Yay! More people to agree with in my intense hatred of R2! Not that it didn't have it's moments (there were more than enough epic moments involving Lelouch to satisfy me, particularly in the last few episodes), but it did leave something (a lot) to be desired. And the worst part is, I gave Sunrise the benefit of the doubt, even though I was bracing myself for a bad season the moment I saw their half-assed gloss over of everything that had happened between Lelouch and Shirley in season one (the rest of his friends being victimized is collateral damage at best, by comparison).

Anyway, Nillie, I ran into more than a bit of trouble when writing out how Suzaku's character is steadily changing. He's at such a stage right now where the constant swap between Old!Suzaku and Badass/Insane!Suzaku gets a little bit mundane, and trying to keep him on the fine line between the two while simultaneously trying to get across the message that things are revolving around Lelouch less and less is tiresome, to say the least. Frankly, I think I need a little bit of work on that; I think that fine line is waving a little bit from side to side, sometimes.

And [Anonymous Author] (with a website for a name?), I have to wonder what exactly you mean by 'tragedy'. I mean, up until recently this has been a one-sided battle in favor of Lelouch that had me so self-conscious of it all that it was almost unbearable. Even now the drama is minimal, though it is slowly reaching the level that could be expected of Code Geass, and tragic is not really that I would consider it to be. But then again, a lot of the drama is based around things that I typically think should happen no matter what.

Like Nunnally dying. I've thought from the very beginning that she was meant to die – Lelouch would simply be too happy (wrong word, so sue me) if she lived, and that simply wouldn't do for our lovable Byronic protagonist, now would it?

And I suppose calling me a perfectionist is fitting, given how obsessed I am with making this story as good as I possibly can. I never really looked at it that way, though, because I took it to be common sense that you would want to do so. I mean, being a perfectionist should be a good thing in writing, right?

Anyway, all points regarding our tormented protagonist and my blatant need to be a perfectionist aside, I hope nobody minds too much the utterly pointless and filler-esque scene here at the beginning; I felt it would be a good idea to define it (Lelouch and C.C. being the 'it') a little, and a bit of humor on the eve of a brutal battle is always a good thing. I think so, anyway; too much angsty drama at once gives the story a really dark feeling, which the story shouldn't have – drama and the like, okay, but this story was never intended to be dark in nature. That, and I had a lot of pent up need to write something more lighthearted after one of the more recent episodes of Gundam 00 (finally adequate evidence of a possible SetsunaxFeldt pairing! Go run an orphanage or something, Marina; Lacus may be able to help _)...

While I'm at it, I didn't really intend for that phone call scene last chapter to be so ambiguous... Looking back on it, it is funny, though. And leaving it ambiguous is actually better than what I had initially intended, looking back on it.

So, I got to looking at the statistics for this story. And over 75,000 views? Forgive me for being humble, but when the hell did this become so popular?

Lastly, if people are wondering why the chapter is most certainly not named after one of CG's songs as I said it would, there is good reason for that. This chapter is instead named after Doubt & Trust by access, from which a beautiful MAD video was made for the last episode of Code Geass R2. Seriously, it was amazing, and it fit the episode – hell, it fit the last four episodes of R2 perfectly. Having seen it, I just had to name this chapter after it; it was just good fortune that the title fit with the theme of this chapter anyway.


"Have you ever thought about kids?"

She had seemed completely serious asking this, her face a blank mask that didn't show any of it's usual signs of playfulness or teasing intent. C.C. had taken a question previously only heard of in the strangest of romance novels he had read in his time, and presented it before him like it was a curious subject that she longed to understand. Perhaps she did, but she'd never tell him, he knew.

To make matters worse, Lelouch knew the context in which she had meant the question to be. It wasn't something to be misinterpreted and it was something that, coming from her in such a blunt manner, brought a scorching flame of color to his cheeks. She meant kids, as in the sort that he would shower with affection and love, determined to not be what his father had been to him. She didn't mean the children of people wronged, people he could draw strength from and turn into soldiers. No, that was just weird.

Not that asking him if he thought about kids wasn't. It was about as strange as questions got, and they hardly had a relationship where such a question was appropriate. Although Lelouch didn't dare claim to know where exactly they stood, he knew they weren't in a pseudo-husband-wife relationship of any kind. But then again, they'd always sort of defined their own relationship, rather than molding into any one sort of relationship; flimsy words like 'couple', 'friends with benefits' – minus the actual benefit part of the package – or even 'spouse' could hardly be used to properly define their relationship. Perhaps in her twisted logic, partners with a questionably romantic undertone were able to ask one another what they thought of children, or rather, having children? That was what she had meant, after all.

Always one for eloquence, Lelouch suitably composed himself before he casually replied, though with more pause than was necessary, "... No?" The fact that it had left his mind a statement and left his lips a question didn't help his case. Ah, yes, Lelouch Lamperouge was capable of being taken by surprise. What sickening irony.

Her response was one that could be expected of her, even if the context where such an expected response lied was completely unfamiliar. "Having a family," she clarified, in such a way that suggested that he didn't know this already – she knew he did, of course. "You've thought about it, right?"

As strange as the conversation was, Lelouch could not bring himself to say that he disliked the notion of it. Not the idea of children; no, that was something he hadn't had time to think about for nearly a year, but talking about such things with C.C. wasn't as uncomfortable as he would have thought it to be. It almost felt normal, if one were to ignore the blunt manner in which she had introduced the subject... And Lelouch could ignore that, if only because he was already more than used to the way her mind worked. It was like his own, in a way, although he was glad to say his was not so impulsive as her's.

"I used to," he admitted, stretching out along the length of his bed, the one he had been foolishly procrastinating on leaving for the better part of the last half hour. He really didn't have the time to be laying there, especially when Mao was alive and waiting for him somewhere, with an 'Aim Here' sign pinned to his forehead, but between keeping up to date on the war in Africa and restoring Japan to it's former splendor, he hadn't had a proper night's sleep in many a day. It felt like the early days of the rebellion all over again, where the attention that his uprising with the Order of the Black Knights demanded left him getting less than three or four hours of sleep a night. Those had been dreadful days and his performance in school had suffered accordingly, but it had been put in the past until now. Not that he hadn't been expecting it, of course, but the fact remained that being so sorely deprived of rest was something no boy, King of one third of the world or not, should have to suffer through.

"Used to?" asked C.C., when he offered no elaboration.

"In the past," he clarified, "back before the Geass allowed me the opportunity to come this far. Back when I believed I'd have time for a regular school life before I set my plans of rebellion in motion." His eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, weaving around the intricate patterns drawn into it. "Back then, I figured it would be Shirley. She never did a good job of hiding her feelings, and she always had a motherly side – I suppose that was what drew me to her, a little bit. I wanted kids, if only to prove that I could continue the family line without leaving them to be as twisted as my father left my brothers and sisters, and I. They probably never would have known that their grandfather was the 98th Emperor, but they would have been happy nonetheless."

From the corner of his eye C.C. nodded, settling against one of the bedposts. "And now?"

Lelouch laughed derisively, leaning up on his elbows to properly look at her. "Now? Even if I were to ignore the fact that we are in the middle of a war, C.C., I'm an immortal. I don't fancy the idea of having children that I will outlive."

"I suppose it would be depressing," she replied, as if that particular thought hadn't previously occurred to her.

"We are not meant for things that do not last forever. You taught me that," said Lelouch, cocking an eyebrow in her direction. "Having a family that will outlive you... it just doesn't feel right. I'd rather stay with the things that do last forever, the things that won't inevitably be taken away by time."

"Those things are too few and far between," C.C. replied knowingly, falling down on the bed and pulling herself up to rest at his side, her head inches from resting comfortably upon his chest. "If you focus only on the things that will stay forever, you will be a very lonely person."

