Suzaku knelt.

His footsteps had echoed through the dimness, his boot soles crunching with each heavy step. The sounds had torn through the silence like separate wounds. He'd felt it, blow after blow as he drew closer to the candlelight. So dark, the inside of this room of sorrows. Or maybe it only seemed so thanks to the Zero mask. In any case, he was grateful to be still, for he'd grown dizzy with his weariness.

Carefully, Suzaku reached out to brush aside a cluster of floating candles. Monica, one of them read. She'd been a Knight of Rounds. Her candle was green, and it drifted gently away with the others, until a clear patch of water revealed itself.

Suzaku realized that he had not been breathing.

Gingerly, he lifted the blade that he still clutched in his iron right hand. All feeling had gone from his fingers, and he forced a breath as he loosened them. He shifted the sword into his field of vision and his grip throbbed.

There were still trails of ruby along its shaft. The blood glimmered in the flickering light, and Suzaku's grip convulsed. Oh, Lelouch.

What little control he had left him.

Immediately, Suzaku began to shiver. He felt a wave of chill sensation overcome him, and it made his body quake. He'd done it. He'd successfully slain his dearest friend.

The candles drifted back again, and again Suzaku reached down to shift them, focusing hard on their bowl-like shapes, their warmth, their light. He had to dwell in the immediate, physical present. He had a task to complete. There— there would be time enough for feeling later.

The hilt slipped and the sword clattered from his grasp, sending a metallic reverberation through the chamber like a cymbal crash. Suzaku stared at his hand and at the sword, shocked senseless by the disconnection there. The surface of the water remained undisturbed by the noise.

Was he truly so weakened, now, by what he had done?

Yes, Suzaku thought, stricken, and he brought his empty hand up to touch the Zero mask. He no longer had the strength to do what he had come for. Death… dying… the nothingness beyond…. There was no more breath to be had for the slain, no more delicate pulse, and these things unnerved him. But worse, to lose someone like Lelouch…. The cogs inside the exquisite mind that had arranged for the world's freedom had ceased to turn forever, and there was no more tarnished-but-beautiful soul there for Suzaku to connect with. What did it mean to be, as a person with a working, feeling soul, and then to cease to be? Life — human consciousness — ended so easily. He had killed Lelouch. Lelouch was dead. Suzaku felt crushed by the understanding of the word. He placed a hand on the ground to steady himself.

He meant to dip the sword into the memorial pool, to let it speak to the thousands of dead… to let the remains of Lelouch's existence rinse off and disperse to mingle with those already gone. That way, they too would understand that Lelouch vi Britannia had died. Some of them would feel relieved that such a vile man had left the world, and Lelouch's final wish — to become a symbol of hatred — would continue to be upheld. Others, perhaps, would understand at once what it was Lelouch had sacrificed. Then, Suzaku hoped, they would be kind to Lelouch in the realm beyond, so that Lelouch would not be alone.

But Suzaku could not, anymore, bear to hold the weapon with which he had slain his friend, and so it lay by the edge of the pool, while the candles grouped together again to fill the gap he'd made in which to submerge it. The tremors worsened, traveling from his murderous hands through his arms and into his core. He shouldn't react this way, but his shaking didn't stop.

Killing with his own two hands was, admittedly, far worse than raining down justice from a Knightmare Frame, but Suzaku ought not to tremble. He had murdered his father this way as a child. Suzaku had long been a murderer… and had long been ready to accept his punishment. Suzaku Kururugi — the student, the soldier, the knight — had died, and had become Zero, destined to live without identity as penance for his sins. He had expected this, and agreed to this. Lelouch had died for this.

Suzaku touched the edge of his mask again, his fingers unsteady. Why was he here, kneeling by the water's edge, losing his composure?

The chamber air shifted with the slightest of breezes. A candle bumped the edge of the pool where he knelt, changing its direction and bobbing off again to find its fellows.

Suzaku had shed tears the instant he felt Lelouch's body give and the elegant sword corrupt his flesh and bone.

