Title: And in blood
AN: Special thanks goes out to Blackrose! (Just keep reviewing, and all is forgiven. Because I am an egotist.) Also, Seriyuu is in dire need of some recognition. Thank you very much! (And sorry I'm so lazy about these types of things.)
As for this chapter, easy summary: "in which Milly gets some deserved screen time, and I develop Kallen some more. And Lelouch is involved." And oh god, is it long. Oo; I'm sorry about that—it just kind of happened . . . Also: some one-sided LelouchXMilly. :3 On an even weirder note, we're in November in my story, too.
Milly Ashford danced the streets of Tokyo, shrugging away a halo of wheat gold as she felt the cellphone press like a weight against her hips. Nothing in her would have thought that Lelouch was attracted to all the danger of a terrorist, yet alone that he had the staying power of a leader. Keeping careful control of her smile, she remembered that Lelouch had always been reserved—haunted the school grounds rather than made friends, keeping primarily within his boundaries and associating only with those he couldn't escape. That was his way, and it had fascinated her when she was a girl: the young, exiled prince of Britannia with his easy-good looks and sharp eyes, standing so silent. Such gallantry, such mystery behind that empty stare! A regular Casanova of their era.
That had been childhood fantasy—Lelouch was no paramour destined to climb the rose vines to her balcony and sweep her from an unwanted marriage. He was not hiding some secret romantic; it was beyond his practical reality where Nunally needed her laundry done and all his affairs were with his budget. Milly had made the mistake of seeing the Prince, in all his black velvet elegance and good breeding, and not the brother who survived Japan's war. She learned—came back sadder and wiser, but she learned.
Lelouch had long ago stopped believing in humanity. He liked the student council, but it was a distant fondness. They knew him as Lelouch Lamperouge, the son of an estranged cousin who inherited none of the fame that his namesake carried, but could pilot. Who lost all his claims to the family when the Empress bled across the tile; failed them in death. She wondered what he thought now of all their lies—that they kept him as a prisoner, and pretended his mother's nonsense resulted in his alienation when he'd watched her die in the midday sun. Of Ashford's petty resentment of a woman in a coffin, and the greed that led to turning an orphan into a trump card.
"The Goddess of the People will never die! Marianne lives forever!" But everyone dies, and she realized that at ten when her uncle contracted lung cancer from all those Arturo Fuente cigars. Lady Lamperouge was their Hild, a Valkyrie overlooking the fray before she took her Emperor's side. She tore through enemies, an Angel of Death draped in the finest white. Marianne was the champion of the Britannia Empire—she was cunning, she was beautiful, she was powerful, and she left her mark in blood. The country called her invulnerable, marveled at her prowess and charisma, and some part of Milly mused that they must have truly believed it. Believed that Marianne Lamperouge was immortal.
Their faith would break when bullets ripped through the windows of the palace. Lady Lamperouge was another woman, and she was dead; the Ashfords were not invincible, and didn't have the protection of the Empress. His Majesty glared as he stole their title from them, and hissed a dark, "I will have nothing to do with the fallen legacies of Marianne vi Britannia." She knew, because her great grandmother repeated it with a vehemence she could never forget—said she hoped the woman burned in hell. Milly was eleven then, and had never known anything but praise of the fatherland, of the Empress and her Emperor, but there it was. And for dying, something Marianne vi Britannia could never have controlled.
She would tell herself that she knew him—understood Lelouch and his silence. That was a lie; there had always been a lingering doubt, a suspicion that he was furious somewhere beneath his indifferent grin. And he had been so very angry, terrible in his rage—the way it surged and growled, caged until it could run free. Lived long after Japan no longer wept blood in the name of the innocent strewn across her countryside.
". . . I want them to remember the name Lelouch vi Britannia as they 'burn in hell.'" She shuddered when he murmured it, and hid from the idea that he heard. Days would pass and he would say nothing, too prideful and too broken to acknowledge that he had to rely on them. Milly would watch a child with his fingers pressed to a wall of window glass, silent as death while the world decayed behind his eyes, and creep to his side out of a morbid curiosity to meet the Prince.
The Prince wasn't real. She had been alone in that room, and she knew that now. Milly grew into a woman while he was still a boy, always trapped in his wars, always hearing screams rip from every corner of Japan when they died on deaf ears to her.