Lelouch smirked, finally giving in to the necessity to get out of bed. He stood, dimly aware that he was clad only in the pants of his school uniform in front of the person that was most likely to note such a thing, and walked toward his closet. "Time is a curious thing, is it not?" he asked rhetorically, stripping off his pants and replacing them with a tight pair of jeans that were on the border of being too small for comfort. He threw on the sleeveless black shirt he often wore for casual purposes and then pulled an orange jacket over it, pulling up the zipper and folding the sleeves so that they rested comfortably around his wrists. He felt C.C.'s eyes on him the entire time, and while he should have been flustered by the notion of a woman seeing him in such a manner, strangely it didn't bother him in the slightest when it was her.

"How do you mean?" C.C. asked, her eyes fixated on a certain part of Lelouch's backside that brought a nefarious smirk to his lips. While she was beyond the point of lustful attractions and girlish whims, C.C. was as susceptible to an attractive man as any other woman, it appeared. This pleased him more than he cared to admit.

"Think about it," Lelouch drawled, running a hand through his hair so that the unkempt mess appeared as though it had been given at least some care. "In Britannia, the year is 2018. For the rest of the world, the year is 1963," he said, "... give or take," he then immediately added. He settled back onto his bed, turning his head swiftly enough to catch notice of C.C.'s eyes flying from his back to his face, looking like a dear caught in headlights. His smirk widened. "For us, time stands still. The world does not change with this, nor does it appear different, and yet to us the world is a completely different place than it is to everybody else."

"I told you it would be so when I gave you the Geass," C.C. quipped, replying to Lelouch's smirk with one of her own when she realized she'd been caught. Shameless to the very end; it was a quality acquired only by her many years of life, and the profound experience she had with such things. "I never imagined you would make it so far as to become an immortal, but those words are all the more true now."

Lelouch nodded once, a bob of the head so enthusiastic that the tense muscles in the back of his neck popped lightly. "I'll not judge you for being spiteful of living forever, but I will make use of this boon the Geass has given me."

"If people learn you are immortal, you will be shunned," C.C. said warningly. "You fight alongside them, and they fight knowing that you are brave enough to die with them. But you cannot die, not anymore."

Lelouch nodded, reaching blindly for C.C.'s hand, squeezing it tightly when he found it. "We are partners, C.C.," he whispered, keeping his eyes trained on the wall in front of him. "Even if the world betrays us, we will not be alone. We will see this through, even if we must forsake all else to do it."

o---o

This was it, Suzaku thought, as crew members ran system checks on the Lancelot. Ogi had initiated the first part of their plan, laying siege to El Alamein while they moved in on Gibraltar. They would break through the Federation's base on the north bank of the Gibraltar Strait, and from there they would be a mere stone's throw from France. A victory here could very well put them in a position to begin negotiations of surrender with Schneizel, but if Nunnally truly was dead... Well, if that were indeed the case, Suzaku doubted Lelouch would be so compassionate as to allow Schneizel to live. No, blood would be spilled in Nunnally's honor, Suzaku was sure.

The past few weeks had been a bloody one in and of itself, though. From the Congo River, they had fought no less than four battles against Federation forces between the river and Gibraltar, each time weakening the Federation's forces more and more. First it was a proper siege on Kisangani, a northern tributary to the Congo River. And then it was two assaults along the Suez Canal, first to Suez itself and then to Port Said, whereupon the Federation's naval route into Africa had been closed off, with the added effect of isolating El Alamein from the homeland. It was tedious and it seemed pointless, but direct orders from Lelouch had stated that a war of attrition would be the best way to ensure that Schneizel had not the means to turn the tables on them when it came time to fight a decisive battle. Todo had agreed wholeheartedly with Lelouch's idea, and they had drawn out Federation forces from the areas surrounding Gibraltar, as well as forcing them to dispatch fresh reinforcements from the homeland, all of which had been swept up quickly and efficiently. More than one hundred Panzer-Hummels had been destroyed, more than fifty captured and in operating condition for their own use, and more than ten thousand captives taken.

These small victories came together to a more decisive victory at Tangier, where not only were Federation forces thoroughly routed, but the only other route into Africa from the sea had effectively been cut off. Ogi's efforts at El Alamein reached a headway when the Federation forces had been forced to make an offensive, whereupon they had immediately been driven back into their starved defenses, leaving the Federation's sole remaining position in Northern Africa isolated and starved for supplies, and control of the Mediterranean Sea was almost entirely their's, with the added effect of endangering the Federation's position in the Middle East.

It was shocking, how quickly they had achieved such a level of success. Their own forces were hardly any larger than any one of the many forces they had engaged in battle with, and only proper use of terrain and Todo's great aptitude for commanding had kept them going. Suzaku had left nearly all of his duties as Commander to Todo, instead preferring to fight on the frontlines with their troops. It had made a difference in the end; the added strength of him and Karen had turned the tables against the Federation forces in just about every conflict. Suzaku would dare say that their presence had made the difference between victory and defeat, though he would never be so bold nor so arrogant as to say so to another person. Asserting himself as anything but the Black Knight that Lelouch had dubbed him was not something he cared to do.

"Lord Kururugi, this is it," Diethard's voice enveloped him, coming at him from all sides within the suddenly too small cockpit and breaking him free of the reminiscent thoughts that had claimed him. "For a progressive future, win!"

Blunt to the bitter end, even when speaking to a figure of authority. That was Diethard Ried, the faithful visionary that he was. So long as they kept the world moving in a spiral of exciting change, they would have his support. The need for his support was no longer there, but as an organizer and for purposes of intel, he had limitless uses. Suzaku wondered why Lelouch kept such a wild card at his side, but then, Lelouch had many that most would consider unworthy of trust. And though he loathed to admit it, Suzaku realized that he was probably one of those people. Betraying Britannia for your best friend hardly made you a trustworthy person, did it?

Trustworthy or not was hardly something Suzaku had the right to dictate. Lelouch had declared all too openly, albeit wordlessly, that everything was in his hands. Their terms with the other leaders of the United States were nulled almost immediately, and with the exception of home security and the occasional appearance within Army High Command, Lelouch was in control of everything from domestic policy to politics to military affairs. Lelouch single-handedly took it all upon himself, effectively using his position as King as a means to convince the other leaders that his decisions had benefit for them all. And so if Lelouch said a war of attrition with the Federation of Europe was the best for their overall goal of toppling Britannia, they didn't question him. If he said making use of a reporter obsessed with being at the forefront of a massive change was something that they should do, they went with it.

Africa, like China, had become a puppet in Lelouch's greater scheme. They were pacified with a false sense of independence, convinced into believing that they held their own cards and that they followed his orders only because it was best for them. Lelouch preyed on this hope of their's, manipulating each and every one of the United States' countries into being little more than colonies, not unlike the Areas of Britannia. And as cruel as that was, one couldn't help but be impressed with his ability to so transparently do so. The world was held by thin strings stretching from his fingers, dancing to his will like puppets to a puppeteer. The young Tianzi of the Empire of China was the worst of the lot, living a supposed life of independence free of the High Eunuchs' influence, when in fact her puppeteer's role had simply shifted from them to Lelouch. But the beauty of it was that she did not realize this, working with Japan's Representative, Kaguya, to further his influence in internal affairs.

And they did so because Lelouch requested it of them, with but a single twitch of one of the strings holding their wills.

Next to the Lancelot, Xingke's salvaged Shen-Hu was being prepped for launch under it's new pilot, Todo. Thankfully any damage it had sustained fighting the Knight of One had been easy to deal with, and the Frame was already fully repaired and ready to be fielded once again. Having checked over the Frame himself, Suzaku had to wonder is using it was a good idea – he could see why Xingke had often been so tired and out of breath after piloting it. The strain it put on the body was enormous! But Xingke had persevered, and so too could Todo, right?

