Truthfully, there is no guessing game. He can tell whose hands they belong to; the familiar feeling of guilt surges through him, and he closes his eyes, drawing in a slow breath. It shouldn't have been a world of war for Euphemia. She should have been able to live happily, to go to work and learn how to cook, to spend as much time as she could with the people she loved. This was not the world he intended for her from the moment he realized it was her that one day; she always deserved better.
So why didn't he deliver?
His eyes open with her hands, fingers reaching up to grab her hands, and he says, "Lelouch. You shouldn't sound like Euphie." As if his friend, with the loud, extended voice could sound like his princess, but he manages to make himself smile with the thought, turning quickly around toward her. "It looks nice here, doesn't it, Lelouch?" he adds, as he turns, playing up the game, even if he's already looking at her and reaching up his hand to brush his fingers over her cheek. The movement makes his jaw clench, as it stretches on a little bit of stitches.
The one thing he realizes he could have lost at the end of this was Euphie, and he's glad he still has her. She hasn't changed, she won't change, and while he deserves a punishment, a world without her-she deserves everything she wants. For some reason, she has always wanted him.
That, more than anything else, is probably obvious. Just as he thinks she's Euphie, perfect, wonderful, can-do-no-wrong Euphie, she thinks the world of him. And while she realizes that he can make mistakes, and he can be wrong, because he's just as human as the rest of them, she can't stay angry at him or fault him for the decisions that he makes.
He's a product of their world, just as Lelouch is. Just as she is. Their world made them into what they are today, and if they're a little...rough around the edges, then at least they're that way together.
"Ahhh, I know seeing me wearing pants is strange, Suzaku, but really," Euphemia teases lightly, leaning down to kiss his forehead with a small smile, brushing his hair out of his eyes. She catches the way his jaw tightens, knows what it means-- he's in pain, somewhere, and while she's not aware of just where he might be hurt, she knows it's somewhere.
"...Are you doing alright?" She tucks some hair behind his ear, tilting her head into his hand, that soft smile never leaving her lips.
"It's a good thing that you don't look like him," Suzaku decides. A feminine Lelouch would be eerie to look upon, though it was veritably impossible given the way the genes worked in the families. Lelouch gained most of his appearance from his mother; Euphemia undoubtedly took after her own mother (though Suzaku realized long ago that she was someone in the royal family he happened to be unfamiliar with). "He'd probably still like you, though." Or more-that is the implication, at any rate. His best friend has a level of pride, if not vanity, but it still makes it easy to mock Lelouch for his habits.
The initial response comes out easily, mocking and playing along, like he actually is someone at the age of nineteen (though both he and Lelouch would agree that they feel much older, the knight and the emperor, in multiple places). His fingers drop from her face, arm falling back to his side in a far more comfortable position. The feeling of the pain shooting through him and stinging leaves, and he's able to fall into a smile (it's natural, he decides, to smile around Euphie-but is it so natural to have to decide upon it?).
He can lie with a smile, but not while looking at her. He's never been able to, head turning a little to the side and angling down, lips pursed and eyes half-lidded. The smile is hesitant now, before he replies to her second question, "Yes, I'm doing fine." Formal, delivered flatly, but said plainly like that, it's almost the truth. Euphie is here, alive, fine-Lelouch did not die at the end of this rebellion; isn't that enough to claim happiness? "Ah, this place is different now, isn't it?"
"Lelouch with pink hair is kind of disturbing," Euphemia says wryly, and tries to imagine it. She tries to imagine Lelouch as a woman at all, and realizes that nothing would really change. Lelouch is Lelouch, no matter what- longer hair, and breasts wouldn't change the way he behaves, wouldn't change the way he fights and smiles even when he's not really happy-- it wouldn't change any of this. "Though he would make a rather lovely woman."
Lady Marianne, for all her faults, was lovely; Euphemia had wanted to be just like her as a child, because Lady Marianne had been the closest thing to a mother that she had had. Strange to think about, now, knowing that Marianne and Charles were part of this whole awful mess that ruined the lives of so many.
She kneels down next to him, a little behind him, a reversal of their positions as knight and princess, in a way.
