[Then he reaches up to lightly brush his fingertips against Erhard's temple. If he allows the touch, his memories of the incident will be returned to him: who the true culprit is, and why Erhard couldn't remember the incident in the first place.]
[It crashes into him all at once: the people crying out in agony, bleeding everywhere, mottled bruises blooming across their skin before they drop around him. His heart's pounding because he knows those bruises, he saw the rats in the lab, but these aren't rats they're people, how could it be out here in the open?
There's a sharp sting in his arm, and before he can turn to look the world is blurring, fading, skewing as he tumbles to the floor. He tries to force his eyes to remain open even as his thoughts grow thick and muddled, barely comprehending the empty syringe clattering to the tiles inches from his face.
Dark loafers step in front of him, pause, and he cranes his neck to look up even as his lashes flutter heavily. The hem of a lab coat, dress slacks hastily pressed and freshly rumpled, mildly unkempt shirt and crooked tie.
A familiar voice, accented... French....
"Everything... is nothingness. You, too, one day...."
He knows.
The man turns and walks away.
"Wait! Wait, Professor Sartre...!"
Albert Sartre glances back once, a final memory of his careworn, unshaven face to be locked away behind chemical walls.
And he leaves his foster son there, sleeping in a field of death.]
Ah...!
[Erhard jolts out of the memory with a broken gasp, unaware of the tears running down his face.]
[This process always takes time, so Watanuki will wait patiently. He pulls his hand away once Erhard jerks back to the present, and instead wordlessly offers him a tissue to dry his face with.]
[It's... Erhard can't even begin to process the dichotomy of emotions produced by that one memory. He has his arms wrapped around his own torso, shaking as the full impact of it settles in.
He's innocent.
The person who condemned him to prison is his own foster father.
He takes the tissue from Watanuki, and for the first time in his life, Erhard openly sobs. Whether it's from relief, sorrow, or some terrible combination of both, he can't say.]
[The exact emotion behind the sob isn't as important, really. What matters is that Erhard has his answer, and now that he Knows he can start to move on with his life. That's why Watanuki is here, after all: he helps people move past their personal roadblocks.
[It takes a while, and by the time he calms down his head aches and his eyes burn. But Erhard wipes his eyes, blows his nose, and looks up at Watanuki.
And smiles.]
Thank you... I... the pain of knowing what Professor Sartre did to me is worth also knowing I didn't cause the biological attack.
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[Then he reaches up to lightly brush his fingertips against Erhard's temple. If he allows the touch, his memories of the incident will be returned to him: who the true culprit is, and why Erhard couldn't remember the incident in the first place.]
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There's a sharp sting in his arm, and before he can turn to look the world is blurring, fading, skewing as he tumbles to the floor. He tries to force his eyes to remain open even as his thoughts grow thick and muddled, barely comprehending the empty syringe clattering to the tiles inches from his face.
Dark loafers step in front of him, pause, and he cranes his neck to look up even as his lashes flutter heavily. The hem of a lab coat, dress slacks hastily pressed and freshly rumpled, mildly unkempt shirt and crooked tie.
A familiar voice, accented... French....
"Everything... is nothingness. You, too, one day...."
He knows.
The man turns and walks away.
"Wait! Wait, Professor Sartre...!"
Albert Sartre glances back once, a final memory of his careworn, unshaven face to be locked away behind chemical walls.
And he leaves his foster son there, sleeping in a field of death.]
Ah...!
[Erhard jolts out of the memory with a broken gasp, unaware of the tears running down his face.]
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He's innocent.
The person who condemned him to prison is his own foster father.
He takes the tissue from Watanuki, and for the first time in his life, Erhard openly sobs. Whether it's from relief, sorrow, or some terrible combination of both, he can't say.]
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He will calmly sip his tea as he waits, though.]
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And smiles.]
Thank you... I... the pain of knowing what Professor Sartre did to me is worth also knowing I didn't cause the biological attack.
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I'm glad I could help. But the rest from here on out- what you do now that you have this knowledge- that's up to you.