Notes: Originally written for my other account's fifth anniversary so it ain't plagiarism. Didn't like it so I edited it. To the anon reviewer of the original who wanted to see more of Kanda's POV, I'm writing a companion piece for that now. Thank you for your kind prompt.
A Kind of Happily-Ever-After
It is after the war, when all that is left for the Black Order is to pick up their survivors and bury their dead. After they achieved their goal and won the Holy War.
The boy lying spread-eagled on the roof of the Headquarters didn't care so much about the victory part. Ink on paper, that's all it'll be. Victory or loss, it didn't matter. This was what he told himself. He can't stop himself from knowing that Allen has collapsed not because he was hurt that badly but because he needed food. He can't stop himself from knowing that Yuu is slumped against a wall, trying to look calm and collected and not hurt at all. He can't stop himself from knowing all this. Any feeling of relief that comes from it is purely imaginary, he thinks.
The stars look down on the bloodshed, the carnage, the survivors, and the Bookman Junior. The Bookman-in-training, not 'Lavi'. The one who sees with only one eye by choice, the one who only needs that one eye. As if to spite the stars, he closes that eye and tries to ignore the sounds of work going down below. Sooner or later the panda will find him, and he'd rather be well rested before listening to whatever the old man had to say.
Shuffling and regular thumps emanate from the stairwell, and he forces his face to relax. Damn that panda, always so efficient. Maybe if the Bookman is convinced that his apprentice is really asleep, he'll leave him alone.
The wooden door, already half-blasted off its hinges, creaks open. "Lavi?"
The light, broken voice sounds nothing like the Bookman, so he opens his eye just a crack. The image of battered, bruising pale skin and long dark hair greets him, and without thinking he sits up.
"Lenalee?"
xxx
He is 'Lavi' once more, and patting the stone beside him with one tired hand, he invites her to take a seat by his side. She does, and he notices that she is almost dragging her left leg – she holds the pain in well, but he knows that it must have been slow going up the stairs.
"Why d'ya come all the way up here anyway?" Lavi doesn't mention the leg – any one of those wounds would have been reason enough to demand a medic.
"Why did you come all the way up here then?" she challenges, but it is with a tired smile and no force whatsoever. Her hair eddies about her waist in the night wind, and a shiver racks her small frame.
Lavi smiles. "Point taken." He would have offered her his jacket, but it is torn and bloody, and the blood is mostly his. He offers it to her anyway. She can turn it down if she thinks it's that repulsive.
She doesn't reject it, but she doesn't put it on either. She just holds it with a faraway look on her face, fingering the folds of the fabric.
Just as Lavi thinks he might just get away tonight, she speaks. "Is it really over?"
"Of course it is." The Bookman in him knows this better than anyone, recognizes the signs that the war has ended with absolute certainty. "Worried?" He gives her the smile that she is familiar with, even though he feels as though his facade will rot and fall apart at any moment.
She returns the smile earnestly, and it makes him feel like trash. "Not anymore. Just that… I can't really remember the days when I lived without the Order. But I want to look forward to the future. I want to live together with Big Brother. Except…" she trails off, and because he knows the girl Lenalee, knows her and not the psychology on ink and paper that the Bookman is trained to know, he can fill in the rest himself.
"You don't wanna let go of everyone here?"
She nods vigorously. "Yes, that's it. All my friends… everyone… I don't-" Her fingers pull at the fabric in her frustration, and she takes a deep breath to still them. "You'll be staying too, right, Lavi?"
And even though he'll regret the hell out of it, he feels that he should at least look her in the eye when he tells her what the Bookman Junior has known all along. "Nope. The panda and I are probably gonna be the first to leave. Ya know, since our job here is over."
Her lips part as a small, nearly inaudible "oh" slips out. Her eyes are downcast, and he can't stand to look at the top of her head any more so he turns his own to the sky. Perhaps his words were a bit harsh, but it had to be done, even if he would be very much like Lenalee when he himself finally faced the panda.
"But hey, we travel a lot. Maybe we'll meet again," he says with a grin plastered over his face. "Don't let'cha brother stop ya from getting married."