"Yet, fine is not exactly what we're going for, is it?" Euphemia murmurs, and leans her forehead against his shoulder, lightly, just for a moment. "For all the trouble that you and Lelouch have gone through, I should hope that maybe, maybe you're something more than just fine."
Though, happiness is much harder to reach for and attain. That much is obvious, each time she looks at either of them. War is easy to twist and start, but it makes happiness harder to grasp.
Her words seem to elevate the feeling of guilt within him, making him feel as if he can do no right for that moment. His fingers curl inward toward his palms, nails biting into the skin, as a way of punishing himself. They bite into the skin hard enough while he closes his eyes, berating himself, for not being "more than fine." (It's so easy to slip into these moments, to look down on himself, when he was smiling mere moments before.)
"Are you unhappy with what we chose to do, Euphie?" Again. What they chose to do again, but the additional word isn't relevant to the discussion. He's wavered over asking her, but hearing her words makes it difficult to proceed. Often, it is better to turn a deaf ear in order to do what must be done. It is for this reason that they were able to overcome the voice of Nunnally that day; somehow, it is harder here, so they would turn a blind eye on the faces and ways Euphie would carry themselves, even as they would come home injured, Suzaku's ripped cracked or his leg needing stitches.
It's hard to fight for someone who doesn't want you to fight at all.
He wishes to look at her, but he realizes her facial expressions will make it too difficult. Suzaku's strength isn't as infinite as he would wish it to be, made up of lies and truths mingling together. His strength, he thinks, is only a lie. It must be, if he can't look at her right now.
It wasn't at all her intention, truthfully. She both loves and hates Lelouch and Suzaku for their perfection in throwing worlds on their head, ripping up the way things were, and restarting them into the way they think they should be. It's good- she knows it's good, they're free, now, but at the same time freedom comes at a cost and....well.
"We won," Euphemia says in return, which is half an answer, and half an avoidance tactic, as she reaches for his hands and uncurls his fingers gently, to get him to stop hurting himself like she knows he is. She wants to be his strength, his support, but sometimes, she wonders if she can do even that, when she is so torn on what he wants to do.
The best thing to do, though, is to support him-- he doesn't always remember to support himself, or take care of himself.
"We're all free, and it's thanks to you and Lelouch." And she wraps her arms around him tightly, not making him look at her face for the moment, kissing his throat.
Every bit of avoidance is obvious in her words. In some ways, they are the same-unwilling to be direct when it might help, but might hurt to say the truth. They are both reckless and impulsive, righteous and believing in their actions, but everything she does is with a sound mind and a strong heart, whereas he wonders if his actions are meant for anything but selfishness. He leans into her hold, inhaling the smell of her hair (it always smells good, somehow-always); the feel of her against him is a warm comfort, holding him and steadying him in ways that nothing else can. He places his hands on her sides while he thinks of her words. Would it be better to question her meaning, that victory is really all that mattered in the end, or leave it to rest?
After all, Euphie has never been someone who believes that the ends justify the means. At least-that has always been Suzaku's perception of her. She's willing to stand up when it may cost her her life, she's willing to do anything possible even in the face of a gun pointed at her head, and she's willing to take the necessary steps to ensure his people their identities (even if that failed, her idea will never be a bad one; it's only bad when it's executed again and taken advantage of by someone who wishes to move). But even Lelouch understood that they wanted their identities with that, and that it didn't matter where they would lay claim on them. His way of moving with that plan would never parallel or mimic Euphie's intentions; in some ways, his plans were also self-serving, when she wished nothing more than to give things up.
Suzaku's plans have also been the same, though. It's only Euphie who had that sense of purity and logic. She may not have been the tactician or genius that her siblings were, but in many ways, it was better that she wasn't.
"Is that enough for you, Euphie?" he asks, coming back around to the question, to the reasoning behind her answer, because he realizes he needs to know. Suzaku peers at her curiously, hoping that it's the truth. "That it didn't matter how we got there ..." Even adding that on, he thinks he knows the answer. It's as if he's seeking her honesty, so he can further look at his actions under a different light. Unlike Lelouch, Suzaku likes to be berated for his sins.
