[FIC; Code Geass] The Place Where I Find Myself
Title: The Place Where I Find Myself
Author: innerve
Genre: General, Angst
Rating: PG
Length: 2,220 words
Warning: Hints of Suzaku/Lelouch
Summary: (Post-episode 25, two years later) Suzaku battles with himself, and soon realizes that the answer does not lie within, but with whom.
Suzaku frowned-a wide, firm, gravel-under-the-foot sort of expression that he hadn't often entertained on his face, so full of nervous anticipation. Zero's mask and all of its damned accessories were hidden comfortably inside of the small wooden cart that he pulled behind him, both of its sanded handles held tight in his fists.
The country air was clean, fresh, and the sky a blue so bright it would have hurt his eyes if not for the fluffy cloud cover.
Two years had passed since the Zero Requiem had come to a startling conclusion. Japan and its Brittannian cousin had formed a long-standing partnership not long after the death of its tyrannical young emperor. It had not been a smooth road in the beginning, but as time went on and the world began to embrace the fresh, peaceful perspective of Nunnally vi Brittania, every lingering detail fell into place.
Lelouch’s sacrifice and the decision that Suzaku had made to motivate it had haunted him ever since.
It was foolish to be sentimental about it when the result was superb to the point of miracles. Lelouch was the definition of a martyr; fooling the world with the inclusion of his dearest friends and his own flesh and blood, and then offering up his own life to be the perfect remedy. It was heroism.
A buzzard croaked a warning cry, its wide wing span throwing a massive shadow over the dirt path Suzaku traversed alone. He watched the bird swoop down from beneath the brim of his straw hat, but turned away as it began to feast upon the festering corpse of some unfortunate rodent.
Live, Suzaku.
He had. He had lived for two years under the guise of the world’s most feared villain, filling Lelouch’s boots and protecting Lelouch’s younger sister with a life that could not be taken away. For a reason he could not fathom, he was not afraid of living as Zero. It was much more frightening to live as Kururugi Suzaku.
The road ended abruptly at an intersection-one way lead into the opaque wood, another toward the nearest merchant town. His destination lead to the west, and from his viewpoint he could see the open gate that marked the entrance to a farming village surrounded by rich wheat fields and well-fed cattle.
The closer he came to the gates, the more aware he was of just how large the village happened to be. Farmers in horse-drawn carriages pulled shipments of produce and other resources down the well-worn road, shouting greetings to one another and kicking up dust from beneath their wheels. A burly man in overalls lifted a hand from the reigns in friendly warning.
“Watch your feet, son! Berlinda’s a stubborn mare!”
The large stock horse snorted wetly, digging her hooves into the dirt dangerously close to Suzaku’s boots. He hurried out of the way, dragging his cart along with him and watching the carriage go by with a bemused smile. He made sure to keep a closer eye out for more carriages, and he safely passed through the gates not long after.
Take a vacation, Suzaku. I want you to enjoy yourself, if only for a while.
Nunnally was kind in spirit, and kind in stance. She understood his situation perfectly-without being able to get away from the politics and the mask every once in a while, he would lose his mind. That was the last thing that the world after the Zero Requiem needed.
Immediately upon entering the village square, a shock of chartreuse caught his attention. A thin woman in country linen was picking out potatoes from a stall. The villagers passed by without notice, a sea of faces and families and dreams washing by in waves of consistence. The woman drew the potato into her full basket and then turned to look over her shoulder. They shared a long look, and then she smiled knowingly before sweeping off without a word. He waited ten seconds before following after.
C.C. lead him to a wide town house set along the hills at the rear of the village, a clean white with royal blue trimmings along with a small collection of high-breed horses in a paddock nearby. Outside of the paddock sat a carriage that was half full of hay barrels.
They had said very little once the bustle of the village had been left behind them, but from what Suzaku had gathered, C.C. was doing very well. She was an enigma-just the same as always-and spoke in a manner that lead him in small circles. But most of her words held a gleeful sort of chime, free of the gloom he had noticed in them before. The silence between them had been less-than-pleasant only for his own unease.
C.C. poured tea into fine china that had been waiting for them out on the veranda. It faced the countryside, the village to the east. The whicker chairs were comfortable, if not a little itchy, but the tea smelled like home. Its pigment was a lurid green, the scent so pungent it opened up his sinuses and warmed his swimming head.