She laughs, but it's shaky. Maybe it's fake and she's not laughing at all, or maybe her broken voice can't laugh too well and it's real, but Lavi would like to think it's genuine. He acts less that way, lets himself feel much more.
He doesn't see her again before they leave, and he never gets his jacket back, but that's alright. He's done pretending already.
XXX
It is two years before their path crosses the Black Order again.
Now his name is Calder and he travels with Bookman everywhere. Calder. A generic name with a generic meaning. Unrest is brewing again, and conflict had already broken out in parts of Europe. That was to be expected. Bookman had not intended to pass by the Black Order, but travel plans gone awry meant that the still-occupied headquarters presented the best alternative.
Calder doesn't wonder if the girl from two years ago is still there. If she is, she is and if she isn't, she isn't. But he still hopes just a little. It would be a pleasant encounter if she is, along with the rest of them. And that was all, a pleasant encounter. He can't let emotion rule him, the only reason Bookman was agreeable to this arrangement was because he believed his apprentice was mature enough to behave professionally. And he doesn't want to disappoint his mentor.
And just like this they reenter the old stone building. Very little has changed, and when Calder observes this he is referring to both the structure of the building and the people. They greet him like a friend, though he refrains from returning the sentiment. He is 'Calder' now, not 'Lavi'. They address him by his new alias with some hesitation, and every so often one of them slips back into the habit of calling him by that one previous alias.
He learns that Allen Walker has left and travels around the world, performing to his heart's content. Arystar Krory travels with him, "because he still doesn't dare to take trains alone" according to one Reever Wenhamm. Kanda Yuu still lives in the headquarters, because he has nowhere to go – everything was left behind when he became a Second Exorcist. Noise Marie and Miranda Lotto are married with their own instrument shop in the nearest village. The science team devoted themselves to post-war clean-up and generally making the world a better place. Everyone did things that made them happy, things that spoke volumes of the peaceful lives they led.
And since the Head of the Science Division, Komui Lee was still present, it meant his sister Lenalee Lee was present too. Or rather, according to the science team, Komui agreed to stay only because Lenalee wanted to.
It made for a very awkward dinner as the Bookmen insisted on maintaining a gaping chasm between themselves and the rest of the diners, while the latter attempted to bridge the distance but didn't quite know where to start. While Jeryy's cooking was as good as ever, the forced atmosphere was probably the best appetite-killer since the discovery of food poisoning, and Calder leaves the cafeteria early with the excuse wanting to see how reconstruction works had altered the rest of the building.
Not that resisting the urge to crack a comment while Kanda tried to burn a hole through his head with his eyes wasn't another factor at play. Snide comments are not allowed – they are too 'Lavi' and show too much emotional attachment.
It was quite natural for him to head towards the library. And it was quite natural for him to, on the way, be caught by Lenalee. He had felt her eyes boring into his back while he ate and tracking him out of the doorway as he left. Natural, in the latter case, could not equate to coincidence.
"Wait!"
He counts to two, exhales, and turns to face the girl with a polite smile on his face. At nineteen, she is heartbreakingly beautiful. She retained the two ponytails that held back her glossy black hair, but tied them lower, giving her an air of maturity.
"Where are you going?" she asks once she has caught up to him.
"The library," he answers, nodding in its general direction while he resumes walking. "It's been a while."
"It has, hasn't it? Can I come along?"
Although she asked, it is against social etiquette to turn such a request down, so even if he doesn't want to he can't say no. Not that he minds her company, so he gives a favorable reply. "Yeah, sure."
"So, um, Lavi –"
"Calder," he corrects automatically, and without thinking any further he adds, "but it's okay if you want to call me Lavi."
Her smile is brilliant, but it abruptly becomes subdued as she tries to confirm if this is really alright. "Is it okay? Won't Bookman be mad? I can get used to Calder, really-"
He shrugs as though it means nothing. "To you it'll always be 'Lavi', even if you call me by another name. And that's what it is, just a name."
That's what 'Lavi' is, just a name. Nothing more, and it'd be best if neither of them attached another meaning to it.
