Folken was shaking violently. In the monitors he could see Dilandau's guymelef rising back to the ship. There was no chase. He watched a moment longer to make sure. No one followed him. Escaflowne lay petrified amid the slaughter grounds and the Crusade had landed.

He looked down at the railing he'd been gripping in his fake hand. It was partially crushed and a few of the thin pins in the joints of the hand were snapped. He dropped the radio receiver he was holding in his real hand and staggered slightly. It felt as though he'd forgotten how to balance properly. He backed slowly away from where he had been standing, where he'd been watching the unexpected slaughter unfold.

'Lord Folken?' a secretary questioned as he turned, 'Where-'

He didn't wait to answer or even hear the rest of the stupid question as his legs suddenly remembered how to work and he went running out of the bridge and down the hallways and ladders as fast as he'd ever run in his life. He tripped down a few steps here and there in his haste and twisted his ankle rather painfully once, but hardly noticed.

Dilandau was tumbling like a rag doll out of his guymelef when Folken reached the hanger. He didn't move from how he'd fallen as Folken recklessly tore down to the floor level and across the slick metal panels toward his lifeless form. The hanger attendants were trying to coax him to get up when Folken rushed through them, pushing them carelessly aside.

Dilandau was shaking, his eyes wide open and unfocussed. Folken gathered him up carefully, holding him tightly cradled in his arms. He seemed very small and fragile then. His face was nearly pale enough to match his hair. He stared catatonically ahead, making no sound or movement but for his raspy breathing and shaking, as Folken rocked him slowly back and forth.

Everything that happened was Folken's fault. All of it had happened because he'd let Van escape. Everything. From the fights with Dilandau to this slaughter. It was all because Folken had been so weak.

Because he was always weak.

And Dilandau suffered because of Folken's mistakes and weakness. Folken started sobbing into Dilandau's hair, whispering brokenly to him and wishing desperately for some kind of response. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't- I'm sorry. I'm sorry. He- I'm sorry.'

'Child molestation in broad daylight and such a public area strikes me a somewhat inappropriate. Wouldn't you agree, Stratagos?'

Folken snarled, snapping a vicious glare up to the sneer on Paruchi's face. 'What do you want?' he demanded shortly, tightening his hold on Dilandau.

Paruchi snorted, 'I'll be taking the boy back to the capitol for treetment.'

Folken glared daggers at him and didn't move.

'Oh, by all means, make a fuss,' Paruchi smirked. 'I'd love to see you punished for disobedience.'

'I am not obliged to obey you,' Folken hissed.

'Check the books. He is within my control. The general has already agreed that he be returned to the capitol for therapy as well,' Paruchi sniffed in a superior way.

'And what cocktail of drugs would that be?'

'That's not your concern. This matter is not within your influence,' Paruchi smirked in the most sickening, aggravating way. 'The order for his removal from this vessel has been signed and he will be transferred to the capitol immediately.'

'Why?'

Paruchi crossed his arms annoyedly, 'You're not that stupid, Folken. You can see as well as I that he is nearly incapacitated by this misfortune.'

'He is in shock and he has every right to be,' Folken growled back defiantly.

'And requires treatment. You have no say in this matter. However much sick pleasure you may have taken in him, he's not yours and you have no control over his fate.' Paruchi smirked again, 'Now, will I have to have you forcibly subdued?'