![]() ![]() "He's still not awake, I see." Fareed's voice echoes in the quiet room. In hindsight, he hadn't known him at all. ![]() The faint noise of the tank his dearest friend was held in was being covered up by what he'd have sworn was a laugh if he hadn't known McGillis better. Something had changed, the room wasn't quiet anymore. Gaelio has to drag himself from that thought. In another memory, Gaelio could see the same picturesque moment, yet that one was so vastly different that it hurt. The medbay that night hadn't been busy except for Ein, yet he'd still ordered every doctor out of bed.Įin Dalton, breathing labored and raspy, barely moving except for the faint lift and decline of his chest. Just from a glance at all the pieces of metal sticking into and all the shards of bone sticking out of him, he had known that even the slightest complication could have killed him. He didn't want to, and yet his mind lingers upon it as the night drags by. How he'd been so still, barely breathing, his bright blue eyes dull. Gaelio didn't want to remember how Ein had looked while he was being pulled from that crushed cockpit. It's Ein's blue, the one that holds his lieutenant's heartbeat steady and keeps him alive despite the damage he'd taken in Gaelio's place.Įin had been ready to sacrifice his life for him, and yet all the Bauduin heir can do is stand before his body, staring down at the man he'd once been fortunate enough to stand beside. The lights cast upon his features, a couple shades off of his preferred royal purple hue, but he doesn't think ill of the strain on his tired eyes. He thinks upon that for a while, until the lights finally dim and he can see his own reflection in the glass. If he were to ever take them off, would death pour from his fingers? Would it drip from his decimated nail beds, stain his torn cuticles? Blister away the fingerprints he'd once so desperately pressed upon his Ein? Was he really destined to leave a trail of destruction behind him wherever he went? Such sinful hands he had, yet the gloves kept them an ever-so-perfectly pristine white. The soft pulsing of blue lights surround Ein, washing over him and reflecting in Gaelio's eyes as he dirties the glass holding him back with his gloves. He should be dead, a mutilated corpse, and even that fate would have been generous compared to how Ein had ended up.ĭespite his thoughts, the body in the tank doesn't respond to his order, at least, not as the man who inhabits it once had. His lieutenant is lying there in his place. "Ein, wake up." His voice is frail, the spine of it torn out. He stops his train of thought there, his hands shaking. How long had it been since he'd last said it, since he'd stood face to face with the Second Lieutenant? Had it really only been just before that last mission? Just before. The name felt so very foreign on his lips now. The body in the tank was tinted an unnatural shade of blue, and Gaelio found he couldn't help but peer through the glass at it. ![]()
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