Chapter Twenty-One:
In My Veins

Warnings: The frickle-frackle. You have been warned. Read at your own discretion.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Oh, you're in my veins
And I cannot get you out
Oh, you're all I taste
At night inside of my mouth
Oh, you run away
'Cause I am not what you found
Oh, you're in my veins
And I cannot get you out
-"In My Veins" by Andrew Belle

OoOoOoOoOoO

The next several days were a blur. He wasn't sure he wanted to pick them apart moment by moment quite yet, either. All he could clearly recall was that one day, he was helping clean up home and assisting in getting their guests settled in, prepped to leave, and then gone. The next he was standing on the beach, watching as their guests left for shores unknown. He was almost envious of them.

At least they didn't have to deal with the fallout with Ash that had probably been waiting for their very departure to conduct itself. Almost right on cue, as soon as they returned, Ash seemed to crumple in on herself. The front she had put up in front of the others was gone, the cracks in her armour more apparent. Allen couldn't find the right words to say to comfort her. He missed his window entirely and all too quickly. She was gone before he knew it, disappeared into the confines of her room for the remainder of the day and most of the night. He had fallen asleep on the couch sometime earlier in the evening, but as soon as he felt something settling over his body, he jerked awake, alert and alarmed. He found himself staring up at Ash, a blanket in her hands, half of it already draped over him.

"Didn't mean to wake you," she said in an apologetic voice, gently letting the blanket fall over him. She was avoiding his gaze and it instantly made his stomach churn and twist about, especially when she turned away without another word. He was up in a split second, calling for her to wait, his hand already reaching for her wrist. He pulled back at the last moment, remembering that the last time that happened, gravity hadn't been kind to him. And by gravity, it really meant 'Ash tossing him down on the ground and knocking the wind out of him for a good long while'. There were times she really didn't like being touched and this was quite possibly one of them.

Thankfully, she stopped and he had a brief respite to gather his words. The most he could think of was to blurt out, "I'm sorry," to her. It was the only thing that came to mind and he felt the seconds drag by awkwardly the longer he went without saying anything else.

Ash waited, though, and she even met his eyes for a few seconds. The words finally came, if haltingly at first.

"I never meant to let them out. I thought…I thought I could help. They all piled inside, the Solarii and those orc things, before I could do anything about it, before I could stop anything. The raptors…they fled as soon as the dust settled, before I knew what was going on. I swear, I didn't mean—"

"Allen…just, shut up before you hurt yourself, okay?"

He promptly clacked his jaws shut, more boggled than upset.

"I'm…I'm not mad at you, if that's what you've been worried and fretting about." She took a long, measured breath in, and he could instantly tell she was gathering her own words up very carefully. She didn't want to be misunderstood or her words taken out of context. "I understand. I know the raptors, for all their smarts and intellect, are just animals. Highly intelligent, and respectfully and dangerously so, but they're animals all the same. They don't…reason like you or me. Not to the same level or degree that we can. And they hate being cooped up for long periods of time, especially when they sense me or you or one of their own getting restless."

Her hands were fidgeting at her sides, like they were becoming restless themselves and sought out something to do, something to work on. Whether it was writing, whittling, drawing, fighting, practicing, hunting, archery—an idle person, Ash was not. She spoke better with her actions than her words.

"It's lucky that you were out, even when I told you not to go. You…you did a good job, helping those three. I didn't see anyone else. And they didn't mention anyone, either, so…that much is good. And Luna, she'll—"

She stopped suddenly, her voice cracking over the raptor's name. Allen was beginning to feel that restless energy transfer to him now and he wanted nothing more than to do something other than stand here. Ash waited and took another deep breath before pushing forward.

"Luna will come back. It might be a while, and I don't like having the pack's numbers down like this, but…she'll come back. That's just the nature of this fucked up island. Anything that's resided here for too long, it eventually comes back after dying, good as new."

"But you're still upset," he stated, eyes watching her rigid frame carefully. She was pent up with too much energy, but at the same time, he could tell that exhaustion was worming its way deep into her bones and counteracting that. She wanted to move and do something other than sit there, but there was the grief and lethargy to contend with as well. It left her at a kind of middle ground.

Ash balled up her hands into fists and snapped, "Of course I'm upset, I just lost one of my fastest runners!" She glared at him as she spoke, her jaw gritted tightly. Allen couldn't hold her gaze. There was more she wasn't saying, there almost always was. Things she wasn't ready to say or admit out loud, but the words were there, lurking in the silence. He stood his ground, but a part of him withered a little inside.

She does blame me. She doesn't want to, but a part of her does.

"But that's not the only reason why I'm upset."