He hadn't been able to bring himself to pierce Lelouch's heart. Did Lelouch suffer long as a result?

How must it have felt, to lie there and feel the vitality draining away, the mind receding as the seconds dragged on, and all of it beyond a person's control?

Suzaku traced the streaks that Lelouch's dying touch had left on his mask.

When that hand lifted to his face, Suzaku knew Lelouch sought to ease his sorrow. And though the mask formed a barricade between them, Suzaku had felt it, the final gesture that never truly reached him — the pads of soft fingers brushing away his tears. The caress had been unable to find his skin, but Lelouch's intention itself was what touched him. Then, all too soon, the hand had dropped, and Suzaku could read the meaning. Now, Suzaku. From there it was instinct. The touch gave Suzaku the strength to tug the sword free with a mighty heave, to ignore the reality of ebbing life and the coat of blood on the blade. Lelouch's body had become a morbid puppet, and Suzaku the voodoo master, tearing out the pin before he turned to face the onlookers.

His empty doll, with a sigh, had collapsed and tumbled downward.

No, Suzaku could never have done it without Lelouch's touch, or Lelouch's final words murmured silken and struggled beside his ear. Suzaku's knees had buckled, weak once he felt Lelouch sag into him, giving up, giving in, because Suzaku had wanted to give in as well. If only he could have sunken, alongside the only man to ever truly understand his darkest desires and dreams. If only he could have expired, with the vibration of Lelouch's last words humming through both their bodies as they melted, locked in a dying embrace. Suzaku Kururugi had gone away already, and so Lelouch would follow, for the sake of the world's tomorrow. But in the end, it was Suzaku who had to remain and look after that tomorrow. This Geass… I do humbly accept.

In the quiet of the chamber, Suzaku could still feel the softness of Lelouch's cheek against his shoulder, the weight of his weakening, the life as it leaked from his slender, pliant form. Suzaku closed his eyes and clenched his hands. He would hold onto it, at least for a few moments longer.

With a start Suzaku noticed that he was crying. He shook less, but he felt hot tears sliding down his cheeks. He should take the Zero mask off and wipe them away. He was perfectly alone, he knew; Cornelia had ordered that he not be followed or intruded upon. But something stilled him. The mask — no, the entirety of Zero's ensemble — enveloped Suzaku with a presence that was potent, and he was loathe to disturb it. They were Lelouch's clothes, after all. Both of them had deemed it fitting that way. And to feel the fabric against his skin was almost to get caught once more in an embrace with Lelouch himself. Even Lelouch's faint scent lingered; Suzaku could tell if he inhaled slowly and deeply. He leaned over the memorial pool and gripped its edge, hard.

Lelouch… was this really your wish? The reflection of Zero on the water offered no reply. Your Geass?

Lelouch had told him that the Geass was a way of helping people's wishes to be granted. But what about Suzaku's original, simple wish?

Suzaku faltered again, for now he felt his own special Geass engaging to derail his thought process. To find it still worked, even though Lelouch was gone…. He pulled back from the water, chest tight. Live on! That's right, Suzaku could never have his wish, because Lelouch's Geass-wish that Suzaku continue thriving had overridden it. In the end, Lelouch had still managed to secure for Suzaku an everlasting atonement, but this way… this way, Suzaku still had to fight the pain of having lost the people dear to him. He looked for Euphie's name in the gloom, but could not decipher letters through his burning film of tears. Because of Lelouch, Suzaku had sat helpless while Euphemia faded away.

But that was why Lelouch had given up his life, wasn't it? To make up for wrongs like that.

Yet, somehow, Suzaku was still….

Suzaku pressed the button on the mask that would release him from its hold. It loosened and contracted, and he lifted it free from his features, tugging down the inner facemask next. The air in the chamber hit his brow and cheeks and lips, and the tears that collected on his eyelashes went from feeling hot to cool. He set the mask beside the sword, where the two tainted objects glinted in the semi-dark, and closed his eyes again.

