My aide has hypothesized that Prince Clovis is hiding something, something the Prince desperately doesn't want the public to know."
"…The general policy, in this context, is to arrange for a replacement," Cornelia whispered. "I will try my best to inform His Majesty of all that you have told me. I want you to keep an eye on my brother and anyone within in his circle, and if he acts suspicious, contact Guilford as promptly as possible. Even if he does not answer immediately, leave a message explaining what you found. These are my orders. I expect you to follow them."
He knew she was thinking of Marianne. She hadn't made a sound to tell him so, but he just knew. She was there that day, too. She'd carried that burden as deeply as he had. But Jeremiah knew better than to press the issue.
"Yes, Your Excellency," Jeremiah breathed. "I am grateful for your time and your attention, and I will follow your orders to the letter. I wish you the best of luck in your campaign against the European Union."
"Let's not ask for miracles here. Good night, Jeremiah Gottwald."
When she hung up the phone, Jeremiah faced the windows and gazed at the stars.
Is this a dream?
A knock on his door. "Yes, come in."
Jeremiah rose from behind his desk when fellow Purist, Kewell Soresi, entered the room. He was a lean, sharply-dressed man; though he was a physically slight man, the impression he gave was one of confidence and self-possession. There had been some tension between the two lately, but something inside Jeremiah told him that Kewell wasn't here to lecture him.
"Hey, Kewell," Jeremiah muttered. "I was just in con—"
"Villetta wants to see everyone," Kewell put in, casting a gaze over the neat office and looking at Jeremiah apologetically. "She says it's an important issue."
Jeremiah didn't reply. What was there to say?
"She said it involves Prince Clovis," Kewell added, and the inflection in his voice sealed it: his arrival in Jeremiah's room at precisely that moment was no coincidence. He'd heard Jeremiah's conversation with Cornelia.
"Kewell…"
"You aren't alone," Kewell offered. "The Prince has been… odds and ends lately. And I think we have a right, as purebred Britannians, to do something about it."
There is no greater pressure than obligation.
"…Alright. Let's hear what she has to say."