He slowly lifted his eyes back up to meet hers, and he was surprised when he saw concern written on her face. He waited and his patience paid off.

"I'm still trying to figure out how a bunch of dead book characters came to life and ended up on this island."

OoOoOoOoOoO

Ash's book collection was growing rather extensively. She even began carving into the stone walls with her claws in the last year, chipping away at stone and shale to create a spontaneous bookshelf, right into the walls to accommodate.

With that said, Ash already knew what book to choose and she plucked it straight from shelf, its spine as faded as the rest of its papery brethren. The hard cover was plain, worn out, and dirtied from the years, but it was otherwise in passably decent condition.

'The Hobbit' was written in peeling gold lettering and the author's name was underneath: 'J.R.R. Tolkien'.

Ash deftly turned pages too quickly for Allen to discern even a single line until she stopped on one page and pointed at a word with her claw. "Fili and Kili." She moved down the page. "Thorin."

Allen stared over the page, mouthing the names as he haltingly read them over and over. He was awed for a moment, before a frown tugged at his lips.

"That…can't be right. Book characters coming to life? That's impossible."

"Oh? Then what about that asshole, Azog?"

She turned to another page, and this one was dog-eared already. She stopped and stabbed at a paragraph several times.

"Azog the Defiler."

"They called him that, I remember now." Allen furrowed his brow, puzzled and more than a little troubled. "But this is impossible…book characters from stories can't be real."

"Right. Like werewolves aren't real, and storms controlled by undead bitches don't exist either."

She was watching him from the corner of her eyes, a brow ticked upward and he groaned. Allen ran a hand over his face.

"Fine, point taken."

"Damn right, point taken. Don't sit there and deny my friggin' logic. I sat up all night reading this thing, cover to cover, trying to see if I was wrong, but…I don't think I am. Wish I had Tolkien's Simarillion, though. I hear that's got some great background on this 'Verse." She tapped her chin thoughtfully, eyes once more locked on the book as she read through the lines. "I don't know anything anymore, I don't think. This is just all kinds of fucked up. Fucking orcs and dwarves and-and hobbits and all this shit can kiss my ass."

Without fanfare, she snapped the book shut and tossed it back onto the shelf.

"I'm done thinking about it, period. They're not here anymore, and I have an island to survey. I didn't get much of a chance to see how much damage Himiko's done to Yamatai." She scowled as she spoke, her lips peeled back to show off a little fang. "That means less food for the herbivores, and that means less choice in hunting for us and the predators…she threw this island into chaos with that little temper tantrum of hers. God-fucking-dammit…"

She was starting to get itchy-fingered and twitchy. He recognized that much. When Ash got like that, things got messy and in hurry. He carefully looped a hand around her wrist, just enough to gather her attention and it was an almost instantaneous reaction when he did. Her eyes snapped up to meet his and he was nearly taken aback by the twin gold irises staring back at him. He slowly and carefully detached his hand from her, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

"It'd probably be better if we went together this time. The air's cleared up in the last few days. I think it'd be safe enough for me to go without needing a mask of some sort. What do you say?"

She studied him for an agonizingly long minute, but it was worth the wait. Slowly, the golden colour in her right eye bled out, giving way to the familiar cool, stormy blue-grey he was more used to.

"Fine. Just…a quick look around. Observe the heavily afflicted areas from a distance, the less-nasty looking ones a little closer. Should be able to get that all done in a few days, if we're lucky. Pack up, we'll leave in twenty."

OoOoOoOoOoO

The next week was as close to hell as he could imagine it. The island was a damaged mess all around. Most of the vegetation was gone, what few traversable paths that had existed had either been destroyed or were impossible to access, the predator-prey dynamic has drastically decreased on all fronts, and what few surviving Solarii were in a frenzy all around. It was like ants scrambling after a flood and he lost count after the first dozen firefights they had gotten into.

It was a sweet relief to return home, if only to get out of the muddied clothing he had to endure in the last few days. Ash didn't seem to be in quite as big a rush as him to get out of her own soiled clothes, and more focused on marking down all the discrepancies and changes they've encountered. It was only when he dragged her away after he had finished did she finally relent to do so herself.

"For chrissakes, calm down, I'm going, I'm going!"

"Well, go a little quicker; you're filthy and getting mud soaked in the couch. I have to sit there too, I'll have you know."

"Oh dear, how sad for you. You have to endure a little mud. What a tragedy. No, really, I should break out the world's smallest violin and start playing you a little tune to reflect this momentously heart-breaking affair."

