Hi everybody. Been a while. School hectic. Me lazy. Stuff like that has been transpiring.
Anyway I've been working on this new chapter pretty solidly and I'm back in my old writing habits, so with luck you can expect more chapters on a somewhat regular basis. If you don't see new stuff feel free to send me angry messages and whatnot.
I do have to thank Enigma Infinite for letting me know I was taking too damn long.
And of course I have to thank Arroyo Rose Cawston for beta reading and general support.
Also I wanted to let people know I've been mulling the idea of a fanfic based on Persona 4, shorter than this one probably. I am short on time; therefore it's nothing definite but if some readers of this story are Persona fans and like the idea I may go ahead with it.
Without further ado, here is the new chapter.
JDCT
Villetta Nu sat cradling the baby in her lap.
If it had been the old days, this would've meant that she was gripping the infant at arm's length so as not to let it spill any of its various fluids upon her. In the old days she would have been observing its squalling from behind a curled lip and looking frantically about for the owner so that she could hand it off.
But this child was her child, her little girl. So Villetta Nu sat cradling the baby, bouncing her gently as she giggled, leaning forward to nuzzle against her soft cheek. She said things to her baby, what would have once seemed pathetic, cringe inducing things, in a breathtakingly insipid voice, like:
"Aren't you beautiful?" and also, "Yes you are."
And a short girlish squeak followed by: "You're so beautiful," and furthermore, "Mommy loves you very much."
Then there was more bouncing, and more nuzzling, until the TV which had been running unnoticed in the background said something that caught her attention. Villetta paused and glanced up. She was sitting on a cumulous brown leather sofa in the living room. Now she reached over and picked up the remote, dialled the volume on the TV up a few notches.
On the TV was footage of the sprawled wreck of a building, smoking in a grey morning.
This is what the newscaster said: "--truly a sad day for Brittannia, and indeed the entire world. Possibly one of the most unprovoked acts of barbarism of this last decade, rivalling in cruelty--if not in scale-- those atrocities of the Demon Emperor Lelouch. In total the attack and subsequent bombing claimed the lives of over seventy Britannian military personnel, as well as civilians attending the Empress and, of course, Nunnally herself.
"Hi-TV will be dedicating this week's broadcasts to the tragically ended life of Nunnally vi Britannia, please join us daily as we remember our beloved Empress, the 100th and perhaps, fittingly, the last that Britannia will ever see. Prince Schniezel's impassioned address earlier today seemed to indicate that not he or any other eligible party would be ascending to the throne."
The image of the newscaster reverted back to that of the wreck. Here and there amid the grey remains the fires still guttered. The smoke in the air mingled with the drifting banks of mist, as firefighters sprayed water far over the ruin. Here and there in areas where the fires had been controlled, the firefighters dug through with their equipment, brightly yellow against the ash, presumably searching for survivors.
The newscaster said: "I still can't believe the footage, though we've been seeing this all morning." She seemed at a loss for words, momentarily. "One of the most famous and beautiful of all the Imperial Palaces, Aries, in ruins, and below, the body of our Empress Nunnally."
The scene carried on for a few moments longer. The images were shown over and over, and Villetta watched unmoving. Presently the broadcast segued into another section. A male reporter appeared before a set of wide steps. Behind him was a building constructed elegantly of stone, vaulting high above. Villetta recognized this building, she'd even been there before it had been converted to its current use. The former city hall of New Tintagel--now the provisional location for the House of Lords.
"I'm standing here just outside of the House, where a session has just apparently been completed. For those of you joining us now, the issue is the terrorist attack on Aries Villa and the murder of Nunnally vi Britannia. All morning the circumstances of the attack have been highly mysterious." The reporter cast a glance over his shoulder as people began to filter through the stone archways at his back, presumably from within the council chambers. "Hopefully some light will be shed now, as the House of Lords concludes their session and comes out to meet us."