Guilty of being force fed decades of Britannia's racism, Milly had difficultly valuing the plight of the Elevens. Her parents had echoed their superiors—told her that there was no importance to their existence, and that they were "helping" them civilize for the sake of menial labor. Yet she had been a child, and children believe foolish things. She'd felt vindicated all those years ago, when they were still young and she liked having a new mansion while Elevens trekked to their ghettos and handed over their belongings to be melted down and made into the payment that the government gave to the soldiers that tore through their countryside.
She could remember all her elated grins and how Lelouch came on a sunny Tuesday as summer heat pressed down on the world, and carefully helped Nunally into her wheelchair. His fingers were tense and precise as he weaved them with her own, and he refused to let anyone touch her—touch him as he locked the two of them in their room. Milly could still recall how he looked in the halls of his villa; regal, dressed in gold lace and white silk, and timid whenever her mother went to mingle in the court. He was filthy that morning—different, with a glare, and robbed of all the glamor of Britannian royalty. She'd chased him down a week afterward, when he was without blood stains on his button-up or dirt on his cheeks, and met Lelouch Lamperouge for the first time.
He'd changed—Lelouch vi Britannia was always a serious child, but, well, he'd changed. There was nothing else to describe that angry silence. He was articulate, clearly convinced of his own superiority, argumentative, and dedicated to human equality. The boy in the villa was soft-spoken, reserved, and curious about the world while he clung to safety of the royal family. The boy in the villa wasn't there.
Lelouch told her to leave, stoic and dangerous, but Milly prided herself on being nosy even now—they'd won the war, why did it matter? Their empire would be compensated for their loses, so what was the problem?
When she'd asked, he'd snarled a vicious, "Don't assume that I am anything like you!" He then twirled on his heel and marched into the hall, Milly left to stare before stringing together a screech of, "You're really cold!" And it was true. She coaxed him for months at her parent's behest, and there was a growing frustration—'So spoiled! He's being this abrasive when my family has to pay for him!' She fought him tooth and nail for his acceptance, but he came to her on his own with a stale, "I'll take your offer. Nunally needs someone her own age to play with." Milly hadn't thought him bitter then—simply infuriating and self-absorbed. And he was, maybe more than a little, but there was something so utterly unique about Lelouch Lamperouge and it was impossible to let be.
It came to her when she was older, a heavy knowledge that weighed on her soul, as she saw him wander from class to class. He must have been very lonely, always pretending to be something he wasn't. Lelouch was a well of secrets—his feelings, his past made to suit their needs while anything real was trapped in his mind. Milly was welcomed into his world slowly, and she watched as he struggled to adapt to their Britannian lifestyle: refused to sing the national anthem outside of school hours, devoted his entire life to caring for a younger sister that couldn't walk or see. He came to smile at her antics, sometimes genuinely if she was attentive, and forget that she was an Ashford. Yet Milly was foolish, youthful, condemned to the cage that was arranged marriage, and she loved him. She was thirteen and curious and he was no boy, far too mature to be a peer—had a sharp jaw and those quiet, intense eyes burning behind a mane of midnight black. Had his own mind.
He broke the walls of her small world where the future was a piece composed, played, and told before she was born. "I have no particular fondness for marriage, nor do I see much honor in selling off a fourteen year old girl," he'd said as the Ferris wheel spun to the zenith of its revolution, tittering below a spring sky painted in bursts of white and blue,"You should have more choice than you've been given." Feeling the blush spread through her cheeks, Milly came to wait for him to confess to a romance that never was. Her's was a lifetime of childhood illusions, adolescent hope, and then adult wisdom; there would be no fairytale ending for Milly Ashford, no promises of Knights or Princes or rose petals sent whispering across the bedsheets. Having been told to do nothing but find a good husband since she was old enough to walk, Milly had learned to stand there with a fake smile, and she was too afraid to let go of her family's ambitions and spread her broken, clipped wings. Dreams die, and reality is a paradox that will always eventually change to something new. By fifteen, Lelouch had his fire snuffed by pessimism, and she was terrified to think of the future as something open-ended.
The night creature lurking under his skin had fooled her. He'd warped into apathy and false relationships—began to gamble for the thrill of resistance, smile Cheshire grins that had no meaning or life behind them. He took an interest in Rivalz who had always disregarded the rules in favor of money; he resented the upper class and their mansions and in-ground pools in a way that didn't echo Lelouch's, but allowed for him to amuse himself all the same.