"I'm sure there's some blood mixed in there somewhere, too, so yes, very tragic. I don't like blood on the couch. Go on, now. I'll grab you some clean clothes," he simply said in response, unable to completely hide the small grin that was tugging at his lips. She muttered under her breath about wanting to finish her maps, but she relented after one last gentle shove he gave her toward the washing cave.

Knowing her, she'd be taking a while and he didn't really envy her. Washing out all that dirt and grit from her waist-length hair was going to be enough of a pain, never mind all the fur on her tail. He was prepared to wait and let her do her thing. What he wasn't prepared for was, twenty minutes later, a sudden shriek from the washing cave and a towel-clad, soaking wet werewolf to come barreling out with a manic grin on her face moments later.

"I know what we can do to bypass the whole problematic dynamic!"

One, he didn't want to get his clean dry clothes wet, so he took a step or two back. Two, he wanted Ash to not run around naked except for the towel wrapped around her that had honestly seen better days. Unfortunately, as of recently, "Things Allen Wanted" didn't seem to add up to "Things That Will Gladly Go the Way Allen Hoped It Would For Once".

Allen quickly averted his eyes, pointedly staring anywhere that wasn't in Ash's direction. Sadly, he wished he could say there was much left to the imagination, but that particular towel really had seen better days. He wasn't wholeheartedly naïve and innocent when it came to the other sex, but the least he could do was be respectful, and well…not look.

Which is more than he could say about certain other pain-in-the-ass, gun-toting individuals he's come to know in his life.

"No, stop that, I'm serious! I know how to fix this!"

He froze at that, blinking in surprise before slowly craning his neck to look at her. Just her face. Nowhere else. She was grinning at him, her mismatched eyes bright and excited, even if she had her thick hair plastered all over her face. He resisted the urge to swipe it all down, to get it out of her face, and was relieved when she finally did it herself.

"I can reset the island. All the buildings, the paths, the vegetation lost to the fires, the animals—I can get it all back to the way it was. I can get Luna back quicker!"

Elation just about nearly filled him to the core, but it a poisonous thought tainted it just as quickly.

"But that would mean bringing back Himiko."

Her smile dropped and so did her eyes. Her shoulders slumped while the hand holding her towel up at her chest curled inward a little more tightly.

"That's…that's the downside."

"That would also mean bringing back the Solarii and the Oni again."

She sighed, pulling the fabric taut against her. "Okay. Another downside. I know it's not ideal, but neither is letting this island become an even bigger graveyard."

The words 'not again' hung heavily in the air, unspoken but they were there all the same.

He thought back to what she'd said about the dynamics of the island. The vegetation was very nearly destroyed all over the island. The herbivores needed a large source of it to survive. Sure, the predators would eventually have weakened prey to take down, but when the rest of the herds followed, they would rot to the point that not even the scavengers would eat them. The surviving Solarii would also lose out on sources of food. The Oni would eventually lose theirs. The entire island would slowly waste away and the only creatures that could safely leave or even benefit from the eventual fallout would be the birds and the insects.

The only way he could actually agree on, even if reluctantly, was to reset the island.

Allen nodded. "Do it. We can deal with the backlash afterwards."

There was a hesitant relief that dawned on her face, slowly but surely. There was caution lining her expression though, lingering still.

"You know what that backlash entails to," she said softly.

He pursed his lips and exhaled slowly, nodding. "I know."

Ash hesitated, looking torn between the words she wanted to say. What they were, he had a semblance of a clue, but he didn't want to jump to conclusions. It was probably why he was more surprised by her next words than anything as she turned on her pawed heel. "I'll try not to kill them if I don't have to. But Mathias has got to go."

She left with that hanging in the air between them.

OoOoOoOoOoO

The sea was the colour of an uninviting gunmetal grey. The waters were cold, the air was cold…everything just felt cold. The island seemed to be draped in a faint aftertaste of death that just wouldn't leave, and it was starting to settle in his bones. Even wrapped in layers, he wasn't feeling any warmer, now that he was alone. Standing next to Ash was like standing next to a living furnace. He was beginning to miss her warm presence.

Apprehension was gnawing at his gut as he watched Ash shrinking in the distance, paddling out on a raft made of crude driftwood. The progress was slow with the waters choppy and impeding her path. But she was determined and bulldogged her way through the waves. Only when she was just barely visible did it grow concerning. The waves were growing bigger. More determined to herd her back into the bay and toward the island. Ash defiantly pushed onward.

The waves continued to grow. The sky, already a deep grey with the overcast clouds, suddenly darkened until it was almost as if night had fallen. Thunder rumbled above the beach, a deep rolling growl that continued on and on and on. Allen couldn't see her anymore. The sea had grown as dark the clouds and her form was gone between the rising valleys and mountains made by the water.