“I learned,” C.C. spoke bluntly, taking a seat catty-cornered to him and stealing a chunk of yellow cheese from the plate she had brought outside with her.
“I see that,” he remarked with no amount of bad temperament, taking his time in tasting the tea and feeling the heat on his lips.
A horse whinnied from somewhere in the paddock. C.C. lifted her head and then let it fall against her shoulder, her ponytail falling over the arm of the chair. “The empress allowed you off your leash…” She paused to take a bite, tasting the cheese thoroughly before swallowing and continuing, “…for how long, this time?”
“I’m staying a week, if that’s all right with you,” Suzaku replied with not much conviction, all ready knowing the answer. “Her Majesty is-“
“-boring-”
“-enough to give me time off. I won’t take her for granted,” he finished easily, paying no mind to the careless interruption. Why he chose to vacation at the witch’s town house this time around was difficult to answer. The closeness he felt to his own convictions was substantial when around the woman, and the simplest answer to the question was one that he was unhappy to admit.
“Heh,” C.C. laughed, and swirled the tip of her finger along the surface of her tea. There was something nostalgic in her eyes then as she watched the pasture with little interest. “I’m sure Lelouch could give you a better idea of just how ‘gracious’ his little sister can be.”
The way she said it… -What did she mean…?
Suzaku gave the witch a strange look, but gave a short nod. “Yeah, he… probably could. But what does that have to do with anything? Lelouch is…”
C.C. smiled then, and it was a genuine expression that allowed her to maintain her sharp, intelligent gaze. She lifted her finger from the tea and then licked it clean much like a cat intent on thoroughly enjoying itself. “Down there, by the horses. Why don’t you go pay him a visit? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
Everything stilled, the world turning a lackadaisical grey. The clouds ceased their roaming, the grass ceased its swaying, and the earth lost its smell. There was a moment when Suzaku thought that his heart would stop beating all together, but then the color rushed back and his senses returned, and he was getting out of his seat and making for the steps before he realized what he was doing. There were no thoughts in his head-just the purpose, the movement, the action. He was best at that. He had always been.
Something tumbled along the other side of the paddock as he grew closer, like the movement of crates while the horses snorted and teased one another affectionately. He felt his boots sink into the soft, well-walked dirt, hand reaching out for the handmade edge of the paddock to draw himself around to the other side. Sweat was building at the back of his neck and soaking his palms, but he wouldn’t stop moving, wouldn’t stop moving.
Suzaku felt the hilt in his hands and the blade of the sword pierce through an unreasonably fragile ribcage all over again when he found Lelouch.
A lone gravestone marked his burial spot, Lelouch Lamperouge etched clearly into the rock. Beneath the assumed name, 99th Emperor Lelouch vi Brittania and The Zero were inscribed. Loving brother, true friend, and devoted leader.
Nunnally wanted to be buried with him, was his first thought, and he found himself wanting to fall apart.
But he laughed, instead. The ridiculous idea that Lelouch had survived, and the hope that he could see his friend - accomplice - again, was… still there, with him, aching in his chest. It was just so ridiculous, a knight holding on to the memory of his dead king. Lelouch’s bloody hand on Zero’s mask, the molten slide of his tears beneath it…
Live, Suzaku.
What an idiot. He fell onto a knee in front of the tombstone, reaching out to trace the words with his thumb. A pain broiled in his chest, but his face was a sheet of blank slate.
“I hate you,” he confessed quietly, and his forehead was hot all of a sudden, so he leaned in and let it lay against the cool stone, eyes falling closed. “I hate you and I want you to know that I always will. Don’t forget that, Lelouch.”
The wind picked up gently, smelling of fresh grass and baking bread. The place was stifling suddenly, and if he didn’t leave, he would surely die of suffocation. The idea wasn’t all that unpleasant, as was his nature. He brought himself up from the ground finally, fingers sliding from the stone in a lingering sort of way. With a thick swallow, he turned away, needing that tea suddenly.
But something made him stop. Maybe it was a change in the air, or a figment of his imagination, but his stomach had twisted suddenly at the sound of crunching grass. His mind was playing tricks on him-it had grown malicious like that, often taunting him with bitter memories. He lifted a foot.
“That isn’t something that one could easily forget.”
And he placed the foot back down, staring hard at the dirt. He turned his neck to the sight of C.C.’s farmhand, dressed in well-fitting farm clothes and a straw hat to keep the sun out of his face.
“You’re a ghost,” Suzaku muttered calmly.
