One and only Son

by Juubi-K

Written for Zaru. Bismarck Waldstein regrets only one thing; that he has no son. When he claims an orphan boy for his own, the course of history takes an unexpected turn.

26. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Government Bureau, Area 11, July 2017 ATB

He didn't know how long it had been.

When they came for him, he hadn't known whether it was morning, afternoon, evening, or night. All he had seen were bare walls, and the transparent wall-door leading into the cell block. Not a clock, nor a window, nor even a moving shadow. The endless, sterile glare of the light strips left no shadows anyway.

They marched him through the cell block, and into the elevator. Two of them; grey-uniformed warrant officers, with Imperial Military Police's insignia in gold at their collars. Up the elevator in silence, then into the grand corridor leading to the Vicereine's office. The doors were opened.

Only then did he see the sun; dipping behind the settlement towers in the far west, far away through the office's tall windows.

It was convenient, that way. For it gave Graham Aker something to focus his eyes on, as he snapped to attention before the Vicereine's wide desk. Don't look them in the eye; focus on a point just above their heads.

"Captain Graham Aker,' said Cornelia li Britannia, once the two IMPs had left the office. "What a falling off was there."

Graham did not reply; dared not reply. He was in it up to his neck, deeper than he had ever been. Now was not the time for pithy comebacks; even if he could think of one.

"Have you been told why you were arrested?"

"The arresting officer stated a charge of criminal conspiracy, your highness."

That was all he had heard; all he was ever going to hear, at least from them. That was their way. Tell the prisoner nothing, make sure they hear nothing. Leave the details to the OJAG, and let him stew in the meantime.

"Then it is time for the whole story."

The vicereine sat straight in her high-backed chair, as if it were a throne. Her purple eyes were cold and hard, moreso than usual.

"You have been seen in the company of a certain Lieutenant Villetta Nu. Do you deny this?"

"No, your highness." It was all he could do to keep his face straight. Villetta? What was going on?

"Do you deny, that on July 28th of this year, you hired a Thorndyke Model 8 coupe from Zephyr Auto, and used it to drive to Lieutenant Nu to a location near Ashford Academy?"

"No, your highness." There was nothing else he could say. His mind was awhirl.

"Good. Because Zephyr Auto has been kind enough to provide the requisite documents. Your name, face, and bank details are all over them. Also, we have security camera footage showing the same car parking on Swan Street, adjacent to the university campus."

She knew. She knew what he and Villetta had been doing, and how they had talked to Shirley Fenette. But why go this far? Why had he been arrested? And where was Villetta?

"The footage shows Lieutenant Nu getting out of the car, and speaking with a certain person in the street," the Vicereine went on. "She then climbs back into the car with that person, where they remain for approximately five minutes, before the said person climbs out again, and walks away in the direction of Ashford Academy."

Something in her gaze sent a shiver down his spine.

"The person in question was a Miss Shirley Fenette," the vicereine continued. "Aged seventeen, a student at Ashford Academy. Her father was Doctor Joseph Fenette, a member of Prince Schneizel's Code-R team, who perished in the debacle at Narita. She was returning from her father's funeral when you accosted her."

Graham's stomach churned. He could not remember ever feeling like this before. He had been to feel foolish often enough, but this was a thousand times worse. No one, not ever before, had ever made him feel dirty, not like this.

"During the meeting, Lieutenant Nu told her that a classmate of hers was a terrorist suspect," Cornelia went on. "Do you deny this?"

"No, your highness." He could not deny it, He could not bring himself to deny it. A part of him was being crushed by that gaze, and the knowledge of what he had taken part in.

"The next evening, the night of the Port Yokosuka operation, Miss Fenette saw the suspect leaving the academy grounds. After informing Lieutenant Nu of that fact, she took it upon herself to follow him."

It was all Graham could do not to cry out in protest. The girl had gone to Yokosuka? What had she been thinking? What could have possessed her to do it?

"While there, she encountered Zero, shortly before Lieutenant Nu and Lieutenant Waldstein arrived on the scene. Shortly afterwards, a person unknown fired upon them, forcing Lieutenant Waldstein to protect Miss Fenette. As a result, Zero was able to escape in the company of the unknown person."

She paused, letting her words hang in the air, hovering over him like a storm cloud, chilling him to the bone.

"Lieutenant Nu has since disappeared," she continued. "But traces of blood were found at the scene. The blood is hers."

Graham's heart clenched. It couldn't be. It couldn't be. Not just like that! Not when they were…when they were just starting to…

She could not be dead!

"What happens next depends entirely on how you answer my questions," Cornelia went on, her eyes gimlet-hard and cold as ice. "Are you able to do that? Or shall I send you back to your cell?"

Graham fought to master himself. He didn't want to believe that she was dead. He could not believe that she was dead. But he didn't have time to deal with that right now.

"I will answer without fail, your highness."

"Firstly then, what was Lieutenant Nu's motive in all of this? As an old friend, and her only apparent ally, I would be most surprised if she didn't tell you something of her plans."

Graham bristled in spite of himself.

"Your highness, Lieutenant Nu firmly believed that the student in question was involved in terrorism," he replied, in as soldierly a manner as he could manage. "Her only goal in confronting Miss Fenette was to make her aware of this fact, and to seek her help in acquiring further evidence."

"Further evidence…" mused the Vicereine. "So, what evidence did she have against this mysterious student?"

"She saw him at Shinjuku, shortly before she lost her knightmare. She later identified him by sight."

"And does he have a name?"

"Lelouch Lamperouge, your highness."

The Vicereine did not reply. Graham realised, after a short pause, that she had not spoken for what felt like a whole minute. Her gaze seemed to be on something else, somewhere else.

"Did she have any particular means of identifying him?"

"A photograph, your highness. She took it on campus, and checked it against an article in the school magazine. Miss Fenette confirmed his identity."

"Can you describe this picture?"

"Black hair," he replied, thinking back. "Eyes…pink or purple, I think. Complexion…white, kinda pasty. Build…slim, no muscle."

There was that look again. Graham had never seen her like that. What was it about this boy? Had Villetta been onto something?

"No such picture was found among Lieutenant Nu's personal effects," she mused. "You said it was taken on campus. Did she have any evidence that specifically linked him to Shinjuku?"

"No, your highness," Graham replied, his heart sinking as he realised what she was saying. "That's what she was trying to find."

"So…" That glare again. "She stalked a teenage boy, took his picture, and told Miss Fenette that he was a terrorist suspect…because he looked like a boy she thinks she saw at Shinjuku."

Graham wanted to say something. He wanted to tell her how desperate Villetta had been, how much she yearned to regain her honour, to understand just what had happened at Shinjuku. But he couldn't find the words. They all sounded stupid.

"This morning, I spent a good hour in remote conference with Madame Fenette and Reuben Ashford," Cornelia said. "The loss of her husband has not done Madame Fenette's health any favours, so I'm sure you can understand her distress of the way you've treated her daughter. As for the Ashfords, Miss Fenette is a student at their academy, and under their protection. Captain, the Ashfords may be on the ropes at the moment, but they are a fine old family, and deserve not to be insulted in this manner."

"Rub it in, why don't you?" snarled a voice inside Graham's mind. He hated the way the Vicereine was making him feel, the visions she was making his mind conjure, the shrivelling of his soul with every word she spat at him. But there was no getting out of it, no way to deny it.

"Fortunately for you, they are not inclined to press charges," Cornelia went on. "They have accepted my version of events, and will consider the matter closed in return for letters of apology."

She reached under her desk, and drew out a hard-backed dossier. She opened it on the desk in front of him, revealing two letters; written in fine, curving script on illuminated, expensive-looking paper. They reminded him of his academy acceptance letter, which his mother had kept framed on her wall until the day she died.

"These are the letters, as drafted by my staff. One made out to Madame Fenette, one to the Ashford family. As Lieutenant Nu is indisposed, your signature will count on her behalf."

Taking her silence as a cue, Graham set his eyes upon the letters, and began to read.

His blood ran cold.

"Your highness…I cannot sign these."

"The legal waivers have already been signed, Captain. If you do not sign, then you will stand trial for conduct unbecoming an officer."

"Your highness!" He knew he was ruining himself, but he couldn't help it. "These letters! They make out that Lieutenant Nu is…is….!"

"Is what, Captain?"

"Some kind of lunatic, your highness!"

"I told Madame Fenette and the Ashfords that Lieutenant Fenette was not in her right mind," replied the Vicereine. "And that you accompanied her out of loyalty to an old friend, and in the hope of keeping matters in hand. Your account today entirely supports that version of events."

"Your highness…" Graham could not contain himself any longer. "I accept that my actions were dishonourable, and I profoundly regret the hurt I have caused. But you're asking me to betray a friend, a comrade in arms, to denounce her to the world. If a price must be paid, then punish me; but do not ask me to do this."

"I am not asking you, Captain!" snapped the Vicereine. "I am ordering you, for her sake as much as for yours!"

The rebuke stunned Graham into bewildered silence. What could she mean? How did Villetta gain from having her reputation trampled?

Even if she was still alive.

"Lieutenant Villetta Nu is in a very bad situation, even if she had not gone missing," the Vicereine went on. "Even if we turn a blind eye to her involvement with the Purists, she has stalked a teenage boy and harassed a teenage girl while pursuing a private agenda. Even if this is all, it comes down to conduct unbecoming an officer. That means ruin, Captain. Dishonourable discharge. Withdrawal of her knighthood. No pension, no privileges, no nothing. Is that what you want for her, Captain?"

It was a question that needed no answer. Graham felt as if his heart was being crushed. He could almost see the pistol on the table.

"Your highness, I beg of you." It sounded pathetic, but it was all he had left. "Something is going on. Something…unnatural. Villetta didn't lose her knightmare out of negligence. Something happened to her at Shinjuku, and something similar happened to Prince Clovis. She was certain that something is going on, and I believe her with all my heart. That's what she was trying to find out, your highness. That's why she was so desperate to capture Zero."

He trailed off, his heart expended. He had nothing more to offer. Only a tissue of fantasy around events with far simpler and more convincing explanations. Extraordinary claims, without even ordinary evidence. Only a leap of faith, and a plea for trust; from a woman who owed him neither.

"I am perfectly willing to believe that something strange is going on, Captain."

It was the last thing he had expected to hear. In spite of everything, Graham felt his heart begin to lift. Had he convinced her? Against all the odds?

"Nevertheless, that does not change the situation," continued the Vicereine, her tone softening just a little. "I understand why you both did what you did. It is exactly why I did not punish Lord Waldstein for his own failure. He faced a choice between being a soldier and a knight, and he chose the latter."

A pause.

"I know you to be a good man, Captain Aker. I have not forgotten how you took the punishment that was rightfully mine, back at the academy. I also know that Lieutenant Nu's record was hitherto spotless; her involvement with the Purists notwithstanding. For that reason, I am willing to believe that you both made the same choice. For that reason I have engineered a way out of this for both of you. If she was not in her right mind, then I can spare her a court martial. If not, then you are both ruined. The matter passed out of my hands the moment the Ashford lawyers signed the waivers."

She took a short breath.

"Captain, I know I have treated you badly in this. I have used you as a public relations tool, and it shames me to have done so. But justice was owed, and you were the only one in any position to pay it. What is more, you are the only one who can protect Villetta Nu from the consequences of her actions. Sign these letters, and this whole wretched affair can be swept under the carpet. I can guarantee nothing, but it may be possible to salvage her career and her honour.I ask this, not as your Princess or Vicerine, but as a fellow peer, your classmate."

Her voice softened.

"Sign for her sake, if not for your own."

Graham realized that he had no choice. He didn't want to believe it, or do it. But he had no choice.

He only dimly felt himself taking the pen from the Vicereine's inkstand, and scrawling his signature in the appointed places. It felt like a dream, like someone else.

"Thank you, Captain Aker," the Vicereine said, with a strange sincerity, as she slid the dossier to one side. "I promise you that I will do all I can for Lieutenant Nu, if and when she turns up."

"I am grateful, your highness."

Graham felt…empty. He didn't know what he should feel, or what he should think. He betrayed Villetta…or maybe saved her. He didn't know whether she was dead or alive.

"Your highness, please allow me to deliver the apologies in person," he said, remembering himself. "And then join the search for Lieutenant Nu."

"I fear I must refuse both requests," replied the Vicereine. "The apologies will be delivered by Lord Waldstein. I understand that you regard him as a friend, is that so?"

The suggestion took Graham by surprise, even as his heart ached.

"I…I would like to think so, your highness."

"Good, because officially you will be still here, under arrest. As an old friend, Lord Waldstein will deliver the apologies on your behalf. In the meantime, you will return to duty, assuming you feel able."

A very slight cock of that narrow, perfectly-plucked eyebrow.

"I… await your command, your highness." There was nothing else he could say, confusion evident in his tone.

"Good, because what you are about to hear is to be considered top secret. Do you understand?"

"Yes, your highness." The confusion only increased.

"Firstly, I am willing to believe your and Villetta Nu's claims regarding strange events. While I have no evidence regarding the loss of her knightmare, there is the matter of how Zero entered my brother's MCV. All we have is that an unknown person in the uniform of a Britannian soldier managed to convince the guards to let him on board, after which Clovis ordered the MCV evacuated and all prisoners released. When no further instructions came, several officers took it upon themselves to return to the MCV, whereupon they found Clovis dead; shot at point-blank-range with a Britannian military handgun."

