Darkness in the Twilight
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
By Psycho Ferret and LunarCrystal
Zaibach Medicine
Allen was already on the Crusade, Angelina laid gently in his bed. After making sure the others got on board safely, he looked at Gaddes. "You... rest. You need it. I can handle it from here." He turned to Chris and Ethan nodding to them. "Good job, both of you... we wouldn't have made it out otherwise."
Allen took Hans from Kio, then turned, walking back to the rooms. For a second, he paused at the door that should have been Hans' room... but went past that to his own. He carried him inside, lying him on the bed beside Angelina, sighing a little. "The things I do for you, princess..."
~
The Asturian frigate Crusade ascended high into the air, much higher than any other of the leviships that attacked Reichmann's Flame. There were many from Daedalus, some from Cesario, and very far down below were the form of guymelefs from Fanelia and Egzardia. The Crusade was like a watchful bird over the battlefield, nothing more than a third person view of something that didn't involve it as it flew freely among the Gaean clouds.
The Reichmann's Flame was already starting to fall when the crew escaped it, and now there were clouds of smoke rising and curling angrily in the afternoon sky. Basram's coup de main had backfired, it seemed, after the General himself was killed by his own son, who now lay beside the sweet angelic form that was Allen's daughter.
Gaddes, though fatigued and useless for the moment as an active member of Allen's crew, watched over his niece -- daughter -- and Hans. It was all he could do, to keep himself awake, leaning over her all too still form and brushing his fingers through her ragged silver hair. Occasionally he would dote over her, fuss over her, and kiss her forehead over and over with the hopes that she would wake with the kiss.
No response came from Angelina, however, and Gaddes, like any good father figure, could not help but fear for her.
Allen, after giving the men their orders, turned and headed back to the room where he'd lain Hans and Angelina. He stood in the doorway, watching the two of them, pursing his lips slightly. They made a pair, didn't they? The unprejudiced princess taking in the heart of the exiled soldier who pledges himself to her aid, who fights for only her.
It's what parts they played, whether or not they knew it. They were pulled into a destiny that they did not know.
And oh... so much pain for them when they were so young...
Gaddes looked up from where he sat, seeing Allen standing there. His eyes were reddened, but he wouldn't admit to crying, even though it was obvious that he had been. They were all so young, all of them were too young to be going through so much pain, anger, and hurt. Weakly, he managed to push himself toward Allen, with a few haphazard thrusts that let his arms fall with each push.
Taking a breath, he took Allen's hand and tugged gently.
Allen sighed softly, reaching up to brush at his lover's cheeks gently, curling up lightly in his lap. Even though he'd despised his own father so much for so long... he hadn't ever been able to picture himself killing him... or any child killing their parent in general. But Hans... there had been no hesitation there. Not for a single instant did he hold back, did he pause in his killing blow.
"It was all for her," he whispered softly, slipping his arms around Gaddes. "All of this... he did it for her."
"Yes," agreed Gaddes hesitantly, holding Allen close to him, "I know he did. I know he sacrificed to save her, to defend her. But Allen, you have a daughter," he swallowed painfully, grimacing at the thought and straining in his voice, "A beautiful daughter who might not survive much longer. She hasn't . . . woken yet. She hasn't moved. Allen, we can't lose her. We - need to take her to Zaibach's hospitals."
"I agree... we can't do anything for her. I don't know what's wrong with her--besides the obvious. But I... I want to do anything I can for her. We just need to get to them first." Allen nodded slightly, closing his eyes a little. He wanted to cry... but he'd cried so much already that he couldn't bring himself to do so anymore.
Gaddes held Allen a little tighter, a gentle and reassuring squeeze. From somewhere down the corridor of the tiny ship, someone banged against the wood panels of the wall, with muffled and indistinct yells. Gaddes looked up at the sound, then looked to Allen. "What was that?"
Allen blinked, lifting his head and glancing over. The knight frowned a little, slipping out of Gaddes' lap. "That... doesn't sound like anyone I know," he said softly, shaking his head slightly. But he didn't have his sword with him...
With one last glance up towards Allen, Gaddes slowly began to glide down the hall toward the muffled shouts and banging. It was coming from one of the maintenance panels along the bottom edge of the wall - just large enough for a small man to fit inside. The muffled shouts became a little more distinct, and the sergeant looked up to Allen as he was able to at least make out the language.