"I'm launching!" Suzaku shouted, racing along the length of the linear catapult while his float system activated itself, finally allowing him to accelerate and fly off of the end of the catapult, into the open skies beyond. Already, several Akatsuki and Gekka were on the deck, fending off aircrafts as they neared the Hogosha. Their efforts were hampered slightly by the Gefjun field the Hogosha emitted, but they still operated well enough to keep the enemy at bay. Any brazen enough to attack in the first place met tragic ends as they were met with either several rounds from a rifle or a slash harken, neither of which left much chance for survival. Suzaku ignored those already surrounding the ship, focusing instead on the aircrafts still approaching. While they were handling things so far, even the weakest of enemies could pull through if the Hogosha were to be overwhelmed.

He brought his Hadron blaster up to his shoulder, briefly taking fire before he fired, turning as he fired so that the stream tore through several aircrafts before it died out. The result was one of sickening satisfaction, with no less than fifteen signals being lost one after the other. The sheer number of jets was overwhelming, and many of them had forsaken their suicidal charge toward the Hogosha in favor of cornering the Lancelot. Faster than Suzaku could react, he was moving up and down and all around in a desperate attempt to avoid countless jets all firing at him at once. The bullets that did hit home did minimal damage, but it was obvious that they could get the job done were he to just let them hit him.

"The Black Knight!" one of them cried out, partly out of fear and partly out of excitement; which spurred the pilot in question into suddenly trying to take out the Lancelot with it in a suicidal charge, Suzaku wasn't sure. He swerved to the side and swung with one of his MVS, using the explosive cover to make his way around the encirclement of jets he was facing. He dove in and around several of them, taking out one either with a swing of his MVS or a slash harken when he could safely do so without leaving himself open to attack. The thirty swarming around him soon became forty, however, and before he could properly prepare himself, it had become fifty.

Oh, what he wouldn't give to have had enough space to use the Hadron blaster...

"Suzaku!" cried Karen warningly, giving him only a few seconds to move before a Fukushahado wave flew past, destroying many of the jets. Suzaku followed through with his Hadron blaster, and the two streams made short work of the many jets around them. Any survivors were left sorely outmatched and quite possibly unarmed, if the sheer amount of firepower they had seen bounce harmlessly off of their shields had been any indication, and the wise decision to retreat was made. "Rushing off to battle," Karen laughed, though it was without humor. "Really..."

"We have to clear the strait," Suzaku replied stiffly, and the mirthless laughter ceased immediately. "We must be Lelouch's swords here. Are you ready?"

The two Frames danced around one another while they continued to fight off approaching jets, first by the tens and then by the hundreds. Schneizel's willingness to sacrifice so many lives was surprising, but there was something else to it, Suzaku was sure. But what? What could he be planning, to so readily risk so many lives? Obviously he was biding his time, trying to keep them from the north bank – and Suzaku doubted this was simply because the battle would be one-sided in their favor were the north bank to be reached. What few were outfitted to properly fight Knightmare Frames hardly made the difference; evidently Schneizel had run into problems trying to convince everybody how real the threat of Knightmare Frames against aerial forces was, and thusly had been given minimal armaments to properly address the situation. This benefited Suzaku greatly, and he was grateful that he seldom had to worry about the anti-armor weaponry that some jets had been outfitted with, derived from the Soviet anti-tank guns that had been used up until the modernized integration of Knightmare Frames into military forces.

Those outfitted for anti-KMF combat were also armed with a reverse-engineered variation of the slash harken, which posed no small problem for the vastly outnumbered Lancelot. Even with it's speed, it took increasingly superhuman feats of skill to successfully dodge torrents of artillery and a slash harken. The Guren was able to provide support, but both took a hard hit from their lack of long ranged weaponry; the Lancelot had a standard rifle, as did the Guren, and they both had their respective weapons in the Hadron blaster and the Fukushahado-infused claw arm. The VARIS provided little support in that regard as well, though it's more specified uses limited it's usefulness anyway. This left Suzaku nearly a sitting duck where fighting was concerned, able to do little more than continue to dodge until he or Karen could get off an attack that would weaken their foe even a little bit. Their only hope rested in the possibility of the enemy assault coming to a sudden halt, but as it stood Schneizel's plan to bide his time appeared to be quite successful.

While Karen threw up her shields and took the brunt of the assault, Suzaku used the opportunity to attack in earnest. The many jets and other aerial forces – many were stealth aircrafts – were helpless before the Lancelot, and with the issue of the Guren occupying their attention, many were made short work of by Suzaku. It helped that the sky was particularly cloudy, which limited visibility just enough to aid him without hindering his own ability; he needed less precise vision to operate properly, whereas the pilots of aircrafts required perfect vision so as to maximize accuracy. Slash harkens broke through wisps of clouds and rifle rounds tore through the air, dying the sky red with the resultant explosions of aircrafts all throughout.

And the true battle still had yet to begin. Was a battle so bloody the only thing that could truly appease Lelouch now?

o---o

Intel was a great thing to have control over, primarily because it allowed for quick responses to any new developments. Normally, Lelouch used the United States' vast information network simply to keep up on the things even Army High Command didn't get to is ears. But when infiltrated spies confirmed not only Schneizel's plans to go to Gibraltar himself, but also that four children wearing the uniforms of Ashford Academy had arrived at the Sacré-Cœur Basilica by the hand of an eccentric man with silver hair and an eerie disposition, Lelouch was very much inclined to go to the frontlines himself. C.C. had expressed much the same sentiment, wanting to fulfill her end of their newly made contract by destroying what remained of the Geass in the world, and thus the Gawain – the Hakumei had decidedly been left behind in order to minimize the time it would take them to mobilize – was now being loaded onto a transport plane capable of holding up to five KMFs, though it was to be carrying only the Gawain for this trip.

"Mao is with Schneizel," he said in no uncertain terms, finishing the buttoning of a billowing black cape around his neck. The part that wrapped around his neck was lined with golden embroidery, accentuating his choice of clothing for this particular trip – a close fitting white outfit, with golden embroidery lining most every inch of the fabric and a small hat that had a green plume falling behind it and almost seemed to have an eye engraved into the front of it, otherwise vaguely resembling a pirate's uniquely shaped hat except, as had been noted, smaller. The shirt was high collared, clinging firmly to his neck and pressing even tighter with the clasp of his cape constricting it. Over the dressy shirt was an additional article with the purpose of further accentuating his black cape, with the same white that the rest of his outfit held, and golden lining on either of the two straps that fell loosely over his shoulders. The clothing should have made piloting uncomfortable, reasonably speaking, but with how much space the Gawain's cockpit had, it was hardly a problem. C.C. was wearing the white suit she often wore, courtesy of Lelouch when he had discovered her strange liking for the straitjacket-like outfit she had been found in. Her clothes closely matched his own, a pearly white with golden lining down the chest, around the waist and weaving around the fingers of her gloves. On her shoulders was a small red cape that reached only to her shoulder blades, a mostly sardonic insult to his own superiority over her. But of course she knew that.

"Does this bother you?" C.C. asked, just as she did whenever anything unexpected came up. It was like a very unnecessary ritual that both were too acquainted with to give up. "He killed Nunnally. And apparently, he took your friends from you. This isn't about me anymore, Lelouch." She smiled mirthlessly, swatting his hand away when it went to move a single strand of hair over her shoulder to join the rest, and she did so herself. "He isn't after you to get to me anymore. He's after you because he has a score to settle with you."

Lelouch nodded, pulling on the hat on his head so that the awkwardly shaped thing would settle properly over his never growing hair – an unfortunate victim of his body's inability to age. "It is better that way," he said confidently. He dropped his arms after another moment of fiddling with the hat, letting his somewhat unkempt hair fall out from beneath it at weird angles. Only his natural ability to pass off even the worst attempts at proper care of his hair as passable efforts allowed him to save face, but the sour look that crossed his face momentarily broke the serious spell in their room, and C.C. found it in her to laugh at him. He smiled too, though his was far more feral and was born of far more sinister thoughts than mild amusement. "I will draw him out and deal with him at my leisure. Not having to worry for your safety makes taking care of him easier."

