All Sacrificed
Author: Jusrecht

Character/Pairing(s): Zero x Suzaku, Gino x Suzaku, some Lelouch x C.C.

Warnings: Angst and sap. They are good friends, don't you know?

Notes: I'm trying a slightly different portrayal of Gino here. Please let me know what you think. And, uh, enjoy.

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Chapter Two: All that Remains

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It only took Gino two minutes in the room to realise that he had been trapped.

Inside the white folder which had just been handed to him was a photograph of a beautiful young woman, probably no more than eighteen of age. Her curled brown hair fell past her bare shoulders in a stylish fashion, ending just at the top of her pink dress. Curving her lips was a proud little smile that seemed almost slighting and yet enhanced her regal beauty in a detached, almost impervious way. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't exactly place her among so many names whirling inside his head after three weeks of attending balls and smiling at every pretty lady whose eyes he happened to catch.

"So what do you think?" his mother asked, an eager note in her voice. She was sitting across the coffee table from him, delicately stirring a cup of tea while she waited for his answer. Gino allowed himself a furtive glance at her, and then wished that he had not. The purpose of this small family meeting couldn't have been more obvious.

"Lady Wilhelmina Reiner," he finally managed to scavenge the name from blurred memories of parties, dancing pairs, and colourful dresses. "The eldest daughter of Lord Reiner, isn't she?"

His mother nodded, looking pleased with his reply. "A fine young woman, don't you think?"

"I don't know her very well," he evaded a direct answer and closed the folder, leaving it on the centre of the table – a middle ground. Sitting in an armchair near the sunlit window, his father had yet to say a word.

"Ah, you mean personally," his mother said again, her tittering voice rising slightly in excitement. "I dare say it will change soon, so there is no need to worry yourself over it."

Gino felt his lips thinning. "What do you mean, Mother?"

"Why, an engagement of course!" she exclaimed, smiling brightly. "Wilhelmina is absolutely wonderful, an exceptionally fine young lady even to our family's standard. She will make a perfect companion for one's life, don't you think?"

Perfectly miserable, he thought dryly. He wished that his mother could stop trying to get him to agree with her – 'don't you think' had been her favourite phrase since he could remember, that frustrating passive-aggressive method she had long since honed to get her way – but it seemed that hope was lost today. She was especially determined, and they would have this discussion whether he liked it or not.

It wasn't that he was unfamiliar with arranged marriages – all his three older brothers had gone through similar predicament and invariably succumbed to their fate after only a marginal fight. His second brother had not even raised any objection to being married off to a lady eight years older than he was. Gino considered himself fairly fortunate that he had been able to dodge any kind of arrangement so far. His mother might have mentioned such inclinations a few times, but one way or another, he had always managed to worm his way out before it could have developed into any serious notion. The fact that he was a Knight of Rounds and held a fairly important position in the military also proved to be a tremendous help in this sector.

But it seemed that his luck had finally run out this evening – his father's presence was a proof in and for itself. Lord Weinberg, a proud, self-opinionated man of fifty, rarely meddled in his family's domestic affairs and was usually content to leave them in the hands of his wife. The same man, however, had curiously been showing a definite increase of attention in his youngest son's personal life since…

…oh. Of course.

Gino suppressed a dry smirk. Of course his father would be concerned. He would imagine that Suzaku was the farthest conception they had in mind of an ideal spouse for any of their son. The fact that he had declared his love for the other knight in front of practically everyone who mattered clearly did not help to prevent the ruin of their family's dignity.

Gino couldn't say that he cared much. He didn't harbour any deep or intense love for his parents – certainly nothing like what he held for Suzaku, although he had been so incredibly stupid and the realisation had come much too late. And he was already a man on his own, no longer a little boy cowering under his father's towering shadow or curling alone in his bed yearning for the affectionate touch of a mother who never cared a scrap for him.

It was all over now.

"So what do you think?" his mother asked again, her eyes still glittering with barely suppressed enthusiasm.

Jaw set squarely, Gino looked at her and answered flatly, "No."