He choked down his rage, and replaced it with indifference—no longer refused to praise Britannia and did not rebel against her father's orders. Simply accepted, because that was what the world's sheep did. Milly believed, hoped he had finally moved on. She had wanted him to be happy; invited him to parties, forced him into others company so he could see them as more than enemies.
There was something horribly sad about the way the world broke him, and she wanted to believe he could smile without being weighed with all his depression. That had been a mistake. She may have been deluded, but she wanted to think he had finally escaped all that cruelty he'd seen. Looking back, it was more accurate to say he felt nothing, and perhaps 'Zero' was destiny in the worst possible way. 'But,' Milly thought quietly, watching the people as they rushed to their lives without ever noticing her, 'Britannia has to fall. That's how it has to be.'
She returned to her sly, shallow shell of a mask as Shirley kept in step with Suzaku, "Are you sure you're okay with coming with us?"
He was finally off his crutches, and looked a little more free on both feet, "It's fine."
"Well," she said cautiously, a hint of distress below her smile, "As long as you're feeling better! You really haven't gone out much since . . ." It trailed off, and Milly assumed she was alluding to the death threats Prince Schneizel had joked he had the absolute pleasure of receiving.
"Yes, but," he hesitated, pulling the words together, "Um, some people haven't been too happy with his Highness's associating with me. I thought it would be better to stay out of the public's eye."
"It's kind of amazing," her reply was uneasy, and she was quick to explain when he frowned, "How many people know you, I mean! You're famous . . . It's scary."
Suzaku murmured a fragile, "The trial itself scares me more than that . . ."
"Oh, think of all the publicity Ashford is getting, though!" Milly gushed cheerfully, twirling on her heel to face them, "Grandfather is very pleased!"
"But he could get hurt if they aren't careful!" Shirley was desperate and exasperated before he managed a weak sort of smile.
"I don't mind."
"But . . ." She spluttered, cheeks flushing rosy pink, "The threat, though. . ."
"The people are resisting because," it came out low and dry, Milly left to arch an eyebrow, "Zero has been inactive. If he hadn't led the rebellion, no one would be getting hurt."
She touched a finger to her chin, and sang a fickle, "The Emperor's Sun isn't affiliated with the order, is it . . . ?"
"No," Shirley's words were jumbled, tumbling from her mouth in a stream, "I mean, interrupting a trial backed by His Highness! That's difficult to do! I'm pretty sure Zero wouldn't want to, um, hurt his Order by giving that kind of threat, so . . ."
"He's arrogant," Suzaku was cold as death, and Shirley went tense as she took in the stony indifference he was hiding behind.
"Oh! Look, puppies!" She dropped to her knees and reached out a hand, the owner—a tall woman, thin as a stick with a quiet demeanor and blonde brushing her shoulders—left to smile, "Um, what are their names?" They chattered, abandoning Zero, war, and reality, while Shirley brushed the fur of both Beagles before breaking into a brilliant grin.
"I like dogs, but Arthur doesn't," Suzaku said offhandedly, watching as Shirley sprang upright, "I was thinking about getting one, but I didn't have the money to care for it, and I live in the dorms . . . "
"Oh?" Milly let her voice run like syrup, "You really love Arthur, hmm?"
"Yeah," he added before tacking on a lighthearted, "But I guess he doesn't really like me, though!"
"Ah! Is that it, but," Milly threw out an arm in a display of theatrics, a teasing smirk threading across her lips, "What if I gave him to you?"
"I," Suzaku worked to recover from shock, barely managing a flustered, "I can't ask you to do that, he's important to the entirety of the council, and—"
"Well, he already lives with you, and you do feed him," she beamed before waving a hand,"And it isn't as though he'd be leaving the grounds. Yes, I think this is perfect! The student council room can't smell like litter box forever, can it?"
"Ah, but I—"
"Oh, how offensive, that he would reject my offer!" It was melodramatic, a parody of 'pained' as he shrank from her criticism, "I'm so hurt—"
"Milly!" Shirley's hands were on her hips and she wore a comical scowl, Milly swallowing the laughter bubbling up, "That's unfair! If he doesn't want to take Arthur, he doesn't have to—"
"I, well," he stuttered, tripping over his tongue, "I didn't necessarily say that, either . . ."