It didn't need to be said that this flattered C.C. in some strange way, and she seemed to be in no hurry to say so anyway. The way her eyes lit up ever so slightly at the implication that he truly cared for her wellbeing, which was more than could likely be said for just about everybody else she had known for a long time, was enough to tell him he hadn't blundered his words. But that strange, affectionate exchange would go no farther than that, as C.C.'s expression quickly turned into the smug, teasing expression that was just as awkward in the tense situation as her humor was. "If I recall, you required the aid of another back then. Are you sure you can do it alone this time?"

Lelouch's way with words was not a reciprocated talent, and C.C. immediately bit back the teasing remark that would have followed his response when he offered no response at all. In fact, her words had the opposite effect on him than was intended; he fell onto the bed, his shoulders slumped and his arms resting limply between his slightly parted legs. He kept his eyes on the ground so as to hide the anguish that wrought itself into his face against his will. "I will avenge Nunnally," he said firmly, but it was quieter than he had intended it to be. "I will not forgive him for taking her from me, just like I won't forgive the Knight of Ten for taking Clovis. Before I see things through, I will make sure Clovis and Nunnally are avenged. Otherwise, I will never be able to look my friends in the eyes again. I promised that I would protect Nunnally."

"Don't lie," said C.C. sharply. She dropped to her knees between his legs, placing one hand on either thigh while she softly pressed her lips to his. While Lelouch recoiled, her ever famous smirk returned in full force, and she pounced on his weakness. "You don't care what your friends will think. You care only for satisfying your own need to avenge them."

"Perhaps," Lelouch mumbled, too shocked to get out anything else.

"We will see this through," C.C. continued, squeezing tighter and tighter on his thighs as she added more force to her voice. "You told me we are partners, allies... friends, right? We fight together."

Finally Lelouch managed the smallest of smiles, caught somewhere between a timid one and an ever widening smirk; clearly, C.C. thought, the conflicting thoughts in his head were running rampant. His hand moved to hold her cheek, stroking it softly with the pad of his thumb while he leaned in. At the last second he lost his cool, instead pressing his lips between her brows, letting them linger for a few drawn out seconds before withdrawing. "I will kill Mao. I will have him know the sort of pain he bestowed upon me, and then the Knight of Ten shall follow. Both will know what it feels like to know nothing but anguish, and sorrow. While I am sure Mao has an idea, I will instill him with that knowledge anew."

o---o

Todo cursed silently as yet another Longdan was destroyed by the fleet extended along the horizon in front of them. He had anticipated a difficult battle, and one that would all too harshly show Lord Kururugi what he had meant where fighting battles where casualties were nonexistent was naive. What he hadn't anticipated was the enemy fighting back so fiercely, matching their own efforts perfectly. Their battle plan depended upon being able to reach the shore with minimal damage to their own forces – otherwise they would have too few forces to overpower those defending the base itself – but now...

For the past four and a half hours, the Strait of Gibraltar had been a massive battleground unlike any Todo had seen before, even in his proudest days serving in the defense of Japan in the Second Pacific War. The line of ten Bismarck-class battleships, all of whom were armed just as well as the ship from which their class had been named, before them was none too easy to silence, and they vastly overpowered the Longdan's relatively limited weaponry. For the first time since he had taken to arms by the side of the legendary Zero, Todo felt as though their power wasn't enough. And after so long a time spent where their power had been superior to their foe's, the feeling of having to compensate for their lack of power was disconcerting and unfamiliar.

"More aircrafts approaching!" somebody shouted. From their position in the air, considerably higher up than any of their naval forces, they were still the primary target of the Federation's persistent aerial forces. The Lancelot and the Guren continued to hound them at every turn, but they could only do so much against so many. The troops they had placed upon the deck of the Hogosha were desperate in their efforts to keep the enemy away from the ship, though, and Todo was grateful for their presence. Else, the Hogosha would surely have joined her many comrades whom had already met an unfortunate end on the Strait of Gibraltar.

"Where is Lord Kururugi?" Todo demanded loudly. Why they so willingly allowed Lord Kururugi to run around on the battlefield instead of following orders was beyond him, and he didn't like the idea either. Unified strength could only come from following order, and Lord Kururugi had no mind for that. None of the United States' famed Five Knights did, save perhaps for Lord Gottwald.

"He is being held down further ahead! Lord Kozuki is surrounded as well!" Todo cursed vehemently. The idea of going out in the Shen-Hu to assist briefly entered his mind, but he refused to entertain such thoughts. He had more composure than that, to be so quickly drawn into the necessity to fight. He was not like Lord Kururugi, who found his only use to be on the battlefield. No, Kyoshiro Todo could be useful for a great many other things. He was a commander, somebody whom the Japanese saw as an icon of their resistance against Britannia from the days before Zero had appeared before them, throwing about convincing words and delivering shell shocking victories that none other could have been capable of. Unlike Lord Kururugi and the others with whom Lelouch placed so much trust, he was able to fill just about any role the army required of him. And as such, he could not simply run off and carry out his simplest of whims.

"Focus on the center fleets!" Todo shouted to whoever would listen and relay the orders elsewhere. "We break through and head for the shore. Worry about the rest of them then."

The Hogosha shook violently and rapidly as another shell crashed into it, exploding on contact and tearing ever so slightly at the exterior of the ship. Papers that had previously been resting on the table next to him – casualty reports and records of munitions from the rest of the army, one for each Longdan cruiser at their disposal – were sent flying all about him, landing all over the floor. While he set to collecting them and returning them to a proper order, the ship again shook and he crouched low to avoid being shaken by the blast. Several people cried out in surprise when it hit.

Todo turned to the man responsible for keeping watch over the happenings of the battle beyond the ship's hull, questions in his narrowed eyes. The man kept eye contact as he said firmly, "The enemy are focusing their attacks on us. We will be safe if we can drive through them, but..."

"The likelihood of breaking through before we're sunk is low," Todo finished, turning on his heel and returning to his station at the table in the center. "All pilots still on hand are to prepare themselves with proper infantry equipment and then report to their KMFs. Fit as many as we can on the deck, and start firing. If possible try to get word to Lord Kururugi and request aid, but I'll not place our hopes in him."

The ship shook again, though rather than it being from the force of an enemy attack, it was from the sheer force of the two cannons armed on the Hogosha as they fired. Todo watched with trepidation as the large shells arced downward, crashing into two of the battleships and exploding. Neither were destroyed, but the Hogosha and it's accompanying fleet found themselves spared from the destructive judgment of several of the two battleships' armaments, particularly their cannons and some of their turrets. Faced with the sudden counterattack, the enemy fleet began to part as the Hogosha began to lower itself closer to the water. Todo simply hoped they would be able to keep the enemy fleet at bay and keep them from turning the tide with the advantageous position they were being given.

While cheers filled the command center in light of their recent success in breaching the enemy position, Todo asked, "How long until we reach the shore?"

"Shortly, Commander," one of the crew members replied giddily, bouncing on the toes of his boots in his palpable excitement. "Shall we prepare our forces for deployment?"

Todo nodded, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with his index and thumb while he flexed his free hand's fingers. "Prepare Squads One, Two and Three for launch. Squads Four and Five are to remain on standby – this is to be relayed to all ships."

The crew member gave him a weird look, probably wondering why not all of their forces were going to be deployed immediately. With the situation as it was, one would likely have thought that a swift assault on the base would be ideal. But Todo knew better than to so recklessly send their troops to their deaths; the beach of Gibraltar was downhill from the base itself, and if the rumors stating that Schneizel himself was in command were true, than Todo knew that they would have Panzer-Hummel stationed along the hilltop to bombard them as they deployed onto the beach. It would be a race to the top that could not simply be fixed by sending out more and more combatants, and doing so would only invite further casualties.