She's obviously happy about the fact that he acknowledges his time as her comrade, and with her fingers laced behind her back as she walks by his side, she graces him with another bright smile. "I'm really happy that you came by. I always wondered if I'd see you again."
Calder doesn't quite know how to respond to that without slipping into humor or sounding overly uncaring, so he sidesteps with an "it's nice to see you too."
That makes her even happier, if possible, and she fidgets a little, staring down at her hands now in front of her, before saying something so softly that he can't quite catch.
"Pardon?"
"I just said, I was hoping that you'd come back one day. If Brother and I had left, I might never see you again. I don't know how else you could find us otherwise."
"There's always mail," he says before he can stop himself.
"You can receive letters? But… but I thought…," she stutters, sounding embarrassed and curious at the same time. "Oh, I see. I'm sorry, I should have thought of that."
"No, I was just joking, we have no permanent address for you to mail to anyway," he says, watching as her expression changes from embarrassment to mock displeasure at his teasing. He hasn't seen that in a long time, and it feels decidedly nostalgic. That was yet another emotion that he has to box up and shelve, but Lenalee is quite the expert at unpacking them and letting them run loose. "But what was that you said about not leaving?"
Her face colors as she recalls those words, and she fidgets even more. "I just… really wanted to see you again."
He's not supposed to have a heart, figuratively speaking, but he felt as though this non-existent heart of this sank right through the cold stone floor. "Lenalee," and when he says her name it is he who says it, not Lavi or Calder or anyone as insignificant as that. It's the character hiding under the personality that demands to be heard. "You shouldn't have. What if we never came back?"
She avoids his eyes determinedly, focusing on her hands and the muted sound of their footsteps on the stone. Because now his attention is on her, he notices that her gait is lighter than he remembered – of course, she no longer wears the Dark Boots. "I-it was only once, anyway. I only wanted to see you once. If you didn't come back by next year, I'd have left anyway."
Well that certainly was reassuring, though no less guilt-inducing. "That's better, but why next year?"
He had not thought that it would be possible for her face to color more, but it was. "Because… because Reever and the others made Brother agree that I should be allowed to get married then. And…" her voice threatens to become inaudible once more as her footsteps slowed, and this time, he can hear every word in the silence.
He takes a few seconds to recover from the news. "When did they extort this agreement?"
"A few months ago."
"I see." The words fall mechanically from him. "And are you okay with that?"
Lenalee casts her eyes down the corridor. "I-I guess I am… a bit…"
"Well then, congratulations!" He doesn't know where he finds all this cheer and good humor, but he's grateful enough that it exists somewhere and that he can tap on it any moment he needs. And besides, he should be happy for it. He doesn't have to worry about her any more, even if it is in secret most of the time.
She takes his proffered hand and shakes it, albeit a little lacklustre on her part. "Um, it's time to deliver coffee, I have to go. It was nice talking to you again, Lavi– I mean Calder- Lavi." Without letting him say another word, she sprints down the way that they came, leaving him standing alone at the foot of the stairs with only the walls for company.
He doesn't think that she was lying about the coffee, because it would be just like her to discard her duties for once, for him. And even though he feels a little like dying inside, he knows that it is for the best if she sees for herself that he can't and won't throw away his Bookman duties for anyone.
But he'll still want at least second-best for her, if she can't have the best. He realizes this as he stares down the hallway, and realizes that he has probably always known this. He can't lock up every emotion just yet.
And it occurs to him that he doesn't really want to go to the library anymore.
XXX
Five years later, all hell breaks loose. The Great War, fought by humans and humans alone, sweeps across Europe and the Pacific.
For several months, he feels uneasy even though he will not die in his pursuit of recording history. His predecessor has seen to that.
It is well past half a year that he remembers why, and relieves himself of the nagging anxiety. For she is far away, and she will be safe. She will be safe outside of Europe. She will be safe in Japan, which has been winning its battles thus far.
And more importantly, she will be safe because she is with Kanda Yuu.
XXX
Twenty-eight years later, he happens upon her trail.
He is the Bookman now, and he travels alone. He didn't quite think that he was ready when the mantle was passed on to him, but he rarely contemplated his own capabilities in the years following his ascension to the title. Recording history keeps him busy, as does travelling. It is a fruitful existence, even if the heavy sensation of déjà vu would never lift.