"Then it's settled!" She chirped, throwing an fist into the air before draping her arms around Shirley's shoulders, "He's no longer a homeless kitty-cat."
Heaving a sigh, she pulled free of her grip and whispered an impatient, ". . . Our president is so weird."
". . . Hey, Shirley," Milly bounded off while Suzaku spoke, tugging the cellphone free as Lelouch's new number glistened on the screen, "Would you mind staying with me for a while?"
- - -
She forced a cautious, "What do you even do when you go home—"
"Ridiculous," Kallen winced as he turned those frigid eyes on her, his voice empty, "That is of no relevance." Zero's mask winked beneath the bulb light, ink black against ghost-pale fingers as he dangled it from his armrest. She let her gaze flit back to him, and her stomach turned as she tried to ignore that this was the first time he had ever let her see, well, Lelouch under its plastic layers.
C.C. curiously examined her nails and muttered a dry, ". . . So many complaints."
". . Ze," The name died on her tongue as Kallen remembered that this was Lelouch she was trying to talk to, "Uh, is Nunally okay?"
His fingers tensed on the report, but he said nothing. Feeling the thunderous quiet weigh on her, pull the air from her lungs, she offered a pitiful, "I didn't get a chance to see her, so . . ."
"Tch," he sneered and worked to hide his grimace as he shifted weight from from his injured right side, and a frantic part of her wondered if she'd offended him—it would suck to work overtime because she pissed the boss off, and, since the Rebellion, he spat fire on his better days. It wasn't as though she'd forgotten about her kidnapping, but so much had happened, and there wasn't time to spend chasing after Lelouch once he slipped away from Ashford.
". . . Sor—" It was hushed, and she snapped to silence as he cut her short.
"I don't believe she'd be adverse to your visits, Kallen," Ze—Lelouch was somber before he began again with a tentative, maybe even distressed if she was hearing it right, "She has been . . . however, it is of the utmost importance that you treat me as an equal; as a student. Furthermore, it goes without saying that if I trust you with this, you must not forget that all our activities are withheld from the Order."
"Could I," she lingered, feeling far too awkward and polite, "come tonight, then? I'm not busy . . ."
"If it's for Nunally," he said coolly, folding his hands, "Although I admit that I dislike . . . unexpected company for Sayoko's sake. Even so, it should remove some of her anxieties regarding the safety of the student council, as well as give her a friendly face to turn to."
"Well," C.C. was incredulous, wide-eyed as she tugged a plate of pizza to her side, "Look at all those instructions. He sounds disturbingly normal, how surprising. Even happy."
". . ." Kallen kept dutifully silent as he tore his gaze from the two of them and rumbled a cynical, "I don't appreciate your assumptions."
"Uh—'normal'?" It was whispered, C.C. gracing her with a bored turn of the head while he rushed to his feet and fingered through the papers scattered neatly on his desk.
Her answer was deadpan, "Yes. For him."
"What are the two of you whispering about?!" Kallen's back went straight, her posture stiff as she stood before remembering that he wasn't giving an order, "I'm certain I can hear anything wort—"
"—You," C.C. took a leisurely bite as he glared her way, and then ushered them into the hall. In a haze of sympathy and frustration, Kallen watched hopelessly as the door shut and became a wall between the three of them.
". . . He really is angry. It's weird," it was a strange, sick sensation as she thought that the Order might be failing—clinging and weighty, as well as too familiar these days, "Lel—er, Zero. . . angry."
'I . . . feel a little foolish. . .' Months before she would have assumed he was all black-velvet smoothness and laughed that Japan's Zero was above blunders. Now, he was at the mercy of hearsay—of his own men, of hypocrites who promised their loyalty—and had to build himself up from scratch. Lelouch hit the bottom of the bottle, and the fall must have hurt like hell.
She had never—she had never thought of Zero like this. Seen him when he was limited, without the protection of miracles and striving to piece together the remnants.
"Why are you here, Kallen?" C.C. spun on her heel and marched ahead, "Finally come to see his charms? Unfortunately, there aren't many of them like that."
"No!" She barked, trailing after her until they fell in-step, "I . . . want to know why he joined this war—our war."
"Hmm," the reply came slowly, and C.C. licked the grease from her fingertips.
"Ugh," Kallen sneered, a disgusted look crossing her face, "How can you eat that crap all the time—"
"For the same reason you don't."