While the crew member finally turned around and began speaking into the headset placed over his head, Todo waved over Ogi from his position elsewhere in the room. "Take care of things here," he said gruffly as Ogi approached, placing the papers he'd picked up along the table. As he left the room, he added, "Prepare the Shen-Hu for launch," over his shoulder, before the door shut behind him.

o---o

"Suzaku, to your left!" Karen cried, ducking away from another aircraft as it neared, rounds firing from it's guns all the while. Despite her plight, Karen was well aware that she was getting off easy when compared to Suzaku, who in the past four hours had destroyed no less than two hundred aircrafts and had to replace the Lancelot's battery twice. She'd just replaced her battery for the second time recently, but it seemed that priority dictated that the enemy focus on the Lancelot, and so she had been spared the overwhelming force that assailed Suzaku regularly. It had gotten to the point where they had both agreed to cut communications with everything but the Hogosha's command center and themselves, allowing them to focus on the battle as much as they would like.

Suzaku turned in the air and fired a slash harken to his left, while with his right hand he aimed and fired at another aircraft with his VARIS rifle. This was followed immediately by firing another shot at another aircraft as it passed through the lingering smoke from the aircraft that had been destroyed before it, while he grabbed one of his MVS with his other hand and swung at another aircraft, both of which were immediately replaced by another two aircrafts. His entire body felt numb from the stress of his fighting, endlessly striving simply to survive against the overwhelming force set against him. The need for rest grew stronger with every movement he urged the Lancelot to make, each motion drawing from the strength it would have required him to make the motion himself, as though the Lancelot were simply a suit of armor that impeded his own actions.

"There's no end to them!" he cried, pulling himself out of the path of another aircraft as it opened fire on him. As it passed he kicked out, tossing it aside with his foot. While the pilot tried to right himself, Suzaku swung down on it with his MVS. As per expectation, he immediately had to fire with his VARIS to fend off another aircraft as it drew closer. "How is the Hogosha doing?"

"Not good," Karen replied grimly. While Suzaku again dodged away from approaching aircrafts, she placed herself between them and the Lancelot, throwing out her claw arm and firing a Fukushahado wave, turning in place and destroying any unlucky enough to be caught within the wide radius of her attack. Explosions lined the horizon all across her field of vision. "How many more of these guys are there?!" she cried, when she saw that her efforts did little to dent the waves of aircrafts approaching from the base. Within a minute, the horizon was once again swarming with aircrafts, stubbornly brazen to the bitter end. Suicidal as well, though something within Karen felt sick acknowledging that detail.

Suzaku came up beside her with his Hadron blaster lowered along the outstretched length of the Lancelot's right arm, the wide, blue barrel already brimming with a blood red light. A moment later it fired, tearing into the approaching aircrafts like a knife through very warm, very inadequately armed butter. Like Karen he turned as he fired, letting the stream drag it's way across the horizon and once again dye it red with the explosions of their enemies. At least fifty good men died in that brief period of five seconds, a fact that did not go unnoticed by either of them. It was difficult to decide which was worse; the fact that Schneizel was willing to so casually send so many in a suicidal assault on the United States' two aces, or that they were able to kill so many without any feeling of remorse.

Down below, the twelve Longdan that comprised their fleet had formed into an arrowhead with the Hogosha resting slightly overhead, as though leading them like a needle on a compass. The daring armada was nearly within docking range of the shoreline, where the Hogosha would begin dropping Knightmare Frames in parachute variations of the Knightmare VTOL, and the Longdan would lay down their gangways for the Han-Shu to pour onto the beach. Already Suzaku could see the fruit of the Federation's labors; at the top of the hill where the base itself rested, Panzer-Hummel were forming lines with their cannons pointed toward the sky, likely having been carefully aimed to bombard the beach the moment their troops deployed. From there it would be a race to reach the top of the hill before the next volley, and by the looks of things, the sheer firepower the Federation had amassed would make matters rather difficult.

"Try to break through and attack their lines!" Suzaku cried, charging toward the base as fast as the Lancelot could possibly move. Behind him the Guren was following, but rising from the base was a fresh dispatch of aircrafts, and Suzaku doubted he'd be able to get through them and reach the base before his battery once again ran out. Karen seemed to understand this as well, and she began a descent toward the base while he continued toward the approaching line of fresh enemy forces. While he could count only ten, maybe fifteen, his radar assured him that there were more than fifty to be fought. Suzaku simply hoped that this would be the last of their air force; any more and he feared that they would overcome him with numbers alone.

Again he extended his Hadron blaster along the length of his right arm, closing one eye while with the other he took aim. With as many enemies as there were and with as much power as using the Hadron blaster afforded him – lacking the Gefjun disturber that the Gawain had been outfitted with, the Lancelot required far more power to use a stabilized Hadron weapon – he needed a good shot, else he knew he'd soon be doomed. As they approached, the aircrafts began grouping closer together, more than likely with the intent of fighting him as a group, like they had been doing all along. Suzaku smirked as that thought registered itself in his mind, moments before he fired. The concentrated radius of their aircrafts made the job of wiping them out relatively simple; in the wake of his Hadron blast, less than five brazen planes remained, none of which had the gall to face him as they were.

But even his finest efforts had little effect on the battle as a whole. Below, their fleet was already being put into a most dire predicament as they drew to a halt at the shore. The Han-Shu that drove out onto the beach and the Knightmare Frames being dropped onto the beach from the Hogosha were destroyed under a rain of shells as the Panzer-Hummel fired in unison, and even some of the Frames from the second wave suffered from the force of the Federation's assault. Those that survived lowered their landspinners and made for the hilltop, but finding proper footing in the sand was no simple matter and their progress was stunted further by the rounds fired at them as they drew closer. For the first time, Suzaku saw his own allies suffering from the sort of decisive destruction that they usually left in their wake.

The Longdan were faring no better than the troops they deployed. The battleships that comprised the Federation's navy had worked their way around to the rear of their own fleet, and had begun firing on the pyramid-shaped ships anew. Already three had been destroyed, and though the Hogosha had managed to turn itself around to try to fend off their assailants, the battle was decisively one-sided. Even if the Hogosha had the defensive capacity to hold it's own for a while yet, the same could not be said of their allies. Suzaku gritted his teeth, ultimately aware that the battle was a lost cause. But even if they could not take the base, he'd not let his allies die trying to take a base that could not be taken.

Moments before he could charge toward the enemy battleships, however, he was beaten to the punch. In less than ten seconds, two of the battleships had been engulfed in flames, consumed by two wide streams of black and red.

o---o

"Two battleships destroyed," C.C. said mockingly, her hands gripping tighter at her controls while the incessant tapping of Lelouch's fingers as he made precise altercations to the aiming of the Hadron cannons that only he could accurately make filled the air. The transport plane that had carried them to the battlefield was far behind, abandoned when it became apparent that they would be better off making use of the Gawain rather than relying on a much-too-slow plane for escorting purposes.

Though very surprised to see the despondent state of matters when they arrived, Lelouch had remained relatively indifferent to seeing his army on the verge of collapse. Their arrival had gone without notice on account of the Gefjun masking their signal, and Lelouch had decided instead to aim for the opposing fleet with the intent of decimating them before rallying his crumbling army and urging them forward. She had tried to reason with him, C.C. tried to convince herself, but Lelouch simply would not be dissuaded. He had arrogantly said that he could turn the battle around, unknowing or uncaring of the fact that C.C. knew he could and was instead more concerned about the repercussions of forcing his broken army to continue fighting.

"Meaning?" Lelouch quipped jovially, firing the Hadron cannons a second time. For the extent of their burst C.C. complimented his action by moving the Gawain ever so slightly, dragging the streams forward so that, aside from the battleship he struck, the streams tore into two others. Neither were hit critically enough to be destroyed, but neither had the means to do much more than ride the waves or charge valiantly at one of the Longdans and take it with them. Lelouch laughed all the while, insanely and without restraint, openly indulging in the destruction he wrought. By this time, the distant form of the Lancelot had turned toward them, but Lelouch paid his Black Knight no heed. There were more important matters than comforting his right hand for his failure.

