Chaos.

That was the only way to describe the swirling set of emotions and thoughts that were racing through her mind, as her eyes took in the solitary figure in her room. It was utterly unbelievable that this was happening to her – it was something that she would ever expect in a million years.

Her mouth opened, then closed, her mind unable to compose words to react the situation, nor to the question that had been asked for her.

"It's strange," Lelouch said quietly, his eyes as hard as amethysts and bearing into her soul like the cold edge of a blade, "I find myself curious as to why you would know both Suzaku and I, because as memory serves, you should know neither of us, let alone have the hatred that you seem to have for Kururugi."

This isn't Lelouch, she thought in fear as she watched him pull himself off the wall and strode toward her, the gait more akin to a predator than the purposeful strides that had so typified Zero. She could feel herself unconsciously pull herself away, her back flattening further against the headboard of her bed, even as a part of her started running through her options here.

"You can't be her," he spoke, the last word given some reverence that Kallen found confusing, "she actually got along well with Suzaku. So, I guess the question is... who are you? No, that's not right – it's obvious who you are. I should really be asking this: when are you from?"

"What." Got along with Suzaku? Who are you? When are you from? Just what the hell kind of questions were those? It was obvious who she was, but the question of when…

"No, you said to Suzaku that you couldn't let him live because he stole someone from you. And from the way you said my name, and seem to regard me, it's likely that the person you are referring to is myself." He then began pacing back and forth, mumbling words that she could barely make out, like "C's World", "alternate timelines", "parallel worlds", and "multiverse theory".

Stopping, he turned to her, and his gaze was as heavy as the sins she'd thought she'd left behind.

"Tell me, Kallen. In your world, did Suzaku kill me?"

"Yes." The word slipped out, like blood from an open wound.

"I see," he hummed, "Plan D then."

"Wait. What?"

"Plan D," Lelouch said. "D for Desperate. The idea was that I would take over the Britannian Empire, wage war upon the world, unite it under me while making myself look like a monster, then have Suzaku dressed as Zero finish me off in a suitably grand manner. The world gets such a spectacular taste of terror that it decides that peace is more preferable to another me, and everyone lives happily ever… after."

His eyes came to rest upon her. "Of course, that plan was discarded because of you. Well, at least, your multiversal counterpart."

"No." Kallen's voice was flat and hard and brittle, like malformed iron. "Shut up. Stop talking. I don't know who you are, or why you're wearing that face, but shut up."

There was a knife in the purse resting on her bedside table. Half a second later, it was in her hand - and there was something wrong with the way Lelouch tensed. It wasn't in fear, or even confusion; no, he held himself the way Kururugi did, and it made her furious. Kallen stood, slowly, raising herself off the bed - she moved like liquid menace, and her eyes were sharper than the blade spinning through her fingers.

"You act like him, but you walk like fucking Kururugi, and you talk like you haven't seen me in twenty years when you shouldn't have seen me at all."

If she had expected him to back off, she was sorely mistaken; instead, he moved toward her. She lashed out immediately, blade hissing through the air – but to her shock, her wrist was grabbed in mid-air, then bent to a point where the quick, sharp pain made her gasp. Unconsciously, she tried to drive her hand into his kidney, only to find that he was ahead of her as he grabbed that wrist as well.

Lelouch spun her around so that her back was firmly against his chest, and her hands were down in front of her. When she tried to drive the back of her head into his face, he merely moved his head right beside hers. In any other circumstance, it would look like the embrace of a lover.

"That's because I haven't," Lelouch said, his voice as soft and silent as a funeral. "I haven't seen my Kallen in twenty-one years and two hundred sixty-three days."

For a moment, there was silence, and if Kallen had been capable of rational thought at the time, she would have recognised that he was pausing simply for dramatic effect.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he whispered in her ear, breath playing against her neck and making her shiver, "I am Lelouch vi Britannia, 99th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, known to some as the Lawgiver and to others as the Tyrant. At the date of my death, I was forty-one years old. Who are you?"

Something about the way he had said that sent a chill to run down her spine. It was, more than anything else, the sheer surety of his words that stilled any retort she had about the ludicrousness of his statement.

