Yawning, I scratch irritably at my cheek. Numb to the touch. I understand the feeling the Kommadant gets from not being able to sleep. Makes me hate the world more than I already do.

Strasser is coming. She's really coming here. And I thought I would be left alone.

I hate it.

"Graf Zeppelin?"

Blinking out of my stupor, I scowl at the voice. Softening only to see Friedrich der Grosse, blanket in hand and two mugs in the other. I scoot over and left her have a spot. Handing me what I assumed to be coffee…its actually hot chocolate.

"Morning," I drawl out, sipping the beverage. Coffee would've been better. In this cold? Hot chocolate is acceptable, "What are doing here?"

"Oh, Zeppelin, I only meant to be kind."

"At four in the morning?" An index finger pointed at the still visible moon in the sky, "Thank you for the blanket…I feel colder than usual."

"Yes…" She trails off. Tending to her own mug and staring straight ahead.

We sip our mugs. I try to enjoy the quiet. Sadly, such peace of mind eludes me. And Friedrich's presence only extends my irritation.

"I came here to tell you: Strasser's room is going to be close to yours."

I hold a fist to my mouth. Stopping myself from spewing out the liquid.

"What? Why?"

"Weber's idea," Friedrich shakes her head, yellow eyes glow dimly, "He's somewhat aware of what's wrong between you two."

My heart starts racing. Never did I want him to get involved.

"Did…" I swallow the dryness, despite having a drink, "Did you tell him?"

"He has a hint and no," She fixes a stern look, "Confidentiality is quite a value I hold. Yet, I felt as I needed to tell you what he is attempting to do. For his genius on the field, he does not navigate his relationships with the same skill. He lacks finesse in these matters. "

"I find it hard to believe an officer of his caliber can't socialize properly…" Thinking hard on our interactions, "A moot point. I haven't been here long to notice…"

"He's made progress." The battleship spoke with a distant sense of mixed pride. Friedrich's smile returns, "Besides, this is for both of your sakes."

I stop sipping, holding back a sneer, "Both? He doesn't need to be a part of this."

"I meant between you and Strasser." The motherly battleship's seriousness takes control once more, "Graf Zeppelin, I was the one who requested Strasser's transfer."

I lower the mug from my lips.

"…explain this."

Friedrich observes my face. Humming an unknown tune, she closes her eyes.

Sipping more coco, the battleship exhales softly and quietly, "You know how most the Iron Blood came back through laboratories and scientists? Hipper, Eugen, and over half the destroyers? This isn't true for us. We, you and I, know not everyone came back in a stuffy cold room. Those like you and me, we were brought back by the people. Humanity."

Her shoulders rise and sag, "Weber brought me into life. He poured his memories, his very soul, and with the help of the Wisdom Cubes, called forth the Priority Ships. I hazard a guess, yours did so unintentionally. Maybe not with as much effort. Either way, Weber did the same as the forebearer who brought you back. Odin, Mainz, and…Roon."

One of those name…I don't recall, "Roon? I've never heard of her before."

"She died," Friedrich says, sadness cloaks those two words.

Friedrich continues sipping and I stare into the mug. Steaming in the mug.

"…I can relate."

"You do? What do you mean?"

"It starts back then, when we, Strasser and I, when used to be more of a family..."

Wood creaks with each step as I walk through the hallway. Fuzzy slippers still slide and rub. Worn down by years of use, the soft edges I feel in my toes had flattened. Serving as a thin barrier between my feet and the leather keeping me from touching the aged flooring. Not minding the quality, for everything I wore feels warm and cozy.

Tracing my fingers on the cabin's wall, I open the door at the end of the hallway. Immediately, I greet the wash of warmth radiating within. Closing the door behind me, I gently tiptoe towards the couch. Sitting down next to a bundle of blankets. Knowing full well who is sleeping underneath.

I wrap an arm around his back. Inserting myself in the small opening between the couch's arm and the sleeping man, I tried not to move him too much to make space. Fingers tap my shoulder and I see a head pop from underneath the bundle, a familiar set of black hair breaks through the layers. Mildly surprised and amused, I see the warm grin of my sibling.

"You're going to wake him up, Zeppy." Whispers come from the other side of him, "Here."