Without Lelouch's urging the Gawain began descending toward what remained of the Federation's proud navy, loosing it's Hadron cannons once again in a proud declaration of the Knightmare Frame's superiority over all war machines to have come before it. The two flaming battleships exploded instantly on contact, while a third was turned into the smoldering heap of steel that the two before it had been. Lelouch needed not do a thing, allowing C.C. to hold all of the Gawain's power, if only for the moment. From his vantage point in the higher of the two seats in the large cockpit, Lelouch joyously drummed his fingers along the golden armrests to either side of him, grinning inanely and without care for those left in a see of flames below. C.C. surely had no smile to offer for the situation, but in light of her usual behavior, this detail was none too surprising to him.

"Lelouch!" Suzaku called, his voice ringing through the air through the Lancelot's communication speakers, eliciting a pitying groan from Lelouch – C.C.'s nearly inaudible chuckle was hidden in the midst of his dejected response. C.C. moved her hands when she felt the Gawain begin to move in a manner that wasn't of her own doing, allowing Lelouch to take control while she reclined into her seat and let her tired eyes droop. Lelouch meanwhile made it a mission of sorts to avoid Suzaku, focusing instead on the increasingly desperate situation their army faced on the beach of Gibraltar. On top of the Panzer-Hummel raining hell on them from above, the Avalon had risen from the base, and from it's catapult shot numerous VTOL, all aiming for a smooth descent toward the beach. Karen was harassing them as best she could, but what remained of the base's air force was holding her at bay. The Shen-Hu had also launched, to Lelouch's mild surprise, but with Todo as it's pilot, it was not the feared brother Knightmare Frame to the Guren that it had been considered to be with Xingke as it's pilot. Evidently, Lelouch thought, they needed his intervention to prevent them from facing annihilation.

Which was sort of amusing, he noted, in light of his subordinates' obvious attempts to grow less dependent on their savior. All the same he appreciated their efforts; he wasn't fond of the idea of ruling the world for eternity which, were the United States to retain it's pseudo-monarchy policy, he would be stuck doing. Sooner or later, they would need to be able to act without the need to run to him for help. But it was clearly too soon to expect such independence of the people he had brought to the highest reaches of the world with him.

Forcing himself to ignore the poor state his poorly coordinated troops were in, Lelouch landed atop one of the battleships, flinging the slash harkens in his fingers into the hull of the battleship. Lelouch's head swam from the force with which the Gawain shook as the battleship exploded beneath it, surging the large Knightmare Frame back upward into the air. While he tried to right both his senses and his vision, C.C. took control of the Gawain almost immediately and landed on the nearest battleship, repeating the process. As she brought the Gawain into the air again, Lelouch quickly threw up it's massive shield as a shell fired from one of the other battleships crashed into it's chest. Again Lelouch's head spun as the cockpit shook violently, but C.C. managed to stabilize them before it grew unbearable.

"Lelouch, we need to retreat," C.C. said gravely, concern evident in her mostly flat tone of voice. "If we stay any longer..."

"I will not give Schneizel this victory!" cried Lelouch. Irate, he took over the piloting once again, steering the Gawain away from another shell before firing the Hadron cannons again, this time letting both streams drive into the forward and aft of the same battleship, destroying it almost immediately. "Schneizel will not win, C.C.! No matter what I must risk," now he spoke quieter, voice little more than a deathly whisper, "I will see to it that I take Schneizel down here. I---"

He stopped suddenly, as the warning of an incoming signal displayed itself on his radar. He turned in place and threw up his shields just in time to block a sword as it swung toward his arm. The Knightmare Frame was not of a typical sort, if the Float System backpack spoke for anything, and it's unique appearance was not unfamiliar to Lelouch. It was the Vincent, the model he had previously thought to be unique for Rolo's use, with some slight changes. Notably was it's use of an oval shaped backpack with wings rather than the smaller backpack with four large, pointed wings that Rakshata had created, as well as the white color scheme that resembled Jeremiah's Edinburgh better than it did Rolo's Vincent. But the white color scheme rang out in Lelouch's mind like a blatant indicator, and his mind became clouded with overwhelming rage and emotion.

Lelouch pulled back, bringing his arms out in front of him and bringing the golden fingers to point. At once they fired, weaving around the Vincent with the intent of wrapping themselves around it. Lelouch would not have the displeasure of not seeing Mao's face as he died, not after all the anguish Mao had caused both C.C. and himself. No, Mao's death was one he would see with his own eyes, the tips of his shoes resting in the gradually growing pool of blood beneath his weakening body, leaving the stained ground with the memory of his presence. The mere thought made Lelouch so absolutely satisfied that all thoughts of the battle and of his allies' fates was forgotten. He knew only that moment, with the Gawain's fingers growing ever closer to binding Mao while he charged at the Gawain once again, his MVS glistening in the sun as it approached the horizon.

"Lelouch...!"

"Mao...!"

No matter what, Lelouch thought, one man would finally have their justice. And he couldn't help but laugh derisively at the thought of Mao winning, only to be denied his prize.

o---o

Night had fallen several hours ago, leaving the guards of the empty Sacré-Cœur Basilica for foes that, if they were even there, would likely go by unseen and undisturbed. Over nine hundred and fifty miles away, His Highness was still on the frontlines, where the world's bane Lelouch Lamperouge had taken command of his battered forces. What had initially been a relatively simple siege on Gibraltar had turned into an all out onslaught, with both sides attacking and withdrawing at random intervals. Thrice had the United States forces tried to breach their defenses both on the beach and in the air, ultimately repelled every time by the combined efforts of His Highness and Lord Mao, the latter of whom had rallied their air forces and had apparently taken to fighting the Demon King himself.

At least, that was what the guards on duty aboard the Avalon, just more members of the widespread and ultimately overshadowed guard network within the Federation of Europe, said. The battle should logically have ended hours ago, or so they said, and only the timely arrival of the Demon King and his equally demonic Knightmare Frame, the Gawain, had turned the tide even remotely against their defending hordes. That accursed Knightmare Frame, initially built by Lord Lloyd and under the watchful eye of His Highness, was the theoretical backbone of the United States' forces. Not even the feared Black Knight could measure up to the Demon King where raw destructive power and solid defense was concerned.

Ironic? Not really. Tragic? Maybe a little. They got their pay, and so things like ironic and tragic mattered to little. To them, tragic was having night shift guarding His Highness' quarters. The door might as well have been made of ice, considering how cold they felt standing near it. A feeling not unlike being in the presence of His Highness at any time, which guards all throughout the basilica feared as greatly as the much loathed night shift.

Tonight the night shift, a role that still needed filling even in the absence of His Highness, rested to two of the 'new recruits' – specifically, those who had not been serving His Highness prior to him surreptitiously conquering the Euro Universe. Unsurprisingly, the 'new recruits' were vastly outnumbered by the 'regulars' – they being the ones whom had betrayed Britannia alongside His Highness – on account of the shameless fear many held for His Highness, and it was they who got the more important duties. These days, those duties ranged from serving aboard the Avalon, where many of them presently were, to guarding the villas of influential figures whom His Highness considered to be worth his protection. They simply counted their blessings, thanking whatever deity they could that His Highness judged worthiness in talents and usefulness to his own aims, and not in money or political influence. Many didn't dare think what sort of nobility they would have to play bodyguard for, were that to be the case.

The front entrance was fittingly dubbed the birthday shift by most. There, it was the closest thing to heaven they got from within the depths of hell. The shift was relatively easy, with very little action – how many would-be assassins use front entrance, anyway? - and the cool night air soothed them in a way that an eight to twelve hour shift inside the basilica never could. It was there that one Simon Abel, a 'new recruit' who had been drafted into His Highness' guard after his father had been fired from his job working at one of the EU's recently demolished Knightmare Frame factories, had been assigned for the night. It had been a night he had been looking forward to for weeks, knowing that he had the next day off and could get some proper rest and quality time with his family before returning to the monotony of palace – basilica? - life the following day.