Her smile withered, distorted into something much less pleasant as she slowly set down her white china cup, hands trembling during the effort. "What do you mean 'no'?" she demanded, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

"I will not marry her," he said bluntly. "I already did everything you asked, attending balls, tea parties, masquerades, practically every social occasion you wanted me to go to. But I will never, ever marry only because you order me to."

"But it will be a perfect match!" she almost screeched. "Oh, Gino, think about your future for once!"

"My answer is still no," he said firmly and prepared to leave. "I will never marry someone I don't love, let alone some girl I've only met once in my life. And you cannot make me."

"Don't be a fool," his father suddenly hissed, cutting into the conversation, his voice sharp and cold. "That boy is married."

Gino felt a bitter smirk twisting his mouth and met his father's eyes with a challenging gaze. "Then I'm afraid it means I will never marry for the rest of my life," he declared and rose to his feet, fully intent on leaving.

"Gino!"

It was the tone his mother was using which made him whirl around again, eyes blazing as he looked at each of his parents. "Wasn't it enough?" he said through gritted teeth, felt his entire body shaking with rage. "Three of your sons. You've sacrificed them all and their happiness for what, status and connection. You sold them without as much as a blink and now you expect me to do the same?"

"There is nothing more important than status and connection in our world." It was his father's disdainful, condescending voice that answered him, each word delivered like a punch to his gut. "You will see that once you've decided to stop being childish and grow up."

Gino balled his hands, anger coursing through his veins so fast that he felt slightly dizzy. "We must be living in two very different worlds," he said stiffly, voice matching that of his father. The older Weinberg only regarded him with undisguised contempt and Gino wasted no time to leave the room, ignoring his mother who was still furiously calling his name. He needed to get out of this house.

He stormed out toward his car which was parked just a little away from the entrance of the mansion. Thankfully it was a summer evening and the sun was still high up in the sky. Gino slammed the front door shut and skimmed through the list of options in his mind rapidly. His flat was only three-hour drive away, in the heart of the city, and with the mood he was in right now, he even might be able to make it in two. He could send for his things later – they were only fancy clothes anyway.

The engine roared to life and the sprawling Weinberg estate was falling fast behind as he sped his car down the country road. His anger wasn't abating. He was used to their treatment to him – no more than a thing in their eyes, a tool to solidify their family's status among the ranks of Britannian nobility – but once Suzaku's name entered the discussion, it suddenly lurched into a whole different level. No one was allowed to take his love for the other knight lightly – he had done that and as a result had been regretting it ever since. No one, and most certainly not his parents.

And then to helpfully remind him about the marriage. Gino gripped the steering wheel and sent his car flying even faster, somewhat grateful for the scarce traffic in this part of the world. He was the last person on earth who needed to be reminded that Suzaku was now off-limits. He was the one who had spent his nights alone fantasising about the other knight in his bed and cursing at his stupid self and his wasted opportunity. He was the one who–

A shadow suddenly loomed before him. Gino realised, belatedly, that he had missed a turn, that his car had slipped out of the road and now was racing full speed into a tree. He stepped on the brake firmly, desperately, but knew that it could only do little. He was going to crash.

His eyes snapped shut involuntarily when the impact came, a sickening sound of metal and wood crushing each other. His upper body was violently slammed onto the steering wheel and for one indefinite moment, the world shrank into one black void. He couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but register the consuming dread at the realisation that he had crashed.

And possibly was halfway to the other side as well.

Minutes slowly passed and he sat there still, petrified, trying to figure out the beginnings and ends of every thought that flitted across his numb mind. And then there was the slow trickle of discovery, so slow that his mind almost recoiled from it in suspicion. But then it became clearer – he was alive, he was alive, yes he was alive – and even more slowly, started to make sense.

Nothing had ever felt so surreal. Eyes opening little by little, Gino tried to fleck his fingers, finding them unwilling to release their iron grip on the steering wheel, and then tried to swallow. It tasted bitter – fear – and he could feel the beginning of many painful bruises on his face and chest. Was there any blood, anything broken? He couldn't really tell.

It had felt like hours before he finally regained a clearer vision and braved himself to glance up. The tree was there, hovering over him, an embodiment of a nightmare in the declining light. And then his gaze shifted lower. It wasn't as bad as he had feared – there was a large dent on the front of his car, where it had made a collision against the bark, but it seemed that he had managed to avoid smashing his car completely.