Lelouch, Lelouch, Lelouch…. Had Suzaku had to lose even his best friend, his worst enemy, his only comfort at the end of everything? Yes. To grant Lelouch's Geass, Suzaku had finished it with his own hands. And the result? He could not shake the jealousy he possessed for everyone that had now gone to rest. Although he understood why it was necessary he suffer, some childish desire deep within him longed for the smiling faces, the laughing voices of those he loved — even Lelouch. Now, never again would he walk beside them. If Lelouch had truly cared for him, had only ever wanted Suzaku's happiness, then… why….

Suzaku cried harder, giving in at last to the aching desolation, and his tears fell into the memorial pool to start a chain of ripples. His chest was seizing up, his breath refusing to come. His heart was breaking.

"Zero…."

Suzaku straightened, straining not to choke on the fist of sobs in his throat. That voice—

"No," it said afterward, considering. "Suzaku-san."

The muscles in Suzaku's body petrified like wood, but the pieces of his broken heart tore further apart. How pathetic — had he failed Lelouch so soon? Suzaku Kururugi was supposed to be dead.

He should never have removed his mask — not even to shed his tears.

"It's only me," the voice said, "Nunnally." Suzaku turned, thunderstruck.

"N-Nunna…lly…?"

"Yes." Her tone was rigid. Suzaku had risen, but at once his movement slowed. Nunnally, no longer in chains, met his wide-eyed stare with one of scrutiny from her wheelchair.

Suzaku fought the urge to continue crying until he could speak. "Nunnally…." She'd been carried away on the float. How was it that she was here, now, gazing at him? How was it that she seemed unsurprised to find that it was he, alone and bloodstained after the death of her brother?

"Please tell me, Suzaku, why you are crying." Her voice rang in the hollow chamber.

The request grated on him, harsh. Suzaku averted his eyes. To dismiss Nunnally was not what he wanted, but, such a question…. He couldn't answer it himself. There were too many answers. There were no answers at all.

"You have taken my brother's life of your own free will. What reason is there for you to cry? I feel I must ask you this, before I pass judgment on you as Zero… or as Suzaku." Her lilac gaze seem to grow watery for an instant, but perhaps it was a trick of the candlelight, or of his own damp vision. The inside of his mouth tasted bitter. "Why, Suzaku, did you…?" Her hands trembled, and Suzaku's vision was drawn to the item in her lap.

A squat, round candle lay nestled there. He read the inscription and released a sharp breath.

Nunnally removed her gaze from his. "Yes, this one is for him."

Suzaku clenched and unclenched his fists, for even now he could not bear to see her troubled. But to comfort her would be going too far. He'd given up his role as Suzaku Kururugi. "Your highness," he intoned coolly, his throat large with yet more sadness. He ignored it and spoke crisply. "It's clear now that you have come to offer your respects to the dead, and I have created a disturbance. Please allow me to apologize for my intrusion in this sacred room." He would depart. Nunnally's brow wrinkled, but Suzaku bent to pick up the Zero mask. Of all those that could have seen his face one last time before he hid it from the world, at least it had been Nunnally — Nunnally, who he could trust. Nunnally, whom Lelouch had loved. "I'm sorry, but could you forget that you saw me here? Zero's identity cannot be known." He did not look at her, instead choosing to focus next on the blood-encrusted sword.

Nunnally's grip on her candle quaked. "Is that all you will apologize for?"

The question took Suzaku by surprise, and he froze, helpless, the mask fast in his hand.

"Is that all, Kururugi Suzaku, for which you are sorry? You have taken my brother from me. My brother, who turned himself into a symbol of hatred so that he could secure the world's future." The corners of Suzaku's mouth turned down, austere in their crescent. "You slew him, and here you stand with his blood still upon you. Will you not apologize for it?"

Suzaku remained rigid. How could he? How could he ask to be forgiven? He was already unforgivable.

