It's an update! I bring you chapter 7 of Experimental, Irreplaceable!
This chapter is muchos thanks to the27 for another arranged let's-update-our-fics-at-the-same-time event, albeit a little late because of her vacationing to Palm Springs (or wherever it was she went |D). Go read Stray, like, nao.
So, so, so, the recent chapters (like, say, ~182-185), were spectacularly wonderful, wouldn't you agree?
KANDA. WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU. WHY.
WHY.
Warnings: Cursing. Much cursing. And spunky!Allen, yet again. Disjointed writing, partly my fault, partly because of idiotic Kanda.
Disclaimer: I don't own D(.)Gray-man, as much as I want to.
A shout-out to all those who review and watch this fic~
On another note, I'm stuck on the next chapter for this story, so don't expect an update too quickly. I'll be working on The Final Stage: Scenario 14 because I seriously need to update it soon, and also, Yullen Week is coming up! More info on my profile, so go take a gander.
And so, without further ado, I present to some nonsense and blasphemy known as chapter 7.
The Living Dead
Tired.
Tired, sore, hurting everywhere, and—
Ow. Glass in back does not make a nice evening.
Breathing. Rushed, shallow, quick. Someone coughed.
Ugh. Lungs hurt too. And that… was definitely blood in my mouth.
Figures.
The bar above ground had long since emptied, residents exiting through the back door and descending into Akuma-proof basements fortified with the Order's talismans. That was a good thing to know.
"Oi. Are you dead?"
"Shut up." I hissed, spitting blood out to the side.
Fuck. My head hurts.
I blinked.
Wait a minute—
The voice came from… underneath. And I was suddenly aware of the warmth against my neck (awkward, but.. pleasant, in a way) and exactly how much my back was hurting. And.. oh, right, that was my cough earlier. My chest felt like it was run through by a pole, which it obviously wasn't.
Where the hell am I again..?
"Sure you're not dead?"
"I'm not dead. Shut up."
"You look dead to me."
This time, I managed to crack one a blood-crusted eye and glared as well as I could. My vision was blurred at the edges and somewhat hazy, not to mention dim, but I could still see him. Or at least, I could see his face. I was too close to actually see anything else without moving my head.
"Che."
I couldn't say much more. Blood had decided to collect in my mouth and I almost choked on it. Metallic, warm, with a bitter hint that was undeniably from the Akuma virus.
I hated that taste.
It made me feel as though I was an Akuma. No human being could survive being infected by the virus, after all.
Hah.. That's right. I'm not human.
"..Does it hurt?"
"What kind of question is that?" I scoffed, immediately regretting it. My lungs burned, as did my chest, and – now that I thought about it – my hands and knees were starting to get sore as well. "Of course it fucking hurts."
Not like I could do anything about it. Too much debris had piled onto my back and only pushed the glass in deeper. Stupid thing was stopping the wound in my back from healing and I was still losing blood. If I didn't find a way to get it out, it would take a lot longer to heal.
And considering the bruises, cuts, fractures, and the miscellaneous other injuries I had, I wasn't going to be ready to fight any time soon.
"It was just a question, jeez."
It was quiet after that, save for my coughs and raspy breaths. I kept my eyes half-shut – it took too much energy to open them and I was tired. There wasn't much to look at, anyway.
Allen yawned, turning his head to the side and covering his mouth in a polite gesture with his wrinkled red hand. A soft murmur passed through and I blinked, almost mistaking it for a sigh.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing," he replied flippantly, shifting his position on the ground. "This is merely a highly uncomfortable situation you've landed us in."
I scowled. "How is this my fault?"
"It just is," Allen countered, crossing his arms (not without difficulty, considering the space – or lack therefore of – we had to work with). He might've been pouting – my vision had started hazing over again – if I were actually paying attention. "If you hadn't shown up, this wouldn't have happened in the first place!"
"Well, tough luck, Brit. I'm here, it happened, voila. Shut up and deal with it."