"Bitte! Helfen Sie mir heraus! Ist jemand dort? Bitte!"
Allen slowly arched a brow, glancing at Gaddes. Well... if the man was dangerous, if he meant to harm them, he likely wouldn't be making all the noise he was currently. The voice sounded faintly familiar... but Allen couldn't place it, not really.
"Hm... do we leave him in there or help him?" He grinned a little, glancing over at Gaddes.
Gaddes was about to give a cheeky reply when their stowaway banged on the wood panel again, interrupting them with more shouts. "Helfen Sie mir heraus! Es ist Gunter. Gunter der Heiler! Ich bin ein Freund von Hans!" Gaddes' lip curled, frustrated and not understand a word the Basram scum said. As far as he was concerned, all of them were intolerable savages - even Hans he could barely suffer the company off.
With a swift turn of his chair, Gaddes turned away and headed back down towards the room with Angelina. "Leave him there to rot," he said over his shoulder, his tone bitter and full of scorn.
Allen cocked his head to the side a little. Did he mention Hans? The blonde pursed his lips slightly... then shrugged, turning to start to walk off towards the room. Teach him right for sneaking onboard the Crusade. Hah.
He slipped inside the room, glancing over at Angelina and Hans. The ex-soldier was beginning to stir slightly, if only from the intense pain, the throbbing from what was left of his arm.
"Waking up then, is he?" said Gaddes shrewdly from his seat beside Angelina. He'd had his hand always touching her curls, always stroking them. He couldn't bear to leave her for too long anyway - he was just too worried over her. "I don't suppose he'll be too happy. I know the feeling well." He honestly could not find any sympathy in his heart for Hans, no matter how hard he tried for both Allen and Angelina - he just couldn't break the ice around his heart for this soldier.
He'd suffered at their weapons, and still went through the pains they caused in his battered body, his numb and disobedient limbs being the constant reminder.
Allen sighed softly, walking over to Hans' side. If Angelina cared for him so much, then Allen could loosen his dislike slightly. If only for his daughter's sake.
When Hans had pushed past the throbbing, deep pain enough to actually be awake, the first thing he noticed was the lighter weight on his left side. He knew... it had to be... slow gaze traveled to his shoulder, staring, horrified at the injury. He wasn't even twenty yet...
"Nein... ach Gott nein," he murmured to himself, his voice shaking. Terror. Pain, fright welled up within him. "Wie... kann ich jetzt schütze Kätzchen? Ich... bin wirklich nutzlos, gleich wie Vater hat gesagt." It was like he didn't even notice the others there, mumbling in a near whimper.
Gaddes turned away, his face scowling and lips pursed. He couldn't bring himself to sympathize with him, he just - felt nothing for him. It was too soon to comfort the boy, too soon after his own injury, too soon to accept the Basram soldier as an ally, no matter how close he was to his precious Angelina.
"You'll get used to it," said Gaddes quietly, already feeling that Allen would probably not be too happy with his lack of sympathy.
Allen glanced at Gaddes, a faint frown lingering on his lips. He rested a hand on Hans' uninjured shoulder. "Gaddes... if you're going to be like that, then just... go elsewhere for now." Hans didn't need this.
He understood why Gaddes was bitter, why he felt no pity... but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. Allen, in the end, was still the kind-hearted, accepting man he had been before. It had simply taken a little nudging to get him back. He hated that Gaddes was like this, that Gaddes couldn't walk. He hated the Basram rifles for injuring him so, he hated that they had taken his ability to move normally. But Hans... hadn't been the one to shoot him. Hans had begun the path to redeem himself, though he wasn't doing it for that purpose.
Clenching his jaw, Gaddes closed his eyes, the makings of another scowl crossing his rugged features. Then he turned his chair, nodding. "I'll leave," he said, and slowly glided out of the room.
~
The bridge wasn't so full of activity as it once had been, during the last war, or even during the previous skirmishes at the fort. The Crusade gently hovered among the clouds, so very high above the ground, above the battle and death of war. Gaddes did not have a heart to look down, out of the windows to see Basram losing, or even to see the allies winning.
