Written for this legendary of days: August 10th 2010 (and yes I know the Britannian calendar isn't the same).

Disclaimer: ... Notice the fan in fanfiction. With this piece of knowledge, let it be known henceforth that I do not own Code Geass.

He was normally so composed and calm.

Calculating, cold, confident.

So when he had that look on his face, that vulnerable, despondent, insecure look, it was no wonder that my heart felt a small twinge. Perhaps it reminded me of Mao when he found he could no longer turn off his Geass.

No; that was a different expression. That one was of pure confusion, panic, and vulnerability. The look showing on Lelouch's face at that time was one of a man burdened with such a heavy weight that he just wants to curl up and sob.

I couldn't help striding up to him to hold him tight. My fingers ran softly through his hair as I parted it to the side before I wrapped my arms around his ebony head and slender, hunched frame. He probably felt that he needed this— this chance to let his emotions free without feeling that he was obligated to maintain a professional demeanor.

He probably felt that he needed this acceptance of his weakness.

And... I knew he needed it.

Instead of simply acknowledging my presence and staying still, as would be expected when hugged by a mere business accomplice, he showed a small act of tenderness by shifting his knees inward and bending his neck lower.

Instead of simply accepting the gesture and then waving it off to cry in seclusion, he hunched further into my embracing arms and let fall his tears, claiming this would be the last time.

"Leave your sadness before you go."

I remember marveling at how human he seemed; how human I seemed. This man, this mere boy, who wreaked so much havoc and carved so much carnage could even cry these tears of solitude and remorse— not just tears of madness so common of such murderous beings. But to think that this boy could have made me show compassion! I must have gone soft for I thought I had lost all semblance of sympathy and acts of kindness long ago.

As I watched his crystal tears in the twilight-yellow light seeping through the blinds, I couldn't help noting that this young man had suffered so much in his short life. Seventeen, nearly eighteen, years of life and already suffering from the pain of committing a thousand sins?

A boy his age and lineage shouldn't suffer so much.

Really, a prince? Suffering? Ha! Most would never think it possible past the suffering of having to choose a wife.

I could tell when he stopped crying by the absence of new, warm tears staining my suit and the cease of shaking from his shoulders wrapped in my arms. I continued to comb his hair softly with my thin fingers as he grew calm.

"I'm sorry."

Just those two words, but I knew he was referring to his breakdown moments before. My only response was a slight tightening of my arms around his still vulnerable, yet considerably composed, form.

I could have said many things:

"Even boys like you need to cry every now and then,"

"It's fine,"

"First crying, then saying 'I'm sorry' to me? The world must be ending,"

but sometimes, silence is the best answer.

Looking back as I am, I suppose I was a hypocrite; saying to Marianne that a man like Lelouch needed to be kicked when down and then comforting him with a hug later on? Well, I suppose they were different circumstances...

I remember noting just how calm Lelouch had become. Back then I thought that he most likely was reviewing his actions, pondering what to do next to further his plans. So when I felt his breathing grow even and deep, of course I felt surprised.

He had finished his work as Zero for the time being and had requested to be left alone for a few hours, no doubt to come to terms with Euphemia's death and discuss his permanent Geass with me, but I had thought it was to serve as time for his machinations as well. Only with his slow breathing did I realize that he must have been emotionally exhausted and the time might have been intended for a short rest in addition to plotting and conversing. So much to do before enacting his coup d'etat...

Slowly sinking into the cerulean and obsidian depths of the ocean, I can now appreciate his trust in me.

He had groggily moved out of my arms and stretched on the couch, mumbling about sleeping for twenty minutes "because he wouldn't have a second of rest with tonight's plan."

Tonight's plan...

It's cruel how Madam Fate always kicks him down when he rises up from the troubles and obstacles she has set.

"And yet you keep striding forward, my Warlock. Walking with your head held high even as your sadness flutters behind you like a cape. Your pain, your sadness, you're vulnerability prevent you from becoming truly cold and inhuman. And to think that a Warlock such as you still has such a kind heart lying in the center of the layers of darkness you shroud yourself in."

His face had been so peaceful as he slept and I could only watch, thinking how I am the only person he can lower his guard enough to feel comfortable sleeping in front of. My last words of that poignant moment were whispered.

"Sweet dreams."

A mere two words, yet I knew full well how cruel that statement was— for when he awoke, he would surely be so rudely faced with the nightmare called reality.

"May your dreams give you strength to face the future reality, my Warlock," my last thought as the pressure intensified too much for the Knightmare to take.

I blacked out, dying once again.

I hope you enjoyed. ^^