“Perhaps,” the ghost said, head canting back to let his eyes show and to smile insipidly in that very familiar way. “A ghost to the world - no more than a shadow on the wall, just like every other human being.”
He looks funny like that, Suzaku mused, and as the obscene thought hit him, he began to laugh. It quickly degenerated into hysterics. He found himself being braced by the farmhand’s shoulder, and soon the two of them had fallen to their knees, Suzaku’s full weight having been offered up a little too easily for the farmhand to prepare for.
“Nunnally misses you,” he spoke against the farmhand’s shoulder a few minutes later while they laid aside each other in the grass, bodies overlapping. “I can’t take your place.”
“Then don’t try,” the man offered sagely, the scent of Suzaku’s hair seeming to interest him as his nose nestled against it. “Zero is what she needs. Zero is Nunnally’s knight - her sword and shield. …You’re doing well, Suzaku.”
“Glad to have your blessing,” Suzaku chuckled gravelly. “For a ghost, you do a pretty good interpretation of someone I know.”
“I’ve had a few years to practice.”
“You’ve had a few years to bathe, too.”
There was silence for a moment, and then the both of them were laughing like mischievous schoolboys - that was, until, the farmhand realized that he was being insulted, and denied Suzaku dinner that night. C.C. snuck him a plate not all that sneakily, much to her farmhand’s dismay. The three of them slept in the same bed, Arthur curled up against C.C.’s chest.
In the middle of the night, Suzaku stared out from the open bay window in the bedroom, mind a delirious landfill. The stars were very apparent when no artificial light filled up the sky, and he found himself wanting to join them, dancing thoughtlessly around the plump moon.
A pair of long arms encircled his shoulders, a narrow chin fitting against his neck. The farmhand’s naked chest pressed tightly against his back, but he found that he didn’t mind it. In fact, he felt himself relax.
“Can I come and stay here when my job’s done?” he asked quietly, feeling like a young boy. The answer was all ready one he had come to himself years ago, but hearing it out loud again…
“Your job will never be done, Suzaku,” the farmhand murmured, saddened.
That was it. That was the final confirmation, and with it, Suzaku felt himself go numb.
And so there they stood, the two as one, just shadows against the wall - the king and his knight, the martyr and his murderer.
Author: innerve
Genre: General, Angst
Rating: PG
Length: 2,220 words
Warning: Hints of Suzaku/Lelouch
Summary: (Post-episode 25, two years later) Suzaku battles with himself, and soon realizes that the answer does not lie within, but with whom.
Suzaku frowned-a wide, firm, gravel-under-the-foot sort of expression that he hadn't often entertained on his face, so full of nervous anticipation. Zero's mask and all of its damned accessories were hidden comfortably inside of the small wooden cart that he pulled behind him, both of its sanded handles held tight in his fists.
The country air was clean, fresh, and the sky a blue so bright it would have hurt his eyes if not for the fluffy cloud cover.
Two years had passed since the Zero Requiem had come to a startling conclusion. Japan and its Brittannian cousin had formed a long-standing partnership not long after the death of its tyrannical young emperor. It had not been a smooth road in the beginning, but as time went on and the world began to embrace the fresh, peaceful perspective of Nunnally vi Brittania, every lingering detail fell into place.
Lelouch’s sacrifice and the decision that Suzaku had made to motivate it had haunted him ever since.
It was foolish to be sentimental about it when the result was superb to the point of miracles. Lelouch was the definition of a martyr; fooling the world with the inclusion of his dearest friends and his own flesh and blood, and then offering up his own life to be the perfect remedy. It was heroism.
A buzzard croaked a warning cry, its wide wing span throwing a massive shadow over the dirt path Suzaku traversed alone. He watched the bird swoop down from beneath the brim of his straw hat, but turned away as it began to feast upon the festering corpse of some unfortunate rodent.
Live, Suzaku.
He had. He had lived for two years under the guise of the world’s most feared villain, filling Lelouch’s boots and protecting Lelouch’s younger sister with a life that could not be taken away. For a reason he could not fathom, he was not afraid of living as Zero. It was much more frightening to live as Kururugi Suzaku.
The road ended abruptly at an intersection-one way lead into the opaque wood, another toward the nearest merchant town. His destination lead to the west, and from his viewpoint he could see the open gate that marked the entrance to a farming village surrounded by rich wheat fields and well-fed cattle.