The Great War ended, but the second one began. The authorities in their respective countries have taken to dubbing the Great War as World War I, and the current one as World War II. It is a convention that he follows in his records.
And the war takes him to Japan. He records all that he sees. The difference in the atmosphere. The desperation that turned into hope when humans repopulated the islands, that now turned into desolation in times of war. The industrial air that is reminiscent of Europe. The military government that oddly reminds him of Central and their operations.
He remembers, of course, but it is not quite brought to the forefront of his mind until he stands in front of the simple countryside house (what brought him there? He doesn't know either) and reads the name by the gate.
Kanda.
As though the inhabitant of the house knew who was there, the gate opens, and a man in his fifties steps out, looking very much like the Bookman's presence on his doorstep offended him. But of course, the sour expression on his face could also have merely been his default expression. The Bookman imagined that the latter was more likely.
Catching sight of his unwelcome visitor, the man stops for a second. Only a second.
"Che, never thought that I'd see a baka usagi on my doorstep."
xxx
She left them behind, but neither of them resent her for leaving. They sent her away, one after the other. He, when he couldn't stay with her, and Kanda Yuu, when he couldn't protect her.
Because war arrived at Japan's door, and she would be safer in China with her brother. And while seemingly unrelated, because Second Exorcists short-change their future lifespan to prolong their current one.
She doesn't know, of course. It was hard enough to send her away as it was. If she had known, she would never have left. Not Lenalee, the girl who put the people she loved before the world. That was why Kanda had to send her away, and then join the army.
"Can they even send you to the front lines?" he asks casually, looking up at Kanda from his seat on the front steps. He would know the answer best, but he wants to hear it from Kanda.
"If needed." Kanda's gaze never turns to him, choosing to look over the fields instead, seeing something that the Bookman couldn't. That was nothing new. Kanda had always found the most insignificant objects more worthy of his attention than 'Lavi'.
"You could just say you're joining, you know." He shouldn't comment on that, but he does. He shouldn't interfere in the making of history, but it just comes to him naturally.
Kanda snorts. "I'm a man of my word."
"Not to mention a violent one too," the Bookman mutters, earning himself a sharp look. He expected more of a reaction, but there is silver in Kanda's hair and a somber heaviness in his words. Concealed stiffness in his movements. He knows the signs all too well because he feels them himself every day.
When the retaliation he expected didn't come, he is reminded that even if his memory is flawless, he sometimes forgets what it means to be fifty-three and all grown-up in the ways of other, normal people. People who don't have to stand outside time and watch as others let themselves be changed by it all the way to the core. People who are allowed to leave their mark on the world.
So he gets away with his snarky comment, but when he's watching the Japanese soldiers die on the warfront a part of him wishes that Kanda had hit him instead of treating him like an acquaintance: someone to talk to, perhaps even reminisce with, but ultimately someone to keep a respectful distance from.
XXX
Ten years on, he finds her once more.
He has an apprentice now. A small, overenthusiastic boy who has no name. The boy had one before he became the Bookman Junior, but his master told him to forget it.
They ran into each other, very simply, at the harbor. One of the many in China, but the only one that hosts ships coming in from the rest of the world. It didn't surprise him that it is the same harbor as the one they sailed from on that day, with Anita and Mahoja and Chaoji. It wasn't the brightest day of his Exorcist career, but he remembers it all the same.
He should have expected her there. Where else would she be, when the only people left for her to love will all arrive at that one place?
Lenalee is the first to call out to him. "Bookman?"
He stops, turns, and she's there, hurrying from the shelter of one of the many merchants' stores with a paper-wrapped package in her hands. The storefront displays dried herbs and tea leaves from European traders, items that are frequently, conveniently brought to the Black Order Headquarters of long ago but only found near trade routes in the China of the present. "It is you, after all!"
He inclines his head respectfully, quickly erasing all traces of his surprise. "Lenalee. It's been a long time."
