Sometime, in the darkness, a voice whispered in his ear. "Those bullets weren't meant for you, son. I should've guessed that you'd… . Well, you used to be more selfish. It looks like I'll get my wish regardless: He is coming. But… you get better, kid."

More darkness. Soft sobbing, then…

Dietfried was pleasantly surprised to awaken, but even more so to see Violet Evergarden sleeping in a chair that sat at his bedside. He couldn't help but stare: she looked so… defenseless. It was unusual: he would've never used that word lightly for her. Her long lashes rested against her cheek, and her face was paler than typical. Her hair fell in messy strands from the normally neat braided buns she kept while in her work outfit. He was struck by how shiny it was, and couldn't resist the desire to touch it. He ran the silky thread through his fingers, and was shocked that the action didn't awaken her.

"She's been awake for the past forty-eight hours keeping an eye on you," KJ explained as he entered the room and noticed Dietfried was awake. "You gave us quite a scare, man." That statement sparked memory in Dietfried. He gasped sharply, and sat up too fast. Pain burst in his torso at the same time dizziness besieged him. He shuddered at the intensity of the episode, his face paling. KJ was suddenly there, putting a supporting hand on his uninjured arm. "Hey, hey…. You really shouldn't be moving around-"

"Mother! Is she okay?," Dietfried demanded through gritted teeth, reaching a shaking hand out to grasp KJ's shirt. "Did any of the bullets hit her?" KJ shook his head, his expression falling into a blank mask. Dietfried released his shirt, unnerved. "No, your mother was not hit by a single one," he reassured him. "But she isn't doing well, D. She's fallen ill in the week since you've been here."

Mother is….ill? I've been here a week?!

Dietfried struggled to process the new information, but only managed a surface-level grasp. He stuffed it into the back of his mind to process later. An entire week. . . that meant he'd missed the first of the new month. He hoped his lawyer had gotten wind of the incident and had given the families he usually visited the money they needed for the upcoming month. "What else have I missed?," he requested, looking blandly at KJ.

"You've had four different emergency surgeries," KJ said, still expressionless. "Two were to remove bullets that were still in your body. One was to fix your collapsed lung. The other was because you'd started to hemorrhage and fell into cardiac arrest. You've got a long road of recovery ahead." Dietfried nodded, and was startled when Violet spoke.

"And… they had to cut your hair," she spoke softly. According to KJ's stricken expression, he wasn't going to tell him this fact. Dietfried reached an unsteady hand up and touched the butchered locks of his hair. It hadn't been this short since his father last shaved his head nearly thirty years ago. He felt around it, and was relieved that it wasn't buzzed to his scalp. There was still a few inches of it up there. "Ah…," he said, breathing out slowly, pleased when his voice didn't waver. "Well, that will grow back." He sent Violet a pained but appreciative glance. He could only imagine her own agony that this hair cut created for her. He looked enough like Gilbert, even when his hair was long, for her to sometimes think at first glance Dietfried could be Gil. Now… it was sure to be a constant haunting of her heart until the hair grew back. He'd have to be sure to give her as much space as he could stand. The last thing he wanted was to cause her more pain. He cleared his throat, looking away from her to KJ. "Has a doctor examined Mother? What's her status?"

"The doctor said that a virus has caused the beginnings of liver failure…. They don't ...expect her to recover, Dietfried. I'm so sorry. They've given her a month, at most." He nodded, again, stuffing the data to the back of his mind. He would check himself out of the hospital as soon as possible without excessive risk to his health, then go be by her bedside until…. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but the door to his room burst open, and his lawyer flew into the room like a tidal wave. He was pale and covered in sweat, as though he'd ran all the way to Dietfried's room from some far away place in that thick, woolen coat he always wore. "Gadaren?," Dietfried said, expectantly, feeling himself fall into the same head-space he'd used as a Navy commander when things all around him were going poorly, and he needed his mind to be clear to make choices for his men. KJ took this moment to take a sip from the water bottle he'd had on the small dresser next to Dietfried.

Breathing heavily, Gadaren rubbed his thick black mustache where it curled up at the end, then pushed up his rounded bronze glasses up the thick bridge of his nose. "M… Mr. Bougainvillea," he started, and everyone paused when KJ immediately spit out the water in his mouth, spraying Dietfried in a wide spritz of water. Shocked out of his serious head-space, Dietfried looked up at KJ quizzically, shaking the moisture off of his arms. KJ's eyes were wide, and he pointed at Dietfried. "Y-your last name is Bougainvillea?!"

