Disclaimer: I do not own Claymore
One by One
Sooner
There is a sickening sound of metal sliding through flesh as Clare hacks away at the Awakened Being's body, too enraged to even continue bothering using the Windcutter. Though long dead, the warrior continued to slash and mince the monster to bits.
"Clare."
The former number 47 ignored the call and continued to stab her blade into the corpse of the Awakened One.
"Clare." A hand was gently placed on her shoulder but quickly and rather roughly shoved off as the warrior used both hands to slam her blade into the body of the corpse.
"Clare!" The hand again reached out to her shoulder, this time turning the enraged warrior around to face them.
On instinct, Clare swung with her fist, only to have the hand be caught as she stared into Cynthia's stern expression.
"Enough, Clare. Its… enough." The stern mask slipped away into an exhausted sad visage. "… its already dead. There's nothing else we can do."
Clare's eyes flashed dangerously at the sentence, rage making her body tremble. She wanted to yell at Cynthia. Ask her how dare she say such a thing. She wanted to punch her and push the other warrior's hands away. With a metallic clang, Clare's claymore clattered to the ground as her fingers relaxed the knuckle-white grip she had on the hilt.
"I should have done more." Clare's body sagged as her head dropped, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as tears pricked the back of her eyelids. "I should have done more."
In an uncharacteristic display of friendship, Cynthia stepped forward and gently embraced the younger warrior.
"We all should have." Cynthia whispered as tears fell from her eyes.
Raising her head, Clare looked past Cynthia's shoulder to stare at the unmoving body of one of her best friends.
Deneve felt hollow and empty. There was no warmth, no wind, no sound. Her only point of focus was cooling body that lay in her arms.
It shouldn't have happened. It should have been her. It should have been HER.
The sentence repeats in her head over and over.
"It isn't your fault." Miria's cool voice cut through her thoughts.
Looking up, Deneve locks onto her captain's face whose silver eyes are brimmed with tears.
"I should have been faster. I could have been faster." She hesitates and opens her mouth, eyes filled with apology. "I'm s-"
"DON'T." Deneve snaps out the word with such force, Miria takes a step back in surprise. Deneve herself is surprised at her own voice, but having Miria apologize for this just felt so wrong. It was not her fault. It was not right to have Miria apologize.
"Don't." Deneve repeats more softly this time. "It's not your fault. She… she wouldn't want you to apologize."
A part of Deneve wants to scream yes. Yes, it was her fault. Miria was fast, Miria could have saved her. Another part blames herself. For not being aware enough, for not being there. Logically, she knows this is all wrong. That in the end, no one was at fault for this.
Returning her eyes back to the body in her arms, Deneve reaches forward to gently brush a stray hair off Helen's face.
It's not fair. Deneve thinks. Even at the very end, Helen was comforting her.
The small smile left on the frozen face of the former 22 brings tears into her eyes. Deneve had pressed her hands into the wound on Helen's chest with all her might, pleading for the bleeding to stop. She had tried desperately to reassure her wounded comrade that she would be fine, that Cynthia would be able to heal her.
The grin Helen gave her in return had sent a dagger to her heart.
"I'm not stupid Deneve," She had chuckled, "but thanks." The light in Helen's eyes had faded then. Grin slowly decreasing to a small smile as her eyelids shut while Deneve had yelled, screamed at Helen not to go.
She should have seen the Awakened One sneak up on her. She should have used her own body as a shield. She should have made sure to check on Helen in case. She should have killed the damn monster faster. She should have-
There were so many things that should have, but didn't. In the end, it didn't matter what should have. What did happen, happened, and there was no should haves left.
The weight of grief made Deneve curl herself around the body of her longest friend.
So many should haves, none of which did.
Leaning down, she gently brushed her lips against Helen's cold ones and pulled the body of her best friend tightly against herself, burying her face in the long hair as tears ran free down her face.
"I love you"
She should have said it sooner
Thanks to TwinConstellations on Tumblr for being my motivation to write this.
Shoutout to TwinConstellations, ValensHawke and Goatalicious for swearing at me after reading this.
I love throwing angst at our fandom :D