Sleep deprivation means I didn't think too much while writing this. Claude probably gives excellent hugs, don't you think? ...Enjoy.

"Why did you..."

Perhaps now is not the best time to talk about this, to admit that you'd been more surprised to find you were not so alone after all than to have woken up at all. The smell of battle – blood, iron, and sweat – is still thick in the air.

In the background, you can hear Hilda complaining about wanting to take a shower. Leonie and Raphael are hustling to put away weapons, to set up a campfire. Marianne is tending to wounds. You've always been preoccupied with efficiency, with productivity, and it feels strange to not be helping them.

You can't think of a single thing to do that would help. Everything is hazy. The ground feels like it's disappeared from beneath your feet, your mind is blank, the walls have lost their texture, and you've been left with only vague notions of Claude and companionship. You can't even think of the words you want to say, bearing only the knowledge that you want to say something.

"Claude?"

Your voice is soft, softer than it usually is, yet Claude notices right away. His eyes are weary now. He wears looser clothes than he did at the monastery, but he's putting more care into his grooming, making sure his hair and uniform are tidy and proper, than the last time you'd seen him. Funny how your memories of five years ago feel no older than yesterday's. Although, you suppose, five years ago was yesterday for you.

Heartbeat or no heartbeat, you should be dead. You have blood, you have a pulse, and you have life –

Or so you thought. One or two months, following the sudden death of your father, simply wasn't enough time to process it. Life flows through your veins as if by magic. Life has found its way back to you after five years, just in time for the class you once taught to have their promised reunion.

With a light voice, he asks, "What's the matter, Teach?"

He's real.

You should have never seen Claude again after what happened, but here he is, sitting not three feet away from you, and very real.

"What are you..." Before even you know what's happening, your hand is on his shoulder. His eyebrows gravitate towards his hairline, seemingly amused by the way your hands curl into the fabric of his sleeves, underneath the metal pauldron on his shoulder. "Ooooh. I missed you too, Teach."

A little spark of light returns to your world, guided by his smile. When he stands, your arms slide naturally down his arms – you don't make any move to stop them. Then it's one step forward, and suddenly, Claude is the one lavishing contact upon you instead, as you find yourself pressed into him. Claude's new robes, cloak, and puffy sleeves are every bit as warm and and worn and comfortable as they look.

Luckily, Claude volunteers himself to do most of the talking. "I knew you'd keep your promise."

"I don't believe you."

Claude may act like a daydreamer, but in reality, he's far too reasonable for that sort of thing. His chest makes a sharp rise and fall, a soft "heh" tumbling out of his lips. "But I've always believed in you."

That sounds a little bit closer to the truth, at least.

"What if I said," he admits finally, nowhere close to letting you go again, "that it was also for my own sake? Don't get me wrong, of course I trust you! You're one of the strongest people I've ever met, and I... needed that strength. To win the war, I mean."

"Well," you reply, looping an awkward arm around Claude's back as well. As much as you appreciate the gesture, you're not sure how to return it. Never learned about those things while growing up as a mercenary. "I'm here for you now."

Hugs from Jeralt were few and far between. Affection from anyone else was either unimaginable or potentially dangerous.

Claude feels different.

And the difference between his "I need you" and what he says next is subtle, but it's there. He's vulnerable, he's tired, he's been starved of something he's desperately needed for possibly years – a chance to relax, for a change.

"That's what matters, right?" he replies, laughing.

You want to laugh with him, but you can't. You want to remain with him forever after, but you don't know if it's possible.

It's almost unreasonable to believe that the rest of the army stays out of your way until the moment is over, until Claude releases you with another shaky laugh, embarrassed by the amount of time that has passed. More than a few moments, you're sure. When he lets go, you can still feel the imprint of his warmth against your skin.

"Guess I needed that too," he says, shame brushing his cheeks with pink.

One hand brushes a few stray locks of hair back into place. They don't cooperate. Those thick layers of fabric hadn't been enough to hide how bony his shoulders have become either. It makes sense why Claude feels awkward about the illusion of his well kept appearance falling apart in front of you. He tries to hide it with more laughter, with smiles, how hard he's turmoiled while playing the part of the good, strong leader while you were gone.

If you did have a heartbeat, you were certain it would be racing right now.

When Claude turns his back to you, it's not hard to figure out why. "Let's forget this ever happened," is what he's saying, without the words. "I'm sorry I couldn't be more like you, I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger. I haven't given up on you, so please don't give up on me."

"For what it's worth," you pipe up, stopping Claude in the midst of another step, "We all need your strength too."

You have never, in fact, felt so in need of another person's strength as you do right now. The pedestal Claude has placed you atop of is imaginary, invisible, built from the fear and trappings of his own mind. In reality, all you want right now, and what you're fairly certain Claude also wants, is another hug. He had five years to give up on you, five years where he should have given up on you, yet he still returned to Garreg Mach. The thought of what might have happened otherwise makes you feel more minuscule than before. If it is weak to need and cling to another person, the two of you shall be your weak selves together – and stronger for each other.