"Well, yeah," Dietfried acknowledged, eyebrows cocked questioningly. When KJ just stared at him, he turned back to his lawyer. "Go ahead, Gadaren."

His lawyer had taken the distraction to get his breathing under control, although he was still sweating. "Mr. Bougainvillea, there have been a rash of attacks in town. You and your mother... The widow Elvire's home was set fire to… while she and the children were inside. They didn't make it out. They haven't ruled out foul play yet…. But Madame Gilford is safe."

Violet looked at Dietfried, whose face had been pale -likely due to the pain he was in- before the lawyer had arrived, but now he looked as if there were no blood in his face at all: sheet white. Despite such a huge loss, he did not weep, just took the blow and kept moving.

Dietfried's voice was tight when he asked "...And Leela?"

His lawyer shook his head. "Her home was broken into, but she was not at home last night. They do not know where she is currently."

"What time is it? Gadaren, give me your phone," Dietfried said, his voice projecting like a true commander, expression dire. "It's… seven in the morning," KJ provided, looking at his watch. Dietfried slammed down the numbers on the phone's number pad, and waited anxiously as the bar's phone rang and rang, with no answer. Finally, someone picked up, and a gruff male voice said "Harvey's."

"Is there a golden-eyed, silver-haired rowdy woman in your pub?," Dietfried asked, voice low and urgent. The man grunted, sounding aggrieved. "Yeah – she belong to you? You-"

"Please put her on the phone," Dietfried said, leaving no room for opposition in his tone. The man grunted, and after some noise, Leela's voice slurred into the speaker, and relief poured over Dietfried, although he didn't show it. "Ther' ya are, ya bastard," she snapped. "Ya know, for all the years ya came like clockwork an' I didn't want ya to, and then this one time I do, an' ya don't show?! Wha' kinda guy are ya?!"

"Leela," he said, her name a dark rumble of warning. She fell silent. "In the name of Zillipheradora Von Weber, I need you to listen to me now, if you ever have. Can you hear me well?" She made a sound of acknowledgment, but nothing else. "Do not go to your home. Do not go anywhere that someone might expect you to be. Do not stay at that bar another moment. When you leave, check for a tail, and move like you're loosing one. Be extremely cautions and make your way to a place you can hide out for a few days, at least. I am in the hospital-" Here, she interrupted with a sharp "Hospital?", but he continued, ignoring the outburst. "-and I cannot come to you right now. Do not say where, but do you have a safe place you can go?" She confirmed that she did. "Then get there, now. Do not hesitate, and do not let your guard down the entire way. Your life could be in the balance, Leela. Now, go." He hung up even as she started asking questions, and handed the phone back to Gadaren. He said a quiet prayer that he got through that stubborn head of hers.

Suddenly exhausted, Dietfried rested his head in his hands, placing his elbows on his thighs, and he closed his eyes. "You should rest, Dietfried," KJ said gentle, yet insistent. They helped him lie down, and with the comfort of their presence, he was able to sleep. Days passed by. The police came through to determine Dietfried's alibi's, which were pretty good since he was in the hospital during the unfortunate events at the widows' homes. They asked him for any enemies that the widows might've had, and he didn't have an answer for the officers.

When the police were gone, Dietfried turned to Violet. "…Shouldn't you go home and get some rest? ….Come to think of it, isn't Claudia needing you at the office? How are you still here?"

Violet's expression didn't change, but she immediate refused to leave. "If I go, who will watch over you? KJ?" She shook her head. "I don't know him well, but… I suspect he is not… comfortable here. He twitches and looks out of the window constantly, and walks down the hallway whenever the opportunity presents itself. The police aren't sure if the attack is connected with the other violent acts going on around town. You aren't well enough to guard your own back." She stared at him pointedly.

He couldn't resist. "Well, now, I'm not going to complain about a lovely flower attending to me," he teased, leaning back on the bed with a weak smile. "Now if I could only get you in my bed instead of that chair, I could die a happy man."

To his great pleasure, she flushed, but her tongue was sharp and her expression unchanged as she replied. "If you keep that up, you'll definitely die. But die happy? That I'm not so sure about."

He laughed, but the action stressed his wounds, and soon he was wracked with a painful cough that left him gasping against his pillows, his hand grasping the covers as he fought to breathe. She kindly rubbed his upper-back, keeping her hands away from his wounds. She helped him drink water from a glass, then insisted he rest.

He fell into a fever-induced dream.