Scooting down, we both work to gently move the bundle towards the middle. My hands carry one shoulder, her hands take the other. Until eventually, I'm able to join the two. Being covered by the three layers of wool, sheets, and comfort.

We pause, seeing him stir underneath. From atop, he mumbles incoherent words through his snoring. Wiggling his nose and the whitened beard underneath. His hair overgrown, engulfed his chin. I had to resist the urge to poke his beard, knowing full well he takes heavy pride in his facial hair. Instead, I prop his head to lean in a comfortable position. Pushing a pillow behind his head.

He snores lowly. Stroking back his pure white hair, I give a brief stare to my sister, "Peter, do you have the gifts ready?"

She nods her head, motioning to the two wrapped boxes on the table.

"It's still early," she says gently, also rubbing the man's head, "Barely past the break of dawn. I woke up early to prepare, not to find him in bed. He was holding one of his projects from shop."

I try to fight the frown rising on my face, "This retiree…even he somehow finds a way to overwork in a toy shop. What could possibly keep him awake at such hours?"

Strasser points to the table in the kitchen. Underneath a low, yet still dim, light sits comfortably a miniature piece of hardware. One from beyond either of our times. Spikier and sleeker then the designs that were meant for us. Seemingly catching my curiosity every time I've seen them.

"A Lightening, he calls it," she informs me, "Eagle Union origin. New tech. One of those so called "jets". You know, the one requested by Mop Head?"

Annoying child. Would constantly visit him in his shop, either questions about airplanes or seeing what new product is coming out. I'm certain he has some sort of crush on me. Lingering longer the moment I come visit the old man. Constant irritation, surely, if not for the child's politeness I would have surely snapped at him.

"He's a young boy, Zeppy. I don't think the rascal means to be disturbing." A smirk quickly plasters itself on my sibling's face, "He does seem to be rather fond of you."

"Don't think I'm so petty as to not tolerate a child's simple attraction…for now," I roll my eyes, "Crushes are fleeting."

Strasser sees my point, "I don't mind the attention so much, as long as you put your foot down. "

"I don't like dealing with people...he's a scab."

She giggles, "Maybe you don't like how beautiful you are? You know how men look at us."

I groan, making a fake gagging noise, "Yes, when half the town is filled with old people I'll pass."

She doesn't look convinced, "What about the kind baker down the street? You seem to not mind him at all. Unlike all your other potential suitors."

"Bah," I scoff. 'Suitors'. Disgusting.

"Besides, the baker sells me sweets. That's all," Feeling a little warm again around my cheeks, "A polite man and he's married while living with his parents. His experience was essential to helping papa, I thank him for his assistance from time to time."

I return to gazing at his sleeping form, "Speaking of which, almost everyone here are elderly folks. Aside from the navy men who come to shore, I wonder what ties them to this place specifically."

My sister hums, smiling at her own thoughts, "Fresh air? Near the gentle sea? Can't imagine Zeppy."

The fire crackles in the fire pit. Strasser and I are distracted by the suddenly louder then normal burning of the wood. Only for us to feel an unfamiliar movement. Seeing it wasn't her, or me, we freeze up when a voice chuckles-

"This is nice."

He stirs. Peeling off the top layer with his arms. Showing calloused fingers and rough hands. Well weathered and skilled, I see his bright smile.

"Old man…" I shake my head, both of us help him sit up, "How long have you been awake?"

"A moment or two," he laughs, giving us a twinkled eye smile. Wrinkles wrap up through his beard, "Oh my, blankets, two of my girls warming me up. I wonder if it's Christmas."

Peter Strasser gently taps her index finger on his nose, "Not exactly…we do have presents for you."

Both Strasser and I reach over to the table, picking up the two wrapped gifts. In her hands, she holds a finely wrapped gift. Two fine red ribbons wrap around – held together with a white tie. Her presentation, her effort, glows in stark difference from mine.

My gift is one given a black exterior. Materials share similar qualities; it is hard to stray from red and black. Create a unique item for him, one he'll surely remember me for. Thus, I opted for simpler material – one red tie.

Nevertheless, with full confidence, we continue with what we had planned for him.

"Happy Birthday, papa!"

"Girls…" His mouth hangs open. Tears form at the bottom of his eyes, and yet, he pulls up his signature smile, "Thank you. Both of you. This is really sweet."