I found that if I moved the placement of my hands a little farther from his head, it relieved some of the strain on my arms and lungs. The rock, and that shitty piece of glass, was still pressing down, however.
Unless someone decided to come look for us, we would have to wait until my wounds closed up before we could leave.
"Hey," He looked up, confused, in a somewhat… endearing manner. "..Why did you save me..?"
A droplet of blood splattered onto his cheek, running down the side and leaving a trail of red like a scar. I tilted my head so that the liquid would run down my neck instead of falling onto his face. He didn't have any visible cuts, so the virus in my blood wouldn't get into his.. but it was better safe than sorry.
"Che. Unless you can survive getting hit by a car, stop complaining." Why did I save him? "Just doing my job, brat."
"I thought your job was to kill Akuma." Well, yeah, it was that, too. "What else is on the contract? Running over little kids?"
"Protecting civilians, idiot."
"You tried to kill me." He fell silent, but only for a short moment, and then his eyebrow rose. "I'm a civilian?"
"You're not an enemy. You're not with the Order. You're not an ally. That makes you a civilian."
Allen huffed, almost offended by that fact.
"Why are we still here, anyway?"
"Because we can't get out, stupid."
He frowned. "Why?"
"Gee, I don't fucking know, maybe because I kind of can't move?" I hissed, wincing when the glass dug deeper next to my shoulder blade. Why the thing hadn't snapped off yet was beyond me. "Smart ass."
He rolled his eyes and raised a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. It was useless, though, because it managed to un-tuck itself and joined the rest of his hair, splayed out on the cement floor of the liquor store's basement.
"Then could you hurry up and heal faster? It's cold down here."
No shit.
"If you're that impatient, get yourself out. Your arm's a gun. Fucking just use that."
"There's not enough room, genius."
"My point exactly." I glared, suppressing a cough as blood started entering my lungs. "You can't do jack shit. Stop talking and wasting the oxygen."
And, surprisingly, he listened and did just that (with an annoyed pout, but still).
Why, dammit, why weren't my lungs healing? Granted, I still had numerous other wounds, but healed lungs would make it a heck of a lot easier.
And then the glass went deeper and I knew why.
Fucking thing was stuck in my lungs.
I could tolerate getting my joints blown out, getting shot in the head, crushed arm, fractured ribs, the virus – I could handle those. Pain usually wasn't a factor. I felt it, sure, but it was never enough for an open complaint.
This was different. It didn't just hurt - because it did.
My lungs were filling with blood instead of air, creating gurgling sounds deep in my throat as I strained to stay calm.
Easier said than done.
Allen was frowning, like he had something to say but wasn't sure whether or not he should ask.
A cough sent a spray of red liquid onto his church robes like a paintbrush onto canvas – lovely – but he didn't seem to care about that.
I could barely breathe now, a sense of despair caulking up the remaining areas of my lungs that hadn't been pierced, and I continued my coughs and shaky breaths, one hand futilely muffling the hacking sounds.
Despair, fear, and dread – that I might die down here, even though I knew I couldn't. It was an instinct, one that should've kicked in earlier before the car decided to say hello in an extremely painful way.
Tears stung at the corners of my eyes and I blinked them away, coughing harshly into my hand. The pile of asphalt and concrete was getting heavier and harder to keep up.
"Are you dying yet?"
"No."
Brown eyes narrowed. "Sounds like you are."
Lack of oxygen was affecting my brain, I knew that, and I refused to hallucinate. I was looking at that girl again but—
She's not a girl—
--And then Allen replaced her, shaking my shoulders with furrowed brows.
"Hey, what's wrong? You're bloody pale!"
"Yuu-kun? Are you sick? You look pale…"
What? No, no, no no no, no—
"Prick, listen to me—"
"Yuu-kun, you shouldn't ignore us."
Warm hands, one soft and the other wrinkled, pressed against the front of my chest tentatively but purposefully.
"What are you doing?!"