Dietfried wasn't sure how he knew he was dreaming, but the knowledge of it filled his entire being as he opened his eyes and took in the scene before him. He was back under the stars on top of the moving train they'd used to take the envoy of peace to Gardarik for the signing of the treaty. Violet was there, staring into his eyes as the soldier Isidor climbed back up to the train roof behind her, unnotice by either of them until his gun was pointed to kill. Diethart spotted the end of the barrel, and his training kicked in. He dove in front of her, weapon moving up to meet the enemy's, and in a flash of gunpowder, the soldier's life was forfeit. This gave the Brigadier General just enough time to pull himself into a steady hold on the trainside. Isidor pulled the trigger with a final twitch of his finger as he fell, and Violet moved to protect the only other eyes that shined like Gilbert's.

Diethard only had enough time to gasp in choking horror as he realized what she was doing, then the bullet had hit and bounced of her metal arms to blow the light and break a window, but caused no harm to her. The enemy Brigadier General fired more rounds, revealing more pieces of her automail beneath her dress sleeves. Diethard took it all in with widened eyes. He hadn't known about the loss of her arms.

He found himself thinking: The tool I discarded became Gilbert's pet. But after losing both of her arms, her master, and everything else in the world, there she was, standing there.

The enemy's gun clicked empty, so he tried to jump off the train, but Violet prevented him. As a result, the enemy dropped the broach he'd taken from her previously, and it soared through the air. Violet reached for it, but Diethard snatched it from midair– she would've missed it. He looked at it, recognizing the color, and threw it to her. Her relief was palpable. Her eyes lit up with the shine coming off the broach, and it seemed that some part of her was animated by the trinket's presence. She closed herself around it in relief.

She was so beautiful under the light of the stars, looking at her only precious possession so fondly. Unexpectedly, she looked up at him, and he was trapped there in the light of her gaze. This was where she gave him a heart-felt thanks previously, but the dream took on a dark tone, and the hair on his arms prickled with the evil smirk on her face. "You are not forgiven for your sins," she said coldly, as she reached behind her skirts and pulled out a gun. "Go. Join your fallen comrades at last." She aimed, and he stared at her wide-eyed. He whispered her name, her betrayal causing his heart to stop before the bullet crashed through it. He closed his eyes, and fell limply from the train….

...into another dream.

It was so hot here. The battlefield was littered with bodies and blood. Carrion circled above, and many others feasted on the dead flesh of the soldiers. Dietfried cursed as he held a quickly-soaking cloth over the slashed throat of his comrade. "Come on, Lorenza," he demanded, pressing hard. "Don't you die on me!" The soldier opened his mouth, but only replied with a wet, gurgling sound. The light faded from his eyes, and a wave of grief took Dietfried's breath away. His breath came fast and hard, gulping down the sour air filled with the scent of rot and innards and the metallic waft of blood.

"Dietfried!," a woman's voice snapped behind him, and rough hands gripped his shoulders. "Stop hovering here! We've got to go!" Recognition flashed in his eyes, and he frowned at his partner. "But Zilly…."

He remembered that she'd physically drug him out of that battlefield, forcing him to leave his dying men behind, shouting. "If you want to live, you've got to keep moving, Captain!" He knew that if she hadn't, he would have met his end there only thirty minutes later, when the bombs burst over the area, wiping the location out in one rain of fire. But, here, she just looked at him, and then she smiled.

"It's alright, Captain. You can join us now if you want." She walked around behind him and wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands encircling his wrists. She started dragging him down toward the ground, despite his struggling, and she laughed at his efforts to escape. "What, Dietfried? Have you decided to live, even with all of us awaiting you…?"

Her hands and legs turned into ropes that dug in harshly against his skin, and his father's voice poured out over him. "You… you're crying…? I'll make you never want to cry again. I'll beat you until your tears are replaced by blood, and if I ever see you cry in public again…." The restraints tightened, and someone was calling his name….

"Dietfried!"

His eyes snapped open, and he met Violet's worried eyes as a male nurse shoved half his body on top him and secured another strap. He realized his waist, one ankle, and nearly one wrist was in a leather strap connected to the bed. "Wait-!," he proclaimed, looking at the wrist that hadn't fully been secured yet. The level of panic in his voice startled him, but he didn't have the self-control needed to block it out yet. "Stop, stop." The nurse ignored him, and pulled the secured strap tight over his skin.

Dietfried's breath stopped a moment, and he had to fight the desire to thrash in an attempt to escape. That would only cause himself more damage than before anyway…. He gulped in air and shook his head. The nurse grabbed his other wrist, and Dietfried snarled at him. "I refuse your care!," he shouted into the man's face, desperation tinged with wrath. "You heard me - I refuse your care! Now, you can go get the doctor so I can tell him to his face, but you will not tie me down like an animal while you do so!"