We helped him move the thick layers on top of him. Underneath, he moves his weathered yet warmed hands. Letting the both of us hold one within our own. To uncover him showed his true form, the blankets only hid the small stature and size. Advanced as his age may be the old man still possess remnants of a bygone time. Where he matched the young, less wrinkled version on his mantle piece pictures.

"For a sixty-year-old fart like me, being called 'old man' still feels a lot better than 'papa'."

"Quiet you," my sister shakes her head, "We will respect your wishes. For once, indulge us for your birthday. This is our second anniversary since you brought us into existence."

He laughs. Hearty and short, "Hah, fine. I'll spoil you two. Not like your older sister doesn't get enough."

"Wha-what do you mean?" I question him, sensing my sister form a smirk.

"Hah, don't act like I don't know you like being called 'Zeppy'. I resist gulping when Strasser's little pet leaves his lips, my gut drops when his excitement shines through, "Ah! See! I knew you liked it!"

I mumble an incoherent response. Strasser's everlasting glee wears down on my attempts. His laughing isn't helping.

"Fine, fine." I give up, "I-I do like, being, called Zeppy. O-only from you two. No one else!"

He rubs my hands with his left hand, "A fine deal then…so, to cut to the chase, celebrations are on the way…although, I don't see any cake."

"Old man," I begin to chastise him, "You know you can't eat anymore desserts. Its not good for your blood sugar. You heard what the doctor said."

He rolls his eyes, groaning. Half-mockingly and semi-serious, "Ugh, even on my birthday, I still have to give more and more…"

"One more fine excuse for my two girls," he chuckles, bringing back his usual cheer, "If it means I get to spend time with you two, then I don't mind."

We share a moment. Taking in the small hovel we live in. Feeling the height still crackling from the flames of the fire pit. Appreciating the time, we have.

I want to give mine first. Strasser took the initiative, offering her present first. Dropping my confidence. Fidgeting with the wrapping of my own gift, I watch intently as his smiles turns to excitement. Unraveling Strasser's gift to show-

"My grandfather's old clock!" He immediately, and with care, puts it on the table. Leaning forward to inspect intensely, "How…how did you get your hands on this?"

Encased in a glass container, a clock tick inside. Gears, parts, whatever is used to keep it together. Painted to appear gold, the metal looks so clean and well maintained. The timetable itself, where the clock turns, moves forward into the attrition of time.

"I traced your family name," Strasser politely, and happily states, "I made sure not to step on more sensitive toes. You said your father worked for Black Forest, no?"

"Yes, I did," he rub his chin seeing my sister with a more amazed eye, "My father sold his works. I never thought I would see this one again."

"You told me how much it mattered to you," Strasser puts her hand into the old man's aged arm, "It holds an important history to your past. A fine work of art."

His glee is infectious. Sadly, I wished it was overpowering. Since the deep growing seed of insecurity grows and conquers my heart. I hold my gift closer to my chest. I don't know if I can give it.

My sister wouldn't let me stir like this for long.

"Go on," Strasser says, leading a soft and caring stare my way, "Give him yours, I'm sure he'll like it."

Gulping back any doubts. I close my eyes and hold it in front of him. Hearing him chuckle lowly, there is less weight on my fingers. Opening one eyelid, I see him carefully peel away the last of the paper. Closing it again, I don't hear anything. No gasps, no words. Fearing for the worse, I open up to first see my gift in his hands.

Shimmering in the dim low light, a glass ball shows. Falling within are the snowflakes and fake snow. A red lighthouse sits atop an island. Shining its beaming light into an unknown distance and horizon. Formed and frozen crashing waters below glitter with blue and white.

"Zeppy…" I rub my hands nervously, failing to interpret his look as either awe or shock. Either one scared me, "Beautiful."

"I-I made it." I gulp, barely admitting it. Ever wise, and still with good hearing, his eyes widen further.

"So much details, the waves look moves naturally," He says with awestruck wonder, "Wait, I know this material-."

"I'm sorry, papa." I sputter, anxiety sticking to my throat, "I tried to get most of it from elsewhere. There were just some parts I had to take from your shop," I'm quick to speak, "If you have a problem with this, I can pay for it, t-too-"

He holds a hand up. Shaking his head, a twinkle in his eye, "Those materials mean little to me. What you made, means everything."