"Won't you apologize," Nunnally went on, her lashes moist now, "to me?"

The query amplified the ache inside him. Nunnally was asking him to take responsibility for causing her sorrow, for taking away someone she loved. Suzaku was attempting to be heartless, and impervious, but oh, God, he had stolen the life from the person she wanted most. It was not unlike what Lelouch had done in ruthlessly gunning down Euphie. If Lelouch had only apologized afterward, mightn't they have…? No, no, Suzaku knew that Lelouch never would have expressed regret for such a thing. Lelouch had already known that Suzaku could not forgive him. But… could Nunnally forgive Suzaku?

Her eyes seemed to look deep inside him. The open chamber felt cold. "Suzaku, you mustn't be so stubborn," she whispered sadly.

Suzaku turned his back on her and took a slow step toward the exit.

He could not, however, bring himself to take another.

If Nunnally forgave Suzaku, then what would become of Zero Requiem? Everything that Suzaku and Lelouch had done would seem… foolish. For, if forgiveness could be meted out so easily after all, why couldn't they have bestowed it on each other before it was too late? Why couldn't Lelouch and Suzaku have combined their powers to find a way to remain alive and well, together? Suzaku's heart swelled with tension, with agony, with regret.

"Why, Suzaku," Nunnally asked again, "were you crying?"

At that, Suzaku shattered.

He sank beside her wheelchair with Zero's cape following solemnly behind him; he placed the mask once more beside the sword, and lifted one of her hands to his lips. There he let his endless store of tears wet her skin, but their flow was silent this time. The two remained connected, sibling and best friend to the deceased, alone and small beside an assemblage of flickering, spectral lights. "I cared," Suzaku said hoarsely. "I cared about him, very, very much."

Nunnally's hand did not tremble. "You loved him as I did."

"Always," Suzaku whispered, his fingers tight around hers. Despite everything, he felt in his soul it was true. Lelouch, dead. Why had he done it?

Nunnally looked away.

He and Lelouch had chosen this fate because, in a way, it had already been too late to choose another. And neither Suzaku nor Lelouch had been worthy of lesser punishment. Atonement would satisfy them both. But was happiness of a gentler nature really so wrong to fight for? Part of Suzaku… had wanted it.

But instead he'd murdered Lelouch. Was choosing to rob them both of another chance something at all forgivable? Suppose he had stayed his sword? Lelouch would be with them now.

Nunnally reached up her free hand to touch his cheek. "I am convinced now, Suzaku-san… that it was best for him to find his end in no one's arms but yours." Suzaku pressed his forehead against the back of the hand he still held. His tears dripped a mixture of relief and great respect. "And I think I can speak for my late onii-sama in saying that you are quite, quite forgiven for taking his life."

"Nunnally—"

"And so now you must forgive yourself." She took her hand away and replaced it with the chubby candle from her lap.

Suzaku cradled it in his hands — the violet orb that symbolized the life he had taken — and touched the letters carved in the wax.

"Please light it," Nunnally said. Her flaxen hair brushed his shoulder as she leaned over to lift a set of matches from an ornamental tray at the pool's edge. Suzaku's fingers closed over them mechanically. Then he hesitated.

"I think," Nunnaly spoke softly, "that he would want you to."

Suzaku raised a match, but didn't light it. "He looked—" Ah, the tears had slowed at last, but it seemed the swell in his chest that robbed him of speech would never be abated. He watched the candles in the water for a while longer, unwilling to let the one in his grasp join them. "He looked… untroubled," Suzaku ventured at last. He remembered how quickly Lelouch had paled once his blood had been spilled, how the hollows beneath his vibrant eyes had greyed and his body had crumbled, as if all that was left to support him was the cloth of his garments. And yet, there had been no gasps of regret, no struggle to cling to life. Resigned to his death, and tranquil… but Suzaku could not find the words to describe it in that fashion.

"Yes," Nunnally said. They sat. Then, "Would you like to see him again?"