The nurse left him to undo the straps on his own, but wasted no time in fleeing the room to get the doctor. Breathing hard, Dietfried aggressively unlatched the leather from himself, struggling with the agony of his wounds and surgical incisions to reach the one at his ankle, but he had himself free in record time. Violet touched his forehead, then cupped his face in her hands. "...Are you fully awake, Dietfried…?," she confirmed, looking into his eyes. He calmed somewhat in the steadfast look in her gaze, and nodded. "I'm awake," he assured her, sweat beading on his brow. "Can you help me get dressed before they return with the doctor?"

They'd managed to get his pants on and were buttoning up his shirt over the bandages as his doctor came into his room looking frazzled, KJ strolling in behind him, his expression full of concern. Dietfried announced his intention to check out. The doctor, shocked, shook his head. "You're currently running a fever, and are not even close to the point that I would feel comfortable discharging-"

"I've refused further care," Dietfried insisted, then remembering that nearly another week had passed, and now his mother was fading fast. "I'm afraid I cannot wait any further," Dietfried said somberly. "I am the only remaining son of the lady Bougainvillea. She is on her deathbed, it seems, and I am her only family left. I cannot allow her to die alone."

The doctor stared at him, still shaking his head. "Unfortunate circumstances, sir, but ..."

"Doctor, might I have a word?," KJ interjected. "In private?" The doctor hesitated, then followed KJ out of the room. Minutes later, the doctor returned, KJ following behind him. "Very well, Mr. Bougainvillea. I will grant your discharge, but you must sign a waiver releasing myself and the hospital from any liability should your situation get worse, and I would advise you to return immediately if you should show any signs of infection." Dietfried agreed to these terms, and signed the necessary documentation. Hours later, he was in KJ's car with Violet sitting next to him. He could have been worlds away, for the distance between them. His mind was settled solely on his mother, but Violet's eyes were on him. She knew that seeing his mother was the official reason for leaving in such a rush, but the attempt to tie him down to the bed was what had truly set him off…. She pondered over this information as they traveled in silence.

They arrived at the Bougainvillea estate, and the nurse that had been attending his mother came running out to meet them. "Mr. Bougainvillea, please hurry. She's -"

Dietfried burst into a blur of movement, and Violet ran behind him. The house was a mass of colors that whisked by him, unnoticed and irrelevant. He threw open the door to his mother's room and froze. Violet didn't have time to stop so suddenly, and smacked into his back. He didn't budge even a little at the full brunt of her forward momentum. It was almost as if she'd slammed into a wall. She looked around his back to see what he saw.

His mother seemed so frail, lying in her bed. She looked like little more than a thin line of flesh stretched out over too much bone, skin so pale that he wondered if she'd passed away already. Violet looked up at his ashen face, then pushed him past the doorway. This was all he needed: he strode forward to her bedside, and knelt there, one knee on the floor, looking like a loyal subject swearing fealty to a queen. She barely stirred to look at him, the sound of her head turning amplified by the silence of the room. She smiled gently, reaching for him. He took her hand as KJ entered the room behind them.

"Hello, Mother," he said, voice deep with the beginnings of his grief.

"Why… Gilbert, I wasn't expecting you to be here," she whispered weakly. "Where… where is Dietfried?"

Violet, who had glanced up at KJ's entrance, watched KJ startle at this new name. She was puzzling over it even as she turned her gaze back to Dietfried's stricken expression.

Don't you recognize me, Mother? Dietfried's heart constricted painfully. He could've been selfish. He could have proclaimed he was Dietfried. He could've explained, yet again, that Gilbert was gone. He could have, but instead, he thought of how Gilbert spoke and held himself, then made them his own. "Dietfried… he's on his way, Mother. You really should save your strength to make it until he arrives..."

She shook her head. "I'm afraid I've failed your brother too many times already. I'm sure this time… will not be an exception…." She sighed, her voice barely a whisper. "Gilbert… you know I am so proud of you… right?" He brought her knuckles up to his lips and laid the barest of kisses there, nodding his affirmation. "But your brother… he's borne a special burden all of his life…. One that he kept you from. He won't tell it to you… but I must. You see… your father… was a cruel man. He… beat Dietfried… regularly… for imagined faults and failings…. He would literally beat emotions out of him…. Told him he was weak…. But Gilbert, he was the strongest of all of us…." Tears fell down her cheeks, her eyes closing. It was clear her strength was slowly fading away. "And I had no idea…. Please be sure to tell him…. Your father… came clean… many years later. He...was on his deathbed when he told me…. It explains… so much…. The burden he's always hidden from us… weighs so heavily on him. The hate he's always harbored…. I cannot blame him for it…. But… he didn't want us to think poorly of your father… so he said nothing… all this time."