She takes an instant liking to the young apprentice, fussing over him and asking questions while the master silently notes that she has aged gracefully and is no less beautiful than she was the day they parted ways. Her gray hair is pulled back in an elaborate bun befitting her age, though her eyes are sharp and her back straight. Her gait, too, remains steady. She insists on accommodating them when she finds out that the apprentice is suffering from seasickness, and he can't argue, especially when it already occurred to him that he'd be carrying everything by himself if the young one remains out of commission.
Her house stands outside of the town walls, a decent distance from the harbor. Far away enough from the bustle of both centers of activity, but connected to the outside world nonetheless. The Bookman, of course, notices the similarities with the Black Order Headquarters. It is to be expected, of course.
Upon entry, the Bookman notices the altar instantly, set with the picture of the former master of the house. The date of death is less than a year prior. "He never got married," Lenalee explains with a wry smile. "Always too worried about how his sister was faring to properly court anyone." The knowing look on her face is lined with love and guilt, and it reminds him once more that she saw far more than he thought she did.
Following Lenalee's directions, the Bookman and his apprentice settle into the room that once belonged to Komui. The Bookman knows it used to be his because despite the now-pristine state of the room, there is a tall stack of papers in the corner, filled with sketches and data of robots that cannot be built with the technology in this town. Papers that would have once been haphazardly scattered over any available surface, but now only remain because their inheritor cannot bear to give them up, throw them away.
He leaves the boy to sleep his seasickness off, and enters the common area where Lenalee is unwrapping the package she just bought and is busying herself with boiling water for tea. She is alerted to his presence when he pulls out a chair and its wooden legs scrape noisily across the tiles.
"How is little Xiong feeling?" she asks, smiling over her shoulder at him as she reaches for the clay teacups.
"He's still queasy, nothing that rest can't handle." For some reason, when it's her, he can't just brush off her kind concern with a few words.
"That's good to hear," she says, genuine relief evident in her voice. She lifts the teapot from the stove by its handle, and carries it to the table while balancing a tray with the teacups in her other hand.
They discuss the last thirty-eight years over tea, while his apprentice sleeps his seasickness off. She asks – casually – about Kanda, and the Bookman replies half-honestly that he doesn't know where or how he is, even if he has a pretty good idea. She asks about his apprentice – where he found him, what made the Bookman choose him, and he regales her with tales of his adventures in the mountains.
Regales? Without noticing he has adopted speech patterns similar to those of 'Lavi', and he corrects himself before he falls further, abruptly turning the conversation into a stiff and stilted one. The pauses between their replies grow along with the shadows cast by the setting sun. The spent tea leaves dry at the bottom of the cups. He flips through his journal in the pretense of reviewing his notes. Lenalee watches quietly, contentedly.
"I wish that I had the courage to ask you to take me along back then," she says suddenly, as the sun begins to cast muted gold light through the window and tinge everything a soft orange. "It was – is – one of my greater regrets."
He stops in the process of turning a page. His hands rest on the paper, aged but no less dexterous. Acupuncture is good exercise in precision and stability for the fingers, but it is only for the fingers. Without "Lavi", he can't answer, because "Lavi" is the personality through which his real self can speak to her earnestly. And for the same reason, he had long decided that it was best if "Lavi" was axed and buried.
But he had also long discovered that personalities cannot be killed; they can only die if they choose to of their own accord. It is a different fight every time that his rational self engages in against the personality. "Even if you wanted to, I couldn't." Even if I wanted to, I couldn't.
She laughs, and it is no longer the same carefree tinkling of times past. It is weighted with wisdom, a sound of compromised happiness. "I know, but I wish I did anyway."
"I can't care for you," he reminds her bluntly, and it is as much as a reminder as a warning. Not then, not now. "You would have been miserable." There is none of the lightheartedness that 'Lavi' would have injected into the atmosphere, perhaps because even 'Lavi' couldn't make light of this.
"I know, but I…," she takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, and exhales. "I cared for you, and I thought that would be enough. Even now, I think it would be enough."
"That's only because you don't see it as forever," he says immediately. It's not done without deliberation, but he wants it to be seen as careless, even cruel. "You either imagined that I would one day change my mind, or you never really thought about how it would feel, day after day and year after year, being maintained but not cared for, being engaged but not bonded."
