Chapter Three: There and Back Again

"Jeremiah."

C.C. strolled casually through the door, past Jeremiah, looking for all the world as if it were her own house. Her pastel-coloured summer dress floated around her and she was dragging along a small brown suitcase. Jeremiah could only follow with a slight roll of his eye. He was definitely not unhappy to see the green-haired woman. At the very least, it wasn't the unwanted company Jeremiah had feared moments prior.

"A gentleman like you should know how to treat a lady well," C.C. said to him from where she had draped herself on his sitting room sofa, looking up at him as he approached. "I see you've already started on dinner, although it smells like it's well on its way to becoming charcoal."

Jeremiah swore.

Distracted by C.C.'s entrance, he had completely forgotten about his attempt at pasta, nor did he notice the distinct smell of burning, until now. Sure enough, when he dashed into the kitchen, smoke was rising steadily from the stove top. A second later, the smoke alarms went off. Jeremiah groaned. It was a bit embarrassing, too, having committed such a rookie mistake.

By the time he cleared away the burnt food and turned on all the ventilation systems in the kitchen, C.C. had made her way to join him at the small table in the kitchen. He glanced at her.

"Pizza?"

C.C. smiled. "You know me well."

…But he really didn't.

Twenty minutes later, C.C. was helping herself to the freshly baked frozen pizza, apparently immune to the heat. Jeremiah followed suit, at a much slower pace. At this rate, he didn't think the one large would be enough. It was a sight to behold, C.C.'s legendary pizza-eating skills.

When the second pizza was nearly demolished, Jeremiah finally broke the slightly awkward silence that had descended over them, broken only by the unavoidable sounds of chewing. Not to mention, C.C. had taken to staring at Jeremiah for extended periods of time, perhaps simply to amuse herself, he hadn't a clue.

"Lady C.C., I am actually very glad you came here tonight. In fact, I was hoping you'd come even earlier. It's, um…" He cleared his throat. "I wanted to ask you about…his Majesty." He couldn't tell if the vague surprise on the woman's face was genuine or not.

"Lelouch." He wasn't sure whether or not that was a question, either. Why was the woman so damn hard to read? Thankfully, she continued of her own accord after a pause.

"He chose his own path. What more is there to discuss when everything has been taken care of?"

Jeremiah stared hard at her.

"You really don't know…?"

C.C. tilted her head, expression seemingly neutral, but Jeremiah could see the slight downturn of her lips that wasn't there before.

He continued. "He's here."

"Yes, that is what he decided." The frown was more pronounced now.

"No, my Lady, I mean he's here." Jeremiah took a breath. "He's alive."

It was truly silent now. Then…

"That's…not possible." C.C.'s golden eyes had widened, giving her a vulnerable look Jeremiah had rarely, if ever, seen.

"But it's true," Jeremiah pressed on. "You couldn't feel his Code awakening?"

"His Code? No, I…I can't feel other Code bearers." Jeremiah was a bit confused at this. "We can communicate between two willing participants but otherwise, we can only sense our own contractors and other Geass users, to an extent."

C.C. stood up, her chair scraping against the tiled floor. "But I felt him die and our connection break. And he could only have gained immortality by taking mine."

"I don't understand it in the slightest," Jeremiah didn't mind admitting, "but I am not going to complain about this turn of fate. Please, follow me."

The remnants of pizza lay forgotten as the pair made their way out of the dining room and up the stairs, Jeremiah in the lead.

C.C. sucked in a breath when Jeremiah pushed the door open in front of her and she caught a glimpse of the person lying on the bed. Jet black hair, pale skin; it really was him after all. The self-proclaimed witch found herself paralyzed where she stood.

"He's been this way ever since the morning after…after the Requiem." Jeremiah's voice shook her from her stupor. Her eyes snapped up to take in the monitor reading out Lelouch's vitals – she watched the thin line move across the screen, dancing to his heartbeat – and his unnatural stillness.