"If you're not going to tell me what's wrong, I'll find out myself."
"Don't fucking touch me--!"
Rubble and glass moved, the latter scraping painfully against a rib. This was so familiar, the situation, something I had experienced before, this loss of breath, lack of air, bleeding, healing, all at the same time—
The sensation of dying.
"Yuu-kun."
Kaa-san is an Akuma. A monster. Monster. Monster.
Akuma. Akuma.
"Please, your father and I loved you very much. We were both Akuma, and it was inevitable that we would die soon. Yuu-kun…"
Liar, liar. Father isn't.. never was…
"Please kill me, Yuu. Let me join your father in the after world."
Why, why me? Why can't you just kill yourself, why let your son kill you, why, why?
Don't leave me.
"Kill me, Yuu-kun."
No, no, no, don't leave, I don't want you to go—
Why?
"Because.."
Because, because, excuses, excuses—
Father. Is that why? You want to be with father more than me…
Selfish.
"Because… I.."
"..am not taking responsibility for this if you keel over, you hear?"
Why is kaa-san here—?
I killed her, I fucking killed her—
"Jerk, just tell me what's killing you!"
No, no, you should be dead, you're dead—why are you here, you're dead, I killed you why aren't you dead—
"It's in your back, isn't it? Jesus Christ, it'd help if you just told me – hey, are you even listening?"
Don't touch me, get your hands off—stop touching me—
Glass jarred and tugged, sending shocks of pain through my lungs, my chest, and up my spine, digging a path back into reality where I was aware of a pair of arms encircling my torso, almost like an embrace, and—
No, stop, stop, you little—don't do that, don't touch me—
"Is this the problem?" The glass moved again and another flash of white clawed into my vision. "Idiot, y could seriously die with this!"
Muffled speech, genuinely alarmed and worried, sounded so much like kaa-san – too much, too familiar. Brown hair cropped short - too short to be kaa-san's but the same shade and briefly, I wondered if the texture was the same as well.
The world swirled and shook as more blood smattered onto the concrete. A blur of muddy chocolate pressed next to my head, the object lodged in my back shifted and I hissed in pain and disapproval.
Don't touch me—
Fuck. Where was Mugen when I needed it most?
"Deal with it, jerk."
Annoyed and angry but not harsh, surprisingly calm and gentle this time—
No.
"I'm pulling it out."
Hot air blew down my neck in an entirely uncomfortable way – reminded me of kaa-san's soft humming in my hair on a warm summer night. An eerie tune that didn't fit at all – a sensation that was completely foreign and wrong – yet felt so right at the same time.
No. Get away from me, stay away, stop—
"Stay still!"
"Don't struggle so much, Yuu-kun. You'll hurt yourself."
Let go, let go, let go—
At that moment, the ground was gone, the pressure was lifted, and I was no longer in the basement of a liquor store in Roanapur. I wasn't buried under a pile of rubble with a brat. It wasn't nearing the half century mark of the 21st century.
It was Japan.
I couldn't breathe – again. But it wasn't a shard of glass this time. It was a hand.
Kaa-san's hand.
Her nails were digging into my neck just like they did all those years ago, cutting off my air supply as the skin of her face dried and cracked, sloughing off into a muddy pile. Underneath that mess was a shell, dark in color and giving off an atrocious odor.
Wires peeked out from underneath the layer of diseased flesh, connected to fleshy gears, further connected to pulsating tubes containing some unknown liquid that seeped through the walls, dripping steadily on the wooden patio.
Her other hand was raised, tightly holding onto a black dagger.
Or so I thought.
After all, daggers didn't have eyes, right? Daggers didn't have teeth, didn't snarl or growl, didn't hiss or screech—
All I could remember was a dagger.
"Almost got it—"
"It'll be over soon, Yuu-kun."
I watched the blade descend for the second time in my life, unable to do anything, tears of betrayal leaving cool trails on my cheeks.