"Riden," he said, sitting calmly by the front windows and gazing as the mists of nimbus floated by, "Have you spotted a Zaibach medical station yet?"
The crew had the grace not to ask Gaddes why he'd finally left the girl's side, why he didn't seem to care about the battles raging below them. Or rather... Kio had the grace to keep Riden quiet, and everyone else knew their place. Ethan worried about Allen and Angelina... he'd caught a glimpse of the girl's bloodstained dress and the bandaged wound at Allen's side... but he'd been unable to ask.
The pierced boy sighed softly, looking out the window. Below them, men died in a variety of ways.
This... seemed so normal to the people here. He couldn't imagine it.
"There's a Zaibach air hospital south, southeast, Sarge," repeated Riden tentatively, his splinted arm held close to his chest as his other worked the periscope around to search out the massive levi-fortress. Gaddes bowed his head, pushing up out of his chair just enough to relieve the pressure that he couldn't feel in his rear.
"Okay," he strained slightly, "Kio, turn us around - heading south, southeast towards that hospital. Ethan," he settled back into the seat and turned around to look at the boy, "The communication light - remember how I taught you to use it? I need you to request permission to dock. Can you do that?"
"Ah?" Ethan drew himself out of his thoughts, glancing over. Geez.. was he actually able to be useful? The boy smiled a little, nodding to him. "Sure thing."
When they drew near enough, when the traveling infirmary was in sight, he flipped on the little light, flashing it in the code that Gaddes had taken the time to teach him. At least he finally could be something besides... useless. Twice in one day, it was a record. Or something.
When he heard the affirmative from Riden that they were allowed to dock, he smiled a little to himself.
Gaddes sniffed absently, nodding to Ethan but couldn't bring himself to give him a smile. "Good job, Ethan," he said. He was really proud of the kid, having learned skycode eagerly after his brother had gotten so involved in the work at the armory. The sergeant gave the orders to set the hull gently to the dock against the Zaibach building, before quickly gliding to Allen's room to pick up Angelina.
"We're at the hospital," said Gaddes quietly, coming to Angelina's side and gently lifting her to bring into his lap, "If you want to bring him."
Ethan glanced over at Gaddes, nodding a little to him... and caught the little smile Kio sent him. Okay... so he'd been too hard on himself when he'd told himself that he didn't belong here. He did. He knew these people and cared for them... and they didn't mind him being there to begin with. It was... it was nice, really.
Allen looked at his lover from where he'd settled beside Angelina, whom was now in Gaddes' lap. The blonde nodded slightly, standing. He'd finally convinced Hans to fall back asleep, to calm down the man, if only for a little.
Sadly, he had to rouse him, getting him to stand, bearing a bit of the younger man's weight.
When they slipped outside into the hallway, Hans lifted his head at yet another call from the room. "Gunter...?" He murmured questioning to himself, getting Allen to help him over to the door. The knight sighed softly... well, at least Hans knew him. Allen opened the door, one arm around Hans' waist to help him stay standing.
Gunter rolled out of the maintenance panel, awkwardly onto his side, soiled and dirty and groaning from being scrunched up in such a tightly enclosed place. He coughed, righting himself slowly onto his hands and knees. "Hans," he choked, catching his breath. He looked up to see his friend leaning heavily upon the knight. Grabbing along the wall, he managed to stand, panting.
The fresh air felt good in his lungs. He looked around the corridor, seeing no one else but the knight he had helped rescue and Hans. Slowly, he turned his gaze back to Hans, who was watching him intently. "I stowed away to escape the ship. My friend . . . I'm sorry, for everything, I'm so sorry," he said in Basramese.
Hans was silent, looking at him. For the moment, his arm was forgotten. He cocked his head to the side a little, looking, confused, at his childhood friend. "What... are you sorry for?" He winced slightly at the flickering of pain that slithered through the nerves that still survived, but still looked at the other with that confused expression on his handsome face.
The young healer realized his friend was still not within his wits. Even still, he needed to be careful. Something like that could upset even the strongest of men, break their resolve - and he would blame Gunter for taking away what pride he had left, even the healer calculated the man's thoughts correctly.