She paused, a strange look in her eyes.

"We have camera footage of the infiltrator being allowed into the MCV by guards. All of them admitted to having encountered such a person at that time, but can remember nothing of what actually happened. We also have footage of the soldier entering the command deck, after which Clovis ordered the deck cleared, and the cameras were deactivated. His order to stop the fighting came directly after that."

She sat back in her chair.

"After that, we have numerous incidents of encounters with unknown persons, and said persons being allowed past security checkpoints; yet those responsible being unable to remember anything further. All of them describe a sense of deja-vu. Strangest of all was an incident at Narita; wherein the Lancelot came upon Zero at the end of the battle. We have camera footage of the pilot encountering Zero and attempting to capture him, only for the pilot to suddenly lose his mind. He began screaming, and firing his weapon randomly. When he was finally extracted, the pilot was in a state of extreme agitation. The neural scans showed readings the medics could not explain. It was as if his brain had, for no apparent reason, entered a kind of bezerker state."

Graham realised that, for those few moments, he had entirely forgotten where he was. He had been listening so intently, and with such amazement.

"The best that ASEEC can suggest is that Zero has acquired a means of directly disrupting the human brain at a distance," the Vicereine went on. "Though they cannot for the life of them figure out how. If Lieutenant Nu was here, Captain, would this have rung true for her?"

"Yes, your highness, it would have."

"Good. Just something to bear in mind, in case you ever question my sincerity. I would very much like Lieutenant Nu alive, for she is someone with direct experience of this phenomenon. She is one of very few people with whom I dare discuss this matter, Captain. I would hope to be able to show you the same trust."

Graham knew what she was doing. Classic royalty, manipulating him by playing on his chivalry, upon a human desire to be trusted, to be part of the golden circle. It was working perfectly.

"I will do all I can to be worthy of your trust, your highness."

"Good, because in the meantime you have another mission." Cornelia reached under her desk and drew out another dossier, sliding it across the desk. "While you are officially here under arrest, you and your command squad will be transferring to a testing ground in Hokkaido, to take part in a series of classified military tests. Open it."

Graham obeyed, and found that the dossier, marked MILITARY SECRET, was full of papers. He flipped through them, and stared.

"Yes, Captain." The Vicereine was smiling, just a little. "Ashford-Asadi's latest contribution to our war effort. They're calling it the Aerial Transformable Interceptor, or ATI."

Graham stared down at the image, wonder warring with his sorrow. It was a knightmare, but not like any he had ever seen before. The shape was sleek, futuristic, almost organic. And the specs…

"When you arrive at Hokkaido, you will meet Professor Mena Carmine, Ashford-Asadi's representative, and one of their finest minds," the Vicereine went on. "Until then, return to your quarters and study those specs. You and your squad ship out tomorrow night. Have you any questions?"

"No, your highness." There was nothing else. Nothing he could say. Nothing he dared allow himself to think, or feel. There was only the mission.

"Very well. Dismissed."

In reflex, Graham snapped to attention, turned on his heel, and strode out of the office.

(X)

Lelouch Lamperouge.

The name seared across her soul, ringing in her mind like a thunderclap.

Lelouch. Little Lelouch. Was it possible?

For the first time in seven years, Cornelia dared to hope, to dream that it might be so. She wanted to leap out of her seat, to go racing down to Ashford Academy that very moment; proprieties be damned! Lelouch, and Nunnally too! Could they really be alive?

And yet her heart sank, as the euphoria faded, and the realities resurfaced. All she had was a name, and a vague description. A name, not very common, yet not all that uncommon. There were Lamperouges in Quebec, she knew.

And there was the ring.

Her heart clenched as she remembered. That burned, half-melted ring, clutched in Alexander's small hands. That ring, which had been confirmed to be Marianne's own, the ring that she had last seen on Lelouch's finger, the last time she had seen him alive.

And yet, there had been no bodies. The ashes had been sifted again and again, yet the only remains had been those of Genbu Kururugi. All they had found was that ring.

Yet the pyre had been well built, and well doused. It had burned hot, hot enough that little would have remained.

And if he were alive, why hadn't he come back? Why hadn't he sought them out? Did he not know that there were people waiting for him? People who loved him, and worried about him, and yearned for him to come home?

Cornelia sighed. Evidence and common sense alike told her that Lelouch and Nunnally were truly dead. She had tried to accept the fact, to let them rest in peace, enshrined in her heart and memory. For so many years she had just about managed it, just about managed to live with that reality. And then this had happened.

The intercom buzzed, and she remembered where she was, and what she was about to do.

"Yes?"

"Lord Waldstein has arrived, per your orders."

"Send him in." Cornelia ordered, straightening and then sitting back in her chair, mastering herself. She would not show Alexander the turmoil in her soul. That was not what he needed to see.

The door opened, and Alexander strode in. It was good to see him, more so than usual. She had always found his presence calming; familiar and comfortable, in a way she could not quite define.

And now she had to hurt him, as she had been hurt.

"Good afternoon, your highness." Alexander snapped to attention, and saluted in the knightly fashion; his right fist clenched over his heart.

"Good afternoon, Sir Alexander," replied Cornelia, keeping her manner professional. "I have summoned you here on a matter of some delicacy."

Alexander blinked before mastering himself. Cornelia smiled inwardly, for she knew that look. It was that look he always wore when he was confused, or surprised, or dealing with something he didn't understand. It was a look that, even then, made her want to ruffle his hair.

"You are aware, of course, of the situation with Lieutenant Villetta Nu?"

"Yes, your highness. It's…most unfortunate."

He meant it. She knew that he meant it. It hurt him as it hurt her, to see Villetta Nu fall so low; and to drag Graham Aker down with her.

"It is indeed. But fortunately the matter is as in hand as it can be." She slid the dossier with the apology letters across the desk so he could see them. "Captain Aker has graciously agreed to sign these apology letters on Lieutenant Nu's behalf. Assuming she's still alive, I might just have managed to save her career."

"Yes, your highness."

She took a breath. No going back now.

"Captain Aker is now on a secret assignment, which will hopefully take his mind off things," she went on. "As such, I would like you to deliver these apology letters to Ashford Academy tomorrow morning."

That look again, though it didn't stay long.

"The Ashfords have made a rather, unusual request," Cornelia continued. "Miss Fenette, the one you rescued at Fukuoka, wishes to view the new memorial at Narita tomorrow. The Ashfords would deem it a great favour if you would act as her chaperone."

Now that got a reaction. Not a bad reaction, but certainly surprise.

"It would be my honour to do so, your highness."

"Good. I know it's a day down the drain, but it needs doing. Besides, you've been working hard and chaperoning a young lady for an afternoon will give you a change of pace."

Still that slightly bewildered look.

"Did you have something more important in mind, Alexander?" she quipped, cocking an eyebrow. "Some pressing engagement? Were you expecting a regimental command?"

"My only duty is to serve you, your highness," replied Alexander, a little too quickly. "My only particular wish is to join the hunt for Zero."

"And so you shall, once this task is complete," Cornelia replied. "Rest assured, Alexander, I would have no one else by my side hunting down that masked lunatic."

His shoulders relaxed, just slightly.

"However, there is something more."

She took a long, slow breath; hoping she was not making a terrible mistake.

"The person Miss Fenette was trailing," she said. "Did she give you any indication as to who it was?"

"She called him Lulu, your highness. Otherwise she made no direct indication."

He was starting to look awkward.

"Direct, Alexander?"

"I…I think it might have been Luluko, your highness."

"Ah yes."

Now he was blushing, and she didn't blame him. She had seen the pictures on Ashford Academy's social media hub; the ones that had Euphemia in fits of giggles. They had been taken at a distance, and were not the most professional, but even then she could not ignore a twinge of recognition. That hair, that face…

"I bring this up, Alexander, because Captain Aker has shed some light on Lieutenant Nu's recent conduct. He claims that Lieutenant Nu had a picture of this Lulu character, whom she was convinced was a terrorist, though we have not been able to find it anywhere. His description vaguely matches Luluko."

Another breath, her heart sinking all the while. But there was no avoiding it.

"He also gave me a name." It was all she could do to keep her tone stern. "Lelouch Lamperouge."

His eyes widened. His face paled. Her heart clenched.

"I'm sorry, Alexander." And she meant it. "But for that name, I would not have dredged this up again."

His hand moved to his chest, where she knew Marianne's ring hung on a chain around his neck; from whence it had rarely moved for seven long years.

Yes, it hurt him too. It hurt him to have to remember, to have to bear that anguish all over again. And worse, to have hope stirred up, hope that was almost certainly false.

It hurt him, as it hurt her. There were few in all the world it could hurt half as much.

"Had I been more in command of myself at Fukuoka, I would have questioned Miss Fenette further," she went on. "But I did not, and do haul her in now would hardly be appropriate. Besides, if this Lelouch Lamperouge is indeed a terrorist…or if he is Lelouch…then doing so would only spook him."

Those eyes, so full of pain. But this wasn't the old days. She couldn't hug him now, or ruffle his hair. She couldn't do that now. She could not lift this burden from him now.

"Therefore, Alexander, I need you to take every possible opportunity to visit Ashford Academy. While there, you must find out all you can about this person, and ascertain the truth. I…am certain that he will turn out to be blameless, but it would at least close that line of enquiry."

"And spare me from wondering," Cornelia thought, ashamed of herself.

"I…will do as you command, your highness." Alexander's voice was tight with emotion, making her heart clench even more. "But…I confess…I really don't know how."

Of course he didn't know how. He was so devoted, so driven, that he paid little thought to such matters. He didn't know how to pay calls, how to find excuses to politely drop in, how to socialize outside of very specific situations. He preferred a quiet evening with a stack of paperwork, or making sure the knightmares were all in order, or that the supplies had arrived on time. Anything rather than sitting in other people's overdecorated lounges, or flouncing around ballrooms in expensive outfits.

Just like her.

"Oh really?" She could not resist it. "I would have thought you would be paying court to Miss Fenette."

His eyes almost jumped out of his head. It was all she could do not to laugh.

"Your highness…I don't understand…"

"You were seen kissing her hand that night," Cornelia went on, wishing she wasn't enjoying this quite so much. "it was on the Ashford academy hub. Fortunately for the both of you, I was able to persuade the press not to run with it. All they care about these days is Zero, or Euphie choosing her knight."

Alexander looked like he was about to faint. She knew she should not treat him like this, but he had to learn.

"I know you were only trying to be chivalrous, Alexander. But people are going to make assumptions. It also means that you have the perfect excuse to visit Ashford Academy, to see your young lady."

The look on Alexander's face was priceless.

"But…your highness…" Just like the little boy he had once been. "She…Miss Fenette…we don't…"

"Nevertheless, it's the perfect excuse for you to go." She could not help but smirk. "Go and be seen with Miss Fenette, and your presence at Ashford Academy will not arouse much suspicion. Besides, the Ashfords seem to have taken a liking to you, especially their daughter."

That look again. Yes, he had seen enough of Milly Ashford to know what he was up against.

"And there's another matter," she said, standing up. "On Friday night, Euphie is attending a soiree at the antiquities museum; for the opening of the new memorial exhibit. She's been carrying the load in such matters, and I suspect it may be getting her down."

Suspect? No, she knew.

Cornelia had never been able to enjoy such events. They bored her, infuriated her, embarrassed her even. The last one she had attended was Euphemia's sixteenth birthday cotillion; made all the worse by having to flounce around in a big frilly gown her mother had selected. Only Euphie's puppy-dog eyes, the eyes she had never been able to resist, had made her go through with it.

As a result, ever since she had taken command in Area 11, Euphemia had been attending the banquets and balls, the soirees and galas, in her place. She had been doing the work Cornelia was not willing to, sparing her all that annoyance and embarrassment.

And it was getting her down, Cornelia knew.

"Since Euphie could use some company, and you could use some practice in such events, I'd like you to accompany her to the soiree. Are you able to do that, Alexander?"

"Uh, yes, yes your highness." Alexander drew himself up. "It would be my honour to serve as her highness' chaperone."

Cornelia could not stop her smirk from widening as she stepped around the desk.

"You're not going as her chaperone," she said, standing in front of him. "You're going as her companion."

The look again. That look that made her want to ruffle his hair.

"Your highness…"

"Yes, Alexander. You will have to dance."

Priceless. Just priceless.

"Your highness…I am glad to be of service…but I haven't danced in…"

"Since the Duchess of Idaho's ball? Or was it Euphie's sixteenth?"

"Uh…yes, your highness. The latter."

He was blushing, damn him. He had seen her in that dress. He had seen a side of her she hadn't wanted anyone to see.

"Yes, you never liked it much when you were little, as I recall," she said, grinning at the memory. "Just like your father."

Indeed. She had seen Lord Bismark at a gala once; many, many years ago. He had looked as sour as a cat in a cold bathtub.

Until he had waltzed with Lady Marianne, that is. Then he'd seemed like a different person.