The ranks of Lords emerged from the arches. Villetta saw many familiar faces. Schniezel she picked out almost immediately, gliding icily next to the jet-black figure of Zero. The clusters of reporters bore down immediately upon them and those about them, calling their names, hollering questions. It was a mark of the event's importance, Villetta knew, that such wrestling matches were being shown, that the statements of the emerging Lords were going to be broadcast live.
The reporter from Hi-TV seemed unable for a moment to break through the jostling and get a question in at Schniezel or Zero. His camera zoomed far over his shoulder and blurred briefly, trying to catch what Schniezel was saying. But then it retracted and panned swiftly to the right, as the reporter managed to beat the crowd to Grand Duke Weinberg and his retainers.
"Lord Weinberg! Lord Weinberg!" The cry was taken up by dozens of reporters. After a moment's pause the Grand Duke answered a question.
Weinberg said gravely, "At the present moment, it is still not entirely clear what has happened, or for that matter why it has happened. We are still gathering information about the attack. The motives seem very obscure to me. However, Zero's presentation to the council indicated that our forces had, in fact, apprehended at least one of the terrorists in unharmed condition during the course of the attack, so we may well have answers soon."
An unseen reporter's voice cut through the tumult: "Can you comment on the identity of the captured terrorist? Is he affiliated with any known organization which is in a position to claim responsibility?"
Weinberg seemed uncertain for a moment. "As of the present time, no organization has claimed responsibility for the attacks, or made further threats against us. However, I can confirm to you that the captured terrorist is a woman named Kallen Kouzuki, and that she is currently a high-ranking member of the Black Knights."
There was a split second of dead silence before the room began shouting as one. During that split second Villetta felt all of her muscles tense as a shiver raised the hair on the back of her neck. She knew then that she was watching a requiem for more than merely Nunnally vi Britannia.
Rena, seeming to sense her sudden tension, began to cry. Villetta bent over the baby and gave half-hearted apologies and kisses against the warm smooth forehead.
On the TV the questions overlapped each other in increasing volume:
"Grand Duke Weinberg! The UFN's position on--"
"Are you saying the Black Knights are responsible for--"
"Has there been a statement from Japan or the--"
"Did she act alone--"
"Wasn't Kouzuki Zero's former--"
"The Knightmare she piloted--"
But Villetta lifted the remote and flicked the tv off, and the room was suddenly in silence. She gathered her soldier's wits about her, taking a moment merely to observe her situation. Her heart rate was high, and her breathing quick. Her muscles were tense. Was it not over? Had peace lasted only this long? Villetta took in a long breath and let it whistle out through her lips, then turned her attention calmly to the baby.
Rena had a perfect little fringe of black Japanese hair, not quite grown it yet. And she had her mother's eyes, the penetrating olive that Villetta had inherited from her own mother.
Soberly, Villetta cradled the child against her and planted kisses across the forehead. Then she stood and crossed the room, humming softly and swaying to amuse Rena. She went up the steps and to the second floor, then knocked on the fusuma door to Ohgi's study. "Can you talk?" she asked, and there was a brief pause. After a moment's hesitation his voice came from the other side, tiredly.
"Yeah, come on in."
She freed a hand up, shifting the baby into the crook of her arm, and slid the door open. Kaname Ohgi was draped loosely over the office chair before his desk, wearing the green kimono he'd taken to after his election. He was facing away from her. His desk phone was dangling from one hand. He'd placed an old photograph on the desk before him, a framed one of him, Kallen, and his old friend Naoto, who'd been Kallen's older brother.
He had heard the news, then. He'd probably just gotten off the phone with one of his aides. Villetta came up behind the chair and leaned over the back to nuzzle him in the curly hair atop his head. "We came to say hi," she told him.
"You heard?" he said at length, without turning.