Putting the gift on the table next to Strasser's clock, the two of us were pulled in. Receiving the warmest of hugs from him. A smile threatening to break my face.

This, I hope this never ends.

Machines beeped through the cold and clean hallways. People in blue walk past me. Select few would spare one glance at me while others minded their own business. Leaning against the wall may not be the best spot in such a busy place. I may have refused to sit in the stuffy waiting room.

The nurses told me the exact directions and how easy it is to navigate these hallways.

All I had to do is go down the hall.

Use the elevators to reach the second floor.

Move past a set of double doors and talk to the receptionist at the desk.

Go left, then right, then follow the room numbers until I reach…his.

I can't.

My body refuses me. Every attempt to get up is met with a paralyzing wave. My emotions scream at me to stop, and I can't defeat it. Exhausting me every time I've tried.

"…Sister?"

Heavy with boredom and sluggishness, I look over. Strasser is shaking my shoulder.

"What?" I rasp, "Is…are you done visiting him?"

"Yes," Strasser gulps, "He's doing better…but…sister?"

"What." I repeat, more irritated.

"Why don't you go inside with me and visit him?" Eyes shimmering in the bright hospital light. She's pouting sadly, "He wants to see you too."

Stabbing into my heart, the questioning look pains me. Shifting away from her I walk down the hall. Heading slowly towards the exit. She follows me closely.

"No…I can't." I explain, refusing to meet her gaze, "Not until he gets better. I can't go in there right now."

"I don't understand." Strasser shoots forward, getting in front of my face, "He is our papa! You need to go in there and support him too!"

Seeing her become more assertive raises my frustrations, "I can't, Strasser. I can't go in there. I've already seen what he looks like, and I can't bear to see anymore."

"Why?" she almost chokes. Craning her neck in confusion and what I think is anger, "I don't understand this line of reasoning…what happens if he doesn't get better?"

Enough.

I snap at my sister, "Don't you dare say that. He'll get better and leave his hospital. Just like before. This is like our other visits."

We both glare at one another. While I hold my position, Strasser closes her eyes and shakes her head. Her normally well tied and maintained twin tails are frazzled and uncombed. The bags under her eyes match mine. Neither one of us could sleep well, either here in the waiting room or in the hotel reservation near the hospital.

What she says next enrages me.

"…the doctors said he isn't getting any better," she meekly states, "We need to be there with-"

"Shut up."

"But Graf-"

"Shut up, Strasser." I hold my hand up more like a demand then a request. Glaring intently at her, "He will recover. He will be okay. He defied those doctors before. I don't care what they say now."

"Zep-"

"Just shut up, Strasser." I stand my ground, "We're going back to the hotel and sleeping. He'll be okay."

Turning towards the hospital exit, I expected her to follow suit. Instead, I'm greeted with a firm-

"No."

Strasser watches far behind me. Frowning at me. Disappointed? Hurt? I don't know what to discern in her expression. Regardless, it shocks me. Breaking whatever repressed pain.

"I'm staying here," she tells me, "Go on and seek help elsewhere. I know you don't care."

"Excuse me?" Stomping back up to her, I size her up, "How dare you say I don't care?!"

"Obviously, you don't want to be there for him." Her tone is a near shout "I don't want to go back to the hotel and watch you go for your hair brained schemes of finding some way to heal him…he's dying, Zeppy! Can't you see?"

"No, he's not!" Forget etiquette, I'm yelling at her, shaking, "H-he's-He's going to be okay! Just you watch!"

She groans turning away from me. Just then, I look around and see a small audience of nurses. One woman, dressed in a heavy black uniform walk up to us.

"Ladies," she clears her throat, "I need to ask you two to either calm down or to take this outside. You're scaring the patients and nurses."

I still stick to heading towards the exit. When I meet my gaze with Strasser, I can see she's made up her mind. Trembling, I take a deep breath and give my answer the guard.

"I apologize, I was just leaving. She'll be fine once I'm gone."

"…this was the last time we spoke to each other." I shiver in the dark.

I freeze up. Cold or memories, I don't know which is worse.