But Simon Abel, a man most knew to be of average height and build, with raven black hair that had only just begun greying with age, was not to be found. In light of this, the Captain of His Highness' guard, Captain Clause di Borden, had done a head count. When just one man had been found without a station to report to for the night, he had given the authorized decision for the guard in question to be run through protocols – as it would not have been the first time an assassin had decided to pose as a mysterious guard, and they dared not rule out the possibility even though His Highness was absent – and then placed on duty as Simon Abel's replacement.

And so it had come to be that one hour ago, forty seven year old Joseph Fennete had been assigned to the guarding of the Sacré-Cœur Basilica's front entrance. His hands were cold from holding a rifle in the chill night air, but he didn't even feel the slightest chill they should have offered. All he felt was the warmth of the blood that had stained them just two hours ago, when he'd taken to arms and murdered Simon Abel in cold blood for little reason other than a necessity to worm his way into His Highness' guard. Having only held a rifle before and never fired, his heart was still racing from the memory alone. And he felt sick, subjecting a family to the sort of anguish he had only recently learned he may have a hope of averting. Granted, it was that hope that led him to ruining another family for his own, but he felt sick all the same.

He didn't let it consume him, though. If there was anything favorable of what his daughter's friend was showing the world in his swift grasping of it's roots, it was that people changed when it came time to pursue what needed to be pursued. His darling daughter had described Lelouch Lamperouge, her longtime crush, as a kind boy, even if he was a bit cynical and none too arrogant at the best of times. He had a charm that could woo just about any woman without even intending to, and he had the sort of natural grace that, as irony would have it, she had described to be much too regal for a normal man. Shirley idolized the boy, placed him on a pedestal to the point where Joseph was about ready to take leave from work to go to Area 11, intent on offering his daughter's hand to the boy the old fashioned way – according to her, Lelouch was much too inexperienced and innocent to realize or pursue such things as love.

But he had changed. He had become a ruthless, masked terrorist. He had killed without remorse. He had raised an army and pacified the Chinese Federation, only to turn their nation into a base of power for his brazen march into Area 11. In less than a year he had turned the world asunder, removed Britannia from it's center stage position and placed himself in the Empire's place. He was a man to be feared, one whom the world revolved around, while he spun it on the tip of his slender finger. He was still charming, that much could be said simply by listening to the starstruck tales girls spoke of him in hushed tones, but he was a different man entirely than Shirley had made him out to be. And Joseph couldn't help but wonder sometimes, what would have become of his daughter had she pursued a romantic relationship with him, only to be dragged into his violent affairs later.

And in much the same manner, her father had changed as well. No longer was he the caring man who frowned upon the slightest injustice, the model father that had made his darling daughter into the wonderful person she was. No, he was now a murderer, not unlike the man whom had – hopefully, he didn't still – owned her heart. He had blood on his hands, and why? To save his daughter and her friends from the clutches of a man who he had once bowed to without a second thought? It was perfectly justified to him, but how was that any different than how Lelouch acted? Surely Lelouch thought what he was doing was justified as well, even if Joseph thought otherwise. They both had blood on their hands for different reasons, and neither could find it in them to grieve for those whom they had killed. In some twisted way, it was justified because it meant they hadn't lost anything. And that was what mattered, right? His daughter was one step to being safe, so it was okay if another family suffered to that end.

Joseph spat to the side, watching the white glob of his saliva make a satisfying 'splat' on the ground, much like a water balloon as it hits it's intended target. It seemed like a casual movement, and one the man next to him had done countless times over, but to Joseph it was a necessary movement to rid himself of these increasingly self-serving and disgusting thoughts. But they refused to leave his mind, preying on his every insecurity and replacing them with certainties. What ifs and whys became simple explanations – if he asked why a family had to suffer, his subconscious reminded him that his family would have suffered otherwise. He knew this wasn't right, he knew it was wrong, but he felt good telling himself that. The blood on his hands felt like it was worth it when he thought like that.

"Getting close to the turn of the hour," the man next to him said gruffly, slinging the strap of his rifle across his chest so that it dangled at his back without needing to be held. "I've got to take a piss. Keep an eye out," he added, and then disappeared inside the basilica. Joseph checked his watch, confirming the time while he straightened the hat on his head. It was now or never. Looking from side to side quickly, he paced silently into the basilica, turning off down a hall while the other guard continued forward, to where the first floor restrooms were. Joseph kept walking until he came to a flight of stairs, where he made his way up to the second floor as quietly as he could. The light boots on his feet thudded quietly despite his best efforts, but one would have to either be looking for such a sound or be in very close range to be able to notice his footfalls.

On the second floor there were several guards pacing the halls, rifles held tightly in their hands. It was a sure sign that there was something that required safekeeping on the floor, though Joseph had already been thorough in his investigation of the basilica. The holding room for the students was in one of the unused quarters in the east wing on the second floor, where security was at it's tightest. Here, Joseph knew that stealth was a needless asset – getting through unseen was impossible. Pulling the pistol slung at his side, he fired it at the nearby surveillance camera, only seconds away from spotting him at his crouched position in front of the glass doors that separated the staircase from the second floor's main hallway. It wouldn't take them long to realize that something was wrong, and then the guards on the first floor would be on their way. But if he could get the students to the third floor...

Joseph waited until the first guard on patrol was passing by, and then threw the door open and fired with his pistol. He thanked the mandatory – by Britannian military law, anyway – firearm training he had been subjected to annually for the last fifteen years as the round landed firmly in the side of the guard's head, killing him instantly. Checking his immediate surroundings, Joseph shot another surveillance camera hanging over an ornate door before he continued on his way.

After passing three more doors, all identical to the first, he came to a hallway that extended to the second floor pews of the sanctuary. Two guards were standing at attention, one to either side of the large double doors. They both looked extremely bored, one tapping his foot while he examined his rifle far too thoroughly while the other had his rifle dangling from his chest, leaning back and reclining against the wall. Neither would have noticed him if he were to keep to the wall, but Joseph wasn't fond of running that risk.

The decision on how to deal with the matter was relatively simple. Leaving his rifle where it was, Joseph waited until the more alert of the guard – the one inspecting his gun, as opposed to the insides of his eyelids – was all but burying his face in his rifle before he abandoned his cover. He fired once, and the guard flew back comically as the bullet landed in the center of his forehead, blood pouring from the small wound profusely. This alerted the second guard, but he didn't have time to remove his rifle's strap from around his neck before he too had a bullet lodged in his brain. The blue carpet beneath slowly turned red.

He ran across the now empty hallway, passing by more identically ornate doors and taking out two more surveillance cameras before finally coming to a halt in front of the second-to-last door on the same side that the hall leading to the sanctuary had been on. Far away he could hear the doors to the staircase he'd previously used slamming, and he knew that he didn't have the time to be standing there. Behind him were two glass doors like those to the stairs, and through them was a second staircase that would take them up to the third floor, where there were no guards on duty save for the ones guarding His Highness' personal quarters. And up there was a final staircase that would take them to the top of the entrance's overhang, where a helicopter piloted by one of his former work colleagues in Britannia was waiting for them. The difficult part would be getting that far with the entirety of the basilica's security following them, but that was the risk he was ready to take for his beloved daughter.

The door creaked softly against it's hinges as he pushed it open, taking care to look through the small opening before pushing it open all the way. The room was relatively ordinary, with a double sized bed in the middle and a polished wooden table to the right of the door, entirely hidden as the door opened. A window was placed over the bed, with a view of the night sky and the hill that lay beyond. And at the foot of the bed were the chairs that probably should have been situated around the table, one for each side of the square table and, apparently, one for each of the students held prisoner. Dressed in the same uniforms they had been taken captive in and looking none too fresh, the esteemed Student Council of the ruined Ashford Academy were seated, gagged by the mouth and with their arms and legs bound to the chair they sat in.