"But as I recall, you were very good," she went on, looking down at him. He was a little shorter than her, his chin just reaching her bosom. "And we can't have you embarrassing Euphie on the dance floor."

"Your highness?"

He gulped, his face reddening even more. He was so adorable.

"We shall practice, here and now." She grabbed his hand before he could object. "Now, place your hand on my waist, and we'll begin."

Another gulp, and Alexander obeyed, placing his left hand on her right hip.

"Let us begin with a simple waltz; a dance Euphie does very well. Get this right, and she might just spare you the polka."

She could feel him shivering at the memory. Yes, the polka. A dance someone invented to make dance classes as nightmarish as possible.

"Something on my face, Alexander?" He had been staring, his cheeks still red.

"I-Iuhh,,n-no… just that… this is our first time dancing and…"

"Is it now?," Cornelia mused. "I suppose we should make it a productive experience. Now, follow my tempo of one-two-three. And follow my legs."

"Yes. I remember."

"As a gentleman, you must lead your partner on the dance floor," she said. "I'm putting my faith in you, Alexander."

They began. First step, second step, one-two-three-one-two-three; waltzing lightly across her office floor.

Cornelia smiled as they danced, with the easy grace of those trained to it. Yes, he was remembering. His body was falling into the routine, remembering the movements; just as Lady Marianne, and her mother, had taught him.

She remembered it well. Looking round the door, to see Alexander and Euphemia dancing so gracefully; Euphie's friends looking on in mingled adoration and jealousy, her mother watching with eyes full of pride.

Yes. Alexander would be by her side. Euphie would choose him for her knight for sure, and they would be together from then on.

Yes, that was how it would be. Alexander had no romantic feelings for the Fenette girl, that much was obvious. He would deliver the letters, take her on her pilgrimage, and then find out about that Lelouch character. And that would be the end of that.

Yes. The end of it. Alexander would be with Euphie. That was the way it should be. That was the way it should…

Then she felt her foot catch Alexander's own. Her mind flashed awake, but it was already too late. She let out a shriek as she toppled over; Alexander grabbing her and rolling underneath. He hit the floor with a crash, and she landed on top of him, the impact knocking the breath out of her.

"Your highness!" The doors crashed open, and Darlton came racing inside, followed by Guilford and a couple of staff officers. "Your highness, are you…?"

They all froze, for they could see what had happened.

Cornelia turned her head to face them, face reddening in embarrassment.

"It's nothing!" she declared, as dignified as she could manage. "We just tripped up, that's all."

Then she saw the looks on their faces.

"What's the matter?" Euphemia came hurrying in, skirts rustling. "Did something…oh my, Cornelia!"

Cornelia looked down, and saw Alexander's soft brown hair, and then his face; nestled right in her bosom.

"It's…it's not what it looks like!" she shrieked, jumping off Alexander. "It was an accident!"

Darlton was sucking his lip, trying desperately not to laugh. Guilford was glowering at them, his eyebrow twitching so hard it looked like it might jump off his face. The two staff officers looked like they had seen the Jersey Devil. Euphemia was giggling behind her hands.

And Alexander just lay where he had fallen, looking confused.

"Oh get up off the floor!"

(X)

Ashford Academy, the next day

Alexander sighed.

Here he was again, at Ashford Academy. The place where he had endured the most embarrassing incident of his life.

And the place where a precious person resided.

Gulping down his nerves, Alexander strode along the wide boulevard. There didn't seem to be many people around, but it was a Saturday, after all.

Saturday. Six more days until the soiree at the antiquities museum. Two trials in as many weekends.

No, not a trial. He should not think of it in such terms. Lunch with Milly Ashford and Shirley Fenette, and then chaperoning the latter on her pilgrimage to Narita. Then a week later, chaperoning Princess Euphemia herself to a soiree. There were young men across the empire who would kill to be in his place.

So then, why was he so nervous?

He steeled himself as he strode on, towards the looming shape of the student council building. A building like that really ought not to loom, but somehow it managed to.

As he reached the door, he paused a moment, catching his reflection in one of the windows. The outfit he had decided on - a dark red turtleneck over a black suit – was not quite what he was used to, but reassuringly simple. Euphemia, who seemed to find the whole affair most amusing, had threatened to summon a half-dozen of her old school chums and have them drag him round Tokyo Settlement's boutiques if he didn't make a quick decision.

Not a bad one, for all that. Maybe he thought better under pressure.

"Ah, my lord Waldstein!"

Milly Ashford emerged from a side door just as he stepped into the atrium. Alexander was momentarily taken aback by her appearance. Rather than her usual school uniform, she was wearing a red gown with a wide white collar, tied with a blue ribbon. Pinned to the back of her head was a wide-brimmed white hat.

She hadn't dressed up for him, had she?"

"So good to see you again!" Milly proclaimed, beaming as she offered her hand. "We don't see anything like enough of you."

"I am honoured to enjoy your hospitality," Alexander replied, lowering his head to kiss her hand. "Incidentally, Miss Ashford."

He took the two black cylinders from under his arm, and proferred them on both hands.

"The letters of apology, Miss Ashford."

"Gratefully received." Milly took them, still beaming. "Rivalz! Get out here and greet our guest!"

"Coming, Madame President!" Rivalz Cardemonde came scurrying out, bowing as he halted. "Good morning, my lord!"

Alexander acknowledged him with a nod.

"Rivalz, these are the apology notes." Milly handed the cylinders over. "Go put them in the safe."

"Uh, right…right away, Madame President."

Alexander saw the look in his eyes as he took the cylinders from her, then scurried away.

"And tell Sayoko that Lord Waldstein is here!"

"Yes, Madame President!"

Alexander felt sorry for him. There was something indefinably sad about Rivalz Cardemonde, even with his puppyish cheerfulness; which today was all but absent. He seemed put-upon, downtrodden even.

"Now that that unpleasantness is out of the way, we can get on with things," Milly went on, still beaming. "Do please come this way, Sir Alexander."

She slipped her arm through his, and led him to one of the other doors. The door slid open, revealing a large, finely-decorated lounge; with armchairs and sofas, and a coffee table in the middle.

But it was the figure by the window that got his attention.

"Oh…Lord Waldstein."

Shirley Fenette turned to face him. She was wearing a black dress that flared at the waist and reached to her knees, with collar, sash, and cuffs in a slightly different shade; along with black tights and shoes. A broad black ribbon was tied in her hair braid, forming a large bow.

"Just look at that stare!" declared Milly triumphantly. "Will you doubt your dear president's fashion sense ever again?"

Shirley went bright red, and so did Alexander.

"Please excuse me, Miss Fenette," he said, stepping forward and bowing. "I should not have been so uncouth."

"Oh no, it's fine!" pleaded Shirley, raising her hands as if to placate him. "You look really good yourself, Sir Alexander…"

She faltered, hiding her mouth behind her hand, somehow blushing even more.

"He does, at that," Milly cut in, stepping up to stand alongside him. "I heard this idiotic rumour that you had no taste in clothes, my lord. I'm so glad it's not true."

Well, only half true. He didn't pay much attention to fashion, but he knew rather more about girls clothes than perhaps he ought to. All those years helping Lady Marianne take care of Princess Nunnally, and having to keep Euphemia and her crowd entertained, had left him that legacy.

It wasn't something he would ever admit, at least not where someone like Milly Ashford might hear it.

"Well, Shirley?" Milly suddenly demanded. "Aren't you going to offer your hand, at least?"

Shirley let out an eep of surprise, then mastered herself and, blushing still, extended her hand, palm down. Alexander took it, and bowed low to kiss it.

"Why, my lord Waldstein…". Milly was smirking like a cat. "Someone might see you…again."

"Honi soit qui mal y pense, Miss Ashford," replied Alexander. Anyone churlish enough not to know the difference between deference and flirting, or who did not care, was beneath his notice.

"And rightly so!" declared Milly. "Oh, but do sit down Sir Alexander! Sit down here, next to Shirley!"

Forcing down his nerves, Alexander sat down on the sofa, keeping a more than respectful distance from Shirley. Milly sat herself opposite, carefully arranging her dress as she sat; ever the noble lady that, under different stars, she might have been.

"Well, isn't this nice?" she declared smiling too much. "It's so good to enjoy your company for an hour or two Alexander. Then it's a car to the station, and the one o'clock express, stopping at Narita. All the arrangements have been made."

"I am grateful, Miss Ashford."

"And so good of you to agree to accompany our precious Shirley," she went on, still smiling too much. "As compensation goes, it doesn't get any better."

Alexander's heart sank. He had rather hoped she wouldn't bring the matter up; even in so roundabout manner as that.

"Madame President," Shirley spoke up, looking a little hurt. "Don't say things like that."

"Sorry Shirley, but it has to be said." There was a slight edge to Milly's tone. "But I must ask, Sir Alexander. What on earth did poor Lulu do to have your deranged colleague tailing him?"

"I fear I cannot imagine, Miss Ashford," Alexander replied cautiously. "It seems very strange to me."

"Not half as strange as it is to us!" laughed Milly. "I mean, Lulu a terrorist? If' he's a terrorist, then I'm the Queen of Sheba!"

"That's right!" insisted Shirley, perking up. "He's not like that at all!"

"He can't run twenty metres without getting tired!" Milly went on. "His hobbies include cooking, baking, sewing, and dressmaking! He'd be our campus princess if he didn't have such a lousy personality!"

"Milly!" shrieked Shirley, her face pale. "What're you doing? Don't say things like that!"

"I'm only telling the truth," insisted Milly. "Lulu's the biggest priss you've ever met, albeit totally in denial."

She leant forward, fixing him with her blue eyes.

"So, just put that thought out of your mind, Sir Alexander, won't you?"

For a moment, Alexander didn't know what to say. There was nothing threatening about those eyes, but he couldn't break away from them either.

"If you vouch for him, Miss Ashford, then that is enough for me."

"Splendid!" Milly beamed again. "It's just a pity Lelouch couldn't join us this morning. I've got him run ragged preparing for our summer festival; which I do hope you will attend, Sir Alexander. I might even be able to arrange an appearance from Luluko."

It was all Alexander could do not to gape like a goldfish.

"Milly!" Shirley looked mortified. "Don't keep bringing that up! Sir Alexander isn't interested in such things!"

For a few seconds, Milly kept her smile in place. Then she burst out laughing.

"Oh, oh forgive me, Sir Alexander." She wiped at her eyes. "I follow a personal philosophy. To see a person's true self, you must catch them off-guard. And you are so strangely innocent, Sir Alexander. Just like a little boy."

A little boy? Was that what he looked like? Did he impress her so little?

Mercifully, the door slid open to reveal a maid, whom Alexander had seen before somewhere.

"Miss Milly, the tea is ready."

"Ah, excellent timing!"

Alexander glanced at Shirley. She was looking down at her knees, her face red with embarrassment.

It was cute.

She was cute.

(X)

Yokosuka Ghetto, Tokyo Settlement

She was so…beautiful.

So Kaname Ougi thought, as he gazed down at the form laid out on the bed.

It was a woman; that much there was no denying. Tall and lithe, with bronze skin and long, grey-blue hair that spilled around her shoulders. Even with her body covered by a sheet up to her stomach, and a hospital gown, there was something entrancing about her; something that made him want to sit and watch her; even as his insides coiled with shame.

Kaname had realised, in those tense, awkward days since he had brought her there, just how little he knew about women, let alone understood them.

He was glad, relieved even, when Brother Andrew pulled the sheet back into place; his examination complete.

"How is she?" he asked, as the monk straightened up, removing the stethoscope from around his neck.

"She seems to be recovering, Mr Ougi," he replied, in that mild but slightly pious tone Kaname had come to associate with the monks. "No signs of internal injury, and the grazes have healed. To be honest, I was more worried about her being in the water for all that time."

Kaname shivered at the memory. It had been the morning just after the Yokosuka battle, when they had packed up and dispersed. He had taken the coast route home to his lodgings, so he could watch the sunrise and let his mind wander. His life offered few other pleasures, and that was one the Britannians could not easily deny him even if they wanted to.

And then he had seen her. Lying on the rocks just in front of the promenade, soaked and bleeding. When he had climbed down to help her, she had thrashed and raved, ranting about Zero.

So he had gathered her up, and taken her to the only place he dared take her. To a charity hospital in the nearby Yokosuka ghetto, in what had once been a school.

"Thank you, brother," he said, awkwardly. "Any idea who she is?"

"Actually, we were hoping you might know."

Kaname looked up to see that another man had entered the room behind him. A younger man, with green hair covering one eye, his white collar marking him as a priest.

"Reverend," Brother Andrew greeted him, bowing his head. The priest acknowledged him with a nod.

"What is her condition, brother?"

"Her body is healing, Reverend. She took a blow to the head at some point, but the scan came up clear and nothing is obviously wrong. She seems to be just exhausted from blood loss and exposure."

"Will she wake up soon?"

"If she doesn't within another day or so, I would have to recommend transferring her to a settlement hospital."

"Very well, thank you brother."

Brother Andrew bowed, took his bag, and left the room.

"Mr Kaname Ougi," the priest said, regarding him. "I am Allelujah Haptism, a priest of the Imperial Church. This hospital falls within my responsibilities."

"Yes, Reverend," Kaname stammered in reply. "Thank you for taking her in like this. I honestly didn't know where else to take her."

