A/N: Um… I didn't read this through the usual three times after writing this… Actually… It was kind of a "writing with no looking back" kind of day, so… Sorry if the quality isn't as good.

Disclaimer: Code Geass is not my property.

"All too soon… They desert everyone they've come to know. Every place they've familiarized themselves with. Everything to do with the life they built," murmured the woman. Robed in a knee-length spring dress of ebony silk, she stared unblinkingly at the enormous and incredibly detailed painting displayed proudly in its gilded frame. It was one of many, and wasn't even the most interesting of them all, and yet, she studied it carefully. With hooded eyes seemingly guarding ancient secrets like a great goddess, her golden irises travelled up and down the artwork, drinking in the scene as if it were ambrosia.

"Self-preservation has costs," was the reply given to her. "That's why, despite their reluctance, they shed the lives and identities they were veiling themselves with."

"Self-preservation? Do immortals need such a thing?"

"Of course. More so than their more fragile counterparts."

"And why do you say that?" questioned she.

Her companion rose gracefully from his nearby seat and walked to stand by her side, as he had first done all of those years ago when he had unwittingly been let into the memory museum. The pair closely regarded the canvas, as his deep voice echoed in the vast hall.

"Because happiness, which is said to be the likes of glass, is a cloud for those Death avoids."

"A cloud?"

"Visible to them, so clear, prominent, and obvious. And yet… As hard as they try or as much as they lust for it… The image betrays them. They reach with their hand, only to draw away with nothing. Happiness eludes them, just as the reprieve of death does."

"So they're doing this for the preservation of, not themselves, but their happiness."

"In the end, mankind needs nor wants anything more than happiness. And it appears that their method of conservation is effective. They look happy, do they not?"

Silence reverberated throughout the corridor as she unfolded her crossed arms. Taking her confidante's hand, she merely kept her thoughts to herself on this particular matter, as the memory swallowed them.

A man and a woman.

No. Not just any man or woman.

Them.

They were sitting side by side, seated on cushioned chairs, patiently waiting to board the waiting airplane. Behind them, the enormous glass wall revealed a curtain, dark as his hair, swathed over the heavens, generously bejeweled with celestial décor.

He was asleep, exhausted from a day filled with last minute packing and one last overall inspection of the address neatly written on the slips taped to the various boxes of their personal belongings. His wife hadn't helped any; in fact, she had only made it worse, insisting that he immediately locate her book on the history of pizza.

They had made it to the airport and proper gate with time to spare, but unfortunately, him being worse for the wear.

He shifted in his sleep, fully leaning on the woman. Noticing, she adopted a thoughtful expression, in all likelihood contemplating whether to shove him away or to leave him be. Her rumination coming to an end, she closed her faithful history tome and cautiously moved her husband so that his head was in her lap.

Proud of her accomplishment (he was an irritatingly light sleeper, doubtlessly acquired from his original lifetime and the way he had doted on his younger sister (she recalled how she would often have terrible nightmares; consequently, he was always awake when he could have been obtaining the sleep he so desperately needed), she opened her treatise to the page she had been on and began to read again. Only this time, humming and occasionally poking him (gently, of course) on the cheek (just because it was fun).

"Stop," he grumbled drowsily.

"Stop what?" she asked innocently.

"You have your book, Ceci. Now let me sleep."

She fell silent temporarily before prodding his cheek again.

"What is it?" he sighed. He should have known better than to tell her to cease her teasing of him. Dull amethysts melded into twinkling gold.

"You're going to make me pizza once we move in. Right?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, not really."

"I didn't think so. What do you want as the toppings this time?"

As the couple discussed the possible combination of ingredients to embellish the pizza with, the man and woman watched. She couldn't help but notice the subtle curve of the warlock's lips as he reached up to lightly pinch his spouse teasingly. Her companion couldn't help but notice the faint dusting of blush delicately coloring the witch as her love unexpectedly complimented her.

Their enduring, eternal wedding bands glinted in the light as he brushed her hair away from her eyes before she reached down to pinch, pull, and generally play with her partner's face.

The elegant lady dressed in black was so absorbed with watching the memory play out, that she nearly forgot she wasn't alone.

"What?"

She managed to tear her eyes away to look up at the one who had always been besides her.

"Are you happy?"

"Me?"

He waited, wearing a kind, expectant expression. The scenery around them evolved from a quiet airport to a tranquil country field. Towering sunflowers waved back and forth, gracefully dancing in the dying rays of the setting sun.

Her dress rippled in the wind, no longer raven, but a pure, crisp white.

"Am I happy… What a strange question to ask me."

"Really? It's not odd in my opinion."

His suit, having turned from coal black to a snowy white, cringed and winced as he bent down to the ground, probably, she guessed knowing his occasional clumsiness, to pick up something he had dropped.

"Are you?"

His simple query floated up to her and she looked to the distant horizon to study what she could of the brilliantly painted dusk. Once she had decided upon her reply, she turned her attention to him again. Accepting the blushing peony he held out for her, she said in a quiet, unusually timid voice, "… Yes. I'm very happy."

And she smiled for the first time.

A/N: I realize I didn't explain the whole "Ceci" thing in the 22nd chapter. Er… So here it is. It is my strong, personal belief that C.C.'s real name is Cecaniah Corabelle. And also that Lelouch calls her by her real name after the Zero Requiem and they're living normal lives (or as normal as you can get when you're immortal and living with C.C.). And eventually, Cecaniah is shortened into Ceci. Like a nickname. That, and it's also how C.C. should be read. So yeah. So there's your explanation. Please don't flame me for my personal beliefs. Thank you.