Hands
By Henrika

Henrika- This honestly just bit me and would not leave me alone until I wrote it down. Voila!

SPOILERS! Nothing serious, but there are allusions to the end of the series and it's from Heidreich's point of view. Enjoy and review!


He spends hours staring at his hands. Sometimes he almost closes them together, but he always stops himself. He gets angry then.

I never understand why he does it.

He says there was something he did wrong, a lot of somethings if you paid his muttering any mind. He knows every sin by name and yet he never calls what he did a sin, just a terrible mistake.

He asked me once if I thought he could fix mistakes. He reminded me so much of my brother at that moment. He'd gone to London to learn how to fix a fatal flaw in our combustion chamber design. He's never come back. I'd given him the affirmative and he had seemed at peace for the rest of the day, even to the point where he slept through the night.

He doesn't sleep much. He's always up with books and charts and diagrams, sometimes for days at a time. I've had to literally drag him away from his desk and force him to eat and sleep. He studies everything and nothing. He told me he's trying to get back home. He goes through book after book, absorbing knowledge. I wonder sometimes if it's because he's trying to learn everything he can before he leaves or whether he's trying to acclimate himself here because he knows he can't. I don't know.

I don't think he does either.

I want to help him get home, back to the brother he's always telling me about. Sometimes I think if I can help him get home to his family, mine will come back to me. I told him that once. He looked very sad and he wouldn't tell me why. I wondered if my brother was dead. I wondered if I would ever know.

His right arm and left leg are fake. It surprised me at first. He said it was another accident. His prosthetics aren't like the ones I know, the ones that can't move at all. He says his father designed the ones he has, but they don't hold a candle to the ones he used to have. We never speak of his father, even though he cared for me for a time. It's a taboo subject, like so many other lines that I have accidentally crossed.

He spends hours staring at his hands. I watch him through the crack the door has left. He draws his hands together; this time finally allowing them to slap together. Nothing happens and yet he keeps his hands together.

He's never been one for religion, but it looks like he's praying.


Henrika- I know the manga recently made this observation, but the line popped into my head before I even started thinking about the manga. Fits though.