German (Original) version of Brahms' Lullaby. I'm sorry if I have made any mistake regarding translations or the proper writing. I have never studied or read German before this. Just a sleepy one-shot for poor isolated Link and Miranda.

Part of my [Chut, je rêve] series.

Guten Abend, und gut Nacht

Good evening and good night

Allen was almost asleep on Link's shoulder. The inspector desperately wanted to shove him off to the other end of the couch, but his own wounds ached something fierce, and he couldn't find the energy to care too much.

Laid about all across the library were the results of their mission. Timothy was laid out on the same couch as Link and Allen, head propped on one of Allen's thighs and so tired his body seemed to melt into the cushions. Still, there was a minute tremble in his limbs, and Link knew his pain was keeping him awake.

On the arm chair to Link's left sat Miranda, who was sagging into the seat as if she'd been a doll whose strings had been snapped. There was no one else in the library at this time. They were waiting on Komui to finish his meeting with the science division regarding the Innocence they'd retrieved, and they weren't allowed back to their rooms until they finished their report.

Miranda's Innocence kept a steady, soft, count of time, filling the tired space between them. Allen was beginning to lean more onto Link's arm, and Link shifted to support himself and the added weight against the arm rest.

When Timothy keened quietly, fingers twitching to rub sore muscles, Allen began to card his fingers through his hair, soothing him.

"Allen," Timothy cried quietly. "Allen, I'm tired."

"I know," Allen said kindly.

"I can't sleep," the boy said, eyes opening enough to gaze into the dim room, lit by various lamps. "I can't sleep."

"We'll see the Head Nurse soon," Allen promised, smoothing back one of his bangs where it curled on his cheek. Timothy pressed his face into Allen's thigh, squeezing his eyes against the persistent ache.

Link felt his lungs tighten, felt it harder to breathe. It had been a long mission, and Timothy had thrown himself into battle where he should've just stayed surveying on the sidelines. General Nyne was going to be angry. Allen was too, for that matter. But now, in this quiet moment, was not the time for scolding and anger.

Miranda began to fidget slightly, and Link turned to her questioningly. She offered a hesitant smile, and then drew her gaze to Allen's lap.

"T-timothy," Miranda said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?" He groused, face still tucked against Allen's side, the word muffled.

"Would… w-would you like… like a l-lullaby?"

Quiet descended as Timothy thought it over, and Allen continued to sooth the strands between his fingers. Finally, he said, in a voice small and quiet and tired, "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be nice."

"I-I'm s-sorry… I d-don't know any English ones…"

"I don't care," Timothy retorted, sounding incensed. "Sing whatever."

"O-okay," Miranda stuttered, and to Link's consternation looked at him again. Before he could muster up the energy to demand what she wanted, Miranda straightened and clasped her hands in her lap. Flushed and with eyes closed, she began to sing, tremulous and high and gentle in the dark night.

Guten Abend, gut' Nacht

Mit Rosen bedacht

Mit Näglein besteckt

Schlüpf unter die Deck'

Morgen früh, wenn Gott will

Wirst du wieder geweckt

Morgen früh, wenn Gott will

Wirst du wieder geweckt

Link didn't think he was breathing as the first few words slipped out. But then, as the lullaby continued, in gentle cadences, warm and quiet, he felt himself relaxing, tilting his head and closing his eyes to focus on the strong firm words.

English may not have been Miranda's forte, but she spoke German well enough. Ah. Perhaps that's why she kept looking at him, then.

Despite his rough and scattered upbringing, Link easily recognized the lullaby, soothing and warm. Vaguely, he could remember Madarao humming the tune to Tewaku as they huddled together, fingers pressed against each other and small puffs of breath warming chapped hands.

Even the cold stone underneath him could not chase away the warmth created in those moments. Madarao had never been able to recall all the words and so had only hummed most of it, and now that Link could hear it properly it made him almost sad. They would have liked to hear this. Maybe… maybe he'd see them soon, in less hostile situations.

Guten Abend, gut' Nacht

Von Englein bewacht

Die zeigen im Traum

Dir Christkindleins Baum

Schlaf nun selig und süß

Schau im Traum 's Paradies

Schlaf nun selig und süß

Schau im Traum 's Paradies

Miranda trailed off, song slowly coming to a stop. Link opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed, but before he could say anything - thank you, please sing again, please - Allen did. He eased his head off Link's shoulders - something else Link had not noticed - opening his eyes and leveling them at Miranda. On his lap, Timothy had finally fallen asleep, breathing deep and even and tightly curled hands lax in his sleep.

Still petting Timothy's hair gently, he gave Miranda a small thankful smile. "Thank you, Miranda. He needed that. He hasn't… hasn't been sleeping well, lately."

Link pressed his lips against each other. It wasn't something that had escaped his notice, but he had dismissed it easily, despite the number of times Timothy came looking for Allen eagerly.

"No… No, I'm glad I could help. He just looked so tired." She looked down at her clasped hands with a tiny relieved smile.

"I'm going to go put him to bed. A child shouldn't stay up so late," Allen said, with just a hint of anger beneath his tone. Allen, Link thought, had never gotten quite over Timothy's age. Before Link could stand, Allen was pushing his shoulder back into the couch. "Please stay here Link. I'll be right back. I still have to report to Komui as well, anyways."

Link debated momentarily, but his heavy limbs won out and he sighed, sinking into the cushions. "Hurry back, Walker," he said, and Allen laughed quietly.

He stood gracefully and slowly, holding Timothy's head up as he slid out from under him and away from Link. Immediately he felt the loss of warmth, but he didn't comment on it, just watching as Allen bent to ease Timothy into his arms, cradling him gently. With one last smile at them, Allen left the library with a finally sleeping Timothy.

The quiet lasted for a moment, before Link turned to Miranda. "That lullaby… what is it called?"

Miranda shook her head. "I'm sorry… I don't know. I've never heard the name of it. My mother used to always sing it to me, though."

"I see," Link said quietly. There was silence for a while as they waited, so when Miranda spoke again Link jerked minutely in surprise.

"I… I could sing it again, if you'd like," she offered, and Link's first impulse was to shoot it down. But he hesitated, thinking of the cold breaths of air and chapped fingertips. Of days and nights long since passed.

"That… that would be nice. I would appreciate that," Link finally said, voice low. Miranda smiled at him, and then began to sing again. Link closed his eyes into the warmth, and he could see back into a time when there had always been a firm warmth at his side.

A/N: Written because Timothy is young and shouldn't be in this war, and because there is some strange nostalgia and sense of loss when you no longer hear your mother tongue. I don't know how to describe it, but it's very lonely.

Also please tell me about any mistakes! I do not want to defile or screw up the language and would appreciate respectful corrections.

It is a very common lullaby and you've most likely heard some odd variation of it. If you google Brahm's lullaby it should pop up pretty easily.