She struggled with the meaning, and then muttered a dry, "That doesn't make sense."
"I don't believe he'll tell you," C.C. easily slipped down the stairs, quick-footed and agile as Kallen chased after her, "He's the secretive kind."
"That isn't important to me," the words were serious, a quiet determination playing below them, "I need to know he won't betray us. Something like that, like the SAZ can't happen again. There's no other way."
"You won't let it be so?" She managed, detached and without any real interest, "A foolish sentiment, but I suppose it's natural to be concerned."
She made efforts to swallow down her fierce, "You aren't?!"
"Accidents happen."
"An accident?!" She breathed darkly, throwing an arm out in demonstration.
C.C. nodded as the sun seeped between the gaps in the brick walls, "An accident. His Geass . . . went beyond control, which resulted in that."
"What does he do," it was a growl, dangerous and low.
She muttered a stiff, "Controls others."
Nothing came, Kallen battling with her common sense—that he could actually control others, it was goddamn impossible, wasn't it, "How? Damn it, how does the Geass work, even?!"
"I don't know," she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, and there was a surge of doubt somewhere in Kallen's skull, "It's different for everyone."
"Why did he have her kill the Japanese?! What could he have done that ended up like that?!"
". . ." C.C.'s eyes were downcast, and she turned away, "Ask him, not me."
Apprehension plucked at her heartstrings as they waited for him to glide down to meet them, and Kallen fidgeted with the fraying threads of her school uniform. She stole a curious glance as C.C., who answered it with an empty silence before Lelouch pulled out of the shadow, Zero's—his blacks and purples glistening in the twilight. C.C. eased into the front seat and motioned for him to head to the back, and Kallen turned on her heel to follow him.
"I didn't mean you. He changes in there. You can stay out here, if you like," her lips stretched into a smirk, "But, then again, perhaps you—"
Kallen's cheeks flared and she tumbled into the passenger's seat while a black window crept up and left him as a shadow behind its tinted glass, "Why didn't you say anything earlier—?!"
"I didn't think you would care."
She spluttered a terse, "I don't—but he is Zero, and all—"
It came, heavy and low, "Drive, C.C." Her hands flowed to the wheel, and, with a shaky grumble of life from the bowels of its engine, they were suddenly rumbling up the boulevard—barreling past the corpses of buildings torn apart by the Rebellion until they met an empty Japanese countryside. They drowned in uncomfortable silence, Kallen left to watch the horizon change from cookie cutter houses to fields as the sun dipped under the horizon and the moon slithered past the hills.
Stretching against leather upholstery, she hissed a restless, "What the hell does he come this far out for?!"
"I did suggest he work at home."
". . ." Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she turned her headband over in her hands and pocketed it, tugging her brush free. She ran it through her hair, exhausted at the messy crimping left behind and the loose strands clinging to her cheek. The Guren didn't have plugs for a woman's straightener, after all. Eyeing the villa sliding into view—carefully well-kept with flowers bursting between breaks in the iron fence, and Ashford's insignia rippling up the front of the gate— Kallen shifted as they rolled over the gravel that was the driveway. She was eager to walk off the stress, and stepped lightly into the night air before C.C. crept to meet her.
Lelouch tugged out his briefcase, a large steel thing—Oh God, Kallen noted in an ethereal way, she'd seen it before—and motioned that they go ahead. She happily abandoned him and strode up the stairs to the deck, hesitating at the doorbell until C.C. fumbled with a key and thrust it open.
"Kallen, she doesn't remember the details of her kidnapping. Please keep that . . . quiet," feeling a nervous tension latch on, she let him pass her and shuddered at his, "Nunally, I have a surprise for you."
"Um," she was careful to keep her voice weak and feign illness, "Hi there."
"Oh, Kallen!" There was an overwhelming guilt as Nunally flashed a cheerful smile, "I'm so happy to see you!"
"I feel the same . . ."
C.C. plucked a paper crane from its brothers and sisters laid out on the table, and Nunally warmly handed her a collection of stationary before exclaiming a timid, "I've heard a lot from brother about how everyone is doing, although I'm a bit sad that we haven't been able to see each other . . ."
"Yeah . . ." Kallen murmured, keeping her eyes on her as Lelouch chuckled, low and barely above a whisper.