The logical part of her absorbed the words and drew their own conclusions from them, even as the more emotional part of her sensed the longing hidden within. It didn't matter if it was concealed to the rest of the world – the feelings behind them were those of the Lelouch she had known, only older and better guarded.

"Kōzuki Kallen," she finally worked up the energy to reply, "Q-1, Ace of the Black Knights, Knight of Honor to the 100th Empress of the Holy Britannian Empire Nunnally vi Britanna. I was twenty when I died."

"There," came the voice of Lelouch as she found herself being released, "isn't that better?"

She whirled around, unable to let him out of her sight, even as he stepped back further to provide him with enough distance from her, in the event she once again chose to be hostile.

A knock on the door took her eyes off him for a moment as her mother spoke, "Mistress, are you okay? I heard you yell."

"I'm fine," she responded, turning her gaze back to Lelouch; his expression was unrecognisable, but his eyes seemed to hint at... was that guilt? "I just tripped while taking off my clothes."

"Do you need any help?"

"No," she snapped, before mentally chastising herself for yelling at her mother, something she needed to get dealt with as soon as possible. "I'm fine. Just leave me be."

"As you wish," was the muffled response; she heard soft footsteps on the floor a second later, signifying her mother was leaving.

After the interruption, they remained there in silence for what seemed like hours, each waiting for the other to speak.

In the end, it was Kallen who made the first move.

"You should leave," she said, and in her voice there was nothing. No affection. No sadness. No rage. It was as empty as the life she'd left behind.

"Why?" he asked, "we're not finished here. Not by a long shot."

"Leave!" It wasn't quite a scream, but it didn't need to be. The look in Kallen's eyes promised twice the violence her voice ever could, and the knife that used to be spinning through her fingers was now clenched in a white-knuckled fist.

He took a long look at her, taking in every feature of her face and the expression it gave her before a sigh escaped his lips. Obviously defeated by the situation, he walked over to the window, and proceeded to open it.

"I'll see you later, Q-1. Don't talk to anyone about Shinjuku."

With that, he was gone, leaping out the window and disappearing into the night. In shock, Kallen ran over to the window, intent on seeing how the hell Lelouch was going to survive jumping from a two-storey window – only to be greeted with darkness and the sounds of the city.

She stood there, staring out into the darkness; the wind slipped through the open window and brushed against her body, but she did not feel it. Time passed, and still she did not move - not until the first tear slid across her too-young, too-perfect cheek.

She barely made it to the bed before she collapsed into a sobbing mess, crying for the Lelouch who was dead, the Lelouch who was alive, and the Lelouch who'd never had a chance to be. She cried for missed opportunities and the cruelty of fate, for love and loss and everything in between.

She cried, and cried, and cried, so that when she woke up in the morning she'd never have to again.

The trip back to the Ashford Academy was one spent in deep contemplation for Lelouch vi Britannia, for the day had been one of several revelations.

He was not one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, at least not anymore. In the twenty-two years of his rule, he had learned to kill his emotions to the point where people honestly questioned if he had a heart. Truthfully, his heart had died with Kallen; what remained was a husk only driven by purpose.

Or at least, that's what he told himself. In actuality, it was a goddamn lie. Seeing her, regardless of the circumstances, was like reopening a wound that had never healed, one that had festered and eaten away at him to the point where he'd killed himself rather than live with the agony. But now… now, it was as fresh as the day it had been incurred, because the Kallen that he had lost, that he had hoped to save from a fate he could only wish upon the worst of monsters, would never have the opportunity to enjoy a life with him.

And, frankly, it made him furious. To have something so tantalising be put in front of him, then ripped away in a single, brutal moment? Fuck that. He'd already lived through it once, and it made his anger burn through him, hot and sharp like his body was a sword drawn from the heart of a furnace

So, he did the one thing that he always did when he was angry – he began plotting, the anger providing the mental clarity he needed because he wanted to hurt something or someone.

And what better way than through the man he was now calling.

"Gottwald," a tired voice answered, as Lelouch smiled predatorily in the dim light surrounding him like a deranged halo.

"Late night, Margrave," he asked, deciding to risk using his normal voice, at least for the moment.

