Prologue

Red

Second chapter up!

A/N: Don't own!

As the fog cleared from his vision, Levi was dimly aware of hands clutching him tightly. Small, warm hands that were calloused and scarred, but smooth none the less.

As his gray eyes flickered open, he saw the one person he would never have expected: Petra Ral.

Her mouth was open in a smile, her eyes sparkling brightly.

The last time he has seen her those hazel eyes had been half-lidded and dull. Her shining hair had been streaked with blood, hands faintly warm from the life that once occupied her body.

But this Petra was nothing like the battered, twisted form he had seen lying by the tree. This Petra was as alive as she could ever be.

"Heichou!" She grinned at him. "It's been a while, huh?"

Levi pushed himself to his feet.

"Petra."

She cocked her head slightly, innocence widening her eyes.

Reaching out a muscular arm, he gruffly pulled her into an awkward embrace.

Stammering, Petra began to flush a bright red. Her eyes flickered nervously.

"Sorry." Levi's hoarse voice broke her out of her trance. Looking up, she saw the faint pain that was flickering in his eyes. She smiled at him again. Reaching into the pocket of her familiar tan jacket, she pulled out a red string.

"Here, Heichou! This way we won't be separated!" With deft fingers, she tied a petit knot around his ring finger, then did the same to hers.

He lifted his hand. Puzzled, he looked to the girl. She fidgeted, a pink beginning to rise in her cheeks. He sighed, put a hand in her head, and ruffled her sleek hair.

"You did well, Petra." Startled, Petra's eyes flashed up to meet his. She smiled tearfully.

"H-Heichou!" Stifling a sob, she put her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with suppressed tears. He awkwardly reached for her hand, and grasped it.

It was rough, and scarred, and small, but he held it as the too closed their eyes, and for the first time in years, sank into a long, deep sleep, the red string twining between their intertwined hands.

And maybe, in years to come, a girl with strawberry blonde hair would dash past a man on the street, and be would stop and look.

And maybe their eyes would meet and a memory would pass.

Because at the end of every road, someone waits for you, no matter how long.