"And brother is happy to see you, too. How are Rivalz and Shirley? Milly told me that they've been working to repair Ashford in our absence. And Suzaku, is he okay? I—I'm a bit worried, he's at school all by himself, and . . . and a lot has happened, so . . ."
She had to choke out a lie, and managed a simple, "They're all right. Shirley's a bit more concerned than Rivalz . . . he's a little reckless sometimes . . ."
"And Suzaku?" It fed to a burning anger in her, and she wrestled with the urge to sneer.
"I," she looked desperately to a severe Lelouch for help, but he was busy fondling the case's handle, "I think he's, um, fine . . . maybe distressed occasionally . . . "
Nunally fell to a heart-wrenching silence until she broke into a jovial, "Brother hardly has company! This is so nice, we should let Miss Shinozaki know you're well—"
Kallen struggled to keep her mask on for hours as Nunally rambled, always wearing that controlled, breezy smile. She shifted, watching as the hands spun the face of the clock, and her thoughts strayed—Lelouch must have made a habit out of pretending he wasn't Zero, that he didn't lead the Black Knights. Lied constantly, without even thinking. Kallen forced a grin as she folded cranes with clumsy hands and realized that a hidden part of her might be able to understand that.
Once Nunally was tucked in her bed and midnight cast a shadow over the world, he declared a stoic, "Kallen. . . and C.C.." The latter was cold and Kallen glanced between the two of them, breaking under the angry silence that hung like a curtain. She had always assumed that they got along well—worked in near perfect sync, but this, there was something intense and furious and heated. "If you will. I think your opinions may be useful."
C.C. gave him a skeptical grimace and then dutifully followed into the drawing room, Kallen left to trail her before sliding into an armchair. A glass in hand, Lelouch sank into the couch and she swallowed her surprise—Zero never ate, never drank when they tossed out alcohol after a victory. 'Maybe . . .' Kallen mused to herself, remembering the instances he'd snaked into the night when the Black Knights ushered him to their parties, 'Maybe he wanted to get back to Nunally before she went to sleep . . .' It was odd how much she didn't know of him, and she felt no desire to piece together the mosaic that was Lelouch Lamperouge. Or Zero. Or whoever.
"This is strange," C.C. dropped into the loveseat and stretched out like a cat, "You don't hold meetings."
"The vast majority of my subordinates are incompetent."
"Funny. The majority of humanity is incompetent," C.C. retorted slyly, and he tore through the pages of a magazine before leaving it open on the coffee table.
He was as passionate as a businessman, his words somber and candid,"I intend to stop distribution of this article, partially because it would become a detriment to the people if Zero is publicly slandered within the ghettos—"
"Uh," Kallen began anxiously, and he managed a languid turn of the head, "I . . ."
"Yes?"
"We should be directing resources to the refugees outside of Shinjuku; our actions led to the flood," she regained her confidence when he made no effort to wave her off, "And—and, even though we've managed to keep our hold on rations from Britannia, there hasn't been sufficient medical attention."
He paused, massaging his temples, "It is a frustrating matter. The Knights are not equipped with a regular medical unit that's geared towards a demographic of this size. . ."
"But remember that we can't allow for Britannian assistance," C.C.'s response was dry, "That might cause a defect to them given the circumstances."
"The Japanese are shaken by Britannia's apathy, and the race riots . . . I doubt they will have any interest in spreading their military thin in the ghettos, let alone their paramedics," Lelouch drifted back to quiet, and then declared a humorless, "Any deserters will be at the mercy of a frighted public. I assume they can barely manage economically unless working on an assembly line with a Britannia brand name."
"I can't stand Britannia. Watch the police sit back and laugh," Kallen snarled, fingers tense on the armrest, "Assholes."
"Seconded," Lelouch leaned forward, his fingers steepled, "We can do nothing more than continue to move out civilians to more stable locations with medical facilities readily available. Some back our cause, and will take them in."
"But they still want payment! We can't afford the price they're asking for!"
"Then, as I have explained to Tamaki, we will draw from our martial funds," he observed as she sagged into the cushions, and Kallen heaved a sigh as she thought of the refugees, "As of now, we are not prepared to face the standing Britannian army—we only had such success during the Rebellion because the forces were unorganized and without proper leadership. Further fighting in the prefecture would be pointless and simply add to the injured."
