Chapter Text
“Hey man, did you hear about what happened with Suzaku?”
Lelouch’s brow knits. “What about him?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Opinions are divided, the jury’s still out.” Rivalz turns down their usual street, parks at the side. Lelouch only came with him so that he’d quit complaining about ditching him. “Honestly, I think it’s way overblown.”
“What is?”
“He got into a brawl with Xavier — you remember him, right? fifth form, too much gel.”
“Yeah. It doesn’t sound like something Suzaku would do.” Maybe the old one, but he’s changed a lot since.
“You think so, huh?” They get out of the car and into the cafe, and they order their icecream. “I thought the same—he guy wouldn’t hurt a fly even if it gave his family the plague. In any case, they suspended him a week, and everyone’s fawning all over Xavier, the five-minute hero, really laying it on thick about how terrible it is to be touched by a lowly eleven. Ick. Can you imagine?”
“I couldn’t.”
“I just hope Suzaku’s alright, but hey, I haven’t seen anything phase the guy yet. By next week I’m sure it’ll all blow over and then everything’s back in business.”
“Probably,” Lelouch manages.
“A pity though. The picnic’s this week. I’ll miss him.”
Two days later and all this time he’d managed to avoid the military compound. He could've gone on even longer. It’s an unnecessary risk to his identity and therefore to Nunally, but he’s been on edge, even if he doesn’t believe any of the stories. The image of Suzaku’s dead body floats around in his mind. And the gossip’s distorted to where all hope of truth is gone. His imagination is a terrible thing to be left with.
He asks the receptionist and is told to wait while she calls in his superior officer. So Suzaku’s at training today. It’s a clean room, spacious, white, polished to an unnatural shine. “He’s in 18B, down that corridor, take the elevator to your left. Third floor, and keep walking to the end of a hall. It’s a long way.”
He sees rows of docked Sutherlands like waiting ticks, and a few jet fighters. His steps give an eerie echo and, if not for the well-maintained and ventilated space, he wouldn’t know it from an alien planet. When he reaches the room, he has to be buzzed in via a comm at the door, and then he’s greeted by the holographic face of a white-haired man.
“Who are you?” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he squints at him. “Hm? How did you get clearance?”
“The receptionist let me through.”
“Ah.” He seems to relax. “I remember now.” Then the door slides open with a hiss and he leans against the panelling in what can only be described as an odd power pose. “Are these for me?”
“No. For Suzaku.”
“Oh? Friend of his?”
“Yeah. I heard he was in an accident, wanted to check that he’s okay. Can I see him?”
“Sure, sure. We’re in the middle of a routine demonstration. How much time do you have?”
“Enough. What do you mean by demonstration?”
“Classified. I’m afraid I can’t divulge any more details unless you want to die at the hands of the overzealous military police.”
“So it’s that serious?” Not exactly the kind of job you’d shuttle any low-ranking military personnel into—as he’d been lead to believe.
“Why? Are you interested in state secrets?”
“Not at all.” Lelouch shrugs like a disaffected teenager. “Just making conversation. You don’t have to tell me anything.”
He tilts his head. “How do I know you’re not some kind of Prussian spy? You don’t have a gun under that bouquet, do you?”
How irritating. The only reason he even brought the flowers along was to make himself appear as non-threatening as possible. With the military on alert as they are, it would seem not even a civilian can escape suspicion. He knew that, though. He shouldn’t have risked it. “You’re welcome to check. They’re really just flowers.”
“Oh, no no. You hold onto that. Never know what an IED can be these days.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Of course, they never do.”
“You’re a little paranoid, don’t you think? Has anyone ever told you that?”
He just breaks into voracious laughter. “I’m just messing around. Relax, the sensors would’ve caught them. Built them myself.” He points to a row of spherical devices along the spine of the corridor.
“Alright…” Lelouch makes an effort to hold back his irritation. “So…Suzaku…he works here?”