"Mm-hmm." She nodded though he was still turned away from her. Then she went to sit on his desk so she could peer down into his eyes. His finger tapped his chin absently. Villetta lowered Rena into his lap and he took the baby instinctively, without looking up. He stared down at his daughter presently, seeming to notice for the first time that he'd just received her. He smiled and lifted her before his face. "Hello." He kissed her. "Little Miss Ohgi." She writhed pleasantly and her tiny hands grabbed at his nebulous bangs.
He rested Rena in his lap again and sighed, leaning back. Now he met Villetta's eyes. "What am I going to do?"
She shrugged in reply. Even now the soldier's mind was rising in her; the scenario's playing out one after another. Pull diplomatic strings and try to help Kallen, and get bogged down in years of negotiations and trials. Do nothing, and keep relations with Britannia strong--and lose a girl he loved like his own sister. More aggressive negotiation? War? Unthinkable. After all they'd suffered for peace.
"I can't let her down." Kaname reached for the picture and drew it to himself. Rena's plump fingers fastened over the wooden frame, and he gently withdrew it from her grasp. "Naoto'd never forgive me if I left her to the Britannians."
Villetta crossed her arms uncomfortably. The spirit of a revolutionary was still in Ohgi, of course. He couldn't help it, it was impossible to entirely disabuse him of the idea of Imperialist Britannia as an enemy; she wanted to tell him, Your baby is half-Britannian, genius. She would have said it if she didn't understand him better.
"What are you going to do, start a war?" It was said as a joke, but she couldn't keep tension from herself.
"Of course not," he said. "No, we just need the facts. This has probably been a misunderstanding. I'll get in touch with the UFN, we'll sort it out. I can call Empress Nunnally myself--" His mouth snapped shut as he remembered. Then he let out a long, whispery sigh and clutched Rena a little closer. In the sudden warm silence, the ticking of the clock on the wall could be heard.
Across the ocean, Suzaku Kururugi paced in the dimly-lit basement of a warehouse. The warehouse was abandoned, on the outskirts of Pendragon, nearly twenty kilometers from the FLEIJA crater. They'd been in Pendragon only a few days, but already the difficulties of their situation were becoming clear. To simply rescue Nunnally was unwise; more preparation was required--and a plan almost on the order of a miracle. Here they were surrounded by enemies. During the night he had heard sirens passing by intermittently and in the distance, and every time he heard them he tensed, certain that their presence here had been noticed. But no soldiers had burst through the doors, so Suzaku had forced himself to be calm. There was probably just a fire somewhere.
He turned his attention back to the other occupant in the room.
The girl, who called herself Zero; she was sitting in the middle of the room on a folding chair, her hands cuffed behind her. What did she know? How could she help them?
He ruefully scratched his cheek and approached her again. He said, "You maintain that you are Zero," and over her defiant nod he went on, "however, I myself was Zero until several months ago."
"Liar." She scoffed at him, staring up with hatred in her. "I've always been Zero."
At this Suzaku had to shake his head in amazement. He almost smiled. "Always?" He crossed his arms and paced before her. "Alright, then. The battle of Kyushu, you remember that, don't you?"
"Of course. I was there. I was piloting the Gawain with the help of C.C. We joined with Suzaku Kururugi to defeat the rebel Japanese forces attacking from the mainland." She glared at him with glimmering eyes, daring him to find fault with the answer. It was a textbook answer, too. He frowned perplexedly. Maybe she would stumble on the details.
"Well," he shrugged, "I am Suzaku Kururugi. I can tell you you're not Zero."
She scoffed, recalcitrant, and rolled her eyes in a manner that made her look much more like a teenaged girl than she had previously. "Well, I never took off my helmet. So you never knew who I was--of course." The tone made her seem to be mocking his senselessness. "And--hey! If you're Kururugi, you can't be Zero. Because you were with Zero many times." She sat back with a deeply satisfied smile on her face.
Suzaku sighed wearily. "There was another Zero before me."
"Liar. I've always been Zero." Again the rote lines, over and over the same assertion.