"I - am glad to see you alive, of course," said Gunter with a faltering smile, going to his friend to bear his weight for the knight, "Please, let me help you to the Zaibach hospital. I will be sure they take care of you, my dear good friend."
Hans looked at Gunter silently for a moment, then resigned. At least... not everyone in Basram had deserted him. The young man sighed softly, noting with some confusion how Allen didn't easily relinquish his aid. It was like the knight really did want to help him. Even if he was told nothing of the blank spot in his memory, he wouldn't bother questioning... not now at least. He just knew that he felt so tired, aching.
"Lassen Sie mich ihn nehmen, bitte," said the healer desperately to Allen, knowing he couldn't understand but hoping that his tone would convey his feelings. He needed to be there for the friend he thought he'd lost, the friend who had been there to defend him from his father, from the bullies in their childhood - it was Gunter's turn to show Hans he could take care of him in turn.
Hans turned his gaze to Allen, ready to translate when he saw the knight smile, just faintly. The blonde did let go, inclining his head. This was the man that had helped he and Angelina... he could do this for him. He nodded, then turned, motioning for them to follow him as he made his way down the hall towards the docking port.
To Hans, it was awkward. For one, with the missing limb, and secondly... now it was the slim healer than was helping him. But he was glad that there was someone from his past that still would dare to make connections.
~
The medical aid of Zaibach was strange to the Basram healer. While Basram was not too far behind Zaibach's technology, the latter was still far more advanced than any procedure the young healer had seen. Their manner was odd, as well. The moment that Gunter came in with Hans leaning upon him, orderlies rushed them into a room after a few brief questions in broken Basramese and immediately started poking and prodding the ex-soldier as he was settled into a spare bed.
There were many soldiers there, many ships docked in the Zaibach air hospital high above the clouds, and even more bodies covered with sheets or in black canvas bags. It seemed like a blessing to have an abundance of Zaibach healers, enough people to even worry over Hans' missing limb and Angelina's comatose form. At least two nurses and a doctor, an older, stern faced man, were fussing over Hans, taking notes as they prodded his stump, his temperature, blood pressure . . .
Hans was silent, except for those hisses from when the still aching remnants of his limb were prodded or moved. It did hurt... the dull, thick throb of pain pulsing. It was so odd, so horrifying... sometimes his heart would flutter in panic when he'd catch sight of the wound, of where his arm should have been. But he was glad that Gunter was there, that he was at his side. Something familiar, something to find even a little bit of strength in.
"The wound is fresh," said the doctor apathetically, the stump in his hand as he was removing the hard layers of bandages around it. "Good, mmm, yes. You did well here, Gunter."
Hans stared off to the side glumly. Even though he had Gunter there... there was still the sorrow... the feeling of uselessness. What good would he be to anyone now, after all?
"T-Thank you," said Gunter uncertainly, looking at his friend in concern. What a terrible thing to say in front of the patient, he thought. It was as if Hans was nothing more than a lab specimen now, something to examine and poke and prod, without feeling or emotion or voice. Gunter nearly said something in Hans' defense, about how rude these healers were behaving but he was interrupted.
Another nurse came in with what looked like - specs, pamphlets with various drawings and schematics of some sort of engineered machinery. While the doctor examined the fresh stitching on Hans' stump, the nurse handed Hans the drawings. Gunter took them, however, and upon inspection saw that they were blueprints for a mechanical arm.
"Mien Gott . . .," said the Basram healer, showing the drawings to his dazed friend. The arm the drawings depicted was covered in plates, pieced together with metal and showing the inner workings at certain choice areas. It was cut off at about the same place Hans' stump began, showing another piece separate from the arm that would be installed on the remaining flesh - a detachable prosthetic.
Hans was silent, looking at the blueprints dully. Metal. Part of his body made of metal... he wouldn't be human. That wasn't human, that was... it seemed so wrong. The soldier sighed softly, bowing his head a little. It was almost, really, as if these people didn't care about his health. Everyone, everything was so cold, so sterile, so distant.
The doctor saw Hans' reaction and shrugged, replacing the bandages with a sort of cap made of a very flexible, rubber material. It was odd in that it was clear, so the skin around the stitches and stump could be seen pressed inside of it, and it automatically molded to the formation of the remaining appendage. It breathed just as well as bandages, and kept the skin around it cool, as well.