". . . That Schneizel seems to be a hindrance . . ." C.C. mumbled into the pillows hugged to her chest, "Sending help to the Japanese, cycling out the Purists' seats . . ."
"His intervention in the court is . . . difficult to approach. I can't interrupt it without drawing unnecessary attention or causing civilian fatalities, and he has thus far avoided exposing himself openly."
"Suzaku, tch," Kallen was begrudging as she remembered all his two-faced claims, "Why does he even ally with Britannians?!"
"He thinks it will somehow . . . change the social order," Lelouch's answer gave her no solace, "However, that cannot happen outside of dreams of the SAZ."
"Dreams?" She echoed harshly, arching an eyebrow.
He said nothing, and then finished with an aloof, "It will never be successfully established. That is . . . purely blind idealism, and there is no point in clinging to it."
". . . The massacre, huh," Kallen spoke to the air, and cold curled around her body.
"When put mildly," Lelouch affirmed, "Britannia has created a world without law, which is precisely why his way is impossible. There is no incentive to practice humanitarianism when you are a Social Darwinist; no benefits to altruism or honesty, because your situation cannot change."
"And?" C.C. was offhand as she examined her sharp, bone-thin hands.
"Law is useless without punitive measure. Therefore, it is essential that we punish the felons to create a demand for integrity; such is little more than human economics. Control is not a superficial impetus, it is simply a difference in methodology," his voice died before he added a final, "Britannia does not have an effective executive branch, nor are its priorities for the greater population. It punishes scapegoats rather than the violations of its own laws, and adapts to meet the needs of its officials."
"Devious, devious. So the reward is not being whipped for bad behavior? You're amusing, because you are always creating your own rules . . . "
"So what," Kallen shot viciously, wrenching her gaze from him, "He's a traitor—he sold himself out to the Empire. We don't need to be forgiving of that! We're the Black Knights. We're Japanese."
"I do not believe he's particularly foolish nor that he is apathetic towards Japan's future," it was cutting and stood as a warning, "He is . . . misguided, and that's the end of it."
C.C. mused a gentle, "Isn't that a nice way of excusing everything up until now . . ."
"He killed our comrades on the battlefield!" Suzaku had been cocky enough to threaten her after all his safe-guarding of her 'reputation,' damn it! "We can't just let that go, think of the—"
"When we establish the U.S.J., will we allow for the mass slaughter of Britannian citizens and workforce? I doubt it, Kallen. Imagine our classmates, and the economic consequences of such disregard."
"Tch!"
Lelouch continued, indifferent to her complaints, "That would dilute the trust in our Empire among the U.F.N., and we will be stretched thin even without added tension. More so, he carries a large support in the general public."
"Then if we took him out, it would be a blow to their hope!"
"That is in worst case scenario," Lelouch was deathly calm, "I see no need to be extreme."
She managed a desperate, "But you said that trial—"
"Suzaku is not the more pertinent issue; on his own, he lacks the necessary political diplomacy to have any significant weight. It's not one of his talents . . . Schneizel, however . . ."
C.C. inserted a whimsical, "Another man for the reaper . . ."
". . ."
"I don't care," Kallen stated dryly, crossing her arms, "He's just another Britannian sycophant. Suzaku too, only worse because he's useless. At least Schneizel has some tact."
Lelouch was quick to stand upright, and forced a caustic, "Schneizel most certainly has tact, but he's much crueler." She stared as he slipped into the hallways and muttered something about getting papers he left behind in the den.
". . . It must be a hassle," C.C. broke the silence, and Kallen spun to look at her, "To always see his face everywhere, be reminded that he left his friends . . . It seems he's adopted you."
"What's that supposed to—"
C.C. gave her a blank look, her stare burying into her, and deadpanned a, "I feel bad for your fantasies."
Shocked into action, Kallen spluttered an undignified, "Be quiet!"
- - -
". . . Shirley," Suzaku struggled to keep control of his voice—she was a victim, and tampered to the point she was deluded about the nature of her father's death, their student council, her entire life, "What do you think of Zero?" It was repulsive that she couldn't remember when she deserved to have all the freedom the Geass stole from her. There was no excuse for warping her mind, for forcing his will on another.
'Lelouch,' he thought darkly, hiding from the buzz in his skull, 'What the hell did you do that led to. . .'
"Of Zero?" The words spilled from her mouth, nervous and uncertain, "Why?"
