Was I doing the right thing?

I adjusted my goggles with one hand, then pressed down on the accelerator of Corporal Addams's plane.

My medical kit was in the cockpit with me, leaning against my right leg. I was fairly inconspicuous among the other planes from Eric's unit. My plan was to do my job without attracting too much attention. The odds were low that Tanya would see me. After all, there were so many planes, and every pilot wore the same goggles.

The sinking feeling I'd had all day was finally gone, so I tried to tell myself that this was how things were meant to be. I would contribute as much as I could to the war effort, Tanya wouldn't find out, and all would be well. But if Tanya did find out...

Well, she wasn't going to. And that was that.

We flew northward for quite some time, eventually reaching the coast. The war zone seemed to expand far out over the open ocean.

As our unit drew closer, I had a full view of the carnage that was occurring. Mages were swarming the sky, swooping and soaring like birds of prey. A plane in the distance was barreling down toward the water, smoke pouring out of it in a massive plume. I swallowed my spit.

Something caught my eye - it looked to be a series of fragmented explosions popping out through the air.

"An illegal trench gun...?" I mumbled. "It can't be."

The man holding it was an enemy mage who seemed to be going after the Empire mages with a vengeance. He chased two in particular, but I couldn't get a good enough view to identify them.

Another trench gun blast went off, then another. There was so much going on, I lost sight of the individual mages every now and again. With so many Imperial battalions fighting, there was no point in guessing who was who. After each blast, I waited nervously for the smoke to clear. Everything seemed alright, until-

BOOM!

Somebody was falling. An Imperial mage. Whoever it was, they were heading straight for the open water. I broke formation from the other planes and strained the engine, beginning to dive down toward the soldier.

I braced myself for the possibilities of who I might see. Grantz, Koenig, Viktoriya, Tanya...

Whoever it was, they weren't dead. I saw the light of the mage's equipment flickering on and off as they dropped. For a second, they were able to gain control and climb a few yards back up, but the flow of magic was quickly interrupted and they began to fall again. They were probably injured, and were struggling horribly.

"Hang in there..." I mumbled, tilting the nose of the plane farther down. I hadn't expected to conduct a rescue so early into the battle.

I lined up the angle, getting close. "HEY!" I yelled, "GRAB MY HAND!"

Who was it...? A male frame, thick blond hair…

As my plane flew by, time seemed to move in slow motion. I saw him extend his hand as he turned to face me. His face was speckled with blood, his flight suit ripped, his eyes filled with fear. His bright green eyes.

For a fraction of a millisecond, I considered retracting my hand.

Technically, I wasn't supposed to be here. Nobody would know it was me if I didn't save him.

But it was no more than a fleeting thought. I wasn't even remotely that cruel.

I grabbed his arm, body straining against my seat belt to support his weight. His equipment flickered to life just long enough to propel him up and into the cockpit. Then it flickered out again, and old Green Eyes was in my plane.

"Thanks," he yelled over the wind, voice breathy and tired.

I shook my head. "Are you bleeding heavily? Do you feel like you're going to faint?"

"I-I don't think so," he said. "I got hit by a shell from that fucking trench gun. I was far enough away to not be blown to bits, but...my equipment's destroyed. My head hurts - is it bad?"

I looked over at him. There was a line of blood running from his temple, and a few cuts on his face and neck. "Nothing that can't wait until we're back," I said. "Just hang on tight, and-"

BOOM!

The plane was encased in smoke, my ears instantly overcome by ringing. There was another blast, and more smoke. The enemy mage must've been unhappy with me picking up the soldier that he thought he'd taken down. He was coming after both of us now.

I strained the accelerator as I ascended through the sky, trying to lose him. But the plane was too massive of a target. If he really wanted me to go down, he would hit me eventually.

More smoke, and this time when it cleared, I saw the mage. He was right in front of me, lining up the shot. I braced myself for the pain of the shot, for the plane to be hit, to be barreling out of the sky with a great plume of smoke, just like the plane I'd seen minutes before.