Euphemia smooths back his hair with hands that shake just the slightest bit, though she'll never, never admit it. She wants to stay strong for, and in front of both boys-- and everyone else, really, but in front of them it's the most important, because she knows she wears her heart on her sleeve and she knows that Lelouch and Suzaku can read her better than anyone else. C.C.'s had months to learn about her, but there are still small things that only Suzaku and Lelouch pick up on, and it scares her sometimes just as much as she's grateful for it.
Do the ends justify the means? Does that even matter? She can't support- or hell, even understand that way of thinking, not with the lives lost and the pain that such a point of view causes. She's so used to seeing Zero's actions in Britannia and Japan, the ends seemingly justifying the means to him and she-- she can't.
What they did- what all of them did, Euphemia included, rising up and taking back a city that was never theirs in the first place- she couldn't say. The ends were worth it and she was horrible, horrible and selfish and greedy because they were all free, but she knew that it had lost them all people that they had cared about in the fighting. That was what she had trouble with.
"What's done is done," Euphemia says softly against his hair, not willing to look him in the eye at that moment. It's true, really. They've made their beds, and now they'll sleep in them- there's no other way to look at it. The thing is, she knows how Suzaku is, and she can't- won't berate him for sins that they all have falling on their shoulders.
Though the city may not have been theirs originally, there were hundreds of people who became zombies for the sake of an experiment, and many more who were brought in, forced to become a part of an experiment, and stored away until the people in charge felt like bringing them out to play again. They were more than tools, they were toys, and they likely gained enough experimental data in the first few months; there was no need to prolong the process.
These factors were a part of why Lelouch and Suzaku didn't feel like they were in the wrong-and that many others felt the same way. It's selfish to think that way, but they weren't doing it without an existing logic. Plus, they aimed to return the lives to the people who walked around with blank stares.
(Lives of these people were lost in the process, but many, many opened their eyes again and returned to their lives, to their happiness, and isn't that enough-isn't it?)
"Everything now is a little like we're afraid to do anything more." It's leaving the point, but moving on from it, because he doesn't need to hear it. She's avoiding letting him hear it for a reason, because she doesn't like that he hates himself, that he's his biggest critic, and anyone else's words are only there to add to his own feelings for himself. "To start lives ... to know that it's not fleeting." Lelouch, undoubtedly, has plans, but Suzaku hasn't known where to go, what direction to take, for some time. Perhaps that is part of why he was so willing to "die" and become Zero; not having to make that choice is much easier, isn't it?
Suzaku brushes his thumb idly against her, and asks, "What do you want, Euphie? For us, now."
It doesn't come as any kind of a shock, not to her at least. She's known for forever that she's not strong enough to be with them- to support them, maybe, when she can- but she's not as strong or as smart as her brothers and sisters, and she can't properly stand by either of them, not like this.
I'm inadequate, she'd said to Lelouch, once upon a time; the words only really got more accurate the longer time went on.
"To go home," Euphemia says softly in response to his question, resting her cheek on top of his head as she hugs him tightly, swallowing hard. "I'd just like to go home and hug you until I'm sure that I really have you."
Because no matter what, there was always, always the chance that she would have lost him- him, Lelouch, Rolo, any of the others- it came close a few times, and fear rose in her stomach, sick and horrible, but she never did and she can't even begin to think about just how lucky she is to have not lost any of them. She's lost others, but not them.
"And in the long run... I don't know." She's just as without a purpose as he is, truthfully. They're stuck here and she knows it, and while they can make a life here, she's not sure just what she can do.
Immediately, he misinterprets what she means by "home," jerking his head away as if the words literally slapped him. She wishes to hold on to him in a place that doesn't exist any longer, destroyed and left in ruin, with a new person at its helm (Nunnally) and him meant to be at her side. Suzaku wishes to be harsh, to try and regain his strength as he thinks of telling Euphie that she's longing for something she cannot have, because it would make him feel more secure in his decisions. But instead, he looks crestfallen and guilty, uncertain if she meant the home they fought for here or the one back home, a mixture of Britannian and Japanese rituals surrounding them.