Gino took in a shaky breath and rested his forehead on the wheel, feeling the cool leather under his perspiring skin. That had been very stupid. He could have lost his life, only out of anger – and to his parents at that. What could have been more stupid?

There was only silence around him, sometimes the forlorn whisper of the wind and the distant cawing of birds. Gino never liked to be alone. What he wouldn't give to see Suzaku again right now, to feel those soothing fingers running through his hair, hear that gentle voice humming quietly in his ears as they talked about fifty mundane subjects that crossed their mind that day. Sometimes Suzaku would bend down slightly, dropping a small kiss to the top of his head, his subdued smile lightly tinged by embarrassment, and he would smile back, accept it, enjoy it, but never appreciate it until…

Gino huffed noisily, frustration and annoyance rising fast, eclipsing the cold aftertaste of shock. He had tried to forget the other knight, to get on with his life, to find someone else to make love with, because what kind of idiot would spend the rest of his life pining for a person who has tossed him aside to marry a masked terrorist. Gino wanted to be sensible for once – madly, desperately wanted to – but it was too damn impossible if he couldn't even get Suzaku out of his mind. That kiss in the cathedral had made certain of it. Suzaku loved him, loved him so much that his voice cracked and his body trembled, and damn if it hadn't made him fall even deeper. And feel even more hopeful.

Sometimes he hated that optimistic part of him.

Gino felt around the pocket of his trousers and pulled out his cell phone, running an unsteady thumb across the keys. It had been eight days since their last phone call. They were few and far in between nowadays, and a definite far cry from their relationship before any of this had happened. Now the two of them couldn't even talk without twenty shades of formal and awkwardness soaking in every word like poison.

His lips thinned. There was no place for any more regret. He hit the first speed dial and waited, his heartbeat loud against the stillness of the dusk.

The answer came after the fourth ring. "Kururugi Suzaku," the voice said, in that absent tone which indicated that he was either in a hurry to go somewhere or in the middle of floundering through paperwork. Gino felt his throat tightening.

"Hey."

There was a slight pause, and then a tentative, "Gino."

"Busy over there?" he tried to sound casual, to keep his voice as normal as possible. Whether he succeeded or not he couldn't really tell.

"You can say that."

"Maybe I shouldn't disturb you."

"No, please," the other knight said hastily, a little too anxiously, and Gino could not suppress a smile. Suzaku really did wonders to him, and this was only his voice – over the phone no less. "I want… I mean, I want to…"

"Hear my voice?" he offered helpfully, already grinning despite his condition. Suzaku didn't reply, but neither was Gino expecting one. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the sound of soft breathing, flowing across the line like an old, distant lullaby.

"I miss you."

A sharper intake of breath. He could picture Suzaku clearly in his mind, biting the inside of his mouth, left hand clasping the receiver tightly. His lips would part, but no word would come out just yet. Uncertainty demanded its turn and Suzaku would oblige – he always would, in this kind of thing – his tongue licking dry lips with slow, little swipes. And the he would sigh, the sound caressing Gino's ears, and the rest of the world would dwindle into four little words.

"I miss you too," he murmured, a quiet lilt in his voice, a little tremor at the tail-end of the sentence. Gino felt another smile quirking the edges of his mouth.

"Glad to hear that." He leant back to his seat, staring at a stray branch which dangled right in front of the windshield. "I'm off to Gibraltar next week."

More silence. A flock of birds cawed and flew to the direction of the setting sun. Suzaku's voice was a shade too faint when he finally said, "His Majesty's order?"

"Of course, why else would I go there?" His voice was dry, but he did not try to tone it down. With Zero and his Black Knight Order out of the immediate enemy list, now the empire was free to pick a fight with E.U.

"But Gibraltar?"

He laughed, ignoring how strained it sounded. "Well, with you settled all nice and proper in Japan, I'm afraid we rather lack manpower here."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Gino began to regret them. "Damn it, Suzaku, I didn't mean–"

"It's okay," the other knight's voice was smooth, resigned. "I didn't take any offence."

"You should," he heard himself blurt out. "I love it when you get all hot and angry."

