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Stage 1

Nadir

A million thoughts raced through Lelouch's head at the sight he was greeted with. Shirley was lying in a pool of her own blood and Rolo standing over her. "That was a close call, big brother..."

His words didn't even register to Lelouch, he looked Rolo straight in the eyes, and he was trapped.

"Die."

Lelouch ran past the gunshot to Shirley's side. Single gunshot wound, artery below the heart; this was beyond his means. "C'mon Shirley," he said, picking her up, "We need to get you to a hospital. Now."

"Lulu… I remember."

Now running he spoke nearly calmly, though obviously unhinged, "I understand, Shirley; when you're safe."

Lelouch's hand pressed down on the wound. Shirley cried out in pain, gradually soaking him in warm blood, the terrifying inevitability of time. Rolo's death would certainly out him as having regained his memory, but he could worry about Nunnally later. This wasn't the time for tactics: this was triage.

In the elevator, now, Lelouch hammered the 'Floor 1' button, streaking it with her blood. Healed, she must be able to be healed, right? Britannian medical science and all… His thoughts were anything but collected.

"I'm glad you were here at the very—"

"You'll be alright!" he said, choking out the words. "Please, don't try to speak now, just stay with me!"

The second the doors open Lelouch sprinted outside and straight into an ambulance, quickly laying her down on the patient's bed. Immediately, he glanced up at the rear-view mirror, "Hospital, now!" Then, the other paramedic, "Save her!"

And that, for all of his power and resources, was all he could do. It was so much easier to kill thousands than to protect a single human live. All he could do now, was wait.

Hours later, Lelouch sat outside the operating room, tense. He wore only his turtleneck which, like his jacket, was still damp with partially-dried blood. He had long since washed Shirley's blood off of his hands, but he knew nothing would remove the stain of this day from his conscious.

After hours of agonizing over her fate—planning, plotting, and bargaining—the doctor finally emerged.

"She'll make it."

All of the other words flew right past Lelouch, who chuckled to himself. Mao had been right; Britannian medical science does work wonders. Such irony that the same sentiment which saved Shirley had also saved her kidnapper. He choked out a bitter laugh. It had 'saved her,' hadn't it…

I had better call Shirley's mother, Lelouch thought, darkly, before she arranges another of those funerals.

"Shirley, how do you feel?"

She had just woken up. By now it was early morning, though still hours before dawn. A warm glow emanated from the desk lamp beside her hospital bed, casting light on her mother sleeping in the chair at her bedside.

"Lulu, you..." Shirley paused, partially-grimacing and looking overwhelmingly exhausted. "Thank you, but you... killed Rolo... didn't you?" She was clearly troubled as she collected her memory.

"Yes, it was all I could do to protect you, I dragged you into—"

"Stop it, Lelouch, I chose this, to always be there with you."

They exchanged gazes and a drowsy Shirley closed her eyes, sure to reopen them at least once again.