I should say I was stabbed, but it really wasn't that at all, now that I had the chance to experience it again. It was sharp, yes, and it hurt – that much was a given. But it was the wrong sensation.
It wasn't a single puncture like one would think, and the pain wasn't as acute as it should've been. There was the initial cut, piercing skin and flesh, and it widened as the blade sunk deeper.
But then, it bit down and tore at my chest, tearing with too much ease and spraying blood into the air. In the still of the silence, I heard my own childish screams of pain and agony, crying, sobbing, trying to break free, but it was no use.
For a good 2 minutes I thought I was dead, because that's what I should've been. Had kaa-san been holding an actual dagger and had we not been living in an era of the Millennium Earl, I would've died.
But she wasn't holding a dagger and the Millennium Earl hadn't died yet.
So I didn't die.
I was supposed to wake up on a blood-stained patio, Mugen pulsing angrily above my head as I reached for it in desperation. I was supposed to kill kaa-san.
Dust and grime, blood and sweat – literally – and the air was heavy with tension, relief, and the soft sound of blood hitting the ground.
"Wasn't that bad after all, was it?"
The embrace loosened and as the pair of hands retracted to their owner, I saw it. A glint in the dim light, a sparkle of glass, a glint of steel, of that black dagger, and the fear was back.
"See, Yuu-kun? Just like kaa-san told you.. it's not that bad.."
Kaa-san killed me.
I have to kill her.
"Hey – what're you--?!"
One hand closed around the blade-like piece of glass, the other around the pale column of neck. There was little room to maneuver and even less for raising an arm. The sharp edges cut into my palm, drawing fresh blood that only fueled my hallucinations.
I was hyperventilating, that much I could tell. Too much oxygen, too little carbon dioxide, my mind swam with images of the past.
"Kill me, Yuu-kun."
There was too much similarity between myself and this boy.
There were no tears – he wasn't as much of a child as I was – but those harsh golden eyes spoke volumes.
I helped you.
The neck in my grip struggled for breath, trying to pry away the hand clamping down on it, even as the the glass hovered menacingly above him.
Betrayal.
"Kill me."
Drip. Drip.
Labored breathing, strained and heavy, penetrated the silence and the pattern of falling liquid. Pupils dilated in the low light, staring silently at nothing, as crimson droplets continued falling from my hand, still clutching the chunk of glass.
"Because.. I may end up killing you."
Slowly my vision cleared and the pain in my hand, my pack, my arm – everything, it was all registering in my mind again. Nails dug into my skin, threatening to pierce it through the sleeve.
A raspy voice broke the illusion, dragging my mind back into reality where Allen Walker looked ready to kill.
"Hey," He hissed, swallowing with difficulty past the hold on his throat. "Jackarse."
Once a brat, always a brat.
"Either kill me or let go."
Kill me. Kill me.
Kill. Kill.
Why? Why, why, why, why does everyone—
Why—
"..Are you going to kill me or not?"
I glared down at him.
Why did everyone want to die?
All those people out there, civilians, children, adult, men, women, all of them – they didn't want to die. Those people in Roanapur, they wouldn't accept death as easily as these people did. Wasn't survival a basic instinct? Of animals, humans, and all things living, didn't we all want to live?
Why do we at the Black Order sacrifice ourselves?
…Didn't any of us have anything to live for?
Teeth gritting, I swallowed a mouthful of coppery liquid. The scent of blood hung in the air, wafting up from the pool of crimson on the ground, from the blood in my throat, from the cuts on my hand, and I cursed.
Glass shattered as I tossed it aside.
"Che."
Where the hell is Mugen.
"Splendid!" Sarcastic brat. "Now get your hand off my neck and we can kiss and make up."
Scowling, I let go and sat back as much as I could, what with the now relatively stable pile of rubble still around us. As long as it wasn't going to fall down anytime soon, we'd be fine.
But it was getting stuffy.
Allen stared expectantly and I frowned.
"..You weren't serious about the kiss, were you?"
He blinked.