"So you were pretending to be a man all this time," Suzaku said dryly. He decided to humour her and see where this would go.
She nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh. Everybody was fooled."
Interesting how without the mask her mannerisms became those of a young girl. Suzaku crossed his arms. "So. Remember when we went to Kamine Island? The time Kallen and I chased you there and unmasked you?"
"No. Duh." She rolled her eyes. "That was Lelouch vi Brittania, the Demon Emperor. He was pretending to be Zero."
"Right, right," he said and waved a hand. "What about the time you tried to catch me and the Lancelot? Using gefjun disturbers? And then I took you hostage inside the Lancelot and tried to hold you in place so that Schniezel could cook us both from the Avalon."
She shrugged, the manacles clinking on the chair. "What about it?"
"That was you?"
"Yeah." She squirmed and shot him a hostile look. "We would've had you if you hadn't gone all hero."
"Right. So how'd you escape?"
She shrugged again, s though the question was pointless. "It was you. You broke orders like a coward, saying you had to live."
Suzaku smiled and rocked back contemplatively. "You didn't do anything?"
She cocked her head, maybe sensing his trap. "Well, I did a few things. That was a long time ago. Can't remember it all, I guess."
Now he did laugh. Just a dry little chuckle at her expense. "They've done something weird to you. Not sure what."
He turned his shoulder to her and paced again. She said indignantly, "What are you talking about?"
"Some kind of brainwashing. It almost reminds me of geass, actually. You actually believe you're Zero, don't you?"
"Of course!" She turned faintly red, maybe put off by his new attitude of scorn. "It's the truth."
He looked at her for a long time, his green eyes glittering in the dark, below the tousled brown hair. He looked vaguely sad. "I wonder if you had your own life before they made you into this. Or if you were grown in a test-tube just for this purpose."
Her jaw muscles tensed. "You're a liar," she squared her shoulders and looked away from him. "You'll be arrested for this."
Suzaku pondered. Now that he thought about it, the test-tube thing might have some validity to it. She was tall for her age, and lithe, with almost no female chest to speak of. Had she been engineered to mimic the real Zero's physical characteristics? He wondered what would happen if he asked her about her early life, her parents, that sort of thing.
But just as he turned back to her, the side door whined open and Jeremiah stepped in. "Suzaku," he said. There was pain in his voice.
"What is it?" A certain kind of dread filled Suzaku immediately. On closer inspection, Jeremiah's eyes appeared to be red from weeping.
"You need to see this, Suzaku," Jeremiah mumbled. "All is lost."
Bewildered, Suzaku turned back to the girl to make sure he hadn't left anything in the room for her to use. She gave him a dark look and the manacles clinked against the chair again. He and Jeremiah stepped out of the room and locked the heavy steel door behind them, then made their way through the stale corridor, with its faint smell of old metals, and chemicals.
As they went Suzaku felt his unease grow. He knew that Sayoko had been using her time to get a communications and encryption system up and running, which would aid them in the eventual operation. It had been used by the Black Knights in the later stages of the Black Rebellion. Perhaps their transmissions had been intercepted and they'd been discovered? What could be disastrous enough to make Jeremiah cry?
It was, of course, worse than he could imagine.
He sat for a long while watching the images on the tiny television set, the interviews, summaries, the file photos. Something was deadened in him, though. Jeremiah had cried. Sayoko sat with glassy eyes, a handkerchief poised in tremulous horror before her face. Suzaku did nothing.
Come on. Cry.
But he watched and all he could think was: What now? They have a new Zero. We came to Pendragon for no reason. He wanted to sleep. What now? And the real question, something lurking, a sick thought. Was there anything left in the World now? Anything at all? Better to go back to the dark room they had put him in, better to sleep. Maybe it was over. Maybe the last star had finally gone out.
Come on. Cry. If there's anything left to cry about, this is it.
He did nothing.