For one sweet moment, Suzaku's mind lost itself in hopeful illusion. His heart leapt. He would have given anything to see Lelouch the way he sounded in the ring of Nunnally's voice — alive, and laughing at their misguided sorrow. But Lelouch was dead, and after the joy in Suzaku flickered awake, spluttered, and expired again, he registered Nunnally's inquiry for what it was.

Somewhere, then, was Lelouch's cold and silent body.

Was Lelouch laid out in a burial vault, waiting to be put to rest for good? How would they treat the body of a Devil? Suzaku tried to imagine Lelouch, still and unyielding in the pose of eternal rest. Had his ebony hair settled neatly around his frozen, pallid face? And the contrast of his thick, dark lashes against the pasty skin — would Lelouch look more beautiful in death than he had in life? Would his arms, his hands, his fingers, once so charged with magnitude and descriptive of his emotions, look unnatural, lying stiff against his torso? And what of the stab wound that Suzaku had inflicted? He couldn't help thinking that if Lelouch could see himself like that, he would feel unsettled.

Suzaku allowed himself a bland smile. "I couldn't bear it twice." He had already said goodbye. Something in him burned against his chosen answer, for he longed to smooth Lelouch's hair back, place a final kiss on his lifeless brow and touch his hands… but Suzaku resisted as best he could. His new duties as Zero would not permit him such luxuries, now or ever.

"He wouldn't want you to dwell on it," Nunnally said, watching his expression closely.

Suzaku lit his match.

The wick blackened, crackled, and caught. With all the care in his soul, Suzaku placed the candle on the surface of the water and let go.

The violet orb rotated serenely, drifting out of sight with its letters facing them in soft farewell.

L E L O U C H.

Nunnally wheeled her chair away from the edge, and Suzaku stirred.

"We mustn't stay," she said. "Cornelia-onee-sama will be looking for Zero, and I have argued my way into this room the with guards. I expect they will alert her of my rule-breaking."

Suzaku continued to watch Lelouch's candle, his heart adrift with it.

"If you loved him, then you must forgive him," Nunnally said. "Forgive him as I have you, and as you must fight to forgive yourself. Perhaps, before, you couldn't excuse him. Even at the end, for the world's sake, you couldn't. But now you must. Forgive him for every misdeed, but more so than that, you must forgive him for leaving you." The water lapped against the far edge of the pool.

Suzaku took up the sword, gingerly in both his hands, one at the hilt and the other beneath the blade. He thought of cleaning it, but as long as there was anything left of Lelouch in this world, Suzaku wanted it to remain — if only for a short time span further. He turned Nunnally's wheelchair to face him, and then knelt before her.

She lifted the sword from his hands.

"I will share the burden with you," she exclaimed. "This sword will forever hang where we can see it, to remind me of why my brother gave his life, and to remind Zero of his duty and sacrifice henceforward." She tucked the sword into her lap, where the candle had previously rested. "And now, perhaps Zero will escort me outside to face the world he has created?"

Suzaku brought an arm to his chest. "Yes, your majesty!" The vow echoed to the rafters.

He retrieved his mask — his Geass. He ran his fingers briefly over the fading streaks of blood. "Farewell, Lelouch." In the quiet chamber, he almost sensed Lelouch's reply. He slipped the mask over his head.

With his hands on Nunnally's wheelchair, he left the candles and the memories behind, and went outside to face the world.

Author Note: Writing Nunnally is… hard. I did my best, Nunners, I promise! I'm afraid I'm not very happy with the way the story came out after she entered, but I think the piece would have lacked something if she didn't show up at all. There's no way that dolt Suzaku would be able to forgive ANYTHING without a push. I mean, right? And Nunnally meant so much to Lelouch…. She had to be there. But I apologize if I slaughtered her and ruined the epichness of the story. …Which is, by the way, the most ridiculously angsty Code Geass-related thing I have written to date. That's what I get for watching and rewatching the last episode. Arrgh.