It was a bad joke, Gino knew, especially in the kind of circumstances they were in now. He expected an offended reply, or even a plain, irritated order to shut up, but neither came. In fact, nothing came and he was suddenly afraid that the gulf between them had become so vast that Suzaku no longer considered him anything. He would rather have the other angry at him than–

"Gino," Suzaku suddenly said, his voice soft, with a touch of hesitation, "is there anything wrong?"

Gino swore his heart had stopped for a moment.

"No," he forced himself to answer after a thick swallow, keeping his voice even through all levels of lie every syllable had to be dragged out. "Nothing big. Just my parents. They tried to marry me off to some girl I barely knew."

"Oh." There was a strained pause. "And?"

"And what?"

Another pause. Gino started to think that Suzaku had become way too fond – or worse, dependent – of pauses nowadays. "Nothing. Never mind."

It was a faint mutter, but that sickly feeling of hope sparked in his chest, a sting so familiar by now that Gino couldn't even scream anymore. "Are you jealous?" he asked point-blank.

"No," the reply was quick and stiff, and then a little detached. "I don't have any right to be."

"I don't care. Are you?"

Perhaps Suzaku was taken aback by his tone of voice. When he spoke again, his voice was tense. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Why is it so hard for you to admit that you love me?" Gino accused, voice already rising.

"Gino," the other was now clearly pleading. He could almost see Suzaku's face, the shadows under his eyes lined with pain, weariness, nights spent on wishing and regretting. "Please, can we talk about something else?"

It was clear that they were not going anywhere with this. Gino tried to swallow his frustration. "Fine," he said flatly. "What do you want to talk about?"

There was a long moment of silence. Again. It felt like all they had now were silence and more silences, and each for him was a small nudge to that line between madness and sanity, slow but oh-so-certain, because he discovered that he couldn't decipher any of them. These silences were mute. Empty.

"He wants to adopt a child."

It was spoken so hurriedly and Gino needed a few seconds to make sure that he heard it right. And when he had, the white hot anger that rushed through him was so blinding that he couldn't see anything for a moment. "That is your alternative?" His voice was shrill, shaking. "You're sick, Suzaku, you're just so sick."

"Maybe I am," Suzaku hissed, sounding no less hysterical. "Maybe I am. That will explain everything."

Gino felt the back of his head digging into the headrest and had to exercise everything he had to keep himself from shouting, from admitting how truly fucked-up they had become.

"He really wants an adoption? With you?" His voice was dull, but he hardly cared anymore.

"I didn't mean to say that," Suzaku's answer was wretched, faltering. "It just came out. I'm sorry."

"Are you really?" the mocking accusation had escaped his mouth, sinking its fangs into the slab of silence before he realised it. Gino fought down an urge to pummel himself. "Damn it. Damn it." He bit his lips, shut his eyes tightly, sucked in a large gulp of air. None of them helped. In the end he just gave up and asked bluntly, "Why are we doing this to each other?"

There was no answer. Perhaps there wasn't any to begin with. Gino ran a hand through his hair weakly, tired of wishing, hating, being angry. Tired of trying to believe that everything was all right when they were obviously not.

In the end it was him who broke the stony silence. "Can I ask you to do something?"

"What?" came the soft, miserable reply from the line. He could imagine Suzaku sitting behind his office desk, eyes closed tightly.

"Put your cell on the desk but don't hang up," he said quietly, unable to lend any inflection to his voice. "Turn up the volume to the max, just leave it there and do your everyday business like usual. Talk to whoever you want, read the reports, sign the documents. Don't pay attention to me." He held the mouthpiece closer to his lips. "I just want to hear you. Your movement. Your breathing. Your voice. All day. I just want to hear you."

The silence which followed next was deafening. It was far from empty, but no longer had any desire to probe and analyze it – not when it was filled with sharp, jabbing needles that would make him bleed and bleed, until it was close enough to taunt him with death.

"It will be a waste of money," Suzaku finally replied, reasonable and yet not at the same time. But Gino caught the slight tremor underlining every word, each sound strumming a string inside his heart painfully, and gripped his cell phone even tighter.

"Never," he vowed, his voice fierce, clear against the utter stillness surrounding him. "Will you do it?"