The reaction was priceless, as he could hear Jeremiah suddenly moving around, obviously awakened by the fact that his prince was calling. But, before he could say something compromising, Lelouch lowered his voice slightly.

"Weren't you told to expect a phone call from a Mr. Dantès, Margrave?" he asked, emphasizing the name so that the knight would understand that that would be name he would be referred for the time being.

"I apologize, Mr. Dantès," Jeremiah quickly caught on, "but today has not been the best of days. I hope you can understand my lapse."

"But of course, it is perfectly understandable," he responded. "Still, I would prefer a face to face meeting tonight. Say, in three hours?"

"Three hours is acceptable."

"Very well, I will email you the location and we will meet there. Good evening, Margrave Gottwald."

He then ended the call before accessing one of his dummy accounts to send the Margrave the encrypted location, along with a second email that would allow him to decipher the first email. That was one thing he had never failed in doing even at this age, considering the majority of his monetary intake had been through illegal gambling.

That achieved, he then shut the phone and strode into the clubhouse of the Ashford Academy, taking in the sights even as he moved with a purpose for yet another meeting that he wasn't exactly looking forward to.

He felt as if he had aged back three decades as he stepped down a hallway he hadn't been in since before the Battle of Tokyo. There were too many bitter memories that stemmed from this location, with many of them coming from his very own sister.

Girding himself, he opened the door and entered, knowing full well how unlikely it was that Nunnally would be asleep.

"Welcome home, Master Lelouch," Sayoko greeted him first, which he returned, though he caught the way her eyes narrowed at his appearance. An idle part of his mind wondered if Sayoko had noticed it the first time he had come home as well.

"How is Nunnally?" he asked.

"I tried to get her to sleep, but she refused and demanded to wait for you."

"Thank you, Sayoko," he said, dismissing her as he stepped further into the apartment, taking in the familiar sight he wished he didn't have to deal with right now. There were just too many memories to be reliving at this point for him. Especially the source of a lot of pain in his life as he walked into the one room he honestly wished to avoid at all costs.

"Big brother," Nunnally vi Britannia called out, looking towards him from the bed she was laying in.

"Yeah, it's me," he responded, trying to put himself in the right mind for this meeting. It was one thing to be back here, but it was quite enough to discard the feelings one had for someone even if they were no longer guilty of their sins.

Even now, he could still not forgive what Nunnally had done. After he had finally defeated Schneizel, it had been a matter of wrapping up the rest of the threats to his regime. Nunnally had been one of the most minor, but he was her brother and he had loved her dearly, so he had situated her on an island to where he had taken care of her every need.

It had been at the suggestion of Kallen that he had attempted to reconcile with her, but it had been a difficult thing; the Nunnally that he had remembered had turned into a bitter and vengeful girl who hated him for becoming like their father, even if he'd actually had the right reason. And yet, Kallen had insisted that he keep trying to reach out to her, knowing that it killed him to be spurned by her.

It had been after Kallen's death that everything changed. When Nunnally had learned about it, she had laughed at his broken state, and told him, vindictively, that she had wished it had been him that had been tortured, that it had been him that was broken before finally being killed.

After that, he never saw her again; instead, he decided to lock her on that island until she passed away. Which she did at the age of thirty-five. When he had received the news, he had merely told Suzaku that it didn't matter – she had already been dead to him for years.

"I was worried about you, big brother," she said, her voice plaintive, "when Rivalz said you fell in that truck…"

"It's all right," he said softly, trying not to see the hateful eyes that had cursed him from the last time he'd seen his sister alive. This wasn't her, but he couldn't help it. Even as he placed his hand on hers to reassure her, he couldn't help but feel like he was spitting on the memory of Kallen, "it was a little hectic, but I'm here now."

"I'm glad," she said softly; had he paid closer attention, he might have noticed a hint of confusion in her tone, as if she felt that something was wrong with the hand on hers, though she said nothing about it.

"Time for you to rest, Nunnally. I'll be here, okay?"

The young girl nodded, leaning back into the bed as he got up and headed out the door, closing it softly behind him.