"We turn no one away, when we have the power to help," replied the priest. "Unfortunates of all kinds find their way to us."

"I know, Reverend. I thought she might be a Britannian, but I'm not sure. I couldn't find any ID on her."

"We didn't either. But we did find this."

Allelujah reached under the cover and pulled out one of the woman's hands. At first, Ougi did not understand. And then he saw the calluses on her thumb, and her fingers.

"I've seen marks like those," he admitted, cautiously.

"And?"

"And…she was a little well-dressed for a frame jockey."

The priest gently slipped the hand back under the cover, and pulled it back into place.

"The stigmata of knighthood on her hands," he mused. "Yet dressed in civilian clothes. And grazed by bullets."

Kaname's blood ran cold. How much had this priest figured out? Did he think she was a rebel too? Or some kind of undercover agent? Had he heard her going on about Zero?

"So I was wondering, Mr Ougi," said the priest, looking him in the eye. "Do you have any idea who this woman is, or how she got in this state?"

Kaname's heart sank. He knew what that look meant.

"I honestly have no idea," he replied, and meant it. "I know how this looks, but it's exactly as I told Brother Andrew. I don't know who she is, or how she got like that."

The priest regarded him for a long time.

"Then it seems we are on the same page," he said eventually. "I cannot command you, Mr Ougi, but I must recommend that you be cautious in mentioning this to anyone. I fear she is terrible danger, and you have already brought danger upon yourself by helping her."

Kaname did not reply. He knew that the priest meant, only too well.

"If she and I are in danger, then so are you, Reverend. You and all the monks here. I've put you all in danger by bringing her here."

"You did as your conscience demanded, Mr Ougi. And we cannot turn from such danger. That is the nature of our commitment."

Kaname regarded him in turn. He still did not quite understand the monks, or people like Allelujah Haptism. He understood that faith had power, and he wanted to believe that not all Britannians were bad. But it still confused him, to the depths of his soul. They spent their days in places like this, enduring the scorn of the settlers and the hostility of the Numbers, caring for those whom their own rulers had cast down.

Some loved them for it. Others merely tolerated them, because it didn't feel right to pick on them when they were only trying to help. More than a few saw them as no different from the garrison; their efforts propping up Britannian rule just as much. And to others, they were foreigners, and that was reason enough. He had heard it all before, many times.

And there was Zero. The priest knew, Kaname was certain. The monks must have heard her raving in her delirium, going on and on about finding Zero, capturing Zero. He knew. He knew what he was dealing with. And he must surely have known what could happen if the authorities found out. The Church still had some influence, and they looked after their own. But they were not the real power in Britannia. Not by a longshot.

"Reverend…" Kaname's words caught in his throat, as he struggled to choose the right ones. "I wish…I wish you had come to this country under better circumstances."

He wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him that he knew Zero, that Zero was going to change things; change them for the better. But he didn't dare, not after what had already happened.

"If circumstances were better, Mr Ougi, we would not be needed here."

There was no answer to that. None that Kaname could think of, anyway.

"Would it be okay if…if I visited?" he asked, awkwardly.

"By all means. Though she might not welcome your visit."

"I know, but…".

He trailed off. Why had he asked? Was it because he cared about her? Or because she might know something about Zero?

And if she did know something, what would he do?

"I…I guess I would just feel better knowing she's okay."

Not the whole truth. But it wasn't a complete lie either. If Allelujah had seen through it, he did not say so.

"Visiting hours are 5pm to 7pm daily," said the priest, with a slight smile.

"Thank you, Reverend."

(X)

Narita Memorial Park, Area 11

The memorial was remarkably quiet.

Ever since they had arrived, Alexander had hardly seen anyone. There were plenty of people around the outside; workers clearing up the wreckage left by the battle, under the watchful eye of the Knight Police. But inside the memorial park, and the places immediately surrounding it, there was no one to be seen.

It wasn't necessarily a bad thing. For all the sound of work rumbling down the valley, the memorial park was peaceful and placid. When the work was done, and quiet had returned, it would be a place to remember, to reflect, to pray, and to mourn.

The memorial itself was a stone obelisk, stood at the edge of the cliff, presiding over a wide garden. A paved path led up to it, with flat plinths to either side; upon which the names of the dead had been carved.

He stood on the path alongside Shirley Fenette, gazing up at the obelisk; and the dedication set into it.

RAISED IN MEMORY

OF THE HONOURED DEAD

LOST IN THE BATTLE OF NARITA

THEY FOUGHT THAT THE WORLD

MIGHT KNOW PEACE

AND DIED THAT THIS LAND

SHALL BE FOREVER BRITANNIA

DULCE ET DECORUM EST

PRO PATRIA MORI

ALL HAIL BRITANNIA

Alexander could not help but feel unsettled by it. Were even war memorials just propaganda now? Had the war gone on so long, that nothing could be kept apart from it? Was there nothing sacred left?

"Sir Alexander…"

He looked at his companion. Shirley Fenette stood next to him, her arm linked through his, her face shrouded in a sorrow that did not belong there.

"Miss Fenette?" he asked.

"Are you feeling all right?" Shirley was looking at him now, her eyes full of pain. "You looked…sad, somehow."

"I should ask the same of you, Miss Fenette." Alexander's stomach churned with embarrassment. He had been neglecting her.

"No I…it's just that…"

She looked down, hiding her eyes. Alexander cursed himself for his lack of sprezzatura. He should be able to comfort her, not clam up like an awkward teenager.

"I thought that…maybe…there would be something here," she said eventually. "But…it's just like all the others. It's all about…war and…stuff."

His heart ached. For all that had happened that night at Yokosuka, her heart was still mired in grief. That aching, empty void in her soul, where her father had once been, was still there. He knew something of that. He knew that void; the void Empress Marianne had left, and then Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally.

She had gone there looking for an ending; for some way to close that chapter of her life, and silence the demon of loss. But she had not found it there, and she never would.

"I wish they had not politicized it, Miss Fenette," he replied. "It is…inappropriate."

"You think so?" She looked and sounded surprised. "But most of the dead were soldiers, knights."

Her words brought him up short. It was not that he was unaccustomed to bluntness, but there was something…sincere about her, and every word she said.

"As a knight, I cannot find such sentiments pleasing," he said. "This is not a place for triumphalism. This war intrudes on peaceful places enough as it is."

He wasn't quite sure why he was saying it. He didn't know why this place, or perhaps Miss Fenette herself, had made him want to say it.

"You're the second soldier I've ever known, after Suzaku," she said, a strange look on her face. "He doesn't talk about it much…but I think he feels the same way as you. You're a lot alike."

"You think so, Miss Fenette?"

"There's something about you both, Sir Alexander. Something…sincere."

She looked him in the eyes, and there was something there, a warmth he had not seen since he had first met her, the day after the festival, before her father had died.

"I am flattered, Miss Fenette."

She looked as if she was about to say more. But then she faltered, and turned away, that warmth gone from her eyes.

"Miss Fenette?"

"Sir Alexander…can I tell you something? Something very important?"

Alexander's heart skipped a beat. Now was hardly the time or place for a love confession. So what could she mean?

"Of course, Miss Fenette."

Shirley took a deep breath. Alexander felt himself tense, waiting for her reply. He knew what a girl coming to a very hard decision looked like.

"My father…he didn't want to be buried here."

Alexander shivered. She was clearly upset, very upset. But what did she mean?

"I don't understand, Miss Fenette."

"I didn't know about this until Mom told me," Shirley went on. "He wanted to be buried in his hometown. It was in his will and everything. But when Mom tried to make the arrangements…"

She trailed off, shaking.

"There were…restrictions. Wartime restrictions, they said. And the fees had gone up. His funeral plan wouldn't cover it. And they kept offering a plot in the settlement. In the end…Mom just gave up."

Alexander was appalled. He suspected he knew what had happened, though the thought of it sickened him. Had Britannia truly fallen so far?

"Miss Fenette…I am desolated…"

"I don't like it here any more," Shirley went on, almost whimpering. "I used to like living here. But now I feel like this place…like it's watching me!"

His heart ached, and his stomach churned. Something in her words had struck a chord; touched something deep in his soul, something he had known of, but never understood.

"Miss Fenette…" He turned to face her, taking her hands in his. "I can help you, Miss Fenette. If you and your mother want to leave, I can help you."

He could do it. He might only be a lieutenant, but he was one of Princess Cornelia's knights. If he were to ask somebody to make room for them on a flight, then they would do it. If he were to slip their transport fees into the expenses budget, he would probably get away with it. If he were put his name to their transfer documents, then no one would bat an eyelid…probably.

Yet…how was that different from what Clovis' subordinates had been doing? How was it different from what went on all over the empire every single day? The little favours, the backhanders, the bending of the rules, the exceptions.

The corruption.

But…he would do it. He couldn't not do it. Not if she needed him to do it. Not if it could help her.

"That's just it, we can't," said Shirley sadly. "Our lives are here. All my friends are here. Ashford Academy waived my fees to graduation. And if we went back to the homeland now, we'd have to leave him here."

She looked like she was going to start crying. Alexander could not bear the thought of it. It made his heart clench, in a way that few other people could.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had wrapped his arms around her, pressing her to him. He heard her gasp, but then she relaxed, slipping her arms behind his back. They stood like that, for what felt like forever, her heart beating against his.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Fenette." And he meant it. "I want to help you, Miss Fenette. Please tell me how I can help you."

And he wanted to. He wanted nothing else in all the world.

"It's fine," Shirley said. "It's fine, like this. I feel…I feel like I can tell you anything."

Alexander felt something he had never felt before. He had no words for it, no name. It was as if a flower was opening, in the depths of his soul.

"Oh, if only you really had, Miss Shirley Fenette!"

The both of them jumped, and broke apart in reflex. Alexander spun towards the voice, half-expecting some mischievous child, or a smirking paparazzo with camera at the ready.

But it wasn't.

It was a man. A young man, of about Alexander's age or maybe a little older. He had white hair, and seemed to be of south-east Asian ancestry; though Alexander was not quite sure. He wore a long white coat, and a pair of large noise-cancelling headphones; which in turn held a visor over his eyes.

He was smirking, in a way that set Alexander's teeth on edge.

"How wonderful that would be," the young man went on, clapping his hands. "To be able to tell someone literally anything. Unlike Lelouch, who can't tell anyone anything."

"Wait…who are you?" asked Shirley, edging back towards Alexander. She was clearly unsettled. "How do you know about Lulu?"

"He's a cruel man, isn't he?" mused the youth, still smirking. "All those years, and he never told you anything. Never let you see anything of his true self. Never told you who or what he really is. Never told you that he's Zero."

"What? No!" Shirley flinched, eyes wide with fear. "That's can't be true! He wouldn't!"

"The mouth that ordered your father's death stole a kiss from your tender lips," the youth declared, advancing towards them. "He's a bad, bad man. And you like it."

"No!" Shirley whimpered, flinching. "No…it's not…it's not like that!"

"Enough!" Alexander stepped forward, squaring off against the smirking youth. "What do you mean by this?"

"Cunning little woman," the youth went on, ignoring him. "You just had to get him, didn't you? You had to know if his arms were half as strong and manly as the young lord's were, didn't you. You had to try him out, so you would know which one to keep, and which one to discard."

"No!" Shirley clutched at her head. "I didn't! I couldn't!"

"Oh yes, my lord Alexander Waldstein," the youth turned to face him, leering behind his visor. "She enjoys having two men at her beck and call. And she's had such dreams about you, such fantasies."

"No!" Shirley's cry was a shriek of utter despair. "No! You can't! Please! Please don't!"

Alexander could bear no more. He had thought the youth a troublemaker, or a lunatic. He had been too bewildered to react. But seeing Shirley like this…

"How dare you say such things!" he demanded, his heart thundering. "What has she done to deserve being slandered so!?"

His doubts were gone, burned away as his spirit rose in fury. But the youth just stared at him through his visor, his smirk unmoving.

"Ah, there it is," he said, as if he were watching some rare bird. "Unwavering, implacable. Exactly what your father saw in you, that night in Tehran."

Alexander's blood ran cold. How could he possibly know about that? How could he know about…?

"Oh yes, Soran," the youth said, his smirk widening. "You've been lying too. All your life. To everyone you've ever known. Even to Shirley here."

Alexander's mind blanked. Blind terror overwhelmed him. This man knew. He somehow knew. And he was saying it out loud!

He felt himself moving. He felt his arms reaching out, hooking for the youth's throat.

"Too slow!"

The youth was upon him. And his world was pain, his body frozen solid, every pore alight with agony, as if he had been struck by lightning

He heard Shirley scream, and felt himself slump to his knees. The last thing he saw was the youth's smirk, and the taser in his hand.

(X)

Ashford Academy

Another day. Another pointless meeting.

Lelouch Lamperouge let out a long sigh as he strolled along the cloister. Having to deal with the festival committee was bad enough at the best of times. But the meeting that had taken up all of his late morning and early afternoon had been particularly troublesome. A thousand and one meaningless points, each one endlessly debated, with screaming, slanging matches, wandering off on tangents, and no one paying the agenda or time limit the slightest attention. It had taken every last scrap of his people-management skills, including some of his cruellest put-downs, just to keep things moving.

