"For so long," The Dark Ace whispered. "I have been a bitter man hell bent on getting revenge." He closed his eyes, pausing to swallow. "But alas, we now see how much good that has done." The chuckle that escaped him was quickly interrupted by a cough, his body shuttering violently under its influence.
"No, don't talk that way." Aerrow chided, placing his hand over the older man's larger one. It was surreal. Aerrow watched as this man, his former enemy, slowly faded away before his very eyes. "It's all my fault." He confessed, his lips trembling slightly. "If I had known earlier—"
"Stop," the Dark Ace managed to croak. Aerrow's now tear-filled gaze attempted to focus on the crumpled form beneath him. "Don't place the blame where it doesn't belong." The Dark Ace slowly moved his hand out from underneath the younger boy's and placed it over his aching chest. "You know all too well, whose fault it is."
"I can't…" Aerrow shook his head. "I can't believe that." He stole the bloodied arm off the shattered and broken body, and brought it up to his face. The tears were spilling freely now, soaking the crimson fabric as he buried his face into it.
"Aerrow…" The boy's sobs were interrupted by the Talon's quiet, yet still powerful voice. "Aerrow, look at me." Slowly, Aerrow lifted his head in response to the man's command. Their eyes locked, and Aerrow gently released the hand he had been so desperately clinging to. Despite the state the commander was in, Aerrow was startled to see that the man's eyes seemed to burn with fire, making their intensity show even brighter than ever before.
The Dark Ace coughed again, interrupting Aerrow's thoughts, and to the boy's horror, blood surfaced from the man's mouth and began to trickle lazily down his chin. Aware of Aerrow's reaction to his rapidly decreasing health, the Dark Ace brushed the issue aside and smiled faintly. "The best thing to do," he wheezed, "Is to forgive and forget about what has happened."
Aerrow had expected something far different to be uttered out of the man's mouth—not something as trivial as this. "How can you expect me to do that?" Aerrow clenched his fists together. "After everything that has happened, how can you, especially you, expect me to just forgive and forget?" Once more, tears came to the boy's eyes, replacing the anger that had overcome him; he clenched his teeth and buried his head in his hands. "How, Ace, how?" As if the burden were too much for him, he anchored himself down to the ground, resting his head on the cool yet dirty surface. "I can't, I won't!"
Other than Aerrow's muffled sobs and the sand plagued wind that whirled around them, it was silent. "Yes, you can," The Dark Ace spoke up again after the silence had become too unbearable.
Aerrow lifted his head, dirt falling from his auburn hair. "What?" He asked, missing what the Dark Ace had said seconds before.
"I said, yes you can." Aerrow was about to protest again when the Dark Ace lifted his mangled arm and unsteadily reached for Aerrow's smaller one. Without hesitation, Aerrow gently seized a hold of it, and immediately felt comfort in the touch. "Aerrow," a chill shot through him at the sound of his name voiced so feebly yet so compassionately. Numb, Aerrow could only nod his head in response to let the Dark Ace know he was listening intently. "If I can do it…" The Dark Ace's eyes found Aerrow's, and he squeezed the boy's hand lightly. "Then so can you."
Aerrow didn't know what to say in response, too much was overloading his brain, and with so little time left, what would be the right thing to say? "I—" He began; hoping that something meaningful would weave its way into a decent sentence. But before he could continue, he noticed that the Dark Ace's eyes were slowly beginning to close.
"Ace?" He called out the older man's name hopefully. No response. Only a ragged breath issued from the man, his eyes now permanently sealed shut, and a genuine smile stretched across his face. "Ace?" Aerrow let go of the lifeless hand that he was holding and shook the Dark Ace's shoulder lightly. "Ace!" He continued to shake, but this time, with more force. Still nothing.
"No…" Aerrow just sat there stunned, letting the harsh wind beat against him as he stared down at the body of the man that had changed his life, for better or worse. "No…" he choked up again. He knew he couldn't change the truth, but still, to believe that the Dark Ace was…
Aerrow couldn't hold back any longer, and he fell upon the lifeless corpse, grabbing a hold of it—and leaned his head down onto the bloodied chest. "You can't leave me," he sobbed into the tattered material. "How am I supposed to do this on my own?" He lay there for a while, lost in his trauma, ignoring the increasingly brutal winds whipping around his face, leaving him feeling deadened against the cold. But that was not the only reason why he felt so cold. Oh, how he longed for the chest beneath him to generate a heartbeat! Even so, he knew his wish would not be granted. Ace was really gone.
Exhaling a shaky breath, and wiping away his tears, Aerrow knew that just lying here was not going to bring the commander back or help him with the difficult trials ahead. He sighed.
He knew what he had to do.
"Thank you," He smiled sadly—brushing away the dirt caked from the jet-black hair and off the battered chest. "For everything." Aerrow grabbed a hold of his former enemy's weapon, and stood. "I promise you, Ace." He turned and looked at the horizon, feeling pride and determination beginning to fill him. "I will defeat Cyclonia."