Relax.
Very difficult to relax.
Very disconcerting, the whole thing. The first hour or so he had madly tried to fix his connections, blaming bad circuitry. The jamming package could have malfunctioned, taken his server out of the connection loop. For a long time he rewired, rebooted, reprogrammed his equipment, until the slicing light of morning came in through the window.
Or maybe the battle had knocked out the equipment on the other end. It was as if there was no malfunction at all, actually--as though they'd simply gone silent. There was always that possibility, that maybe...something, something...think... yes, maybe Zealous' rail driver had shorted out the system. The supermagnets it used for ammo propulsion were more erratic than EMPs found in usual Knightmare weapons. Perhaps his rail-driver had fried the communications. It was a possibility, an unknown factor, a previously untested form of equipment with unforeseeable effects.
Lelouch paced the small apartment. It was nearly midday.
Relax.
Very difficult to relax, considering the circumstances. It was also possible that they'd been killed, of course. Also a possible outcome, an alternate scenario.
Lelouch gripped his holdout pistol as he paced the room, thinking. Perhaps someone had penetrated his encryption, perhaps they were making ready to storm the apartment at that very moment.
And there'd been the sirens, a large mass of them, about--he checked his watch--five hours ten minutes ago, now. He paced into the kitchen, tapping his jawline nervously with the grey handgun.
Roughly half an hour had passed since his last check. He activated his mic and spoke into it: "Q1, N1, this is L.L. Anyone this is L.L. Please respond." He waited, in agony, for five minutes with his hands splayed on the kitchen counter. Just like before. Just like it had been since 3 AM the previous night. Dead silence.
What did it mean?
He watched his knuckles hunching on the countertop. His palms were damp. His shoulders were drawn tensely up towards his ears. He could not keep his breathing slow; panic was taking him, again, for perhaps the fourth time since the communications blackout. Should he have left the apartment? He had not wanted to; his own safety bored him by now. His fate did not interest him greatly.
The real horror was in what he did not know. He hated this, had always hated this propensity to imagine the worst. It was in his nature. He could not simply stand by and not generate the various outcomes in his mind. The longer he waited the further his mind twisted him, until he knew, knew with certainty that something was horribly wrong. Kallen was dead. C.C. was taken by the enemy, never to be seen again. Nunally was gone. He would never see them again. The sick thought convinced him, despair the greatest debater of all time. And the worst was he knew his own thoughts had turned on him; he saw his own folly in believing the worst.
One thing at a time. It had to be that way. Let the facts fall as they may. Observe them dispassionately. Whatever happens, don't let your own imagination defeat you.
But still his arms trembled. He pounded a clenched fist on the table, willing himself into a new calm. He'd gone through the cycle many times before: despair, then hope, then fear, then despair again.
Someone was at the door.
The lock rattled. Lelouch sharply took in his breath and stepped back from the counter. The gun was heavy in his right hand. He flipped the safety off and slid his foot to one side, so the gun hung out of sight behind the counter. If it was an enemy, would he kill him? Would he shoot? At this point was there anything left to be gained from that? He was tired of it.
The door opened, and Zealous Shad came insouciantly in. His hair was wet, flat on his head for once, and he shook rainwater from his clothes. He saw Lelouch standing in the kitchen, gave a brief nod of recognition, and yawned massively as he shrugged out of his jacket.
Lelouch opened his mouth furiously. But only a small sound came out. What had happened? What had happened!? "Zealous--" he began.
"Man I'm hungry." Zealous stepped out of his boots and vacated the doorway. Behind him came first Thieving Shad, and then C.C. wearing a rain-coat, its hood pulled up to obscure her distinctive green hair.
A soggy, unlit cigar drooped from Thieving's lips as he slouched into the room. He looked up, saw Lelouch's tense expression, and grinned around the cigar. "Relax, boss," he said and waved a hand. "Relax. She wasn't in the building."
