A/N: This probably has a billion typos in this, and I apologize. ;___; I'll come and fix it when testing is over at school.

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Code Geass. Or the song Lullaby, by Billy Joel. You really should go listen to it; it's amazing.

Warnings: I don't really think there are any. Fluff, maybe.


wherever you may go
no matter where you are
I never will be far away

Euphemia looked so young in her sleep, mouth parted slightly, breath forming condensation against the glass. Her pink curls tumbled over her shoulders and the breast of her woolen jacket. His shoulder was pillowing her; it wasn't the most comfortable position, but Suzaku would admit that he didn't mind. In front of them, the Tokyo Settlement sped past. An automated voice told them where their next stop would be and how many stations they'd have to past to get there. Outside, snow fell gently down, spiraling like tufts of cotton from the dark night sky above.

"Suzaku?" she murmured, blinking open hazy blue eyes. She yawned, nose scrunching up, snuggling a little closer to him. He stiffened, a little before, before relaxing and pulling her even closer. She laughed quietly under her breath. "How far are we?"

He shrugged. "I lost track. I'm sorry, Princess—"

"Sh," she reprimanded, holding a finger to his lips. There was a teasing smile stretched across her face. "I told you not to be so formal when we're alone! How would you like it if I started calling you Mr. Kururugi, hm?"

"Not very much, Euphie. Not much at all."

For a second, she just allowed him to hold her, face pressed against the blue fabric of his coat. His fingers rested on the space of her back where her heart beat. It was a nice, even rhythm, healthy and loud. It seemed just like her, so much energy and love and liveliness packed into such a thin, small form, so much it wore her down to wobbly legs and tired shadows underneath her big, big eyes. He felt almost undeserving of it, somedays. There was blood on his hands and skeletons hung up on racks in his closet, and yet this saint chose him. But she'd told him not to think like that, tracing the lines of his face with the flat of her palm, sketching the curve of his nose and eyelid with her nail.

"What's your favorite season, Suzaku?" her voice was muffled. He glanced down at her. She looked on the verge of sleep again, his reflection glassy, her tone slurred.

"Ah... Summer, I suppose." He shifted to make her more comfortable, supporting her neck and balancing her entire weight on his right thigh. She murmured something that might have been a 'thank you'. It would only make his entire leg fall asleep, and then he would have the pins-and-needles sensation. He wasn't surprised at all to think that it was worth it.

"Why?"

He didn't exactly have an answer to that. Summers in Japan, especially out in the country, had always been hot and muggy. They made your clothes stick to your skin with sweat, and gnats buzzed around. You had to constantly sweep at them with your hands. Mosquitoes left welts on your arms and ants did the same to your feet. But there was something about the blue sky, the fields of sunflowers— the way a forest pond might look, the color of jade, koi flashing silver and gold underneath surface— and it was beautiful. Even when he was alone, there was something frantic, hurried to summer, so unlike the crawl of other seasons, and it fit the raw instinct, the impulse that had often rushed him to silly, premature decisions. There were other moments too, spent with Nunally and Lelouch that he wanted to capture in his hands and hold, but he couldn't tell her about those.

"I..." He searched for a suitable answer. This wasn't lying to her. He didn't even know the answer himself. "I guess those were just the times when I was happiest."

"I hope you have enough times of happiness for every season, Suzaku," she said, as serious as a child could be, because a child knew nothing of lies and stories; they only knew the truth, and the things that they did not understand. She looked up at him, mouth set in a thin line, resolve hardening into steel underneath the surface of her eyes. "I'll make sure of it."

"Thank you," he answered, smiling brightly at her. He could feel her own smile against his shoulder, her fingers clenching into the fabric as if she never wanted to let him go. "What's your favorite season, Euphie?"

"I don't have one," she whispered softly. Her grip on him relaxed and she pulled away, enough to look out the window at the falling snow. "I used to. If I had to pick one, it would be spring, because that's when everything blooms."

Suzaku bit down on his tongue to stop himself from asking why she didn't have one anymore. He had his own secrets, and she had hers.

Suddenly, a warm hand pressed against the side of his face. He looked down in surprise at Euphemia, who's forehead was pushed against the glass. She wasn't even looking at him. "Suzaku," she asked, voice sweet like lilacs and weary with burdens such frail shoulders were not meant to bear, "are you ever afraid?"

"More than I'd like to think."

"For yourself? or others?"

"Mostly others."

"I..." She swallowed. He watched her throat move with it, making even a natural movement look graceful. "Please, forget your fear for yourself. Even it is small. Please."

"As you wish, my—"

"No, what I wish is for your never have to fear because— I'll be there, always. Even when I'm not standing next to you, I'll be by your side, I promise. I'll be afraid for you. When you're sad, I'll be sad for you. It's the only thing I can do. They'd never actually let me go out onto the field, right? You can be scared for me when I'm in trouble, and be sad for me. And we can both be sad for other people, okay?" she sighed, interlacing their fingers. Her grip was loose. Just by glancing at her, Suzaku could tell that she was barely struggling to stay awake as she slumped forward into his arms.

"Okay." He nodded. It was hard to, since her head was tucked under his chin. She didn't understand that he was always scared for her, always, even when they were alone in a metro car like now. And he didn't want her to be afraid for him; there was too much fear in him, too much want and denial and— It was his turn to swallow. She made a tiny noise of discontent, lips against his collarbone. "As you wish, Euphie."

"Good night, Suzaku." She muttered something else, something that sounded suspiciously like 'I love you'.

Even though he wasn't sure if that was truly what she said, he returned it: "Good night, Euphemia. I love you too."


someday we'll all be gone
but lullabies go on and on
they never die, and that's how you and I will be


A/N: I think I screwed-up Euphemia's character. But, um...

Feedback and concrit appreciated!