I wake up, getting an impression something is gnawing at my hair. It takes me while to come round and understand what's going on. Later, I will reproach myself with being that careless - I should be more alert, not completely dazed after waking in the middle of the night. Well, to be honest, I've always had problems with that.

I don't know why my mop is Mikage's favourite food. I got used to it, as well as the other peculiarities of him. Now I realize, though, his aura is full of anxiety, clearly troubled, it isn't emanating with fun and content like usually on such occasion. Then I get to grasp the reason. The sounds coming from Teito's bed indicate he's having a nightmare. When I manage to open my sleepy eyes and focus my gaze, I can see him moving restlessly in the moonlight. I hear his muffled voice: "it's my fault", "not him, me" - he is having a dream of Mikage. The memory of his friend's death comes to him with various frequencies - but only during nights it brings so much pain with itself. Just like nothing hasn't changed, even thought some time passed. During the days, he is able to humbly accept the judgements of fate - but in his dreams, he still struggles with what already happened, and with his feeling of guilt.

It's not time for analysis. I drag myself from the bed and approach his, almost tripping over the cover that fell down. I seize his arm to help him out of the nightmare.

"Don't leave me alone in the cold...!", he shouts in a chocked voice, sitting up and clutching at my hand.

His skin is unusually warm. He's trembling, even more than before waking. His teeth are chattering. Perhaps he really feels cold.

"I can't get you warm", I say softly, almost whispering, for I can barely speak. Despite it, I take him in my arms, I embrace him, and I cuddle him, driven by an instinct. After all, that's that you do with a freezing person, right? I don't listen to the voice of reason, sneering and saying there's nothing warm in this body of mine. There's no heart to produce blood. There's no blood to carry the warmth along. Ghost don't need such things. "You know I can't, you damned brat", I whisper into his damp hair.

I don't know if he hears me. He's so frail in my arms. He shrinks even more, and clings to me. I hug him closer. With time, his breath gets even, his muscles relax. I wonder if perhaps he needed my cold instead. I think he's falling asleep...

"Not true", he says softly, and even makes an effort to shake his head to stress his words. "You can..."

I'd like to believe in this.

I lean my head against the wall. I feel his weight on my chest. I'll stay with him until morning, when he kicks me out of his bed, cursing the pervert-bishop. In day, he can be the chosen one, or anything he wants to - but at nights he's a helpless child who needs someone around. The thought I can be that someone makes me almost warm.

"One day...", he whispers, fighting an upcoming sleep. "Frau... I promise...", his voice is so low I have to bow my head. "One day I will... get you warm..."

I'd like to believe in this even more.

He tries and wrap his arms around my torso. If things had been different, he would hear my heart beating against his cheek. I embrace his lean shoulders tight. He fall asleep, feeling safe, and I hope no nightmare will torment him this night any more. I feel his breath on my skin. It's warm - and nice.

I wait until I'm sure he sleeps deeply. I allow myself to relax and I imagine myself standing in the sunlight. I drift off to sleep with the last thought that I'm actually able to believe his promise.