"It is up to you," said the doctor uncompassionately, "We could have you installed with a new arm in a few hours. Or you can live the rest of your life with one arm. The choice is yours, of course."
"Ja," he murmured softly, dejectedly. He'd do it... he could protect Angelina again, maybe successfully now. He'd been told that she was alive, though in an unconscious state... at least she was alive. Besides that one, quiet word, he was silent, his eyes downcast.
~
The whole crew of the Crusade were given examinations, complimentary for the war effort, of course. Riden's arm was treated, cooled, and surgically mended. Put in a plaster cast, he was told that it would be fully healed within two days, which didn't cease to amaze him or any of the rest of crew. The rest of them were fairly uninjured, save for a few cuts, scratches, or bruises after escaping the Reichmann's Flame. They were all treated for shock, however; a concept only Chris and Ethan really understood.
The brothers had nodded after being told this, and sat placidly as they were examined. Meanwhile, Kio and Pyle would flinch away and look at each other as an electric light was held to their eyes. Kio would say, "What are you doing? There's nothing wrong with me! I'm fine." To which Chris would simply smile and shake his head while the nurse explained *again* the repercussions of shock.
Gaddes had wounds on his legs that he didn't know were there. The leather pants were practically ripped off of him in the examination room he was taken to while a nurse took his temperature and blood pressure. The bullet wounds had begun to turn a little blue around the aggravated area, and though Gaddes kept complaining that he was fine, he was then told he was feverish and needed to be put to bed immediately. After much arguing, he was successfully shifted into a bed and given an IV drip of something to help fight off infection.
Angelina was the hardest to treat. The little girl was so small, her body so thin and fragile, that she was lucky to be alive at all - even if it was just barely. The Zaibach healers did all they could do for her, having been informed of the transfusion of blood from her father. Though she looked horrible, having been cleaned up quickly, put into a simple white shift and then promptly prodded and pierced with and IV needle and wires, a tube shoved down her throat - the nurses had to assure Allen it was all for her benefit.
As the nurses finished with the last of their duties around Angelina's care, the last one to linger was her doctor. She was young, having introduced herself as Doctor Bethesda Zimmerman to Allen, and she was by far the most alive person out of Zaibach yet; she even offered reassuring smiles, which was rare.
Allen was taken care of... after being reassured that Angelina would be fine. At first, he hadn't been very keen on the idea of leaving the girl's side, but eventually he was convinced. When he could manage, he would be beside her, watching her... at first, utterly horrified by the tubes and IVs. Still, he was upset by them, shaken by their appearances. It was... odd, horrible.
Gunter told him of the steel plated arm that was going to be fashioned for Hans and he managed a slight smile. It would be odd, at first, to have one among them with a metal appendage, but he would do fine. All of them were oddities, after all... why not one other thing to add to the list?
Dr. Zimmerman wore long white robes with Zaibach symbols embroidered along the hems and cuffs, apparently traditional for all Zaibach healers to wear. She was rather comely compared to her colleagues - not hard faced with chiseled features, but rather soft around her eyes and round in her cheeks, like she came from a relatively happy family. She had a board in hand, with a clip at the end that held documents regarding Angelina's health.
"Sir Schezar," said the young doctor to Allen after she came back from looking in on Gaddes. She was given charge of the entire crew of the Crusade, and she almost seemed - happy for it, "I though I would come back to check on you and your daughter."
"Ah?" He blinked a little, glancing over at the doctor, nodding to her. It was interesting how different she was from the others there, from the other cold healers. She was...welcoming, really. And that was nice in such an utterly different place. The technology he still wasn't used to, the wires and beeping and everything. It was far too foreign.
The woman pursed her lips, licking them and making her cheeks dimple slightly with the movement. She looked towards Angelina, and almost became sad with the news she had for her father. The little angel, as she was becoming known down the halls of this ward - now covered with blankets and pinched with needles, wires, and tubes in several places. Her hair was dulled and wavy after having been washed properly of the blood that matted it earlier.
Dr. Zimmer took a seat next to Allen, who was holding his daughter's hand, and situated the clipboard in her lap. "You have many scars, Sir Schezar," began the doctor quietly, "I noticed your wound was very near two others. It is no wonder you were able to survive."