"Really, Mother, please. I-"

"No. Gilbert, I need you to understand your brother better…. You two have been so distant from each other lately…." She coughed, and it was a terrible wracking sound that hurt Violet's ears. Violet looked sadly down at the floor, knowing she was intruding on their very private moment. "Dietfried… tried his best with the young Violet…," she continued. Dietfried's eyes slid to Violet, and she looked up at him, startled to have heard her name. She noticed a misting of his eyes, but still he did not cry. They shared a wide-eyed moment, before his mother started again. "But… he was struggling with memories of the war. He knew… his PTSD was in the way of her proper care…. So, he gave her to you… but loved her all his own way… the whole time. He loved her… enough to let her go. Enough to watch you two grow closer…. To keep his distance, while he worked out his triggers, and could care for her without pushing the emotions of the war on her…. Gilbert… I know you've come to love her greatly…. But it was... Dietfried who loved her first.… Please be gentle with him… knowing…."

By the end, she was barely moving her lips, and her life slipped away in a sigh before she finished her final message. Dietfried shuddered almost violently as a typhoon of emotion besieged him when the life left her open eyes. How…? How had she seen through him so completely? How was it that she had always managed to take the screaming in his soul -naught but a mangled mess of noise- and give it solid substance in words? He was so glad that Gilbert wasn't actually there to receive that message… but… it was almost worse that Violet herself had been present for such an intimate release of his soul's song.

Violet sensed her parting, her eyes averted from the private moment. When she felt that his mother was gone, she looked at Dietfried's shivering body as he knelt there, holding his mother's still hand against his forehead, eyes closed. Violet stepped quietly up to his side, casting only a brief glance at KJ, whose expression was a chaotic mess of amazement, wonder, sadness, and sympathy. Dietfried did not seem to notice her approach, and she hesitated there, her metal hand reaching out toward him. Would he find any comfort in her cold hands? She started to pull back, then committed to her decision. She wrapped her arms around his middle, and carefully drew herself up to press into his back, cautious of his wounds. The force of his shuddering left her vision shaking, so she closed her eyes and rested her cheek against him.

Dietfried had never had someone comfort him before. The foreign sensation of Violet pressed against his back was enough to draw his attention away from the still form of his mother. He even gently returned her limp hand to the bed, withdrawing his touch. She'd find it comforting no more, anyway….

"He is gone now," Violet said, and Dietfried was confused a moment. "That man can't hurt you anymore," she proclaimed, and he realized, a bit too late, she meant his father. "You didn't cry for the men I cut down in the war," she said, pressing harder into him. "You didn't cry for your friends who fell at your side when we fought together. You didn't cry when I left your side to fight for Gilbert. Nor did you cry when Gilbert was lost to us, nor for the widow and her family, which you cared for very much. Stop letting your abuser win. There's only so much sadness one man can hold and not drown in it.

"Even I, who has been called a tool, an emotionless Doll raised only to cut down men on the battlefield… even I found my breaking point, and have cried many times since the Battle of Intense. Grieve for your mother, Dietfried, please. At least let me lend you the strength to do that much."

He turned his upper body just slightly, and she relaxed her hold on him somewhat to allow for him to move. He looked at her from only inches away, his heart thudding in his chest. She both amazed and confused him, and he found himself drowning in the blue fire of her gaze. He shifted more, until she had her arms wrapped around his shoulders instead, and she sat almost in his lap, her body pressed against his chest. "Violet…," he breathed, leaning forward, his face close enough for their noses to brush against each other. She looked determined, serious, and not at all hesitant. He could feel the warmth of her body through her dress, almost burning him where they touched.

He took a breath meant to be steadying, but it was filled with a soft smell which reminded him of a cold winter night tinged with the earthly tang that came just after a fresh rain, and he realized that was just her natural scent. He remembered her smile, her concern, her protection, and her strength. He remembered their witty banter, her elusive smiles... and his heart nearly burst with an overwhelming warmth. He couldn't believe she was there, in his darkest hours, to comfort him. Another type of weakness flooded over him, and he sighed. "I'm so sorry, Violet…," he whispered, looking away from her eyes.

She sounded confused when she said, "...Dietfried….Why ...are you sorry?" He cupped her face with his hands, and her eyes widened, but he didn't notice because his eyes were on her mouth.

"...Because I'm a selfish bastard," he half-groaned in reply, slowly closing the distance between them until his lips pressed into hers.