He didn't know what there even had to be a committee. Milly had basically dumped the whole thing on him; as she had done ever since he had joined the Student Council. It would have been easier just to let him decide everything himself, and have everyone else do as they were told. It was what always happened anyway.

But no. Milly was away, dolled up like the noble lady she hadn't been since she was ten, having a marriage meeting with a certain Lloyd Asplund; who just so happened to be Suzaku's employer. Having done a casual background check, Lelouch wasn't sure whether to feel annoyed, amused, or sorry for her. Being married off for a title at her age was bad enough, but to a man like that?

And then there was Shirley, who had gone off to Narita to visit the new memorial.

With Alexander Waldstein.

Lelouch stopped, his head lowered; his face falling into a frown very few people yet living had ever seen. Certainly it was not an expression, a mien, he ever consciously presented while at school. It wasn't a side of himself he wanted any of them to see. But he couldn't help himself.

Alexander. Shirley…and Alexander.

He knew what Milly was doing. He could tell why she kept making such a fuss, lavishing her family's friendship upon the hapless knight, and endlessly inviting him to visit. She just wanted to see the two of them together. She wanted them to fall in love, to find happiness together, to get married; the sheer scandal of it.

But…would that be so terrible? Would it be such a bad thing if they did?

Except that wasn't the problem. That wasn't the real reason why Alexander kept coming round; at least not yet.

Lelouch's stomach clenched. Villetta Nu had thought that he was Zero. She clearly didn't have any hard evidence, or they would have come for him by now. But she had clearly planted the idea in Shirley's mind; or else why would she had followed him?

Cornelia must have been kicking herself for letting Shirley walk away like that. Of course, she could just have Shirley arrested, or hauled in for questioning, but that wouldn't look good. It wasn't the sort of thing the Queen of Knights did. The Queen of Knights, who spared innocent lives that others – her own siblings – would have slaughtered without hesitation. The Queen of Knights who had forced one of her officers to sign a written apology for Villetta Nu's conduct.

But she didn't have to. She had the perfect spy already. The perfect spy, whom Milly had inveigled into accompanying Shirley on her pilgrimage to the place where her father died.

He shivered. How long could he let this go on? He couldn't believe that Alexander would harm Shirley, or even try to manipulate her in some way. That wasn't the Alexander he remembered. But how long would it be before she said something, let something slip, passed some random comment? How long before they just happened to run into one-another?

How long before he ran into Nunnally?

His mind raced. What could he do? Should he confront Alexander? Should he lure him into the Student Council building and reveal the truth? He could do it. The council building was safe; for he had made it so. No one would eavesdrop, and no one would come barging in; at least not without some warning. He could arrange for Alexander to come there, have Nunnally ready, explain everything.

Except he couldn't. Even if the kind, sincere boy he remembered had not disappeared, he could not. Because the man that boy had become would run straight back to Cornelia, to tell her the miraculous news. And then he would have Cornelia to contend with; the confrontation he knew would have to come, but he just wasn't ready for.

No. He had to throw Alexander off the scent; but how? How to convince him that he was not Lelouch vi Britannia, or Zero? Simply staying out of sight wouldn't solve anything. He had to come up with a decoy, an alternative line of inquiry. But what would…?"

His phone buzzed, drawing him from his thoughts. He flipped it open, and was surprised to see that the caller was Shirley.

What could be wrong? Had she had some kind of argument with Alexander? Was something happening? Pulse racing, he answered.

"Hello, Shirley?"

"I'm afraid not."

His blood turned to ice. The voice at the other end was not Shirley. It was young and male, with a slight accent; maybe Chinese?

"Who are you?" he demanded, heart hammering. "Where's Shirley? Why do you have her phone?"

"Shirley is right here," replied the voice, from lips he was certain were smirking. "As is your old friend Alexander Waldstein. We've been reflecting on their many and myriad sins."

Lelouch's dread turned to rage.

"What do you mean, sins?" he barked. "What kind of stupid prank is this?"

"You already know, Lelouch," purred the voice. "Lelouch Lamperouge, who is Lelouch vi Britannia, who is…Zero."

His heart clenched. His whole body clenched. How could he know?

"So you think I'm Zero," he replied, forcing himself to sound unconcerned. "Should you be making claims like that over a public phone line?"

"Don't worry Lulu, I know what I'm doing." The youth sounded amused. "But if you want to save your two friends, come to the top of the funicular railway near the Narita memorial. Come alone, and unarmed. And if you try anything funny…I will know."

"Wait…!"

But the call had ended. Lelouch stared down at the phone screen, his mind in turmoil. Only after a moment did he think to check the Recent Calls.

Shirley Fenette. Incoming Call. Channel…unknown.

Unknown. So he hadn't used any of the Britannian networks. Had he bounced it off a Chinese satellite? With Shirley's phone? If he could do that, then what else was he capable of?

He took a breath, and another breath, trying to calm himself.

"Don't go."

Lelouch spun around, almost dropping his phone.

It was CC, wearing an Ashford Academy girl's uniform, her green hair tied in twin-tails.

"I have to go," he replied, his voice hoarse. "He'll kill them."

"Yes, he will," replied CC, her face expressionless. "But he will kill you too. You cannot beat him."

Lelouch glared at her. Always the riddles. Always the mysteries. Always the coy looks. By her standards, this was pretty blunt.

"Who is he?" he demanded. "How can he do this?"

"His name is Mao," she replied. "And he has a Geass that lets him read minds. A Geass I gave him."

Lelouch glowered at her. He supposed he should have expected it. He couldn't have been the only one she ever formed a contract with; in the centuries she claimed to have been alive. But…

"And when were you going to mention this to me?"

"I don't know why he's come out among people." CC's countenance had changed. There was something…mournful about her now. "He can't stand them. He can't switch it off."

Lelouch's stomach churned as he imagined it. To hear the thoughts of others, like a thousand voices talking all at once, and no way to silence them. It was enough to drive anyone insane.

"What does he want?" he asked. "Why is he going after Shirley and Alexander?"

"As I said, I don't know."

There was something in CC's eyes. A terrible pain he had seen there before, but never quite so strong as this.

"But he will kill you, if you face him," she went on. "Your mind, and your Geass, are no use against him. He can sense what you mean to do even as you think of it."

"So that's how he overpowered Alexander," Lelouch thought, grimly. If this Mao character could know what another was thinking even as they thought it, he could get his own strike in first. Any attempt to blindside him, or even to draw a weapon, would fail.

"Nevertheless, I have to go," he said, putting his phone away. "I'm the only one who can save them."

"Even if you have to reveal yourself to them?" CC cocked an eyebrow. "Even if it means them learning the truth?"

Lelouch faltered. There was no telling what Mao had told them, and it didn't matter. Even if he could convince the two of them that it was all the ravings of a deranged madman, he would still have to face Alexander. And Alexander would know him.

Yes, he would know him. There would be no explaining it away, not this time.

"If you cherish someone, you should keep them at a distance," CC said. "Will you save them, only to kill them?"

Lelouch glared at her.

But he had no answer.

(X)

Narita Memorial

Alexander groaned, and his eyes fluttered open.

He was in a room, its walls made of concrete. There was a door in front of him, but it was closed. He could not see any windows.

He tried to move. He was sitting on the floor, his back propped against the wall. His legs would move, but his arms would not. He looked down, and as his vision settled and cleared, he saw the heavy-duty cuffs manacling his wrists together.

The door clunked open.

"Welcome back, Soran!" It was the youth, standing in the doorway with a smile on his face. "Did you enjoy your nap?"

He stepped into the room, without waiting for a reply.

"What is this place?" demanded Alexander, forcing himself to remain calm. "What have you done with Miss Fenette?"

"This place is the funicular railway station, up the mountainside from the Narita memorial," the youth replied airily. "As for Shirley, she's waiting for the big event."

"What big event?" Alexander snarled, straining against the cuffs. "Who are you? What are you trying to do?!"

"My name is Mao," replied the youth, still smiling. "And you might want to stop struggling like that. Those cuffs are designed with particularly difficult prisoners in mind. The escape artist they hired to test them had to break both his wrists to get them off; and we can't have you doing that now, can we?"

Alexander glared at him, fighting down his fury. What was this man? How could he do this? Could he know things that no one should have been able to know?

Could he…?

"Hmm, not bad," mused Mao. "You're not as clever as that Lelouch fellow, but you're clever enough to keep him on his toes. Yes, I can read your mind. I know what you're thinking, even as you think it."

Alexander felt sick. This man could indeed read his mind. How much had he seen? How much did he know? Who had he told?

How had he acquired such a power?

"Oh well, I suppose there's no harm in telling you." Mao squatted down in front of him. "It's called Geass. There are many like it, but this one is mine and mine alone."

Alexander could see Mao's eyes, partially concealed by his visor. There was something in the left eye, some kind of shape. Almost like…

"Like a bird, yes," mused Mao. "That's what I thought too, not like it will matter." He said, lowering his visor and Alexander saw it. His eyes glowing, those symbols in each pupil blazing down as Alexander's eyes widened.

"What do you want?" growled Alexander. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because punishment must be meted out, Soran," replied Mao. "To you, to Shirley, and to Lelouch too. It'll all happen once he gets here, which shouldn't be long now."

"Punishment?"

"For your sins." Mao's smirk widened. "You've spent your whole life lying to everyone you've ever met. Living as Alexander Waldstein the Britannian noble, when really your name is Soran."

Alexander's mind raced, as the memories arose unbidden. He had forgotten how it felt to walk barefoot, to go to sleep cold and hungry, to be small and scrawny in a world full of dangers. He had forgotten what it was like to be Soran.

"Sleeping in soft beds, wearing the finest clothes, eating the finest foods," Mao went on. "Educated and trained to be the best you can be. Loved and respected by others, yet lying to every single one of them."

Their faces flashed through his mind. Empress Marianne, Prince Lelouch, Princess Nunnally, Princess Euphemia, Princess Marybelle…

"Marianne, who treated you like her own son." There was something cruel in Mao's tone, in his eyes as he paced slowly back and forth without a care in the world. "Lelouch and Nunnally, who treated you like their big brother. Euphemia, who taught you how to not make a fool of yourself. All of them, victims of your lies."

It was true. There was no getting away from it. He had lied to them, all of them. He had pretended to be someone he wasn't. They had accepted and liked him because they thought he was Alexander Waldstein. If they had known he was Soran…

"They would have dismissed you as a mere Seven," Mao went on. "A Number, beneath their notice. Their love for you?" He leered down, those same reddened eyes leering down at him with amused malice. "Was born entirely of your lies."

Alexander felt sick to the depths of his soul. He knew he was being manipulated, but that didn't make it any less true. Worse still that his lies had led this man to Shirley too.

Shirley…

"Oh yes." Mao's smirk widened. "Shirley has accepted her sinfulness. Come in Shirley!"

Alexander's heart clenched as Shirley stepped into the room. Her green eyes were lifeless, her whole countenance downcast, drained. There was a gun clenched in her hands.

"Miss Fenette…" The anger which he had contained burst forth. "What have you done to her!?" He barked.

"Shirley has been sinful too," Mao said, smirking. "She likes getting attention and affection from people, especially handsome young men like you. She got herself a big hug from you, but that just wasn't enough, now wasn't it Shirley?"

Shirley did not reply. She just stood there, a shadow of her former self. What had Mao done to her?

"She had to have Lelouch too; the one she's been obsessed with for all time. Standing there in the pouring rain, waiting for him to come by, waiting to steal a kiss from his unsuspecting lips."

Shirley began to shudder.

"Miss Fenette!" Alexander called out, desperate. "Miss Fenette! Run away! Run while you can! Get out of here!"

"Liar…" Was all she uttered.

There was no passion in the word, no vehemence. But it still ran a dagger through his heart.

"A liar and a hypocrite," Mao mused, straightening up. He sauntered over to stand beside Shirley, looming over her like a scavenger over a corpse. "And Shirley here is a vile temptress, a selfish and lustful witch who cares only for her own desires. And she has such desires, Soran."

Shirley began to shiver even harder.

"She has such dreams, such fantasies," Mao went on, clearly enjoying himself. "About Lelouch, and you, and both of you." He giggled darkly. "After all, who doesn't want the shining white knight in on arm, and the brooding bad boy terrorist in the other!"

Shirley let out a whimper. Alexander's stomach churned. He hated the look in Mao's eyes, as if this was all some dirty joke.

"Shut up!" Who are you to pass judgement!" he demanded, fury burning through his shame. "Who are you to condemn her?! What wrong has she done?!"

He wanted to hurl himself at Mao, to clamp his manacled hands around that narrow throat and wrench the life out of him.

"The same wrong as you, Soran," Mao replied, unruffled by his anger as he reached into his white coat's pocket, and Alexander can see the handle of a handgun "All those sinful desires, yet she prances around acting all sweet and innocent, loved by all." He oiled as he smirked down. "And you, the great Sir Alexander Waldstein, noble soldier of the empire, with all the titles and privileges the real you could never have hoped for. If you were truly honest, you would still be starving in the gutter like the street rat you are, while she would be despised as the whore she really is. You've both profited from your lies, and now…"

A demonic grin stretched from ear to ear, those red eyes again blazing with all the cruelty of the devil himself.