He wishes to lean into her comfort with that, but he pulls away from her shakily, standing up and looking on in the distance. His legs are surprisingly unstable, holding him tall, but as if he can barely keep himself that way. Mental instability has always been Suzaku's weakness. His physical prowess has kept him together, but he cannot strike down his own weaknesses. Others' weaknesses are easy, as hypocritical as it may be, but he cannot cut away his own, as if they aren't meant to be there.
"I-sorry," he chokes out, because while it's a possible misinterpretation in the end, the meaning is still there. Why did he trust her that day, when the SAZ opened, when he should have been in there to stop Lelouch from killing her? (But would he have been able to, with his geass in place?) His fingers curl back into fists, but not in the same way as before.
Those words echo in her dully, leaving her just kneeling on the ground, eyes wide, looking up at Suzaku with something like shock on her face. She's said something wrong, and while that alone isn't surprising-- she's just not sure how to make it better or just what she's said that's so horrible.
"Suzaku-?" It's sharper, more confused than she'd really like, but that's all that comes out and it's too late to take it back, even more than it's too late to take back the fact that she's said something that's hurt him.
It takes a moment to push herself to her feet, brushing off her hands and reaching out for him hesitantly. "Suzaku, what's-"
It's instinctive to turn into her touch, and he does, allowing her hand to grab him at any angle, but the fact of the matter is that he's wearing the guilt on his features. "You want to return home," he says, clarifying why he became so upset. "I fought ... but that's one thing I can't promise." It's a little stupid to be upset over it, someone might tell him (that someone likely being Lelouch), but he doesn't stop himself from feeling that way. The tension in the air from all the fighting is still thick, and it feels oppressive, as if any mistake could lead to another battle, another set of deaths.
"That's why I'm sorry, Euphie." They hadn't discussed it at any point. The possibility of returning home to her time, of changing the moment in which Lelouch's geass overcame him. Things would have gone differently, but they perhaps needed to go that way, the world itself splintering and changing, making way for a different existence. Suzaku would never say that Euphemia did not deserve a part of that world. If he could bring her there, he would, but it never was a part of their plans. They knew that some things they could make possible. Banding together, crushing the foundations of this city and making it into something better, but home? The place where they grew up and met one another and made pacts?
It's the guilt that makes her stomach twist and flip, because of anyone, Suzaku knows how to punish himself the best. The rest of them get guilty, and Lelouch, she thinks sometimes, hates himself far more than she realizes, but Suzaku...
Suzaku has self-punishment and self-hate down to a degree that she can't understand- that she doesn't want to understand, at times. She wants to be able to understand him, but being able to understand him is also sort of scary. She can't imagine what it's like, living each day like he does, really.
"I-- what do you mean?" Euphemia asked hesitantly, and curled her arms around his waist from the front, holding him tighter, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, frowning. Why couldn't they go home? What on Earth was he even talking about, apologizing to her like that? "Why can't we go home?"
"To Britannia," he explains, understanding now that she likely didn't mean that home, but the place they all had here. His head twitches uneasily from side to side. "To Japan." Though Suzaku would gladly give up the latter if it meant being with her; it's a guilty notion, but they've long since concluded their permanency here (when they could otherwise disappear, it's better to solidify that factor). "Lelouch and I have done everything together ... but we couldn't deliver that miracle to you, Euphie." It's unfair. They can easily rip people from their worlds, from their lives, from their deaths-but they cannot give them back to change it.
His body relaxes a little underneath her touch, as all he wants to do is fall into her. That, too, is another psychological weakness, but he has never fully berated himself for it, mind too clouded by a flood of other thoughts to really look upon himself (though he remembers clearly the looks on Cecile and Lloyd's faces after the more troubling battles, and how much better he got at easing their worries after Euphie's death). Suzaku's fingers twitch up against her, fingers tugging a little at her shirt, as if he's afraid to hold on to anything more solid.
"I don't remember the last time I called that place home, exactly," Euphemia said softly and splays her hands out against his back, resting her cheek against his chest. No matter what, where they all are, is home, she reminds herself. They can make a home out of anywhere- home is where the heart is, right?
Inhaling slowly, and then exhaling, Euphemia runs her hands up and down his back while she tries to think of the proper words, not wanting to say the wrong thing when things can be taken in such a bad way. Instead, she leans up and kisses his cheek just a little. "It's a miracle that we made it out of this alive, Suzaku," Euphemia says softly, frowning just a little bit. It is, in her mind- war is never pretty, and she's horribly used to losing people- and they did, but she didn't lose any of them, which alone is a surprise.