For the first time since the war came to an end, he sees her kind face harden. Subtly, the same determination that drove her to fight shows in her eyes. "Lavi, I'm not a child anymore."
And he is about to retort, angrily, that she sure could have fooled him, but the door behind him slides open, and he turns to see his befuddled apprentice standing there. "Are you fighting?"
When he turns back, the harsh expression is gone, and she's all smiles once more. "No, did we wake you up? I'm sorry that we made so much noise. Are you feeling better?"
The boy nods. "A little."
Lenalee makes as if to stand and tuck his apprentice back into bed, but the Bookman is faster. "Don't trouble yourself, I'll handle this," he says brusquely, and before she or the boy can protest he's ushering him back into the room that the two of them will share for the night.
"Hey, Bookman, who's 'Lavi'?" his apprentice asks as he lies with his feet dangling off the bed, staring out of the lone window.
"No one that you care about," the Bookman snaps.
Catching onto his master's bad mood, the boy falls silent. The Bookman glances at the window, and damn the stars, they're the same as ever. The sun has gone to sleep, but it'll be back tomorrow just like it was today. Nothing has changed for them since that day, but it wasn't the same for him.
Lavi, I'm not a child anymore.
No, you're not, he acknowledges as he lies down himself, staring at the stars once more. But it doesn't mean that things have changed.
XXX
The next time he returns to China, he stops by her grave.
He wonders if he made her cry again. He wonders if Komui (whose grave is conveniently located next to hers and thus perfectly positioned to wreak havoc with his conscience) is cursing him from the afterlife. He wouldn't put it past the man and his sister complex to give him a hard time when he's gone down there himself.
Idly he starts counting off his gnarled fingers the number of people who would have reason and motivation to maul him after he's dead. Lenalee, Komui, Yuu, various Finders, various scientists, and before he joined the Order various individuals that he pretended to befriend and then left without warning. Such was the life of one who would succeed the Bookman.
He stares at the grave a while more with his blurred eyesight, stares at the familiar Chinese characters that he can't really see without his glasses, and offers an insincere prayer for her happiness in the afterlife. For all that he's talked about it, he doesn't really believe that one exists.
But if it does, he'd like to think that she's waiting for him. Preferably without her handy clipboard or its afterlife equivalent. Or if reincarnation is real then he'd like to think that she's holding out for him to come along so that they can both hop on the same train and exist in the same time.
And if it doesn't, none of that matters. It wasn't supposed to anyway.
When he returns to the docks he'll be his usual self again. Boring and serious and unfeeling, just like how he's teaching his apprentice to be. The boy wasn't quite as rebellious as he was in his time, and he won't break Bookman tradition by teaching him otherwise.
It's not anything that can be taught anyway. It's something that his own experiences taught him, and because it's something that he learnt on his own he knows how to deal with it. Vaguely he wonders if that panda did it this way too, locked all the good important stuff inside and passed on what he had to. He probably did.
Because even if Bookmen aren't supposed to have feelings, they are humans too. And humans inevitably feel.
XXX
When it's his time to go, it's almost a relief. Almost, because it's terrifying at the same time.
Stripped of the obligations of being the Bookman and the 68 aliases he held over his life, what is left? What remains in the soul that goes to heaven or hell or just disappears? Who is he?
If he's being honest with himself, which he can now, he'd admit that he wasn't a good Bookman anyway. He just did the job, thought of it as a title, but never as 'him'. The same went for every one of his 68 aliases and concomitant personalities. They were just tools for a job that he had to complete, and none of them stuck around to play after he was done with it.
He is no one with no memories that belong to him alone and no accomplishment or failure is his alone. They all belong to 'someone else', not him. And because of that, none of them ever mattered.
Except for one wish. One wish that his real self made, not bound by obligations or deceit. A lone wish made by the boy who hid under the title of 'Bookman Junior' and 'Lavi' simultaneously, who carried the memories of 48 others along with him. A single wish that he carried throughout his life, regardless of name or place or age.
If I could be reborn, let me be reborn as someone who can be me, so I can love her as me.
End