"…it's time to pay."

Alexander looked at Shirley again. She could not even meet his gaze; just staring down at the floor. She had been broken, he realised. Mao had turned her mind inside out, hammering her over and over again with all her mistakes, all her faults, every bad or cruel or embarrassing thing she had ever said or thought or done, no matter how trivial. She could bear no more, he could tell. She had been pushed past her limit.

Did Mao intend the same for him?

"If you want to condemn someone, then condemn me!" he declared, glaring at Mao. "You would condemn her for her thoughts, her feelings!? Have you nothing better to condemn her for!? For being human!?"

To his surprise, Mao actually looked pleased, as if he were seeing something interesting.

"Well now... such sincerity," he mused. "Would you really sacrifice yourself for her? Now that you've seen her true self? Knowing what she really is?"

Alexander felt something change inside him. For a shining moment, the shame and dread faded away, and something else emerged.

"If you can truly read my mind, then you know the answer," he growled, with all the strength and pride he could muster as his amber eyes glared right back into those bird-engraved ones. Doubtless his defiance would enrage Mao, but he did not fear it. He would not fear this murderous man-child, not any more! Not with death so near!

But Mao was not angry. He seemed almost pleased, maybe even amused.

"You know... I've never seen a mind like yours," he commented, mildly. "Everyone wears a mask, some people more than one. But you've become your mask, Alexander. Your lie has become your truth."

Then he glanced away, as if hearing someone.

"Ah, but our other contestant has arrived. It's been nice talking like this, but we have to take our positions."

He drew the handgun from his pocket, and aimed it at Alexander.

"Stand up, Alexander. And face your judgement."

(X)

The carriage clunked to a stop, and the door slid open.

Steeling himself, Lelouch stepped out onto the platform. He looked around, but could not see anyone. He could not hear anything either; save the sound of the work reverberating up the valley.

Had he come to the wrong place? Or had Mao tricked him?

"No Lelouch! We're here!" bellowed the station loudspeaker. "Come up to the main concourse! The fun's about to start!"

Lelouch gulped, and started up the platform steps. As he reached the top, the ticket barriers clunked open as one, making him jump. The main concourse was almost certainly on the other side, but he couldn't see much past the barriers. He was walking into the unknown, into what was almost certainly a trap.

He sighed. There was no choice. He could not turn away.

"Quite right, Lelouch."

He shuddered. Wherever Mao was, he was able to read his thoughts; at least his surface thoughts. And he had control of the trains and the station systems.

That meant he had to be there, somewhere. He could do it from the bottom station, but why take the risk of being disturbed?

"Impeccable logic. You can certainly think on your feet."

He was scared. This man frightened him, in a way few people had ever done in all his life. His first and best weapon had always been his mind, and this man could see it; without even line-of-sight, it seemed.

"Yes, that always was your strength, Lelouch. Your thoughts, whizzing round and round inside your head, too fast to catch."

Lelouch took a long breath. There was no turning back. No one back at Ashford Academy knew where he had gone; not even Nunnally. If he died here, no one would know why.

But he had no choice. He could not turn away.

He stepped through the gate, down the short passage, and out into the concourse. The concourse itself was grandiose, like just about everything Britannia built these days. It had a vaulted ceiling, with tall windows giving a fine view down the valley on one side; the opposite wall covered in murals and posters. Opposite him were the main doors, invitingly open to the sunny sky outside.

There was no one there. Lelouch stepped forward, wondering if he was supposed to go outside; and hating being so utterly not in control.

"That's far enough, Lelouch!"

The doors rumbled shut. Lelouch spun round, and saw a man standing next to an open door marked STAFF ONLY. It was a young man, tall and thin, with long white hair and eyes covered by a visor.

Lelouch snarled. His best weapon, his Geass, was useless against that visor. If he could just get it away somehow…

"Quick on the uptake, as ever." Mao clapped his hands, one of which held a gun, as he stepped into the middle of the concourse; barring his way back through the gates. "But your Geass can't help you here, Lelouch. Any more than that fine mind of yours."

He smirked a smirk that set Lelouch's teeth on edge.

"Anyway, no time to chitchat, time for the big event!" Mao turned to the door and gestured. "Come on Shirley! It's your debut!"

Lelouch's heart clenched as Shirley stepped out, head lowered, a gun clutched in her hands.

"Shirley!" he called out. But she ignored him, simply moping across the floor, to stand in the middle off the concourse.

"And last, but never least, Sir Alexander Waldstein, better known as Soran!"

Lelouch blinked, taken by surprise, as another figure stepped through the door.

Then their eyes met. And Lelouch saw the light of recognition.

"Now that everything is as it should be, the judgement can begin," declared Mao, interrupting the moment. "Two sinners stand before us. Liars, murderers, and hypocrites; each in their own way, and for their own reasons."

He swaggered up to Alexander, leaning forward and staring him in the eyes.

"Alexander Waldstein, otherwise known as Soran. You started life as a starving child on the streets of Tehran, a mere Seven. But then Bismark Waldstein came along, adopted you, and made you his son, thanks to a favor called in from the Emperor himself. For the past thirteen years you have lived that lie, enjoying every privilege, benefit, and advantage that it brought your way. Instead of living honestly and truthfully as the Number you are, you lived a lie; and now you fight to preserve the very system that made that lie necessary. You have destroyed lives, burned cities, and crushed nations under your bootheel, and helped reduce untold millions to the state you should be living in. Liar…murderer…hypocrite."

Lelouch expected Alexander to shout out, to spit back a retort. But no words came. All he could see in Alexander's eyes was despair.

Did that mean…?

"And over here, Lelouch Lamperouge," Mao went on, swaggering over to him. "Once known as Lelouch vi Britannia, and now called Zero. When Britannia invaded Japan, you faked your and your sister's deaths, and lived for seven years under a false name. A false name, for a false life. Seven carefree years as Lelouch Lamperouge. Seven years lying to those who admired, liked, and even loved you. Seven years keeping your little sister locked away in a cage, because you couldn't bear the thought of losing her. And then, because you were bored, you became Zero. You've destroyed countless lives, and you spend your nights fantasizing about how to take more; all for your wounded pride. Liar…murderer…hypocrite."

Lelouch gritted his teeth. CC had been right; this person could read minds after all. But how had he gotten all this information? How deep could he go?

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, playing the innocent. "You've got me mixed up with someone else. You're making a mistake."

"Oh, denial is it?" Mao tittered, and swaggered back towards Shirley. "You deny your guilt? Shirley accepts her guilt, and Soran accepts his. But you deny it?"

"All I'm hearing is a load of nonsense," Lelouch retorted, forcing himself to appear calm. "All you've done is prance around slandering Lord Waldstein here, and spouting nonsense about me. What am I supposed to make of all this? Why should I believe a word you say?"

"Why?" Mao turned to face him, wearing a smile of almost sickening innocence. "Because I know, Lelouch. I can see every thought in your head, racing round and round and round. I've seen every order you gave to your Black Knights. I've seen you draw up your hit list; all those hundreds of Britannians and Japanese who must die to fulfil your goals. I've seen you consorting with that man who claims to be Gary Biaggi. Oh, the things I could tell you about him."

Lelouch shuddered, as memories arose unbidden. All his plans and schemes, all the deals and arrangements he had made; all of them racing through his mind, playing before his mind's eye in the same detail as when they had happened.

"Still don't believe me?" Mao reached into his pocket, and pulled out a chain. "How about this then?"

Lelouch saw the chain, and the object hanging from it. It was a ring, scorched and half-melted. He heard Alexander gasp, and in his mind's eye saw his hand fly to his collar.

He knew what it was.

"Why…?" he gasped, his blood turning to ice. "Why…why do you have that!?"

"It was around his neck, where it has hung these past seven years," Mao replied. "Your mother's ring, the one you threw away."

Even Alexander lifted his head, eyes turned towards Lelouch. Lelouch saw his eyes, and felt sick to the depths of his soul.

More memories, rising like a tidal wave. In his mind's eye he saw his hand pull the ring from his finger, and toss it onto Genbu Kururugi's funeral pyre; the ring glittering as it vanished into the flames.

"You threw it away, like a piece of rubbish," Mao went on. "All so they would think you were dead. All so you could live as you pleased. All for the satisfaction of making them all grieve for you."

"No…Y-You're wrong."

It wasn't true. It could not be true! That wasn't who he was!

Except…

"They loved you so much, and you repaid them with grief." Mao's tone made his stomach churn. "And you liked it. You liked the idea of being so loved, so adored, that people could not bear to live without you. You are selfish as you are cruel."

Lelouch could find no answer, for there could be no answer. It was true, all of it. He had spurned those who loved him, even thrown away his mother's last memento. He had made them believe he was dead, just so that he did not have to go back on his words. He knew, from one look at those copper eyes,that he had broken Alexander's heart.

And a part of him, a small, twisted, cruel part of him, had enjoyed it.

'That's the root of all your sins," Mao said, his manner changing. "The three of you are slaves to your desires. You all want to be loved so badly that you'll do anything to get it. Lie, cheat, manipulate, kill. Sinners one and all!" He espoused, arms wide dramatically.

"That's not true!" yelled Lelouch, heart clenching with denial. "People need love! They can't live without it! It's only natural!"

"More so than you know, Lelouch."

Mao stepped over to stand next to Shirley.

"Yes, even Shirley here. You wouldn't believe the things she's been fantasizing about. First you, then Alexander, then both of you."

He let out what sounded like a giggle.

"She likes having two handsome men at her beck and call; loving her, worrying about her, suffering nobly for her sake."

Shirley shivered, and let out a whimper. Lelouch's heart clenched at the thought of what Mao had done. Tormenting her with her own thoughts, and yearnings, and fears. Repeating them all back to her, turning her mind inside out.

"That's not fair!" he cried. "She can't help it! She can't control such things! You can't judge people for something like that!"

"Oh, but they do," retorted Mao. "People do it all the time. They condemn those who do evil, but deep down they envy them. They complain about what the rich and powerful get up to, but fantasize about being them. If I cannot condemn, then who can? If you three are not guilty, then who is?"

Lelouch's breath caught in his throat. Those eyes, that smile…such horrifying, sickening, innocence…

"Now that the truths have all been revealed, we can begin the punishment game," Mao declared with a snap of his fingers. "Oh, but where are my manners?"

He reached into his pocket and brought out small device, pressing the button. Alexander's cuffs beeped, opened, and fell to the floor with a clunk.

"And so the game begins," Mao went on. "Shirley has acknowledged her sin, so she can atone right now. Her sin was wanting two men at the same time, so she'll have to settle for just one."

His smirk widened.

"Shirley will now atone by killing one of you. One of you shall atone by dying, the other shall atone by living…if he can."

Lelouch's heart pounded as Mao stepped away, and Shirley raised her gun. She looked from one to the other, her eyes blank, lifeless.

"Shirley!" he pleaded, desperate. "Shirley, stop it! Don't do it! He's been messing with you! With all of us!"

But Shirley ignored him, turning towards Alexander. Alexander gazed back at her, looking as if his soul had been wrenched from his body.

"Is it Alexander?" Mao wondered aloud, bouncing around behind Shirley like some hyperactive presenter on a children's tv show. "Maybe she doesn't want to be with a lying, cheating, filthy Number? Will she choose the bad boy? The one who killed her own father and countless others, all for some feeble revenge? And that cripple of a sister?"

Lelouch raged at the slur against Nunnally; but it was outweighed by the ache in his heart, the ache for Alexander. He didn't want Alexander to die like this. Alexander didn't deserve to die like this! Not at the hands of Shirley!

No! Not like this! Not Alexander!

"Oh, it's a bit late for that, Lelouch," Mao cut in. "Maybe you should have thought of that when you were younger. Maybe you should have appreciated your dear big brother."

Lelouch heard Alexander gasp. What did he mean?

"Oh, she didn't tell you, did she?" Mao beamed in delight at his own joke. "She didn't tell you how much she wanted him to be a part of your happy little family. About how she wanted him to be her son, for him to call her mother. About how she asked him to be her son, on the very day that she died."

Lelouch's mind froze up. It couldn't be true! Why would his mother even consider such a thing!? Why hadn't she mentioned it to him?

Could it be…?

"So sad," Mao drawled. "You were so close to being brothers. And who knows, maybe you really were? But you just had to be a little brat, didn't you? You could never appreciate what you had. All you wanted to do was complain. Why did he have to come into my life and make everybody love him instead of me? Why didn't he stand up to the Emperor that day? Why didn't he come with us to Japan? It's all just me me me with you, isn't it, Lelouch?"

Lelouch gritted his teeth, even as his eyes filled with tears. He wanted to fight this man, to kill this evil man. But there was nothing he could do. No way he could save Alexander, or Shirley. No way to undo what he had done.

But then Shirley moved, turning her eyes, and her gun, back towards Lelouch.

"Or is it Lelouch?" Mao bounced and clapped like an over-excited child. "Maybe she prefers a manly man to a pretty boy? The noble sir knight to the spoiled brat? And there's the small matter of her father to consider. Remember him, Lelouch? The one you killed?"

Shirley stepped closer, bringing up the gun.