"He was definitely dead when I brought him in, but the next morning…" Apparently, Jeremiah was feeling the need to fill in the silence that had once again begun to pervade the environment. "Well, he hasn't woken up since then and it's been over a week. I was hoping you would have some insight, but, um…evidently, that is not the case. I, er…I'll leave you alone." He made a hasty retreat. The door closed with a gentle click.

A minute passed. Two. C.C. couldn't tear her eyes away from Lelouch's sleeping visage. She stepped closer; he was in arms reach now. Slender fingers traced a path through silky bangs, down high cheekbones and caressed a sharp jawline. They moved along the long column of neck, lingering on the vivid red sigil that sat just below a prominent collarbone.

"Lelouch…my Demon Emperor, my Black Prince…" Her voice was soft as a whisper, barely heard in the lonely room. "You came back to me."

Then she was smiling. Half-hearted chuckles turned into full-blown laughter and C.C. sank down, her head coming to rest of Lelouch's chest. His heartbeat was a glorious sound, the sweetest that had graced her ear in hundreds of years.

She had felt so afraid at the end, afraid of being left alone again. Foolishly, she had thought Lelouch would be the one to free her from her prison of isolation after an unbearably long life. He had been different from the others and she let the seed of hope take root in her stone cold heart, so when he offered his hand and a promise to make her smile, she took it and didn't look back.

Then, they stepped back into the real world and the battle raged on, and C.C. began to realize she would never be the first thing on his mind. But when Suzaku said to her, in that determined voice he had, that he would be Lelouch's sword, she knew she had found her place as his shield.

She protected him from his enemies, sometimes on the frontlines, sometimes from the shadows, but in the end, she couldn't protect him from himself. The Zero Requiem fell into place piece by piece and she could only watch as the shadows beneath his eyes grew. And not once did she try to convince him to turn back. The world needed the man named Lelouch vi Britannia, and though C.C. had stopped caring for the world that rejected her long ago, she couldn't bring herself to protest.

Different, indeed.

So the last few months spent in the obscenely grandiose royal palace saw C.C. often vanishing into the young Emperor's room. The maids whispered behind their hands but C.C. had never cared and Lelouch didn't bother wasting his Geass.

Sometimes, they would make small talk and trade teasing remarks over a game of chess – he never lost. Other times, they would simply sit in the dark, chasing the cold emptiness away with each other's presence. But nothing could prepare them enough. Nothing could prepare her.

It hurt something terrible when she felt the link between them shatter.

She had thought the tears she shed for him in that church would be her last, but now, she felt a familiar burn in her eyes. The salty liquid slid down her cheeks to land on Lelouch's chest, soaking into the fabric of his shirt as she watched, enraptured.

"You could always bring out feelings in me I thought were long dead," C.C. murmured. "Why don't you complete the act and open your eyes for me, hmm? Always playing the damsel in distress."

She pressed her lips against his.

It was almost midnight when Jeremiah finally re-ascended the stairs up to Lelouch's room where he knocked gently. He would offer Lady C.C. his own bed with him taking the sofa, as was the proper thing for a gentleman to do. However, when he quietly pushed open the door, he clamped his mouth shut at the sight before him.

C.C. had tucked herself into Lelouch's side under the sheets, her back turned towards the door. From his angle, Jeremiah couldn't tell if C.C. was resting her head on Lelouch or not, but he could see an arm laid across his chest. Looking down, he spotted C.C.'s shoes discarded in a haphazard sort of way at the foot of the bed.

With a small, sad smile, Jeremiah backed out of the room and headed towards his bedroom.

The next morning, he awoke to the sound of voices.

Golden eyes blinked open blearily and a hand rose automatically to rub the sleep away. C.C. turned her head and almost jumped at the sight of another person sharing the bed. The events of the previous evening came flooding back and she was suddenly very much awake. And along with the wakefulness, came a crushing sense of disappointment.