Lelouch frowned. He turned to watch as Zealous paced into the kitchen with him, making for the fridge. "What do you mean, not in the building?"
C.C. said mournfully, "Nunnally wasn't in the explosion. They had a body double. We were set up."
Slowly Lelouch pursed his lips. "What explosion? Explain."
Zealous reared back out of the fridge with three slices of bread crammed in his mouth. He blurted something impatient but couldn't be understood. Thieving translated: "Dammit, haven't you been watching the news?"
Lelouch blinked slowly. He set the pistol on the counter with an unsteady hand. "Tell me everything."
C.C. nodded calmly. "We entered Nunnally's room, but she was not there. It was a girl of about her age with similar physical characteristics. Upon closer inspection we saw that the room had been fitted with explosives." C.C. unzipped her windbreaker and slid it from her shoulders. Now Lelouch saw that the sleeve of her left arm had been drenched in blood. His thoughts ground to a halt and for a moment he felt his panic again. He tensed and took a step towards her, but her yellow eyes flicked him away cursorily.
Zealous swallowed a massive bite. He was at the counter, piling cold cuts and brown-edged lettuce atop yet more bread. "We should tend that, by the way. It's pretty deep." He crushed another slice of bread on top and took a massive bite of the sandwich, leaning back.
C.C. looked at him in annoyance. "This is nothing," she said with finality. "In any case: Thieving and I left Aries with some haste. The first of the charges were already detonating behind us. I think that they must have been set to count down when the Empress' door was breached. We left out the main entrance and saw a confrontation between several Knightmares--"
Zealous took over momentarily, speaking through a half-full mouth. "Kallen and I were defeated by the Rounds. I saw the flashes of the explosives going off in Aries, and looked over, and then I saw them running out the front."
C.C. nodded. "He picked us up in the Knightmare's remaining hand and we used the cover of the explosion and smoke to escape. Kallen has been captured. We hid the Shiva deep in the forest and spent the rest of the night making our way back here."
Lelouch breathed. Kallen was captured. But they were all alive. It could have been worse, but-- but now it might be impossible to find Nunnally. His fist curled on the countertop. And C.C. had been hurt. "Your arm…" he said to her quietly.
She shifted uncomfortably. "It's not serious. A piece of flying glass hit me as Zealous was carrying us away from the blast."
Lelouch lifted a hand to her shoulder. "I'll get the first aid kit in the bathroom--"
"I'll deal with it," she said simply.
He hesitated, chastened by the coldness in her voice. "Does it need stitches?"
"No."
No. She wouldn't want his help, of course. And it wasn't supposed to matter anymore. It would be a kindness if nothing mattered anymore.
Zealous, chewing his sandwich, raised a confused eyebrow. "Anyway. We had better leave town. It's gonna be difficult to get out of here with all our equipment. Our window of opportunity is fading quickly."
Thieving's voice came. "Mission failed. Sorry, boss. You only hired us for one job."
Lelouch nodded very slowly, staring down at his feet. "It's over. I don't care where you go. Keep the equipment we bought, if you'd like. I don't care."
C.C. leaned against the counter next to Lelouch and crossed her arms. Lost in thought, Lelouch sagged against her unconsciously, and he felt the sudden warmth as her blood began to soak into his own sleeve. He glanced at her but she seemed to take no note of him.
A deep silence filled the room. Zealous ate his sandwich. Thieving sat in the living room, watching. Lelouch thought and thought for an unknowable amount of time. How was he to get Kallen back? He didn't have the resources from before. He didn't have the funds to hire enough people for a mission like that. And, more importantly, Nunnally. She'd been moved. He would never find her. He'd been out-thought. She was gone.
Zealous said: "No."
They looked at him. He was standing in the middle of the kitchen, still munching ravenously on his sandwich. "No, it's not over."