Standing straight and tall, Euphemia kisses his throat gently, nuzzling. "I meant I just want to go back home, here. I want to just enjoy this- that you're here and alive and well." And she wants him to rest, most of all, and it's so easy to mask any kind of concern she has for how he's taking care of himself with things like this, anymore.
So why didn't he deliver?
His eyes open with her hands, fingers reaching up to grab her hands, and he says, "Lelouch. You shouldn't sound like Euphie." As if his friend, with the loud, extended voice could sound like his princess, but he manages to make himself smile with the thought, turning quickly around toward her. "It looks nice here, doesn't it, Lelouch?" he adds, as he turns, playing up the game, even if he's already looking at her and reaching up his hand to brush his fingers over her cheek. The movement makes his jaw clench, as it stretches on a little bit of stitches.
The one thing he realizes he could have lost at the end of this was Euphie, and he's glad he still has her. She hasn't changed, she won't change, and while he deserves a punishment, a world without her-she deserves everything she wants. For some reason, she has always wanted him.
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That, more than anything else, is probably obvious. Just as he thinks she's Euphie, perfect, wonderful, can-do-no-wrong Euphie, she thinks the world of him. And while she realizes that he can make mistakes, and he can be wrong, because he's just as human as the rest of them, she can't stay angry at him or fault him for the decisions that he makes.
He's a product of their world, just as Lelouch is. Just as she is. Their world made them into what they are today, and if they're a little...rough around the edges, then at least they're that way together.
"Ahhh, I know seeing me wearing pants is strange, Suzaku, but really," Euphemia teases lightly, leaning down to kiss his forehead with a small smile, brushing his hair out of his eyes. She catches the way his jaw tightens, knows what it means-- he's in pain, somewhere, and while she's not aware of just where he might be hurt, she knows it's somewhere.
"...Are you doing alright?" She tucks some hair behind his ear, tilting her head into his hand, that soft smile never leaving her lips.
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The initial response comes out easily, mocking and playing along, like he actually is someone at the age of nineteen (though both he and Lelouch would agree that they feel much older, the knight and the emperor, in multiple places). His fingers drop from her face, arm falling back to his side in a far more comfortable position. The feeling of the pain shooting through him and stinging leaves, and he's able to fall into a smile (it's natural, he decides, to smile around Euphie-but is it so natural to have to decide upon it?).
He can lie with a smile, but not while looking at her. He's never been able to, head turning a little to the side and angling down, lips pursed and eyes half-lidded. The smile is hesitant now, before he replies to her second question, "Yes, I'm doing fine." Formal, delivered flatly, but said plainly like that, it's almost the truth. Euphie is here, alive, fine-Lelouch did not die at the end of this rebellion; isn't that enough to claim happiness? "Ah, this place is different now, isn't it?"
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Lady Marianne, for all her faults, was lovely; Euphemia had wanted to be just like her as a child, because Lady Marianne had been the closest thing to a mother that she had had. Strange to think about, now, knowing that Marianne and Charles were part of this whole awful mess that ruined the lives of so many.
She kneels down next to him, a little behind him, a reversal of their positions as knight and princess, in a way.
"Yet, fine is not exactly what we're going for, is it?" Euphemia murmurs, and leans her forehead against his shoulder, lightly, just for a moment. "For all the trouble that you and Lelouch have gone through, I should hope that maybe, maybe you're something more than just fine."
Though, happiness is much harder to reach for and attain. That much is obvious, each time she looks at either of them. War is easy to twist and start, but it makes happiness harder to grasp.
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"Are you unhappy with what we chose to do, Euphie?" Again. What they chose to do again, but the additional word isn't relevant to the discussion. He's wavered over asking her, but hearing her words makes it difficult to proceed. Often, it is better to turn a deaf ear in order to do what must be done. It is for this reason that they were able to overcome the voice of Nunnally that day; somehow, it is harder here, so they would turn a blind eye on the faces and ways Euphie would carry themselves, even as they would come home injured, Suzaku's ripped cracked or his leg needing stitches.