Shirley's eyes shot open when she identified who it was standing in the doorway, screaming muffled words into her gag. Joseph smiled serenely at her as he crossed over to her, pulling the gag down to rest around her neck but pulling her into a tight hug before she could speak. "I'm here now, Shirley," he whispered softly, running his hand through her hair. Her hair was somewhat oily and was almost repugnant to the touch, but Joseph was too far gone in the happiness of having his daughter once again in his arms to care. Just holding her as he was, he could almost feel the metaphorical blood washing from his hands. Knowing that he could once again hold his daughter as he was, any remnant guilty thoughts were banished from his mind. As disdainful as he was of the thought, he'd willingly kill again if it was for her safety.

"How did you get here, dad?" Shirley whispered into the crook of his neck, her head having moved to his shoulder so as to offer him enough mobility to remove her bindings.

Joseph didn't answer at first, busying himself with freeing her hands so that she could remove the gags from everybody else. When he was done that he retreated to remove the rope tying her legs, and he then said, "I did something awful, Shirley. Can you forgive me?"

Shirley leaned over the side of her chair to remove the gag from Milly's mouth before going to work on the rope tied around her wrists, taking the grim question in casual stride. "Of course I can, dad. What happened?"

Joseph resisted the urge to roll his eyes – had it been anybody except his daughter, he would have, for the question of what had happened was almost too obvious – and holstered his pistol, looking up at Shirley through his eyebrows while he continued to mechanically work on the rope around her ankles. "I've killed, Shirley. I have the blood of guards here on my hands – I killed out of a selfish need to save you. Entire families were ruined because I needed to satisfy myself."

"You had to, right?" Rivalz said the moment his gag had been removed by Milly, immediately going to work in turn on Nina's gag and wrists. "Otherwise, we would have..." He left the rest of the statement hanging in the air.

"That doesn't matter," Joseph said regretfully, wincing afterwards. He kept his eyes on his daughter, who's own eyes reflected both surprise and sympathy. "Justifying their deaths is not okay. I would be no better than everybody else if I did that."

"You mean Lelouch?" Shirley asked softly.

Joseph nodded. "I'll not judge him for following his heart, dear. But the time will come when the world will realize his that actions satisfy only himself."

Shirley slowly stood, releasing a shaky breath as the previously tight ropes around her ankles fell to the ground around her feat. Almost in perfect sync the rest of them rose, massaging either sore wrists or aching ankles while Joseph took his rifle into his hands, advancing on the door and checking to either side of it. The coast clear, he stood to the side and ushered the rest of them to the glass doors on the opposite side of the hallway, where the stairs to the third floor rested in plain view. "We have to get out of here before the guards catch up. Come on!" he said in a whispered yell, all but pushing Shirley out the doorway as she gave him a wondering stare.

"You left your job behind, didn't you, dad?" she asked as they went, throwing open the doors and stepping into the dimly lit room that acted as a go-between from the first, second and third floors. Although unnecessarily, Joseph turned the lock on the double glass doors before taking the stairs two at a time, careful to keep himself ahead of the rest of the pack while he thought best how to go about answering his daughter's question.

"I've had a lot to think about, Shirley," he murmured despondently as they ran, thighs burning as they rushed up the two flights of stairs that separated them from the third floor as quickly as they could. "You care about Lelouch, right?"

Shirley took a moment to respond, partly out of a need to consider a proper answer and partly out of a need to catch her breath as they reached the identical glass doors that took them out into the third floor hallway. "... Yes," she said sullenly, with her friends nodding their heads in reluctant agreement. Even Milly, known for being able to make light of a bleak situation, had a grim expression on her face, tousled and oily hair falling over it messily.

Joseph nodded as well, a soft, rueful smile crossing his lips. "Then we need to get ready, don't we?"

"For what?" Shirley couldn't help dumbly asking.

Joseph's expression turned sour as he noticed a guard patrolling, not having noticed them just yet, though he would shortly. Joseph threw open the door and fired, covering his chest and face with several automatic rounds. The guard made no sound as he dramatically crumpled to the ground, his upper body falling over his legs, which were splayed out at awkward angles to his front. Shirley gasped loudly at the sight, but Joseph threw one hand over her mouth to hush her while his other wrapped around her waist, urging her and everyone else to follow him once again."If Lelouch defeats Schneizel and conquers Britannia, the world will betray him. You have suspected this, right?"

"I have," Nina replied meekly, with an underlying conviction that spoke of the truth in her words.

Joseph nodded, grabbed his pistol and fired randomly toward the ceiling, where a small black semicircle loomed over them. The glass shattered and rained down on them, but a warning glance from Joseph silenced any surprised noises in their throats. "When that happens, what do you think he will do?"

Everybody, Joseph included – in spite of knowing nothing of the boy that wasn't already public knowledge – thought that question over for a moment as they walked, Joseph every now and then pausing to take out a surveillance camera or a guard, both of which would in turn bring out a surprised gasp or cry from one or more of his teenage entourage. By the time they had reached the opposite end of the hallway, three guards and four surveillance cameras later, none of them could come up with an answer to that question. And this didn't surprise any of them.

"We don't want him to die," Rivalz stated uncertainly, glancing from side to side from where they stood, a single flight of stairs keeping them from the overhang where a helicopter would be waiting to descend on their position. The looming threat of guards catching up with them and taking them all out was one that could not be ignored, and it was an unspoken worry that they all had.

"So we need to be ready to help him," Joseph said confidently. He ushered them up the last flight of stairs while he locked the doors, placing any objects he could find – two pot plants and a small, cushioned chair with a strange flowery design – in front of it to hold any pursuers back as long as he possibly could. He turned and ran up the stairs as fast as he could, waving his hand urgently for them to proceed onto the overhang, ignoring the idiotic fact that they had stupidly waited for him. "Go!" he shouted in a hushed tone, nodding his head toward the doors. They obliged him, with the exception of Nina, who remained in the doorway and held it open for him.

"Lelouch is wrong," she said as he passed, following him while closing the door behind him. "If the world is going to betray him, we need to convince him to atone. The Lelouch the world knows, the one that is so different than the one we knew... He would atone by dying. I am sure of it."


Forgive me if any of this seemed drawn out or, dare I say, pointless. That wasn't really my intention, but finally getting up to speed on Cal Reflector's Lelouch of Britannia made me a little self conscious where character development was concerned, and I decided I would benefit from a renewed effort to develop characters other than the main cast; Lelouch, C.C., Suzaku, etc. While this didn't change the direction this chapter had intended to go in, it did add a thing or two that will be getting previously unforeseen focus later on.

The primary instance would be with Joseph, I think. While by all rights he was an undeveloped character even by canon and I could have taken creative independence with him, it is reasonable to say his personality would at least somewhat resemble Shirley's, based on how strong a bond they seemed to have in the rare cases where it was brought up. That being said, I hope that I properly got across the message of his sudden development, because he will be an important character later on, as will the Student Council. I won't say where or why, though.

And again, sorry for the poor depiction of the Sacré-Cœur Basilica. I have never been there, nor do I really intend to, and so my depiction is entirely fictional in nature, with exception to the exterior. I am well aware that the interior is likely not as large as I depicted it to be, nor that there would be a means to reach the entrance's overhang without crashing through the windows that can be seen there in pictures of the exterior. Where my depiction of the interior is concerned, it would naturally mean that the basilica is far larger than it truly is. But I took creative license here, so please bear with me.

At any rate, this was the first part of the theoretical conclusion to the Schneizel arc. Next chapter will be the final part of this battle, and then there will be a chapter or so afterwards that wraps things up, but after that the focus returns to Britannia, where we will be shifting ever closer to setting the stage for the climactic fight that every good Code Geass story needs. Or, in the case of this story, both of them.