For some reason, she had been sure the kiss would work as it had done before. She had been born in an era when people led simpler lives, when young girls dreamt of knights in shining armour and swooned at the thought of having their first kiss. It was uselessly romantic and C.C. wasn't sure why she had chosen to carry this habit as a reminder of a life she promised to leave behind. Wishful thinking, perhaps? It was ironic since love was the one thing that was always out of reach; certainly, Lelouch would never have admitted to them being a couple. She remembered the amusement at seeing his flustered face and she would never deny the accusations just to watch him squirm.

Regardless, they had a number of kisses to their name that marked their relationship; most significantly their beginning and after his memories were taken, their rebirth. So when his eyes remained shut, she felt a disproportionate amount of disbelief. It had been a long while since the last time she was completely in the dark as to what to do.

C.C. uncurled herself and slid out of bed, bare feet touching the wooden floor. Standing up, she made a brief attempt at straightening out her crinkled dress, giving up after a few seconds. Forgoing her heeled shoes, she trotted towards the door.

Something behind her made her stop in her tracks. A rustle.

She spun around.

Eyes fixed on Lelouch's face, his eyes still closed, she stepped back towards the bed. Nearly a minute passed without any sign of movement and C.C. was ready to leave again. She took a couple steps back…but then…

A shift of his head broke the stillness and Lelouch's eyelids fluttered, as if trying to remember how to open.

"Lelouch…" C.C. felt an arm rise of its own accord, reaching out. She forced it down. And finally, she saw the rare shade of violet she had grown familiar with, clouded with lethargy but somehow still containing a spark of that singular intelligence. If C.C. were the type, she might have been jealous. Lelouch made a movement as though trying to sit up.

"Sure you want to try that?"

Lelouch whipped around, gaze quickly landing on C.C, clearly not having realized there was another person in the room. But that wide-eyed expression on his face dropped a veil over C.C.'s own face.

Slowly, with a curious air of caution, Lelouch sat up completely. "What is this place?" C.C. continued to watch him, rooted in her spot.

She spoke. "I suppose you hadn't expected to be here either, unless this was part of your plan as well. This is the house you prepared for Jeremiah."

"That I prepared…for Jeremiah." The hesitant response and Lelouch's carefully controlled expression steadily painted a picture C.C. didn't want to see.

"Yes. You picked it out yourself and refused to let me see. You always did like your dramatic reveals." She took a step forward, closer to him, and a chill climbed up her spine when she took in the minute way he pulled back. All those years of playing the apathetic observer, the Black Witch, and this man, this boy, could tear apart her mask with a single glance. Still, she persevered, knowing if she let go now, she might just fall into shambles.

After centuries of living, C.C. had grown rather good at reading people, and Lelouch's unpredictable mind fascinated her to no end. He kept things interested and she never felt more alive. Even so, their camaraderie grew past simple accomplices in the end and they revelled in their connection, the only other person that understood them.

He looked the same as ever, the combination of dark hair, striking eyes and high cheekbones never failing to present a disposition of royalty. But those deep purple eyes were not the ones C.C. wanted to see because something was missing – something that frightened her. Truly, she had known, had seen the truth, the moment he looked at her, and she didn't want to believe it, but there was nothing she could do because…

"You don't remember anything, do you?"

He seemed to consider for a moment, sliding his legs off the bed. His feet touched the ground and he rose to his full height. Their gazes met once again, violet and gold.

"…nothing at all."

Author's Ramble: First off, to answer my reviewers - my only two reviewers, mind...

xchrispx: Certain bits of the canon fit nicely in my story, but I'm not trying to follow it exactly. That means certain characters may or may not appear, as is the case with Anya. Glad you like it(?) so far; hope you stick with me!

Lunanite: I can see what you mean by the chapters; I was basically just looking forward to posting them, I think. ^^ There is always that trade off of longer chapters, or shorter update time (which will definitely lengthen, unfortunately). I will keep that in mind though. Thank you very much for your feedback.

So, I would absolutely love to hear more of what you readers think. Reviews, as always, do serve as great motivators to keep putting words on screen. (And if that wasn't clear enough, review please! Feed the hungry hobbyist! Actually though.)

See you next time!