It's hard to fight for someone who doesn't want you to fight at all.
He wishes to look at her, but he realizes her facial expressions will make it too difficult. Suzaku's strength isn't as infinite as he would wish it to be, made up of lies and truths mingling together. His strength, he thinks, is only a lie. It must be, if he can't look at her right now.
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"We won," Euphemia says in return, which is half an answer, and half an avoidance tactic, as she reaches for his hands and uncurls his fingers gently, to get him to stop hurting himself like she knows he is. She wants to be his strength, his support, but sometimes, she wonders if she can do even that, when she is so torn on what he wants to do.
The best thing to do, though, is to support him-- he doesn't always remember to support himself, or take care of himself.
"We're all free, and it's thanks to you and Lelouch." And she wraps her arms around him tightly, not making him look at her face for the moment, kissing his throat.
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After all, Euphie has never been someone who believes that the ends justify the means. At least-that has always been Suzaku's perception of her. She's willing to stand up when it may cost her her life, she's willing to do anything possible even in the face of a gun pointed at her head, and she's willing to take the necessary steps to ensure his people their identities (even if that failed, her idea will never be a bad one; it's only bad when it's executed again and taken advantage of by someone who wishes to move). But even Lelouch understood that they wanted their identities with that, and that it didn't matter where they would lay claim on them. His way of moving with that plan would never parallel or mimic Euphie's intentions; in some ways, his plans were also self-serving, when she wished nothing more than to give things up.
Suzaku's plans have also been the same, though. It's only Euphie who had that sense of purity and logic. She may not have been the tactician or genius that her siblings were, but in many ways, it was better that she wasn't.
"Is that enough for you, Euphie?" he asks, coming back around to the question, to the reasoning behind her answer, because he realizes he needs to know. Suzaku peers at her curiously, hoping that it's the truth. "That it didn't matter how we got there ..." Even adding that on, he thinks he knows the answer. It's as if he's seeking her honesty, so he can further look at his actions under a different light. Unlike Lelouch, Suzaku likes to be berated for his sins.
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Do the ends justify the means? Does that even matter? She can't support- or hell, even understand that way of thinking, not with the lives lost and the pain that such a point of view causes. She's so used to seeing Zero's actions in Britannia and Japan, the ends seemingly justifying the means to him and she-- she can't.
What they did- what all of them did, Euphemia included, rising up and taking back a city that was never theirs in the first place- she couldn't say. The ends were worth it and she was horrible, horrible and selfish and greedy because they were all free, but she knew that it had lost them all people that they had cared about in the fighting. That was what she had trouble with.
"What's done is done," Euphemia says softly against his hair, not willing to look him in the eye at that moment. It's true, really. They've made their beds, and now they'll sleep in them- there's no other way to look at it. The thing is, she knows how Suzaku is, and she can't- won't berate him for sins that they all have falling on their shoulders.
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These factors were a part of why Lelouch and Suzaku didn't feel like they were in the wrong-and that many others felt the same way. It's selfish to think that way, but they weren't doing it without an existing logic. Plus, they aimed to return the lives to the people who walked around with blank stares.
(Lives of these people were lost in the process, but many, many opened their eyes again and returned to their lives, to their happiness, and isn't that enough-isn't it?)
"Everything now is a little like we're afraid to do anything more." It's leaving the point, but moving on from it, because he doesn't need to hear it. She's avoiding letting him hear it for a reason, because she doesn't like that he hates himself, that he's his biggest critic, and anyone else's words are only there to add to his own feelings for himself. "To start lives ... to know that it's not fleeting." Lelouch, undoubtedly, has plans, but Suzaku hasn't known where to go, what direction to take, for some time. Perhaps that is part of why he was so willing to "die" and become Zero; not having to make that choice is much easier, isn't it?
Suzaku brushes his thumb idly against her, and asks, "What do you want, Euphie? For us, now."
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It doesn't come as any kind of a shock, not to her at least. She's known for forever that she's not strong enough to be with them- to support them, maybe, when she can- but she's not as strong or as smart as her brothers and sisters, and she can't properly stand by either of them, not like this.