And rolled onto his side. Laughing.
…At me.
Apparently not.
Despite that, I couldn't find it in myself to be angry at him. Didn't mean I couldn't pretend to be, though.
I guess he deserved some kind of entertainment after what he'd been through (whatever it was).
After a few seconds, it dwindled down to a chuckling and a seemingly content smile, directed more at nothing than the wall of debris he was facing.
"..The hell are you smiling about." I groused, irritated now that the laughter had stopped.
"You," He snickered, still grinning childishly. "You are entirely amusing."
"…Che."
There was a brief moment of silence.
"Wait." He sat up, leaning back against the rubble. "How'd you know I was smiling?"
"I can see you, dumbass."
A perplexed look crossed his face and he glanced around, frowning discreetly, and threw a wary gaze in my direction.
"..In the dark?"
"It's dark?"
Funny. It was a little dim, but not that dark. Then again, there was no place for the light to come from.
"Huh. I can see in the dark," For the most part, at least. "So what?"
Allen rolled his eyes, pausing and glaring when he realized that I might've seen it (and I did). "That's not normal. Humans can't see in the dark!"
I scoffed.
Humans. I figured as much.
"I'm not human."
He had on a peculiar expression, curious, as though he were studying the details of my face (if he were able to see me, at least – could he?) in a rather intensive and absorbed manner. His eyes trailed down to my chest, narrowing slightly in thought.
I didn't say anything. At least, not until his dull gold orbs darted lower.
"What?"
His stare snapped back up to my face and and he looked away, shrugging, contemplative and deep in thought. I found myself wondering why I was paying so much attention to this kid and what he was doing.
"I was just thinking." Obviously. "Lala might be right."
Lala? "Who?"
"You've forgotten? Lala, Lala, the singing thing from – how long ago was it?"
Oh. Oh. Her. It. That Lala. "Five years."
"Who's keeping track?" My expression must've no longer looked confused because Allen continued talking. "Just thought she might be right. Maybe you are like.. us."
Us?
"Who's 'us'?"
"Us, y'know." Allen waved vaguely in my general direction, looking off to the side. "Us. The Church, Robin, me, Lala-"
"What, freaks?"
"That's rather rude," he frowned, sitting up straighter and jabbing a finger at my chest. "You don't see me calling you a freak just because you can't die, so don't go calling us freaks just because we're a little different."
A little?
I scowled and batted the hand away. "I'll call you whatever the fuck I want, brat."
I'm not a freak just because I'm not human – no, wait, that actually makes a lot of sense.
"Do you even know my name?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just asking, since it seems you can't say it at all."
"Who said I can't?"
It wasn't like I was incompetent or anything.
"Why don't you?"
"Because I don't want to, perhaps?"
"It's not that hard," he pouted, leaning forward a bit. Thank god there was a least a few feet of space between us. "It's only two syllables. I don't have to teach you how to pronounce it, do I?"
"Shut up."
"I know you can see me." He grinned. "Al-len. Say it with me!"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Just because."
Because if I did, it would imply that we had some kind of relation, which wasn't true. I knew nothing about Allen and he in turn knew nothing about me – and even if he did, I still wouldn't do it.
I didn't need relationships aside from business. I didn't need acquaintances and friends in a world like this, where anyone could die the next day, the next hour, the next minute, next second – a world where everything could fall apart with just one wrong step or decision. This war was like a game of chess.
But the pieces were not pieces of plastic; they were indispensible lives, human or otherwise.
Plastic, perhaps, but fragile. Making ties with any of those pieces would only drag me down when they were taken off the board.
I didn't want to be dragged down.
I didn't want to drag others down.
So I kept everyone at bay.
Everyone would hate me, and I would hate everyone.
I was going to leave Roanapur and never come back, never see this kid again. This was to be the only time we ever saw each other.
"Jerk."
"Right back at you, Brit."
That was how it was supposed to be.
This chapter is, as of yet, un-beta'd