"I have been through another war before this, as well as a few other incidents," he murmured, inclining his head a little. His blindness... he wouldn't mention. That was gone now, as far as he knew. He turned his gaze to his daughter, a soft sigh on his lips. He'd been through so much... and already she, too, was going through a series of trials. After a moment, he turned his head toward the doctor, quirking a brow slightly.
Bethesda saw the look, the fine blond eyebrow raise slightly in question, and nodded automatically. She had come for a reason, it was true, and it was not to flirt with a distraught soldier in this horrible war. "Your daughter is in what we call a comatose state, Sir Schezar," she began carefully.
Allen... could tell this wasn't really a good thing. He looked at her, nodding slightly. "Do... you know how long it'll last?" He was distraught, worried over her. Panicked, really. But his fingers still curled slightly around his daughter's, the other resting on his thigh.
"That is where it gets complicated," admitted the young doctor. She couldn't look the handsome knight in the eyes anymore, needing to avert her gaze for delivering such awful news, "The brain is complicated. Even Zaibach has little knowledge on its inner workings. Angelina's brain was without oxygen for longer than it can be to survive. We don't know if she will - ever - wake . . . and if she does, there might be too much damage to her brain."
Allen looked at her calmly for a moment before he slowly trailed his gaze to Angelina's small form. Nothing... could ever go right for these people, could they? He curled some of the ringlets in his fingers, biting down gently on his bottom lip. Turmoil burned within him... he wanted to cry, but he wasn't sure he had any tears left to shed. He wanted to clasp her near him and protect her from everything... but the damage was done, wasn't it? She couldn't be blessed with something resembling a normal life, could she?
Perhaps it all went back to the sin he and his sister had committed. It was all their fault.
"And.... and what do you mean by 'damage'? What will happen?" he asked softly, not lifting his gaze, his voice quivering slightly.
Allen's grief was palpable, filling the room, and enclosing around Bethesda as well. She could feel his sorrow, and it nearly choked her when she saw the pained look in his eyes. Such sadness - she had witnessed it before, during the Great War, but this was something so personal, and intimate. This was a little girl's life hanging in the balance, so beautiful and fair was she and yet she might not get the chance to live.
Dr. Zimmerman swallowed painfully, "Speech . . . normal thought processes, equilibrium, movement. Or in extreme cases - all of those. She would be awake but unable to communicate or move, walk, or talk."
"Is there anything we can do? Anything I can do?" He didn't care what it was... if it was something that could help her, if it was something that could save his angel, his princess, then he would have no quarrel with it. She couldn't see as it was... what if she lost other senses?
"I'm afraid all we can do - is wait," finished the doctor sadly. There was nothing more to say, nothing else to tell this man about his daughter. She had said everything that was important, and was saddened that she couldn't say there was something that could be done. No cure or treatment could bring the girl out of her coma, as much as Dr. Zimmerman wanted there to be.
"I'm sorry, Sir Schezar," said Bethesda quietly.
Allen was silent for a long moment, his head bowed, eyes on his daughter. It hurt so much to think that she might not wake, to think that she might be... disabled even more than she already was. He stroked her hair softly with a trembling hand, unable to say anything but a quivering "thank you," to the doctor. They were doing everything they could... what more could he ask for besides a miracle?
"Of course," came the quiet reply. Dr. Zimmerman stood, adjusting the clipboard in hand as she walked over to the door of Angelina's tiny room. There she stopped with her hand poised over the knob, thinking and concluding on her thoughts. She turned and said, "I have charge over your crew, Sir Schezar, as well as Angelina. At the very least, I can report their health to be adequate. Though your sergeant Gaddes is being treated for blood infection, his wounds are clean and show no signs of gangrene. He will be fine after the fever breaks."
Allen nodded slightly. "Thank you," he whispered, unable to keep the quaking from his hands and voice. His daughter... so marred, so changed. It hurt so much to think about it, to see her like that, to know that she very well might not live through this. Or if she did... she could very likely be disabled. The news of Gaddes he would focus on later when he forced himself to not think of his daughter's condition so harshly.
With a final nod, Dr. Zimmerman left the man to his grief to continue with her own duties to the rest of the ailing soldiers.