Late morning chill stimulated me. Pushing my body to an aching awakening. I didn't quite like how bright it is outside. Making me detest the open space more. My ire being drawn to the man next to me. On a bench, outside.

"After his birthday, I thought things would never change. Until two days later, I found him slumped over the kitchen table. I never felt so scared."

He hums listening, "Must be hard to see him like that…"

I shake, nodding a little to show I heard him in the dark of the night, "When Strasser came today, I wanted to say something, yet I couldn't control it. I got so angry. I don't remember what was said, but I yelled at her and…" I shivered, even under my cape and the blanket she provided, "…I slapped her. All of it happening so fast. I ran. Outside. To here."

My heart pounds in my chest. Hurting. I didn't have the heart to let myself cry in front of him. Holding back the tears and simply resorting to how I usually am now – numb.

This almost cracks when he scoots closer to me, warming me up with his touch. Seizing up, I feel his arm next to mine. Being so close, it helps warm me.

"Friedrich told me," He mutters, "Why up here? Because it's calming?"

I nod, "Odin showed this place to me. She knows the right place for peace and quiet."

He understands. I know he does. Must've been told by Odin I'm here. I don't mind it.

He shakes his head, rolling his shoulders against this weather.

"I'm sorry for what happened…I didn't mean to bring up memories between you two."

He continues, his breath visible, "And I'm sorry for getting involved. This is your business. I was thinking too much with my own mind and thought little of your own feelings and history."

He sighs, removing his officer cap. Revealing his greying hair again. This time, being so close, I can see three long scars running down the back of his neck. My curiosity is replaced by the regret in his eyes.

The officer, Weber, scoots closer, putting his arm around my back. Pressing the side of his body next to mine. Draping my shoulders with his own coat.

Curse this frail body of mine. Incapable of handling the cold air. Shivering, I wrap an arm around him. I hate how I'm out here. In the dark cold.

With him, its bearable.

"Forget it, you meant well. Intentions matter more to me then whatever botched plan came from it. Do remind yourself I was a product of a half-baked idea. There are others with worse…"

"And…"

I gulp back, turning my head away from him. Is this the right time? Am I even ready to give myself up like this? This feeling, this thumping in my chest. Wrenching downward in a constant scream for me to let go and walk away. I know he said I don't need to, its too cold in my room.

"I miss him. Our home together. Being with my sister. I hate how things are now."

He hums. It was hard to discern his expression, it being so dark in the night. Yet his next question really showed the forlorn feelings he has and heightened the unease in my gut.

"Longing for the good times…."

"I do…" I face the truth, "I can't…I hate how things are. How it ended up being."

Deep inside, there's a wanting need to seek a companion. Simply, someone, who can be there for me. It used to be him. It used to be my sister. Now, its just me and this island. This navy. This officer.

I…

I don't deserve this.

Pulling away from him and getting up from the bench. Throwing the coat back at him, I trudge along. Storming away until I feel a firm grasp around my hands. Pulling on my left hand, I feel calloused fingers. Of course, I didn't expect to feel his skin, or to not wear gloves out in this weather. Feeling his grasp stops me.

"Wait." He pleads, as I keep facing away from him, "I understand what it means to lose someone. To hate yourself. To lash out. To hurt."

Snow begins to fall. The breeze picks up, leading the Kommadant to speaking louder to beat the winds.

"She…she had her problems. Problems making her isolated from the others. Despite this, we were quite the same. To me, she taught me how to care again. To be human."

"She wasn't a lover...but a close friend. Now gone. I lost so many people in my life before her. My grandfather, my parents. The friends and family I made in the military. Too many lives gone in what feels like moments. Maybe that's why I seek comfort in chess…"

He gently holds my hand, "I…understand, Zeppelin. I understand what it means to lose a hope in this world and to hate it. You don't have to face it alone."

I want to turn around and let him hold me like before. Letting him warm me against whatever cold there is out here, out there, and in this life of mine. Watching the incoming raging ice, I am fighting the conflict inside.

One of the sides wins out.

The one that always wins.

I let go. Walking away and never looking back. Holding my arms close to me. Tears streaming down my cheeks. Stinging my eyes and scraping against the cold. I don't dare to look back at what possibly could be the most disappointed look.