I heard Richter yell, "Dear God!"

And as if on queue, there she was.

Tanya came diving from above, rifle raised. He ducked out of the way as she swung her bayonet, just barely missing him. The enemy darted to the left and flew toward the other side of the war zone. Tanya braced herself to follow, sparing a quick glance in my direction.

Her eyes were beginning to glow golden-yellow, along with her computation jewel. It was so bright, I could see it clearly in the sunlight. Her pupils were uneven - one big, one small, her mouth hanging open slightly but curved up at the edges. Her gaze was almost unreadable, but it seemed to be fixed on me for a lifetime. Time was in slow motion again.

I knew she was high on her own magic, mind filled with strange, sadistic ecstasy. But I could see something beneath it too, in the way her eyebrows furrowed. Was it confusion? Betrayel?

And just like that, time seemed to resume, and our second of eye contact was over. Tanya went surging after the man with the trench gun, and I flew onward, smoke still settling behind me, to get a man I loathed back to safety.

-XXX-

I had no trouble landing this time. Corporal Addams's plane wasn't quite as fast as the Fokker Dreidecker, and that was probably for the best. Nevertheless, I took my time descending. The last thing I wanted was for him to generously give me his plane, only to have it returned to him in shambles.

Once we were safely on the ground, I looked over my shoulder at Richter. "Can you walk?"

He nodded. "I think so."

I got out first and did my best to steady him as he climbed out of the plane, but he was nearly a foot taller than me and certainly heavier. He staggered a bit, holding his head.

"Hey, hey, easy." I put my hand on his back. "I can get you stretcher-"

"No, I got it. You don't have to do anything." He brushed me off, and I took a step back.

"Alright, fine. Just let me know if you're feeling unsteady."

He unstrapped his flight equipment and let it fall to the ground beside the plane. I led him slowly to the infirmary. When we got there, it was already somewhat busy. I saw several men sitting on beds, getting stitches put in and wounds bandaged.

"Sit," I said sternly, pointing to one of the empty beds. I set my medical kit on the floor. "I'm going to wash my hands. I'll be right back."

I turned around and walked down the isles of the infirmary, looking over the occupied beds. One man was without a shirt, bandages running across his chest, clutching his sides. Another seemed to be in a daze as a medic wiped his forehead with a cold towel. There was a bandage wrapped around one of his arms.

My stomach began to churn. I couldn't help but wonder how everyone was doing. Eric, Viktoriya, Grantz, Weiss, Koenig, Neumann, Tanya... I had no way of knowing what was happening to them right now.

When I returned to Richter, he was looking pale. His fingertips were bloody and there was blood smeared across his forehead. It had continued to bleed on our way back and looked a bit worse than it did during my initial inspection. There an inch-thick line of blood running from his hairline, through his eyebrow, down to his chin. Most of it was congealed, but the blood on his fingers seemed to be fresh.

"How're you feeling?" I asked him again, holding the sides of his face steady to examine his eyes.

"Dizzy," he said. "Kind of numb."

"You're in shock," I said. "Breathe with me. Ready? In..." I exaggerated the upward movement of my shoulders, taking a deep breath in through my nose. Richter followed along. "Now out through the nose..." He did the same. "A few more times now."

He started to look a bit better as we did that.

"Good, now keep breathing. I'm gonna get this bleeding taken care of." I pressed down on the wound with a cloth. "It's gonna be a minute, okay? You're going to be fine though."

He sighed out another breath, looking much more in control than a few moments before. "Meyer...I don't really understand why you're being so nice to me."

I furrowed my eyebrows, deciding to play dumb. We were in a public place, after all. "Don't know what you're talking about, Richter. I'm a medic. This is just my job."

"No but, with the breathing, and all the sweet talk-"

"It's my job. You think I'd let you hyperventilate while I'm trying to work on you?"

"...Guess not," he shrugged. "But you don't find this awkward?"