“He’s my favourite pilot, the best of his cohort.” Then he leans uncomfortably close to his face as if to analyse every detail about him. Just when he gets this anxiety that it was a trap this whole time and he’s been recognised, the man says, “Say, do you have any interest in piloting a knightmare? Your frames a little on the frail side, but, well, can’t judge a book by its cover, and I imagine a friend of his…Hm…” He narrows his eyes and mutters to himself.
“I have no interest in war.”
That seems to pique his interest. “You are Britannian, correct?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate.
“Interesting.”
The man in the labcoat continues to question him, digging into his political beliefs like it’s some kind of interrogation. His manner is casual, indifferent, as if he’s only talking about the weather, but Lelouch isn’t reassured. Avoids even the suggestion of a controversial topic and makes himself out to be an entirely uninteresting, unambitious schoolboy, no different to the droves wandering the street at three. It must work because he can see the interest fade from his eyes until they stand in silence, and then the man lets him in and sits at his computer and ignores him completely. He still hasn’t corrected him on the lack of formal address, and Lelouch doesn’t ask, doesn’t want to be remembered. After fifteen minutes, he still can’t discern the extent of Suzaku’s injuries.
Then a familiar white Knightmare docks. He recognises it immediately, and bristles instinctively about being seen-through. But it just slides into floor idle and the hatch opens, and Suzaku jumps out with an ease that should reassure him. He’s neck to ankle in a sleek white uniform.
“Ah, speak of the devil.” The man in the labcoat waves at him, and that’s—that’s familiarity for sure. “Suzaku! Over here.”
“Yessir!” He runs over, like he belongs here with all these machines.
“You have a visitor,” Labcoat says.
Then he notices him, and comes to stand in front of him. “Lelouch? Is that you? What are you doing here?”
He feels a little foolish, like it’s a little harder to breath. Anger at the lie. “I heard about what happened at school. Just wanted to check in on you.”
“Oh, that?” He puts a hand to his waist, looks a little peeved.
“Yeah, I couldn’t get the story straight, so I figured I’d just go straight to the horse’s mouth.”
“That’s because nothing happened.”
“Yawn,” Labcoat interrupts loudly. “Oh, the days of schoolyard drama, don’t miss it at all if I do say so myself. Well, everything’s in working order, except the no calls to action part, dismissed.”
Lelouch is relieved to be out of his sight and appraises Suzaku more closely once they get to his locker. “Were you hurt?”
“No.” He has the key to the Knightmare between his teeth as he starts to unzip out of the suit.
Lelouch looks away. “Were you in a fight?”
He sets the key on the bench. “No, it was a ball or something, hit him on the head, don’t know who it was. I just happened to be on the track at the same time. Coach Hynes broke it up and sent us to the Principal's office.”
“He suspended you.”
“Yeah, said it was to protect me, since the other guy was making a big deal out of it, threatening to press charges.” Suzaku frowns. “It just kind of bothers me the way they bent over backwards to appease him.”
“That’s Britannia for you.”
“Yeah, well not all of it.”
Lelouch breathes out slowly through his nose. This whole trip was maybe a waste of time. “Oh almost forgot, these are for you.” Lelouch passes the flowers to him just as Suzaku’s sliding his jeans up.
“Thanks.” He sets it down on the bench, looks amused.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He’s still smiling, sets his shoes to the floor with a thwack and slips into them. Starts doing up his laces. “I’m just really touched.”
“Don’t think anything of it. You would’ve done the same for me.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You always picked out nicer flowers.” He hikes his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll cherish these forever.”
“They’ll be dead in two weeks.”
“But the memory will live on.”
“If you insist.”
It’s quiet as they walk out, a little tense, and Lelouch tries to figure out how to best broach the topic without sounding too personally invested. It’s Suzaku that speaks first when they're outside and Lelouch breathes a little easier. “Say, class starts soon, doesn’t it?”
“Guess so.”
“You’re not ditching again, are you?”
“What does it matter?”
“You should go to class.” He says it like it’s an immutable law, not like the insipid way of everyone else that’s ever said it to him.