Seconds ticked by, each sliver a step dragged through hell. Gino knew that they both had lost when he heard the faint, muffled sob.

"Yes."

He released the breath he had unconsciously been holding. It felt like a tumble over the cliff, the air out of his lungs, and then the wind rustling down the length of his body as he fell and fell and fell. Glorious, but sickening.

"Thank you," he whispered, biting back the 'I love you' just in time before it could slip past his lips. They already had enough argument for the day.

Enough hurting each other for the day.

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It was almost dark outside. Lelouch unlatched the window and gave the glass a little push, welcoming the evening breeze to lighten the air inside his bedroom. It slithered along his skin, a cool touch on damp, naked flesh as he breathed in with something close to relief. C.C. was lounging on the bed, her pale body splayed unashamedly on the dark-blue sheet, eyes closed in a meditative contemplation. Her scent still lingered in his nose, but it was much more tolerable now – compared to a few minutes ago when they had been struggling against each other in the heat of passion. And he hated it – hated it as much as he wanted it.

"And what did he say?" she suddenly said, her voice crawling lazily between beats of silence.

Lelouch closed his eyes, felt the wind caressing his face. The window gave out a view to the garden at the back of the residence, a sprawling field of endless green with a sprinkle of flowers here and there, their colours lost in the deepening dusk. Here, from this window, was the closest he had ever been to freedom nowadays, without the mask, without the weight of the black cape across his thin shoulders. It was an empty victory, because without Zero he was nothing since his sister's death, but he savoured the emptiness, loving it as much as hating it.

"He refused, naturally," he finally replied, his voice neutral.

"You expected that."

Lelouch did not bother to hide his sneer. "I'm his husband, of course I expected the worst."

"A difficult marriage," she remarked, tonelessly but it caused a painful twinge in his chest. He threw her a dry smirk over his shoulder.

"Sympathy? How touching."

"Hardly," C.C. scoffed, tepid golden eyes finally focusing on him, a strange pale glow in the darkening room. "He hasn't let you touch him since your wedding night, has he?"

Lelouch did not answer. He didn't want to think about that night and how it had ceased to be anything about Nunnally or his revenge only halfway. It had been something else entirely. It felt like Suzaku had brought out the absolute worst in him and the rest of the night had only been about him, too caught up, too immersed in what he had been doing to this boy who had sold his body and happiness for his country. It was a glorious, sickening feeling, and the memory of it still made him tremble even now.

Amazing how Suzaku continued to be the person he hated and craved the most.

Sometimes Lelouch also found himself wondering about that Britannian man. The fourth son of a duke, and quite high-ranking in military too. He had the most steadfast, the most honest gaze Lelouch had ever seen in years, when he had stood there at the base of the steps and declared his love to the man who had been about to throw him aside and marry someone else. It had shaken him, to the point where there was nothing else he wanted more in the world but to rip them apart.

And he succeeded. Tremendously. Suzaku was too predictable in this kind of thing, what with that so-called honour of his. Affair was a sin to his eyes, a proof of depravity. The White Knight couldn't risk himself to sink any lower than he already had. It would destroy him.

Lelouch rested his head on the windowsill, a sour laugh threatening to escape his tightening throat. He didn't even know why he did this anymore, why he was still doing it – why he couldn't stop doing it.

"Why a child?" C.C.'s voice smoothly pierced the silence, jerking him out of his thoughts.

"It's the easiest solution," he answered dully. The wind was now biting into his rapidly cooling skin and he left the window, looking for something to wrap himself in. C.C. still hadn't tried to cover herself with anything, but now she was sitting on the bed, legs drawn close to her chest.

"You're playing with fire," she told him, bluntly, utterly without pity.

Lelouch snorted, wondering if he should be amused. He remembered those evenings when he got home first, how he often watched Suzaku returning to their Japanese-styled house, dressed in his starched white uniform and smiling tiredly at the maid who opened the front door for him; and how that smile would die instantly once he saw him looking down from the top of the stairs, replaced by a scowl edged with disgust and so much hurt that he had to look away.

"I'm already burned," he murmured, and laughed quietly to himself.

End Chapter Two

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