I'm inadequate, she'd said to Lelouch, once upon a time; the words only really got more accurate the longer time went on.
"To go home," Euphemia says softly in response to his question, resting her cheek on top of his head as she hugs him tightly, swallowing hard. "I'd just like to go home and hug you until I'm sure that I really have you."
Because no matter what, there was always, always the chance that she would have lost him- him, Lelouch, Rolo, any of the others- it came close a few times, and fear rose in her stomach, sick and horrible, but she never did and she can't even begin to think about just how lucky she is to have not lost any of them. She's lost others, but not them.
"And in the long run... I don't know." She's just as without a purpose as he is, truthfully. They're stuck here and she knows it, and while they can make a life here, she's not sure just what she can do.
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He wishes to lean into her comfort with that, but he pulls away from her shakily, standing up and looking on in the distance. His legs are surprisingly unstable, holding him tall, but as if he can barely keep himself that way. Mental instability has always been Suzaku's weakness. His physical prowess has kept him together, but he cannot strike down his own weaknesses. Others' weaknesses are easy, as hypocritical as it may be, but he cannot cut away his own, as if they aren't meant to be there.
"I-sorry," he chokes out, because while it's a possible misinterpretation in the end, the meaning is still there. Why did he trust her that day, when the SAZ opened, when he should have been in there to stop Lelouch from killing her? (But would he have been able to, with his geass in place?) His fingers curl back into fists, but not in the same way as before.
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Those words echo in her dully, leaving her just kneeling on the ground, eyes wide, looking up at Suzaku with something like shock on her face. She's said something wrong, and while that alone isn't surprising-- she's just not sure how to make it better or just what she's said that's so horrible.
"Suzaku-?" It's sharper, more confused than she'd really like, but that's all that comes out and it's too late to take it back, even more than it's too late to take back the fact that she's said something that's hurt him.
It takes a moment to push herself to her feet, brushing off her hands and reaching out for him hesitantly. "Suzaku, what's-"
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"That's why I'm sorry, Euphie." They hadn't discussed it at any point. The possibility of returning home to her time, of changing the moment in which Lelouch's geass overcame him. Things would have gone differently, but they perhaps needed to go that way, the world itself splintering and changing, making way for a different existence. Suzaku would never say that Euphemia did not deserve a part of that world. If he could bring her there, he would, but it never was a part of their plans. They knew that some things they could make possible. Banding together, crushing the foundations of this city and making it into something better, but home? The place where they grew up and met one another and made pacts?
Home was long forgotten.
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Suzaku has self-punishment and self-hate down to a degree that she can't understand- that she doesn't want to understand, at times. She wants to be able to understand him, but being able to understand him is also sort of scary. She can't imagine what it's like, living each day like he does, really.
"I-- what do you mean?" Euphemia asked hesitantly, and curled her arms around his waist from the front, holding him tighter, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, frowning. Why couldn't they go home? What on Earth was he even talking about, apologizing to her like that? "Why can't we go home?"
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His body relaxes a little underneath her touch, as all he wants to do is fall into her. That, too, is another psychological weakness, but he has never fully berated himself for it, mind too clouded by a flood of other thoughts to really look upon himself (though he remembers clearly the looks on Cecile and Lloyd's faces after the more troubling battles, and how much better he got at easing their worries after Euphie's death). Suzaku's fingers twitch up against her, fingers tugging a little at her shirt, as if he's afraid to hold on to anything more solid.
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Inhaling slowly, and then exhaling, Euphemia runs her hands up and down his back while she tries to think of the proper words, not wanting to say the wrong thing when things can be taken in such a bad way. Instead, she leans up and kisses his cheek just a little. "It's a miracle that we made it out of this alive, Suzaku," Euphemia says softly, frowning just a little bit. It is, in her mind- war is never pretty, and she's horribly used to losing people- and they did, but she didn't lose any of them, which alone is a surprise.
Standing straight and tall, Euphemia kisses his throat gently, nuzzling. "I meant I just want to go back home, here. I want to just enjoy this- that you're here and alive and well." And she wants him to rest, most of all, and it's so easy to mask any kind of concern she has for how he's taking care of himself with things like this, anymore.
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