Title: aftermath
Disclaimer: I don't own DGM.
Pairing: AllenLenalee
Summary: Beyond the fears of separation lies a joyous reunion.
AN: I haven't written AllenLenalee in quite a long while, and this attempt was ... attempted while I was trying to break a bad case of writer's block for another fic. In any case, hope you'll enjoy this - thanks for reading.
The dust cleared. The smoke, a heavy incense of human sorrow made tangible, wafted gently into the snaking breeze, and the ground was finally visible. There was debris everywhere – a charred bush here, a withered tree there; human limbs, especially, sprouted across the fertile killing field, dashes of red staining the soil a dirty, muddy red.
Allen looked around, half-dazed. Beside him lay a tattered white coat, and the twisted remnants of an old umbrella. The Earl was dead, truly gone, for he had been destroyed at the most important moment, but there was no body left to bury, no body left for suffering men to spit upon; his very animosity towards the world had eaten him alive from the inside until he had become no more than a husk of hatred and contempt.
Allen stumbled across the blood-sodden land. He did not register the crunching of bones; he did not notice the bloody footprints he left behind. There was only one person he sought – a girl with dark hair like night and large limpid eyes – a girl with legs of steel and a will of adamant. But she was nowhere to be found at that very moment.
"Have you seen Lenalee?" a desperate Allen asked of a Finder.
"No."
No, no, and no. No again. Search as he might, she was nowhere to be found in the soot-infused aftermath of the final battle.
Tired and all alone, Allen squatted under a tall tree with barely half of its leaves still hanging from the dark branches, and there he remained, silent and bleeding and muddy, until Lavi found him and carried him back to the half-destroyed castle they called the Headquarters.
:::
Lenalee awoke in a strange place; it was white, and bright, and cold.
"Where am I?" she asked.
A face came into view; it belonged to a bearded doctor Lenalee had never seen before.
"You're in the infirmary," he said.
"I'm dead?" Lenalee asked.
"Hardly," the doctor said, almost chuckling.
Lenalee heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank the heavens." Even so, a heavy burden of loss weighed down her mind, as if something very important had been wrenched away from her. "What time is it?"
"Seven in the morning."
Memories floated torpidly through Lenalee's mind, jigsaw puzzles falling into place in an instant. Lenalee turned tearful, fearful eyes to the doctor. "Allen – is he dead?"
"He survived the battle. But…"
"But?" Lenalee repeated, clutching the sides of her mattress.
"Don't do that, please," the doctor said, gently peeling Lenalee's fingers away from the mattress. "He's in a critical condition now. We do not know which way the tide will turn."
He's dying, Lenalee realised. He may die. After all he has gone through…
An unrestrainable sob later, Lenalee crossed her arms across her chest, lowered her head, and let the tears fall unbidden. It would be a sad dawn, and an even more cruel evening if – if – if Allen were to – no, no, Lenalee thought, I cannot finish that thought. I cannot imagine...
She closed her eyes and tried to breath slowly, and instead fell into a harried, nervous sleep.
:::
The next day began with a thunderstorm. Lightning flashed across the sky, lighting up Lenalee's room. Lenalee sat up in bed, and pushed the covers away. I can't sleep. And so she crept out of her room to watch the storm from the corridor, where a better view could be found.
As the lightning continued to appear, zigzags across the coverlet of night, and as the thunder roared like clashing cymbals, Lenalee felt a cold wind creep around her ankles. Half fearful, she turned, and in the half-light there stood a man.
The next burst of lightning illuminated the man's face.
"Allen," Lenalee said, forgetting all her fears and all her incessant worries. "I thought – I thought –"
"Lenalee," Allen said, bounding forward. He took her hands in his own. "I couldn't find you that awful day – you're alive – I thought the worst – but I couldn't find your body or your face among the dead and the living and I –"
"Hush," Lenalee said, raising a finger to Allen's pale, cracking lips. "You're here. You're alive. I'm alive…"
"A miracle," Allen said, tears gathering in his eyes.
He pulled her into a hug, and she in turn slid her arms across his back. In that instant, they were young and whole and idealistic again, ready to take on the world and their myriad sorrows, to work together once again – but now to build up what was good in lieu of tearing down what was corrupted and evil.