foreverphoenix: (Amery's Marmalade)
[personal profile] foreverphoenix
Title: Love Letter to Nobody
Author: Me, naturally
Summary: Amery has died, leaving his possessions behind. His little brother finds a letter from his favorite—and only—brother to a woman defined only as ‘eternal beloved’ and goes to find out who it is.

The quiet, unfortunately, didn’t last for long.
“Where the hell have you been?” came Adamo’s angry voice, quickly followed by the man himself, red in the face as he stalked toward the younger man.
Unsure what to say, Balfour stammered a bit, earning a very annoyed “Spit it out!”
“Well, you see, sir, I was in the city…” he said quietly, trailing off a bit awkwardly as the Sergeant stalked closer. Balfour could see the lines in his irises, a light blue that just enhanced the grey.
“You were in the city?” he asked skeptically.
“Yes sir.”
“Were you aware that Raphael had switched raid nights with you?”
“N-no sir…”
“Get downstairs. Now. I need to run through a few things with you in case the siren goes off tonight.”
Balfour nodded and went straight to Anastasia’s pen, almost positive that he was just imagining the worry in Adamo’s voice. He trusted Anastasia, but by the looks the others gave her, he guessed no one else did. He was also sure that Anastasia was still grieving for Amery, though the others laughed when he had asked Ghislain—the only man who was civil to him, not counting Adamo, so far—about it.
“The girls might seem like they’re alive, but they don’t feel anything like we do. They’re not human.”
Ghislain hadn’t laughed, but his words were as good as laughter. Ivory hadn’t laughed either; he had only stared intensely at him.
Thinking back as he pulled on his flight gloves, he realized that all Ivory had ever done to him was stare intensely. Interesting.
Adamo was downstairs with him in no time, still annoyed, but not as angry. He had figured out that Raphael had switched shifts and not told Balfour in hopes that he would get in trouble. As he walked past Anastasia, he gave her an affectionate pat, which she returned with a nuzzle.
Balfour gaped for a moment before recovering, barely suppressing a smile. It was only once they had left the pen that he spoke. “Sir, do you think it’s possible that Anastasia is grieving for Amery?”
Adamo looked at him a moment.
“Are you shitting me? Of course she is.”
Balfour couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, but he did manage to keep from hugging him. “That’s what I thought, sir,” he said simply and happily, glad to have found someone else who thought of the girls as more than just machines.
Adamo just gave him an odd look and shook his head, then started reviewing some of the points he had made earlier.
Less than an hour later, the siren rang, and Balfour was in the air, on his first raid ever. Adamo and Ace were with him, but nowhere near. He had flown far ahead to scout the area. Glancing back, he searched for the comforting shape of Proudmouth, and that was why the wind took him by surprise, ripping a mild curse from his lips. Anastasia screamed, and Balfour had to adjust her immediately, pulling her out of the wind to calm her, and then shot fire toward some of the shapes on the mountains. Once she calmed, she chastised him for not paying attention.
The raid went well enough, Thoushalt, Proudmouth, and Anastasia raining fire and Hell down upon the Ke-Han magicians. Balfour even got patted on the back by Ace, told he did a good job by Adamo—who had missed the flub-up with the wind—however, he knew he had screwed up big time. Had he not looked for his Sergeant, he would have seen the magicians.
He went on two more raids that week, but didn’t make that same mistake twice. That could have been helped by the fact that Adamo wasn’t on either raid, but the truth was, he didn’t want Anastasia any angrier with him than she already was.  It wasn’t until they got back from the third raid that Anastasia finally spoke to Balfour again—she hadn’t spoken to him after the incident the first day.
“It seems you do learn from your mistakes,” she said leaning down to nuzzle him as he silently cleaned her off. “I forgive you, then.”
Balfour was pleased to gain her forgiveness and went to bed happy that night. The happiness didn’t last long; he found himself dragged into horrific nightmares full of falling and fire, Anastasia’s screams and a strange numbness in his hands.
The next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by a large, warm, rough hand and opened his eyes to see familiar grey ones, laced with blue, concern shining all too clearly in them. He smiled, his hazy blue eyes closing again, falling asleep once again, feeling safe and protected. All he would remember of that night would be that hand and those eyes.
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