“In a bit. Have you eaten yet?”
“No, I figured I’d grab something on the way back home.”
“But you have a lot of free time now, don’t you? What do you say we get lunch together first? My treat. It feels like forever since we last hung out.”
Suzaku stops him with a hand on his arm. “You took a real risk coming here.”
“It was worth it; I was worried about you.”
“Oh.” It surprises him, but he relaxes into a warm smile. “Alright then, lead the way.”
Suzaku sprawls out at the cafe table, bag at his feet, and insists on sitting outdoors in the sunlight. The days are growing longer as spring arrives, but it’s still colder than he likes, a little drearier this time of year. Suzaku’s relaxed, languid, sets the flowers flat on the table until they’re almost spilling out, creating a most pleasing tableau.
He learns Suzaku’s preferred beverage — a caramel iced latte — surprised at himself that he wasn’t aware of it until now. Lelouch orders a chicken salad. Suzaku orders a large sandwich, longer than the plate, heaped with every kind of meat, and digs in with such relish that Lelouch wonders if they’re starving him. He wants to leave him to his food, but doesn’t want to delay the conversation anymore, so when he’s about midway through, Lelouch asks him:
“Who was that man back there?”
“What man?”
“The one in the lab coat.”
“Oh…” He seems a little hesitant. “He’s my superior officer.”
“Does he have a name?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“No.” He’s still a little annoyed at their interaction.
Suzaku laughs at that. “It’s Lloyd Asplund. He’s an earl, but he doesn’t take his title seriously at all. Not what I pictured nobility to be like.”
“And he…does he treat you well?” Lelouch watches him intently for any sign of dishonesty as he finishes his sandwich, looking like he very much wants to lick his fingers, before he wipes them on the napkin.
“Sure, I mean. He’s a little strange, but it’s thanks to him I’ve been given a huge opportunity. I might really be able to change something.”
“And you’re a knightmare pilot?”
He looks away. “Yeah.”
“Real fancy machine back there.” It’s not all bad news. It means Suzaku is suddenly the most valuable piece on the board. Lelouch waits a few moments, and when Suzaku only looks very much like he’d rather be anywhere else, he says, “I didn’t expect that of you.”
“I didn’t either. Actually, it happened on the same day we met at Shinjuku.”
“I see. I'm happy for you.” There's nothing else to say.
“Thanks.” Then he grins and leans over the table. “Man, you still eat so slow. Wait, you are going to finish that, aren’t you?” He looks at it with a veiled interest that Lelouch doesn’t have the heart to deny.
“No, I’ve had quite enough. It’s yours.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean—”
“Just take it.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Despite what he told him, Lelouch doesn’t go to class, and Suzaku will be none the wiser. C.C.’s waiting back in his room, still in bed, where he’d left her a few hours ago. Thankfully, she’s developed the indoors hobby of playing Defender on his old game console to try and beat the high score he set when he was fourteen. He’s optimistic that it will occupy her until the weekend, when he’ll have a use for her.
“Did you get into any trouble today?” Lelouch asks conversationally as he brings out his laptop to load up Britannica and his backend into the military database. By the end of the day, he’ll know everything about who this Asplund figure is, where he grew up, if the flowers smell nice there, the names and brands of all the medicine that passed between his mouth between the ages of six and twenty-four. Where exactly he stands in the chain of command, who he works for, what happens should he die—not that he’s planning anything so drastic, not yet at least.
“Quiet.” She’s still upset she’d fallen for such a ‘florid, juvenile’ game. “You’re ruining my score."
Lelouch smiles. “So you have no interest in the newest development of the day?”
She doesn’t reply, but soon enough he hears her growl in frustration at the tell-tale game-over tune, the fall of the console to the wooden floor, and she collapses to her side, onto the covers, and hugs her new mascot. “I was this far from beating you.” She narrows her eyes and holds out her index and thumb. “Sabotage is such an ugly look.” Then sighs heavily and drops onto her back. “Very well. Tell me.”