He managed a weak, "Do you agree with his methods?"
Shirley was hesitant as she trailed behind him, the sunset carving gashes of bloody red and warm orange across the city skyline, ". . . Not completely, but . . . "
Suzaku strung together a solemn, "You lost someone you loved, and he—your father wasn't involved, just a foot soldier caught in the crossfire."
"Maybe . . ." She chewed on her upper lip and fell quiet as he choked down two months worth of raw emotion. He spent weeks pretending, hoping that Lelouch was a memory he could wrestle to silence. Trying to forget him. The wound was fresh, and he felt nervous tearing at the sutures, but it was for her sake! He soothed himself with, "Shirley should have a choice, she should at least know."
Life was not so simple, and he was plagued by whispers of, "could I honestly tell her that Lelouch, who she'd loved, used her and threw her away." Would it change anything, or would she assume he was insane? There was no records, and no evidence that—that thing even existed, and only a fool would think she was willing to stab him to prove a point. Yet alone watch him do it himself. Cold slid down his shoulders as an autumn breeze tore through him, and Suzaku accepted that he might never be able to break her like that. He could be silent, he'd learned that after his father's death—sharpened it into an art of his own. As long as he knew if that was Lelouch's doing, and not, not another user, then he could run from Shirley until there was something he could prove. Maybe if he waited, let things stay quiet, he wouldn't ever have to and she could stay in a rose-colored world where Lelouch wasn't a madman waiting to seize the entire world.
Suzaku understood that he was carrying this secret alone, and it was a heavy weight as he forced a harsh, "He's harmed many people—civilians, taken others hostage, manipulated the government and used public areas to further his own ends despite that the populace could be harmed."
Brow furrowed, she clutched the handbag to her waist and let her eyes roam across the dirt of Ashford's pathways, ". . ."
"I—I guess it doesn't matter," her discomfort stung him, and he hid behind a false smile, "Um, hey. Why were you and Lelouch always fighting before?"
"We weren't really fighting . . ."
"Do you remember that swimming competition?" Suzaku grinned, open and honest, "We all went together—you, Lelouch . . . heh, the entire student council."
"I don't really . . ." It was grim, and some part of him flinched in pain.
He felt sick with himself, but pieced together an airy, "I have pictures—do you want to see?"
"Sure . . ." Suzaku waved a hand for her to follow and they climbed for the boys dorm, the moon settling in as navy was draped over the artificial light of the settlement. He lingered outside of his doorway, easing the key into the lock while a restless Shirley waited at his side.
"Uh, Shirley," he murmured as he tugged it ajar, "Sorry, I had to take you here."
"It doesn't matter," side-stepping, she pulled inside and dropped her bags, "I've come before."
"You don't live in the dorms do you—" Suzaku dwindled to silence as Arthur clung to his ankle in a display of fierce teeth and black fur, hissing furiously before abandoning him in favor of Shirley's outstretched hand.
She chuckled and broke into a grin, "I bet he does that on purpose!"
He nodded, preoccupied as he forced it shut and wandered to the closet. His photo album had been one of the few items he kept intact after the SAZ, and he paused as it glared down at him from its perch on the shelf. Handing it to her, Shirley fingered the pages and took in the faces smiling from their organized boxes, "Are—are all these of us? Of me?"
"Yes."
She was trapped in a shocked silence, and then burst into a bright smile, "Oh, I like this one! Ha—he was always so silly in all our gym classes! It was so funny—I kind of miss seeing him trip all the time!" Taking a seat next to him on the bed, she urged he look, and he felt the muscles tighten in his face while Lelouch flailed in a poor display of, well, whatever he thought that was when he did it.
It was ripped from his throat, a deadpan of, "No, he was just horrible on his own. He was never good at those sorts of things."
Shirley closed it, as if it were fragile as glass, and muttered a simple, "I don't think Lulu is horrible no matter what he's doing."
It was strained, "Why not?"
"Well, he's a good person," she finished easily, luring Arthur into the safety of her arms, "I think he was trying his best. Don't you?"
". . . Yes, yes, I do, Shirley," but that was just another of his lies.
AN: UGH, I need to get more characters in this. Also, next chapter Suzaku and Lelouch have a reunion. Sparks (and possibly bullets) will fly!
:D Thanks for reading, and Happy (belated) Thanksgiving.