"Hm?"

He looked down at the now-dry blood that covered his fingertips. "Well, I don't like you very much. Obviously. And if you hate me, that makes perfect sense."

I wanted to say that what he thought of me wasn't my problem. But in a way, it was. If he ever wanted to carry out the threat he'd made during our time in training - the threat to reveal me and Tanya's relationship - it would certainly be my problem, wouldn't it?

"I think hate's a bit of a strong word," I said calmly. "You've certainly lost my trust."

"I know. I'm a jackass, I get it."

It was my turn to shrug. "You brought it up." I pulled the cloth away from his head, and the bleeding seemed to have stopped. I pulled a bottle of antiseptic out of my bag and began to dab a fresh cloth with it. "This might sting a little."

Richter winced as I wiped the blood away from his wounds. "Y'know, Meyer, I really thought I was gonna die today. It's amazing the trench gun didn't take me out, but my gear was done for. I was sure I'd hit the ocean like concrete and that would be the end of it."

"You didn't expect a medic plane to help you?"

"Not really," he said. "There weren't nearly enough around."

"I thought there were plenty of medics," I said, confused. "Major Degurechaff said-"

"I think that was a load of bullshit - ow, lighten up with that stuff a little."

I pulled the cloth away from his face. "You think Major Degurechaff was wrong about there being enough medics?"

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. I feel like you're walking me into a trap here. If I criticise her you're gonna make sure my wounds get infected or something."

"I wouldn't do that," I sighed. "I want your honest opinion."

"Well, no, there weren't enough medics if you ask me," he said. "I figure some of them just weren't there yet, though. Who's idea was it to arrive in waves anyway?"

God, I had no idea he was such a complainer. "Do you think it was a mistake for me to stay behind when you guys left?"

He nodded. "Yeah, definitely. But you...did end up coming. So thank God for that. As much as I hate to admit it, I kind of owe you one."

That made me feel a bit better about my decision to defy Tanya. And on top of feeling like I'd done the right thing...Richter was now in my debt.

"Owe me one, huh?" I began to dab the cut on his hairline with a numbing agent. "Mind if I cash in that favor right away?"

He clicked his tongue. "Damn. I shouldn't've said anything, huh?"

"I don't want anything crazy, just...a truce."

"A truce?"

"Yep." I reached into my medical bag and pulled out some suturing thread. "This isn't gonna hurt, okay?"

I began to thread the suture through his forehead, and thankfully, the numbing agent kept him relatively unpanicked. He took a few more deep breaths when he first saw me pull the thread taught, but that was all.

"Richter, I don't like tension. I hate the idea of going into battle with someone who I'm not on good terms with, so maybe we could just find a way to be comfortable acquaintances again."

He seemed to be looking past my shoulder so as not to focus on the thread. "Yeah, I don't like tension either. But what difference does it make, really? You still saved my ass, even when I called you a qu-"

"Shh!"

"Sorry. I mean, sure, we can try to go back to square one. And even if I still think your...ways are weird, I regret calling you what I called you. It was a dick move, after we had basically become friends. But Meyer, if I can be honest with you, I feel like I'm constantly watching my own ass. Major Degurechaff hates my guts. Like, how do I know she isn't going to make a call one day that gets me killed, intentionally?"

I thought about whether or not she would do that. My first instinct was to say no, but I wasn't completely certain. "You want me to talk to her for you?"

He shrugged. "If you can."

"Okay, no promises. But I'll tell her about our conversation today."

He gave me a half-smile. "Thanks."

I tied off the suture and took a step back. "That's all patched up. I'm just gonna sterilize your other wounds and-"

The sound of the infirmary doors slamming open made both of us turn.

A stretcher was being wheeled in by two medics. The man laying on it had messy black hair slicked to his forehead with sweat. His skin was sickly pale, his mouth frozen in a grimace. A pair of flight goggles still hung loosely from his neck.

My jaw fell open. "Eric?"