That done, he walked back into the kitchen, seeking out his new target, as he went into one of the cabinets and withdrew a bottle of nihonshu that he knew Sayoko sometimes imbibed in her more solitary and contemplative moments. He had just poured himself a saucer when Sayoko walked into the room and was surprised by the sight of him drinking alcohol.

"You want to join me?" he asked softly, motioning to the other saucer that he had brought out as well.

Scrutinizing him a moment more, she then took a seat and allowed him to pour her a saucer.

"You weren't truthful with Mistress Nunnally, were you," she stated.

"No," Lelouch replied, sipping from the saucer and letting the alcohol burn a path down to his stomach, "I wasn't."

The silence in response reminded him so much of why Sayoko had become another one of his confidantes during his reign; she rarely spoke unless there was good reason. It was why he had always respected her and made her into the head of his intelligence when he had become Emperor, letting her deal with the darkness she had been born in in order to allow the world he had forged to survive. If anyone could understand what he was doing, it would be her.

He had to wonder exactly what would have been different if he had enlisted her help the first time…

"Shinjuku was a massacre," he began after refilling his saucer, "I chose to get involved because it would be wrong to stand idly by."

His eyes flickered to her to gauge her reaction, and he was not disappointed by the lack thereof; it made sense she would be aware of his hatred of Britannia, even if, in her mind, he was trying to cloak it in doing something good.

When she didn't respond outside of sipping the nihonshu, he continued.

"I had wanted to wait longer until I did something, but I no longer have that luxury. Not when I have the power to do so."

He then let that hang in the air, not wanting to be the one to initiate what he hoped Sayoko would choose. Finishing off her drink, she placed down the saucer, affixing him with her gaze.

"What is it you wish of me, Lelouch-sama?"

"You are Shinozaki Sayoko," he replied. "Thirty-seventh Successor of the Shinozaki School of Martial Arts, and the last of your kind. It is said that the Shinozaki were to ninja what Nobunaga was to daimyo. That they could walk on a blade of grass and kill with a shadow; that the only reason they never had a flee-on-sight order was because you would never see them coming."

Lelouch paused, as if thinking.

"What do I wish of you, Sayoko? I wish you to be my shadow. I wish you to be the knife they never see coming, and the bullet they never feel leaving. I wish you to remind Britannia why they should fear the very mention of your name."

Sayoko stiffened, taken aback at the conviction in her master's tone. In fact, it was completely un-Lelouch-like to hear something like this out of him. It wasn't like she expected that he was without honor; it was just that he seemed to be someone who valued achieving his objectives through any means available. That extended to the fact that she expected him to simply demand her services, instead of appealing to both her sense of pride, and the fact that she did wish to show the world just what the Shinozaki were capable of.

It was strange to see him so unlike himself.

But that was beside the point now; Lelouch had commanded, and so she would obey. It was not her place to do anything else. She was nothing more than her master's blade - more than a tool, but less than a person.

That was the way of the ninja.

"I am yours to command, my lord."

"Thank you, Sayoko," he said; the older woman's mask cracked slightly at the gratitude lacing his tone, something Lelouch would ordinarily never do. "I will make sure you do not regret this decision."

The sound of a chime interrupted the both of them, as Lelouch reached into his pocket to extract his phone, reading it over and typing something back before looking back to her.

"Is it possible you can get me something a bit more Britannian? We have a guest arriving and I'm fairly sure he will enjoy the comfort of a drink for what I am about to ask of him."

"I believe Master Ruben has some scotch on the premises."

"That should be acceptable," he replied, "would you please retrieve it, while I handle our guest?"

"Of course, Master Lelouch."

Satisfied with his orders, he then got up, making sure to place the nihonshu and sake away before heading to the door and opening it, revealing Jeremiah.

"Lord Jeremiah. Please, come in. We have a lot to discuss."

Welcome back to Resurrections, ladies and gentlemen.

Three chapters down, and this time I even wrote some of it =P (though Al and his ridiculous rate of productivity came through once again for the rest - seriously, I wish I knew how he could write that quickly)

Anyway, we hope you enjoyed it, and hopefully we'll see you next time!

P.S if you spotted the Exalted references, I regret nothing.