A/N: Just a quick little half-hour thing born from a conversation I had with DiLithiumDragon. We'd been talking about Sasha and talk drifted to him running away - then we realized, he'd left his widower father all alone all because he'd watched a recording of him boinking. A man's life shattered entirely because of one of the silliest reasons ever.

Naturally, I had to fix this immediately. It's time for a little heartbreak, and then a little cobbling it back together.

Somewhere in West Germany sat a small little house, and a sad little man.

In his prime, he couldn't have been happier. The love of his life. A beautiful baby boy. A healthy and steady career as a shoe cobbler.

Then, everything fell apart.

His wife, lost to illness. His son, lost to... he'd never really found out. His boy been here one day, gone the next, and for all he knew, it was entirely his fault.

Now? All he had was shoes.

Day in, day out, he crafted them, he repaired them, he made his living off them. Sometimes business was good, and he'd eat well. Other times no one needed any replacements, and he'd have to be frugal.

But no matter how successful he was, it never filled the hole in his heart. All the work did was keep his mind from wandering to the past.

Years passed in solitude. He never remarried. He would never even humor such an offensive proposition. But not a day went by where he didn't wonder what'd happen to his wonderful little Sasha.

He grew older. Grayer. Soon, the painful gnawing at his heart grew into a dull ache he simply tolerated. They say time heals all wounds, but no one ever talks about the scars they leave.

His life was repetitive, lonely, but stable. Nothing ever surprised him.

Until one day, anyway.

The phone buzzed for his attention, the vintage device a relic of a time long past. Wiping his brow, the man set his hammer aside and left his neighbor's loafers alone to go check what it wanted.

He went through his usual routine. Sigh, pick up the receiver, and start off with his never-changing greeting.

"Guten Tag," he greeted in a low, emotionless voice. "Nein's Schuhladen. Was kann ich für Sie tun?"

There was silence on the other end. The man pinched his brow, not in the mood to deal with a prank call. He had work to get back to. Blissful, distracting work.

It took a moment to get a reply... and when it came, it was only a single word.

That one word was enough to make his heart stop.

"Papa?"

A man's voice. It'd been so long since he'd really felt anything, and now, tons of emotions were vying for control. Surprise, mostly. But there was anger - what if this was a vile joke? - and sorrow, as memories of a child long lost washed over him.

Now it was his turn to stay silent on the line. Gripping the phone tightly, he finally dared to breathe, switching languages to English laden with a thick German accent. "Who is this?"

Another moment of silence. For a second, he dreaded the caller would hang up. He could hear a soft sigh on the other end, the drumming of a hand on a desk. "It's me, Lars. It's Sasha."

Practically jamming the phone against his ear, Lars clutched the receiver tightly, as if it'd somehow keep his son from running off again. "Sasha?!" There were so many things he wanted to ask. How was he? Where was he? What had he been up to?

But one question rose above the rest. One he'd wondered many times.

"What did I do wrong?"

Across the globe, a guilty man winced. "Nothing," he replied immediately, sharply. "...The only one who messed up was me, Papa. I was young. Foolish. Going places I shouldn't have, seeing things that weren't that big a deal in the end, and making stupid decisions to top it all off. There wasn't a single thing you did wrong... except have a foolish son like me."

"Stop it, Sasha." Truthfully, not a single thing he'd said made Lars feel any better. It didn't matter why the boy had left, it only mattered that he'd lost his wife and his son and been alone for far too long. Now, he refused to hear his beloved son beat himself up when they could be focused on something far more important.

Reconciliation.

"Sasha, I... there is so many things I need to know. Where did you go? Are you well?" Another unbearable moment of quiet. "Please, talk to me, Sasha." He didn't think he could take it if the call ended now.

Thankfully, the caller had just been gathering their thoughts. "Don't worry about me, Papa. I'm doing rather well for myself. How well is... a bit hard to explain. I'm over in America at the moment, but..." A pause. "...I could be back home by tonight."

Lars' breath hitched in his throat. His life had been empty for so long, and now he might be able to see his long-lost son before the day was through? It sounded too good to be true.

"I'd like that. But how...?"

A soft chuckle on the other end of the line. "My agency has a jet on standby, Papa. A fast one, at that. It's typically only used for business matters... but I think I've built up enough goodwill to call in a brief favor."

A jet?! Just what had his son been up to?

You know what? It didn't matter. All that could be explained... in person. Softening his grip on the phone, Lars ran a hand through his hair, the peppered gray folding through his fingers. "I haven't had guests in... I will have to clean up the shop. Yes. Close up early."

If he could see the other side of the phone, he could see his son smiling. "I'll see you soon then, Papa. We have much to talk about."