By Mattoid

The Kirschwasser sat in the chair, slightly slumped and resting her head on her shoulder. It was the closest she could get to comfort. How long had it been? A few weeks? A month? She really couldn’t say.

Day and night didn’t exist here; only long, tiring hours and a few uncomfortable moments of rest. She was starting to get used to it. It could be worse, she told herself. It could always be worse.

She had begun to doze when a shrill cry brought her back to her senses. She sat up straight. The boy in the bed next to her writhed under the sheets. Wordless screams of agony escaped his lips.

The Kirschwasser gently put her hand on his arm. He stopped struggling almost instantly and his cries faded into a soft whimper. She looked at him sadly. “It’s okay,” she said quietly, knowing fully well it wasn’t.

Albedo, he was called. She found him the day of the incident. He was in the lower level of the Song, hurt, bewildered, and alone. He had lashed out, nearly strangling her, before his strength faded and he collapsed, sobbing. She held him close to her, whispering reassurances; sweet lies to calm him. He quickly fell asleep. Dr. Sellers found them there, hours later.

She almost couldn’t believe it when he agreed to spare the poor boy. Either he saw some opportunity in the URTV, or his injuries pained him too much to allow argument. She knew better than to think it was genuine compassion.

The Kirschwasser shifted in her seat slightly. Sellers had granted her this room. It was small, dimly lit, and completely unadorned. It felt more like a cell than anything habitable. However, it was something. At least Albedo didn’t have to sleep on the floor.

She spent most of her time in the room from then on, only leaving when Sellers called for her. She was always quick to return. Albedo’s condition seemed to have taken a turn for the worse. He slept most of the time, but never peacefully. He would cry often in his sleep or thrash about wildly, trying to escape some unseen horror.

The Kirschwasser sometimes had to hold him down to prevent him from hurting himself. She earned quite a few bruises from these episodes. “Don’t be afraid,” she would tell him, “I’m here … you don’t have to be afraid.”

Rarely, he would awaken in a half-lucid state. He would look at her then, but she could tell he didn’t actually see. “Sakura,” he called her. He would hit her then and call her nasty, horrible things. Then he would break down into tears and say he was sorry and asked her why she had to die. “You should have re-regenerated,” he said between choking sobs. “Th-then Rubedo wouldn’t be sad and … and…”

She would smile weakly and give him a hug. He would cry even harder then and beg for forgiveness. “I forgive you, Albedo. You don’t have to cry any more,” she’d say. He would eventually stop and fall back asleep, completely forgetting what had happened. It became a routine in time.

He was shivering now. She frowned. He had grown so thin since then and his skin was so pale. Almost enough to match his hair, she thought morbidly. She reached up to touch it.

He groaned suddenly and she quickly jerked her hand back. It wasn’t fast enough. His hand latched onto her wrist and held it tightly. She tried to pull away, but it was no use.

“D… Don’t,” he rasped. She stopped struggling. “Don’t … Don’t leave…”

She looked at him, this broken, abandoned boy. Abandoned … just like me, she mused. His grip loosened, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she shifted her arm and slipped her hand into his. “I won’t leave you, Albedo,” said the Kirschwasser. “Not ever.”