"Maybe now she'll kill the masked demon!" Mao went on, capering like a jester. "And then her precious white knight will gather her up in his arms, and carry her off! One minute plain little Shirley Fenette, the next Lady Shirley Waldstein, the most envied bride in the Empire! All the pageantry, all the status, all those high-born girls chewing their hankies in rage! All by tossing aside her childhood crush! Make that former crush."

"Lulu," Shirley whispered, aiming the gun at his heart. "Die."

Lelouch could not remember ever feeling so afraid. He was going to die. Even if he could talk down Shirley, or get the gun from her, Mao would just shoot him. And with that Geass, he could overhear his every thought, every plan, every possibility. And with that visor in place, he couldn't use his own Geass.

He was going to die. He was going to die, and Nunnally would be alone.

He was going to die, and Nunnally would be alone. And there was no way Mao was going to let Shirley and Alexander go free.

"Yes, Shirley," Mao purred. "Kill him, and be free of your sins. He's the worst of them, easily. He's the better choice."

"Shirley!"

Shirley jumped, and so did Lelouch, as Alexander darted in front of her, dropping to one knee.

"Y-You..."

"Shirley! Kill me!" pleaded Alexander, his eyes bright with tears Lelouch had never seen before. "If blood must be spilled then spill mine! But spare him, please Shirley! Spare him, I beg of you!"

Shirley hesitated, eyes wide, unbelieving, uncomprehending.

"Y-You called me... Shirley..."

"Oh, now isn't this dramatic!" declared Mao, bouncing and clapping like a giddy schoolboy. "Ah, but maybe it would be more benevolent to kill Alexander. After all, he couldn't live with himself if his beloved prince, his brother in all but blood, were to die for his sake now, could he?" He leered towards Lelouch, teeth barred in a wide grin. "He wouldn't be able to live with himself!"

Shirley backed away, glancing once again from one to the other.

"You have to choose, Shirley," Mao purred.

"I-I-...No…"

"You have to choose, or you'll feel this way forever."

"Please…S-Stop..."

"Choose now!" Mao bayed, his gun raised.

"That's enough, Mao."

(X)

Sad.

Pitiful.

There were far worse words that could be said for the farce playing out in front of her. But for CC, there and then, they were all that came to mind.

Mao turned to face her, the fury and frustration fading from his still-youthful face. His eyes were bright, full of joy, as he pulled away his visor; as if he could not believe what he was seeing.

"CC?" How innocent, how pure. "Is it really you?"

He stepped forward, holding out his arms as if to embrace her. He was shaking,

"Mao…this has to stop."

"I've waited so long!" cried Mao. "I missed you so much!"

"Mao, why are you here?" she asked. "You don't like being around people."

"I had to see you!" His eyes were bright, bright with his Geass; the mark of her failure. "I can't live without you, CC."

He lifted off his earphones, and she could her a voice from within them. Her voice.

"Come here, Mao. Thank you, Mao. That's wonderful, Mao. You're very clever, Mao. Mao…"

"Your voice comforted me, as it always has," Mao went on. "When I hear your voice, I can't hear anyone else's. I can't sleep without it, CC."

CC felt sick at heart; in a way she had not felt for many, many years. She had made so many contracts before, and all of them had failed. But none like him. And not with such consequences.

"I've built a house in Australia!" Mao went on, bouncing with excitement. "A big, beautiful white house! Just for us! Those bad people will never find you again!"

CC shuddered, as she understood his meaning.

"Mao…"

"That bad man came looking for you!" Mao exclaimed, his smile fading. "I got away from him, but he's clever, and he's dangerous! That's why you have to come with me! So I can protect you from him!"

So that was why. That was what had spooked Mao into leaving his refuge; the refuge she had created for him, where there were no people to torment him, or to attract his childish malice.

Mao's eyes widened. He spun round, but too late, as Alexander snatched the gun from Shirley's hand. Mao pulled out his own pistol, and the pair stood there, guns aimed.

Standoff.

"Oh, clever," Mao drawled. "Very clever, distracting me like that."

"Madame…" Alexander's eyes were hard and narrow. "Madame, step away from that man."

"Stay right there, CC!" declared Mao, moving himself to shield her. "I'll protect you from him! I'll protect you from everyone!"

"Mao…"

"Put down your gun, and I'll spare your life," said Alexander gravely. "I cannot kill one who has surrendered."

For a moment, Mao just stared. Then he burst out laughing, shrieking like a madman.

"Surrender to Britannia? Are you that stupid? Do you have any idea what they'll do to me? Do you know half the things that go on in Britannia? Do you even know who he works for?"

"Put it down!" Alexander snarled, his eyes cold and bright.

And then Mao's sneer faded. He seemed to relax.

"There it is again," he breathed. "So pure, so focussed. You really are a…"

The shot rang out.

(X)

Alexander's heart skipped a beat. His head snapped back and forth, looking for whoever had fired; but he could see no one. Shirley was alive, and so was Lelouch. And he hadn't fired!

Then he saw it. The strange, distant look on Mao's face, and the circle of blood spreading across his chest.

Mao slumped to his knees. Behind him, the young woman called CC caught him in her arms, cradling him like a child.

"CC…" he gasped, as his face paled.

"I'm sorry, Mao," CC whispered. "I should not have given you your Geass. I condemned you when I did. It's all my fault."

Even then, even amid the insanity of it all, something in her countenance. made his heart ache.

"I love you, CC," Mao croaked, staring up at her with the innocent eyes of a child in his mother's arms.

"I loved you, Mao," she replied, as she put her gun to his heart. "We'll meet again, in C's World."

She pulled the trigger. And the light faded from Mao's eyes. He slumped, and lay still, his face wrapped in a strange, beatific smile.

CC slid the gun into her pocket, and stood up, lifting the lifeless youth in her arms. As she turned to leave, she glanced at Lelouch; her face expressionless.

"Check your pocket," she said. Then she turned, and carried Mao away.

Lelouch did as he was bidden, until he found a small mirror; the sort a girl might use to put on makeup. He looked down at it, and saw something Alexander could not see.

"Oh…" he mused. "So that was how."

He put the mirror away, and straightened up. Alexander looked to Shirley, daring to hope that it was all over, that she was finally safe.

And then he saw her eyes.

"Miss Fenette…"

"What…was that?" Shirley whimpered, clutching herself as she shivered. "What just happened?"

What could he say? How could he possibly explain? Did he dare deny?

No. He could not explain. And he could not deny.

"Miss Fenette, it's over," he said, in what he could only hope was a soothing tone. "It's over now. You're safe."

"But it's not over!" Shirley wailed. "Those things he said!"

Alexander's heart sank. No escape. No way to deny it. Not to her.

"Miss Fenette…everything he said…"

"I don't care!"

The words struck him like a bolt of lightning.

"Miss Fenette…"

"I don't! I don't care about that! I don't care about any of that!" Tears ran down her face. "I'm not a noble! Why should I care!?"

Alexander was struck silent. He couldn't believe it. It wasn't possible!

"Just tell me!" Shirley started shivering even more. "Tell me you don't believe it! Tell me you don't believe what he said!"

"Miss Fenette…"

"It's not true! That's not who I am!" Shirley let out a sob. "I just wanted you to be kind to me! I wanted Lelouch to be kind to me! I didn't want any more! I couldn't help myself!"

"Miss Fenette!"

"I didn't want to hurt anyone! I didn't want anything like that! I'm not like that!"

"Shirley!"

That, at last, got through. She stared at him, her tearful eyes wide.

"Shirley, you don't have to convince me," pleaded Alexander, his heart wrenching for every tear. "I know what loneliness is! I know what it is to mourn! I have known a world that seems cold and empty, and to wish for anyone, anything, to warm it! I know, Shirley! I know!"

Shirley stared into his eyes for what felt like forever. Unable to contain himself, Alexander wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in. She flung her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his neck. He could feel her breathing, her heartbeat.

He loved her. He knew that now. He didn't know what else to call this feeling. He wanted to love Shirley, and to protect her from all the cruelty and wickedness of the world.

"So then, some good has come of this."

He looked up, and so did Shirley. It was Lelouch, standing where he had been a moment ago, forgotten by both of them. He stared back at them with haunted eyes.

"My prince…"

"Please, don't call me that." His voice was hoarse, his eyes full of pain. "Not now. Not after all this."

"I…I thought you were dead," Alexander whispered, his voice as hoarse as Lelouch's was. "I thought they'd killed you. Everyone did."

"They might just as well have done so," mused Lelouch bitterly. "For seven years I've lived as a ghost, without meaning or purpose, a decadent and useless existence; with only Nunnally's happiness to sustain me."

He held out his hand, and Alexander saw Marianne's ring hanging from its chain.

"Take it," Lelouch said. "It's right that you have it."

"But…it's…"

"Yes, my mother's ring," Lelouch admitted. "The ring I threw onto Genbu Kururugi's funeral pyre. I don't deserve to have it any more."

Alexander hesitated, then took it, slipping it around his neck.

"Why…why didn't you contact us?" he asked, unable to stop himself. "I…we tried to find you."

"And what would have happened if I had?" Lelouch glowered, his eyes bitter. "Could you have protected us from them? Could you have stopped them from taking us back there, and using us as pawns?"

Alexander's answer caught in his throat. He could not say it. He could not reply to those bitter, brooding eyes.

"That's so cold!"

The sound made him jump, and he realised it was Shirley.

"You made them think you and Nunna were dead!" she exclaimed, clearly horrified. "They're…they're your family! And Alexander too! He said you were like brothers!"

"Brothers?" Lelouch mused, a strange look in his eyes. "Yes, Mao was right. We were like brothers. At first I hated him."

He let out a strange, hoarse laugh that sounded almost like a sob.

"Who was this boy? Why had mother brought him into our home? Why was everybody so crazy about him? Why didn't they care about me any more?" That laugh again. "Yes, I thought all that. Even when I scraped my knee, and he cleaned it; when I tore my clothes, and he mended them; when nightmares tormented me, and he sang to me."

A tear ran down his cheek.

"And I never understood, until I came here," he went on. "I never realised, until Suzaku showed me what a real friend is. I never understood what love was, until then."

He sighed.

"I never understood you either, until now," he went on. "I never understood why you were always so perfect, always trying so hard. Others, they were spoiled and arrogant, and I hated them for it. But you had something to prove; something they never had to prove. You couldn't be anything else, because you didn't dare."

Alexander felt his stomach churn, as he understood Lelouch's meaning.

"It was not duty that bound me," he said, with all the sincerity he could muster. "I did it because I wanted to."

"I know!" wailed Lelouch, tears running from bulging eyes. "I know you were sincere! But I didn't want a servant! I wanted a friend! But you would never open up!"

"How can you say that!?"

It was Shirley again. Alexander had never seen her so upset, so angry.

"How can you pick on him for that!?" she demanded. "He's spent all these years mourning for you, and you complain about something like that!? I can't believe it! You're so immature!"

Lelouch shrank back, wilting before her fury.

"I'll bet Nunna never complained about stuff like that!" she went. "She's so much more mature than you! And you wouldn't even let her see him!"

Nunnally. Princess Nunnally. Alexander's heart ached as he thought of her. What did she look like now? How much had she grown? Had she missed him?

"Why?" Shirley sobbed, the tears returning. "Why did my father have to die!? Why did any of them have to die!? Was it because you were unhappy!? Well was it!?"

"And Prince Clovis!" Alexander blurted out. "Your brother! Why was it necessary!?"

Lelouch's face twisted into a scowl, and his fists clenched.

"If you had seen what I have seen, you would not task me so."

Shirley faltered, and Alexander stepped closer to her, wondering what they had unleashed.

"Immature, am I?" he demanded. "Fine, then! And a killer, yes, I can't deny that! But you both know what Clovis did! You saw the reports, Alexander! And you heard the rumours, Shirley! Can you deny what he did!? What he did to those people!?"

Alexander shuddered, and he felt Shirley shudder beside him. Yes, he had seen the reports. Yes, he had seen the Shinjuku ruins. He knew what Clovis had done, and from the look on Shirley's face, he guessed she knew it too.

For there would have been rumours. There were always rumours.

"Like you, I remember Clovis as he was," Lelouch went on. "I have seen, as you cannot, what this empire turned him into. It was because he came here, because he tried to rule this land for Britannia, that he became what he became. Britannia destroyed him, as it destroyed this country, and has drowned the world in blood."

"That's not fair!" complained Shirley. "We're…we're not all bad! I mean, we're not perfect either, but…but that doesn't mean we like it all!"

"You eat its food, Shirley," retorted Lelouch, still glowering. "You buy its manufactures. You use its public services. You and five hundred million Britannians and Honourary Britannians. And how many among any of them have done anything to try and stop it?"

"If that's so, then where does that leave you!?" Shirley snapped back. "You've done just the same! And if we're guilty, what about Nunna? Is she guilty too? Does she have to die too!?"

Something dark and cruel ran over Lelouch's face like a ripple on a pond. Then it vanished, and his face softened. He seemed to deflate.

"That's why I must do this," he replied, his tone mournful now, instead of angry. "That's why I must remake this world. Because I am as guilty as anyone else. And because this is not a world where Nunnally can live happily. There can be no other justification. I offer no other excuse."