The closer he came to the gates, the more aware he was of just how large the village happened to be. Farmers in horse-drawn carriages pulled shipments of produce and other resources down the well-worn road, shouting greetings to one another and kicking up dust from beneath their wheels. A burly man in overalls lifted a hand from the reigns in friendly warning.
“Watch your feet, son! Berlinda’s a stubborn mare!”
The large stock horse snorted wetly, digging her hooves into the dirt dangerously close to Suzaku’s boots. He hurried out of the way, dragging his cart along with him and watching the carriage go by with a bemused smile. He made sure to keep a closer eye out for more carriages, and he safely passed through the gates not long after.
Take a vacation, Suzaku. I want you to enjoy yourself, if only for a while.
Nunnally was kind in spirit, and kind in stance. She understood his situation perfectly-without being able to get away from the politics and the mask every once in a while, he would lose his mind. That was the last thing that the world after the Zero Requiem needed.
Immediately upon entering the village square, a shock of chartreuse caught his attention. A thin woman in country linen was picking out potatoes from a stall. The villagers passed by without notice, a sea of faces and families and dreams washing by in waves of consistence. The woman drew the potato into her full basket and then turned to look over her shoulder. They shared a long look, and then she smiled knowingly before sweeping off without a word. He waited ten seconds before following after.
C.C. lead him to a wide town house set along the hills at the rear of the village, a clean white with royal blue trimmings along with a small collection of high-breed horses in a paddock nearby. Outside of the paddock sat a carriage that was half full of hay barrels.
They had said very little once the bustle of the village had been left behind them, but from what Suzaku had gathered, C.C. was doing very well. She was an enigma-just the same as always-and spoke in a manner that lead him in small circles. But most of her words held a gleeful sort of chime, free of the gloom he had noticed in them before. The silence between them had been less-than-pleasant only for his own unease.
C.C. poured tea into fine china that had been waiting for them out on the veranda. It faced the countryside, the village to the east. The whicker chairs were comfortable, if not a little itchy, but the tea smelled like home. Its pigment was a lurid green, the scent so pungent it opened up his sinuses and warmed his swimming head.
“I learned,” C.C. spoke bluntly, taking a seat catty-cornered to him and stealing a chunk of yellow cheese from the plate she had brought outside with her.
“I see that,” he remarked with no amount of bad temperament, taking his time in tasting the tea and feeling the heat on his lips.
A horse whinnied from somewhere in the paddock. C.C. lifted her head and then let it fall against her shoulder, her ponytail falling over the arm of the chair. “The empress allowed you off your leash…” She paused to take a bite, tasting the cheese thoroughly before swallowing and continuing, “…for how long, this time?”
“I’m staying a week, if that’s all right with you,” Suzaku replied with not much conviction, all ready knowing the answer. “Her Majesty is-“
“-boring-”
“-enough to give me time off. I won’t take her for granted,” he finished easily, paying no mind to the careless interruption. Why he chose to vacation at the witch’s town house this time around was difficult to answer. The closeness he felt to his own convictions was substantial when around the woman, and the simplest answer to the question was one that he was unhappy to admit.
“Heh,” C.C. laughed, and swirled the tip of her finger along the surface of her tea. There was something nostalgic in her eyes then as she watched the pasture with little interest. “I’m sure Lelouch could give you a better idea of just how ‘gracious’ his little sister can be.”
The way she said it… -What did she mean…?
Suzaku gave the witch a strange look, but gave a short nod. “Yeah, he… probably could. But what does that have to do with anything? Lelouch is…”
C.C. smiled then, and it was a genuine expression that allowed her to maintain her sharp, intelligent gaze. She lifted her finger from the tea and then licked it clean much like a cat intent on thoroughly enjoying itself. “Down there, by the horses. Why don’t you go pay him a visit? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
Everything stilled, the world turning a lackadaisical grey. The clouds ceased their roaming, the grass ceased its swaying, and the earth lost its smell. There was a moment when Suzaku thought that his heart would stop beating all together, but then the color rushed back and his senses returned, and he was getting out of his seat and making for the steps before he realized what he was doing. There were no thoughts in his head-just the purpose, the movement, the action. He was best at that. He had always been.
Something tumbled along the other side of the paddock as he grew closer, like the movement of crates while the horses snorted and teased one another affectionately. He felt his boots sink into the soft, well-walked dirt, hand reaching out for the handmade edge of the paddock to draw himself around to the other side. Sweat was building at the back of his neck and soaking his palms, but he wouldn’t stop moving, wouldn’t stop moving.