Thieving scoffed and rolled his eyes. He threw his hands in the air and let them fall on the armrests, as though he'd been expecting Zealous to say something along these lines and was helpless to prevent it.
"No," Zealous smiled. "We can still rescue them."
Lelouch frowned suddenly. "Them?" Something struck him as odd.
"Kallen and the Empress." Zealous nodded. "We'll get them both back." He turned his dark eyes on Lelouch, a mischievous look.
Lelouch glanced carefully at the gun on the countertop. The safety was still off, and it was within reach. But Thieving was probably armed, and he was a good shot. Neither of them was in a threatening posture, and yet...Lelouch stared at Zealous for a moment, evaluating, looking for the bulge of a firearm. But the mercenary was nothing but smile, eating casually. He winked at Lelouch. "That's right," said Zealous.
Then he said, "I know who you are."
Lelouch felt the tension then, rising in the pit of his stomach. He felt the anxiety of what he would have to do if it came to preserving the secret of his survival. But outwardly he showed no sign of it. He was carefully serene, but totally motionless.
Zealous was serene in a different way, carelessly. He took ripping bites of his sandwich, not looking at Lelouch, as though what he'd said was of no concern. He shoved the last of it in his mouth, licking his fingers.
Could be a bluff. Of course it could. Could be a bluff to get Lelouch to reveal his identity, for blackmail. Or could be a bluff to squeeze more money out of him now that the operation had failed. But something in Zealous was so cheerful about it, so nonsensically uncaring. And: he'd said rescue them. Rescue Nunnally. Perhaps he did know.
Zealous went on, with a shrug. "We're going to help you anyway. We don't care."
For the moment Lelouch elected to proceed as though Zealous' revelation meant nothing. He made sure his voice was under strict control, and said, "I can't promise more pay. My accounts may be seized, if they are on to us."
"Whatever," said Zealous flippantly.
Thieving stood limberly and glared across the room at Zealous. "Yo! You serious?"
Zealous nodded. "My call. Your call." He gestured wordlessly and Thieving heaved an agonized sigh, rolling his eyes.
C.C.'s voice cut into the conversation, tersely. "Explain."
"C'mon, what's to explain?" Zealous scoffed, glanced around him negligently.
But when he turned back to C.C. he was facing the gun. Lelouch had decided he would leave it on the counter, lacking the stomach for aiming it at either of the Shads. But C.C. had snatched it up and now Zealous stared down at the silver barrel which was levelled coolly at his chest, ready to fire from the hip. "Explain yourself. Your intentions."
His expression grew bland, suddenly, and he ponderously touched his chin with a finger. "All right, then. If you put it that way." He lifted a hand in a calming way, but at Thieving, not C.C. Lelouch turned and saw that Thieving was watching them but had not drawn his gun.
Zealous said, "You're Lelouch vi Britannia," and shrugged apologetically.
C.C. said nothing. Thieving did not react either; Zealous had probably already told him. Zealous went on. "I found out around the time we were planning the op, when you were first outlining the plans at breakfast."
Lelouch shrugged indifferently, forcing a wry grin, "Me, a dead Emperor? Interesting theory, but that doesn't make much sense."
"The opposite. It's the only thing that does make sense," Zealous said. "I knew it was true before I understood why. Suddenly my intuition told me who you were, and afterwards I tried to work out why I thought that.
"It's a combination of many things. Kidnapping Nunnally never made sense, of course. The group of people assembled made no sense. Former schoolmates of hers? Kallen had no motive for capturing Nunnally. Not to mention, she and C.C. are both members of the old Black Knights, from way back in the early days. It wasn't much of a stretch to assume that you were also connected to the Black Knights.
"And now the motive. Clearly Thieving and I weren't being told everything. And getting the Empress made no sense, considering the costs. She was in a coma and a figurehead. Ransom would have been made unprofitable by the huge cost of the mission. No, it had to be a rescue. I knew it was a rescue mission before we even met you, Lelouch. And who would have contacts inside the government? Who would know she was in danger? Who would care enough to blow his savings on a mission of this kind? Who would have the command ability to pull it off? Who would have contacts in the Black Knights?"