Silence. A cold, tense, painful silence.

Alexander didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to believe that the clever, troublesome, but good-hearted boy he had known had become this creature; this bitter, broken-hearted malcontent. But how could he condemn him? After all Lelouch had been through. After all that Nunnally had suffered?

Could he even say that Lelouch was wrong?

"Lelouch, come with me!" he pleaded, desperate. "Let me plead your case before Princess Cornelia! Together you can put an end to this evil!"

"What evil would that be?" snarled Lelouch, glowering. "The empire she has spilled her blood for? The empire she believes in? Do you expect me to believe that she'd willingly help me destroy it?"

"Britannia is not evil!" exclaimed Alexander. "Not completely! There are good people too! Princess Cornelia is good and virtuous! She feels as you do! Britannia can be saved!"

He knew how foolish it sounded, how childish, how ridiculous. But he couldn't help himself.

"You're as bad as Suzaku," grumbled Lelouch. "He thinks just as you do. He thinks Britannia can be changed from the inside. But he's wrong, Alexander, and so are you. If that's the best you can offer, then you had better shoot me and get it over with. Better to die at your hand than face whatever Cornelia has in mind."

Alexander glanced down at the gun in his hand; the gun he had entirely forgotten he was carrying.

Yes, he could do it. He should do it. Lelouch was now an enemy of Britannia. He had killed Prince Clovis, ruined the lives of Jeremiah Gottwald, Villetta Nu, and who knew how many others. He had vowed to destroy everything that Alexander had sworn to protect, to die for.

But…he couldn't. He couldn't kill Lelouch, his prince, his little brother.

"Alexander, come with me instead!" Now it was Lelouch's turn to plead. "You don't have to lie any more! You don't have to pretend any more! We can fix this ourselves, Alexander! We can change the world on our own!"

Alexander gulped. He felt sick, all the more so for how tempted he was. To be with his prince and princess again, to be able to protect them again. To not have to maintain the lie that was his whole life.

But…

"I can't…" he croaked, tears welling in his eyes once again. "I love you, my prince. But I can't betray Princess Cornelia. All that I am, I owe to her. I can't kill you…but I can't go with you."

He half-expected Lelouch to shout at him, to rage and rant at him. But he didn't. He just looked…sad.

"So then, what now?" he asked. "If you cannot kill me, and you cannot help me, what can you do?"

Alexander looked down at the gun again, and with a terrible certainty, he knew what had to be done. There was no other way, no other solution, no other honourable path.

"Alexander…" It was Shirley, who had been listening in fearful bewilderment. "Alexander, what are you doing?"

"What I must, Miss Fenette." Alexander looked up at Lelouch, his heart heavy. "My prince, please take Miss Fenette home, and ensure no more harm comes to her."

"What're you…no!" Shirley clamped her hands over the gun, staring at him with big, green eyes. "No! You can't do this!""

"I must." His words sounded so hollow now. "There's no other way. I'm so sorry, Miss Fenette."

"No! No I won't let you!"

He tried to pull the gun from her hands, but he couldn't find the strength.

"No more!" Shirley pleaded. "No more killing!"

"Miss Fenette! You don't understand!"

"I don't wanna understand! I want you to live!"

He could not fight her. He didn't want to fight her. He…didn't want to die.

"We'll fix this!" she pleaded, leaning in to press her forehead against his. "We'll work something out!

"No, I will."

Both turned, and shivered as they saw Lelouch. He stood with his shoulders hunched, and his hand over his left eye. The look in his right eye, the glower on his face, was enough to make anyone's blood run cold.

"I didn't want to this!" he declared grimly. "But you give me no choice! This is for your own good! Both of you!"

"Lulu…!" Shirley blurted out. But her breath caught in her throat, as Lelouch drew down his hand. In place of his left eye was a purple glow, resolving itself into the shape of a Greek ultra, or a bird on the wing.

"Everything that you have seen and heard, since you met Mao a few hours ago!" Lelouch declared, in a voice deep and clear. "Lelouch vi Britannia commands you, forget it all!"

Alexander opened his mouth to cry, but the bird leapt from Lelouch's eye, and plunged into his own.

And he knew no more.

(X)

Déjà vu.

Alexander blinked, wondering where the feeling had come from.

"Did you feel that?" asked Shirley. They were sitting side-by-side on a bench near the memorial. She was blinking too. ,

"Something…" Alexander mused, "like…deja-vu?"

"Yeah, like that."

They glanced at one-another, then at the memorial, then at each-other.

"Weird, huh," said Shirley, laughing awkwardly. "I mean…both of us having it at the same time, right?"

"Yes, it is."

The pair paused, not knowing what to say. Shirley let out a yawn..

"Man... I'm beat. It feels like we've been here all day."

"We did indeed."

Alexander was feeling fairly tired himself. Was it the weather? He couldn't think why, otherwise. It wasn't as if anything had actually happened.

"Still, it's getting late," said Shirley, noting the setting sun as she rose. "If it's okay with you, we should head back."

"By all means, Miss Fenette." He rose up after her, falling in beside her as they stepped away from the monument, moving onto the path.

"Sir Alexander…I'm really sorry," Shirley said, sadly. "I brought you all this way for... basically nothing."

"It is of no consequence, Miss Fenette."

"I came here…well, now that I come to it, I don't know why I came here," Shirley went on. "I guess I was looking for something…but I don't even know what that something is."

Alexander understood, only too well.

"You seek to close a chapter of your life, and begin a new one," he said. "Your life has changed, and you are uncertain how to proceed."

Shirley stopped, and Alexander stopped beside her. He began to fear that he had hurt her feelings. But she gave sign of it.

"Actually…that makes sense," she said. "I know I shouldn't mourn Dad forever…but everything's changed. I feel like…I just don't know where to go from here."

"Miss Fenette, I know how you feel."

"You do?"

Alexander cleared his throat.

"I was utterly lost when Empress Marianne died. I felt as though I would never be happy again; as if the empty void within me would remain forever. I no longer knew what I was to do, or who I should be, or even who I was."

"Empress Marianne? Wasn't she assassinated seven years ago? I heard it all over the news when I was a kid."

'Yes. It was the first assassination in years, so it was…a shock, as much as anything else."

He sighed. No getting away from it.

"She took me into her household as a favour to my father," he said. "She taught me how to behave, and I served as her page. If there is any kindness, any good in me, then it is thanks to her. She was…the nearest thing to a mother I had, or have, ever known."

"I'm so sorry." A platitude, but there was something…sincere about it. "Sir Alexander, I…"

"My birth mother died of…a complication, shortly after I was born," he went on, reciting the old lie. "I never knew her, and my father will not speak of her. I honour her memory, but Lady Marianne was, for all intents and purposes, my mother. I would not be the man I am, for all that is worth, without her."

Shirley stared at him, and there was something strange in her eyes. A kind of…understanding.

"She must have been amazing," she said. "You must've been heartbroken."

"Yes, I was, for a time."

But he knew what she was really saying. He knew the question hidden behind her words. How did he come through it? How did he escape from the darkness that was shrouding her spirit?

"Some cannot overcome their grief," he went on. "It dominates them, crushes them, and ultimately destroys them. They are crushed by sadness, paralyzed by fear, or consumed by vengeance. Such people cannot truly live. They merely exist, slaves to their pain, heedless of the pain they cause, and the harm they do."

He paused a moment, scratching his cheek.

"My father convinced me to live," he said. "He reminded me that there were others for whom my existence had meaning; Princess Cornelia, and Princess Euphemia, and certain others too. If I allowed my grief to crush me, it was cause them sorrow, and expose them to harm. I could not let grief consume me, while there were others I could be of use to. If I had no dream of my own, I could make the dreams of others real."

He found himself smiling.

"That's why I don't mind coming here with you, Miss Fenette," he said. "If I can help you, even in only this small way, then I have purpose."

"But…why am I worthy?" Shirley asked, in a mournful tone. "I'm nobody special, or important. Why me?"

"Because I met you, Miss Fenette."

He could not explain the moment that followed. He would never, for all his days, be quite able to define it. He had never felt anything quite like it before. The girl perked up, eyes wide as she gazed at him. Then her visage softened.

"It's funny, Sir Alexander," Shirley said, with a smile that warmed his heart. "I feel like…like I can tell you anything."

"I feel the same of you, Miss Fenette."

A moment of silence. A moment of…something as they stared back at each other, his amber orbs to her soft green eyes.

"Shall we go, Miss Fenette?"

Alexander offered his arm. With a smile, Shirley took it, and they strolled away along the path.

(X)

"Well, isn't that nice."

From their hiding place nearby, CC watched as Alexander and Shirley went on their way. Lelouch did likewise, unable to take his eyes off them.

Shirley…and Alexander. To think that it could happen. To think that such a thing was possible. The commoner and the knight. The kind and caring Shirley, and the noble and gentle Alexander. His friend, and his brother.

Whose real name was Soran.

"Maybe some good has come of this after all," he mused aloud. "If so, it makes a change."

"You're not jealous?" asked CC mildly. "Not even a little?"

"If I'm honest, no."

No indeed. For he had not loved Shirley, not liked that. He had cared for her, and regarded her as a friend. But he had not loved her, not as he might have done, under different stars.

No. Here there was nothing to be jealous of. Nothing to resent. Just something good being born, in spite of everything that had happened and everything that had been said. A flower of hope growing in the ashes of pain.

"Such a romantic," CC gibed airily. "Does it ease your conscience?"

"So what if it does?" retorted Lelouch, feeling a stab of anger.

He fixed his eyes on the retreating forms of his classmate and friend, as the anger faded; lapsing into the usual irritation. CC had an uncanny capacity to annoy him, especially when she was telling the truth.

Because it did ease his conscience. He did feel better about everything. It was a relief to know that Shirley's life was not ruined, and that Alexander had not lost his heart.

Happiness, or at least a wish of it, was the least he could offer them.

"Because you haven't actually solved anything," CC said, as the pair vanished out of sight. "You had a chance to fix this, and all you've done is delay the inevitable."

Lelouch knew that she was right. He had made them forget all that had happened since they met Mao; but what had gone before remained. Shirley would still wonder about what Villetta Nu had told her. And Alexander would still come to Ashford Academy, if only because Milly would keep on finding excuses to bring him there. Sooner or later, she would wonder enough to start snooping again. Sooner or later, Alexander would see him, or Nunnally.

No, he had only bought time.

"It was all I could do," he said. "I thought of erasing myself from their memories, but that carried its own risks. I thought of forcing them to obey me, but I couldn't do that."

"You could have had him under your thumb," CC replied. "The perfect inside man. Or you could have had him join you as a devicer. But you let him walk away."

"I can't do that, not to him," growled Lelouch, the anger returning. "Not to him, or Suzaku. I won't turn my family into pawns. I won't be like…him."

CC didn't reply. He glanced at her. There was a strange, distant, mournful look on her face, as if she were looking upon some painful memory.

"Mao was just a child I met," she said, without looking at him. "An orphan, who knew nothing of love, or of good or evil. I gave him his power because I pitied him, and because I thought he might be pure enough to wield it. Instead it grew beyond his control, and he couldn't turn it off. To be around people was to be tormented by their thoughts, an endless cacophony that he could not drive away. Only by being far away from people could he find silence. Only with me could he find any peace."

Lelouch felt a twinge of pity for the immortal girl. And in spite of everything, he found himself pitying Mao too.

"He loved only me, because my mind alone was silent," she went on. "He could not love others, for he knew them too well. He could not love them, or accept them, or learn from them, or even forgive them. He was sinless, and he saw only sin."

"Beware the pure in heart, for they have no need of forgiveness," Lelouch replied gravely; as the old axiom drifted unbidden into his mind.

"A moment of pity set all this in motion," CC continued. "A moment of pity, of delusion, doomed him to face this day. For a moment of weakness, every life he's taken is on my head."

She turned her head to glance at him, through those unreadable golden eyes.

"You want him by your side, but you wouldn't use your Geass. You could have made him your asset, but you wouldn't do it. You want what you want, but you won't bear the sacrifice. The consequences are on your head."

Lelouch glowered at her, resenting the bitter truth of her words. But there was another truth, one he could not deny.

"If I live by that logic, I become no better than Mao," he retorted. "If I abuse this power, then I share his fate. If he could not fulfil your contract, then why should I imitate him?"

CC kept on staring at him. And then sighed.

"So long as you fulfil my contract, you can do as you like."

She turned, and strode back towards the mountain

"Where are you going?" he asked, taken by surprise.

"To bury Mao. He liked living in the mountains." She paused, as if in thought. "I've got a spot picked out, with a nice view of the valley."

"And she calls me sentimental," Lelouch thought sourly.

"I'll help you," he said, moving to join her.

"You?" She gave him a questioning look. "And spoil your pretty hands?"

"I can handle a spade," retorted Lelouch. And that was true, if one counted all that gardening Milly kept roping him into doing.

Besides, he didn't feel like leaving her alone, not like this.

CC did not reply, but paused to let him fall in beside her, and they walked off towards the mountain.

(X)

And it's done.

This one was particularly hard. I am indebted to Zaru for helping me with it. I hope that you all enjoy it, despite the delay.