Suzaku felt the hilt in his hands and the blade of the sword pierce through an unreasonably fragile ribcage all over again when he found Lelouch.
A lone gravestone marked his burial spot, Lelouch Lamperouge etched clearly into the rock. Beneath the assumed name, 99th Emperor Lelouch vi Brittania and The Zero were inscribed. Loving brother, true friend, and devoted leader.
Nunnally wanted to be buried with him, was his first thought, and he found himself wanting to fall apart.
But he laughed, instead. The ridiculous idea that Lelouch had survived, and the hope that he could see his friend - accomplice - again, was… still there, with him, aching in his chest. It was just so ridiculous, a knight holding on to the memory of his dead king. Lelouch’s bloody hand on Zero’s mask, the molten slide of his tears beneath it…
Live, Suzaku.
What an idiot. He fell onto a knee in front of the tombstone, reaching out to trace the words with his thumb. A pain broiled in his chest, but his face was a sheet of blank slate.
“I hate you,” he confessed quietly, and his forehead was hot all of a sudden, so he leaned in and let it lay against the cool stone, eyes falling closed. “I hate you and I want you to know that I always will. Don’t forget that, Lelouch.”
The wind picked up gently, smelling of fresh grass and baking bread. The place was stifling suddenly, and if he didn’t leave, he would surely die of suffocation. The idea wasn’t all that unpleasant, as was his nature. He brought himself up from the ground finally, fingers sliding from the stone in a lingering sort of way. With a thick swallow, he turned away, needing that tea suddenly.
But something made him stop. Maybe it was a change in the air, or a figment of his imagination, but his stomach had twisted suddenly at the sound of crunching grass. His mind was playing tricks on him-it had grown malicious like that, often taunting him with bitter memories. He lifted a foot.
“That isn’t something that one could easily forget.”
And he placed the foot back down, staring hard at the dirt. He turned his neck to the sight of C.C.’s farmhand, dressed in well-fitting farm clothes and a straw hat to keep the sun out of his face.
“You’re a ghost,” Suzaku muttered calmly.
“Perhaps,” the ghost said, head canting back to let his eyes show and to smile insipidly in that very familiar way. “A ghost to the world - no more than a shadow on the wall, just like every other human being.”
He looks funny like that, Suzaku mused, and as the obscene thought hit him, he began to laugh. It quickly degenerated into hysterics. He found himself being braced by the farmhand’s shoulder, and soon the two of them had fallen to their knees, Suzaku’s full weight having been offered up a little too easily for the farmhand to prepare for.
“Nunnally misses you,” he spoke against the farmhand’s shoulder a few minutes later while they laid aside each other in the grass, bodies overlapping. “I can’t take your place.”
“Then don’t try,” the man offered sagely, the scent of Suzaku’s hair seeming to interest him as his nose nestled against it. “Zero is what she needs. Zero is Nunnally’s knight - her sword and shield. …You’re doing well, Suzaku.”
“Glad to have your blessing,” Suzaku chuckled gravelly. “For a ghost, you do a pretty good interpretation of someone I know.”
“I’ve had a few years to practice.”
“You’ve had a few years to bathe, too.”
There was silence for a moment, and then the both of them were laughing like mischievous schoolboys - that was, until, the farmhand realized that he was being insulted, and denied Suzaku dinner that night. C.C. snuck him a plate not all that sneakily, much to her farmhand’s dismay. The three of them slept in the same bed, Arthur curled up against C.C.’s chest.
In the middle of the night, Suzaku stared out from the open bay window in the bedroom, mind a delirious landfill. The stars were very apparent when no artificial light filled up the sky, and he found himself wanting to join them, dancing thoughtlessly around the plump moon.
A pair of long arms encircled his shoulders, a narrow chin fitting against his neck. The farmhand’s naked chest pressed tightly against his back, but he found that he didn’t mind it. In fact, he felt himself relax.
“Can I come and stay here when my job’s done?” he asked quietly, feeling like a young boy. The answer was all ready one he had come to himself years ago, but hearing it out loud again…
“Your job will never be done, Suzaku,” the farmhand murmured, saddened.
That was it. That was the final confirmation, and with it, Suzaku felt himself go numb.
And so there they stood, the two as one, just shadows against the wall - the king and his knight, the martyr and his murderer.