Zealous smiled broadly, pleased with himself. "Only you, my friend."
Thieving came slowly into the kitchen, sucking on a new cigar. He watched the proceedings with dull interest. C.C. did not waver. She held the gun levelly, letting its aim snap back between Thieving and Zealous, keeping a healthy distance from each of them. She said: "And now that you think you've discovered the truth, shall I really believe that we can trust you? I think not."
"Sure you can. We need to save Kallen, either way," Zealous shrugged. "After that we can worry about Nunnally. Maybe we'll do that too, but..." He glanced over to perceive the vaguely annoyed glint in Thieving's eyes. "Can't promise anything."
"The man that you think he is..." She shrugged a shoulder at Lelouch. "Why would you want to help such a man? You know his reputation. The Demon Emperor. If you truly believed him to be Lelouch vi Britannia you wouldn't stay. No, you have other motives."
Now Thieving glanced at Zealous and shrugged minutely, leaving the answer up to him. He rocked away from Zealous with crossed arms, as though washing his hands of the matter. He didn't seem to care either way.
For a long while Zealous appeared to ponder. Lelouch watched him curiously, the tension from before beginning to subside. The weight of his secret began to lift from him, paradoxically. For so long now, nameless, without an identity. Though he should have been as vigilant as C.C., he could only feel a kind of bizarre relief to hear his name spoken by someone else, to feel the recognition of who he really was.
"Well," said Zealous gravely. "The Demon Emperor, eh?" His eyes lifted to Lelouch's and he smirked conspiratorially. "I don't know about that. I have a rule, you know. Or a couple of rules: I am very sceptical all the time. You can go your whole life believing something, and find out one day that it's not true. So as a rule I don't believe anything. I don't even always believe what I see anymore, and that's about as good as it gets.
"I look at you, I see a man trying to rescue his sister. I never saw any of the other stuff they say about you. So for now, I'll believe what I see."
C.C. hesitated. Then she looked at Thieving. "And what about you? What do you want?"
Thieving raised his eyebrows. "Me, I'm bored. If we got to rescue some people, let's do it. Who cares if this guy's some former Emperor?" He turned to Zealous, "Who'd you say he was again?"
"Don't worry about it," said Zealous.
Lelouch suddenly snorted with involuntary laughter. He tried to control his twisting grin, failed, and chuckled lowly for a moment. This was interesting. People with whom he could work. He had not been afforded this kind of opportunity since Jeremiah's defection to his side. People who did not need to be coerced, cajoled, lied to. People who would help him despite his name. Intriguing.
"C.C.," he said gently and placed his palm over the top of the gun. She let it droop with some reluctance to point at the floor. But her arm muscles were still tense, ready to haul the weapon back up and fire if need be.
"I don't trust you," she said flatly to both of the others.
Zealous shrugged. "I don't blame you. Just look at how scruffy and disreputable we are." He grinned. "But you'll see that we're lovable underneath."
At that moment there came a steady beeping noise from the other room, however. It sounded like one of the alerts on his computer setup. Lelouch frowned, not certain what that particular alarm meant.
"One moment," he said, and went into his bedroom. He tapped the mousepad to clear his screensaver and opened the window in question. For a moment he stood over the laptop, pondering what he was seeing. Then he went back into the kitchen.
Zealous had begun frying up some bacon, whistling a tune over the sizzling of the meat, oblivious to the fact that C.C. was still standing behind him with a gun, ready to kill him at the slightest ill move. Thieving yawned as Lelouch returned, and said, "What was it, Boss?"
"It was an alert on our communications network, the one we were using for the operation," Lelouch crossed his arms and began to think. "I'm not sure what this means exactly, but... someone else in this city is using the old Black Knights encryption protocol."