(This takes place in the world of the manga, a bit after Walter had his youth restored. Beyond that, I will hardly be following the storyline at all. )

Walter returned with the Major's hot cocoa, with extra milk and sugar, just as he had requested a minute or so ago. He handed it to the chubby Nazi battalion commander, careful not to spill a single drop. He watched with apathy as the Major slurped his drink, noisily and without dignity.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt vaguely disgusted. That part of his mind always seemed to scream emotions and opinions and memories at him. But no matter how hard Walter tried, he could never seem to fully access and realize that part of him. He was always dimly aware of it, nagging at him every minute of the day. And yet it was like an optical illusion. Whenever he tried to look directly into it and think about it, it just seemed to vanish. Then, once he had turned his attention elsewhere, it would return, insistent as ever. It was getting annoying. He was tempted to talk to Dok, to see if he couldn't do something about it. But he refrained from doing so, because he felt as though somehow, some way, that part of his mind, those thoughts, were important. And the last thing he wanted to do was eliminate them, then realize just how badly they were needed.

"Faded pictures of the life that I once loved

And with a flash, the moment's gone

I gave up all I had for

Something that never brought me any comfort now

I've been lost too long"

So he stood and fretted in silence, letting no emotion show on his face. He watched the Major for any sign that he needed something. Walter was a butler all the way down to his bones, and by now, it was second nature for him to pick up on any desire, even an unspoken one. And with his lithe young body, he was fast and efficient. However, he had other skills, as well. From that stubborn corner of his mind came an image of fighting, fighting a war. It was bloody, gruesome, and painful. There was a man fighting next to him in his memory, but who was it...?

"Butler!" The Major's voice brought him out of his temporary reverie, and he stood at attention.

"Sir?"

"It is rather chilly in here. Quickly, bring me a blanket." The Major's thick German accent made Walter a tad slower than he normally was in following orders. He stood there, motionless, for a few seconds, deciphering the Major's statement. Suddenly, a shock went through his body, from head to toe. A steady, painful, throbbing feeling in his every muscle. When it stopped, he fell to his hands and knees, panting and trembling. He looked up at the Major, who had what appeared to be a remote control in his hand. His thumb was hovering above a large blue button.

"Ve vill be quicker next time, yes?" the Major said, smirking.

"Y-yes...Of course, sir. My apologies." Walter pulled himself to his feet, trying to shake off the feeling of unsteadiness. He walked quickly into the other room, returning with a thick, warm quilt, emblazoned with the Nazi Swastika. He handed it wordlessly to his master and stood behind him. The chubby blonde man wrapped it around himself, then turned to speak to Warrant Officer Schrodinger, the werewolf boy, who was looking very excited about Walter's suffering.

Walter forced his mind to go blank. It seemed that whenever he allowed himself to think, he would become absorbed in his thoughts and become inattentive. He had felt that shock far too many times to risk recieving it again just so that he could have a moment to muse about nothing in particular.

"Butler, leave me. Fix yourself up, for you are a mess. I refuse to have a servant that looks as disheveled as you." The Major chuckled.

Walter bowed crisply, with a murmured "Of course" and left. He walked down a few hallways, ignoring the looks from the reborn Nazi soldiers as he passed. He was not bound to serve them, only the Major. He came to a stop at a narrow doorway, then walked through it into the closest thing he had to a home in this hellhole.

There was a beaten, lumpy matress, a chamber pot (that he had to empty himself), a thin, stringy blanket, a single naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, and...a full-length mirror. Walter trudged over to the latter unwillingly.

He observed himself lazily. His slender waist and legs, the thin, long arms, and his delicate hands covered in gloves with razor-sharp wires concealed within them. And then, lastly, his face. His strong, pronounced chin, his small nose. Two blue-gray eyes stared back at him, blank, unfeeling. He sighed, and ruffled his short black hair, which was already rather out of place, and wiped away the sweat that had beaded on his forehead from his punishment.

His stomach growled, but he ignored it. He was tired, he realized suddenly. Exhausted, actually. He sat down on his makeshift bed and closed his eyes for a bit.

"I can't sleep," he told himself. "The Major will be furious."

"But you haven't slept an hour for the past 3 days," a small voice inside him whispered.

"I'm...fine," he mumbled, stifling a yawn.

"Sleep. You need it," the voice crooned to him.

"But..."

His retort died on his lips as he drifted down into the blissful oblivion of sleep.

"I can't get out of this dead skin

I can't shed my skin

Not sure where to begin

I can't get under my dead skin

I can't shed my skin

Can I sleep 'till then?"

The songs featured in the story are as follows:

Song 1

"Empty Glasses"

By Scary Kids Scaring Kids.

Song 2

"Dead Skin"

By Crossfade.