The seawaters rose and suddenly, it was like a hand swatting away at the surface of the sea and at the same time, he heard a voice cry out in the skies above. Lightning forked its way across the skies, stabbing into the sea with a brilliant silvery light. He didn't catch what the voice said, but he saw the sea erupt in a gushing torrent before everything began to settle. The sea calmed, the clouds lightened up, and everything was as it was before the sudden violence.

He stared out, eyes frantically scanning the water, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. There was no sign of Ash. He saw something bobbing along out there, and a small ray of hope welled inside him before he realized it was the driftwood raft. It had broken into pieces, he realized as he began to notice other bobbing little somethings. Dread wormed its way into his gut, tying up into hard little knots until it felt like something was eating away at him.

She's done this before, he kept telling himself. Ash knows what she's doing. She's reset the island before. This is probably normal.

The word 'probably' struck him hard. He's never actually seen her reset Yamatai. She's talked about it in the past, true enough. Hearing about it and seeing it for himself were two completely different things.

It dawned on him that the most he could do was wait and watch. He hated the waiting. He hated watching the pieces of driftwood either float away from sight or slowly be pulled back to the beaches. He hated being the one left to wait idly by, twiddling his thumbs, feeling utterly and completely useless because there was little he else he could do to help.

He was nothing more but a ball of worried, frayed nerves curled in on himself for what felt like hours when he heard the sound of retching and frantic coughing somewhere close by. He searched and searched until he caught a flurry of movement near the docks, flailing arms and a body dragging itself onto the sands. Allen leapt down onto the beach, rolling into the fall and quickly meeting the now-collapsed prone form of Ash. Foamy waves rolled over her legs and stopped at her waist, turning a frothy pink near her foot.

She was laughing when he trotted over and she threw a fist in the air.

"Whoo! Fuck you, ocean! Eat a bag of dicks!"

"What happened to you? I was waiting for you to surface, but you never did!"

"Oh, piece of shrapnel from a sunken boat; seafloor's littered with them. I'm good, I just gotta yank it out." Ash groaned and rolled to her side and sat up, pulling her foot up to view. Lodged through was a piece of rusted, pitted metal, the edges jagged and quickly stained red with gore and blood. Allen's stomach churned at the sight. She hissed quietly under her breath, wincing as she poked and prodded.

"I got caught on one of the wrecks and couldn't get myself free so I had to break the part I was stuck on, piece by piece as I made my way over." She stifled a whine as she gave an experimental tug. "Oh, this is gonna suck…"

"Here, let me help—" He moved forward, reaching for the metal, but she jerked it away from his reach, pushing him away with her free hand.

"Nooooope, this thing is riddled with a whole lot of nasty that I can't fix if you get hurt. It's not just a cut you'd have to contend with if that happens; tetanus, blood poisoning, infection, just to name a few, and there's a lot more that I don't even know about off the top of my head. Nor am I medically trained to know." She sighed as she gingerly turned her pawed foot over. "And I don't have the meds to compete with that if you got hurt. We've got limited stock. Just let me do my thing. I'll heal up and then we'll go home. Okay?"

Allen hesitated, wanting to argue, but the softer tone she took gave him pause. Her voice brooked no room for argument like usual, and yet…there was something else there too, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Reluctantly, he sighed and stepped back.

"All right. Just try not to hurt yourself any more than you already do."

She snorted. "Yeah, it's a bit late for that."

Turning her attention back to the shrapnel in her foot, gripped what she could in one hand and took a long, deep breath. With an abrupt jerk, she yanked it out and, predictably, began cursing up a storm.

Allen sighed before helping drag her out of the waters just as she began muttering dark promises of retributions to all the sunken wrecks hiding beneath the waves. But, most of all, she kept cursing Himiko's name with her usual string of insults. For some strange, unexplainable reason, that brought a small smile to his lips.

Typical.

OoOoOoOoOoO

True to Ash's word, all the damage that had been sustained over the entirety of the island had completely reset itself to its former glory.

If one could call it glory. Allen would call it a congregation of wrecks and ruins, but that was just him. He hadn't noticed any of it at first, not when he was busy attending to helping Ash, making sure no other shrapnel was left in her foot before they left the beach.

It took a week for everything to settle back to normal, although the Solarii and the other residents were none the wiser to the changes. In the interim, Luna had returned, true to Ash's predictions and elation. Her nerves seemed settled after laying eyes on the Dakotaraptor's visage after she returned from her interlude in dispatching Himiko. The strained, taut energy that had wound its way throughout home had eased up considerably, and it actually felt safe to freely breathe.

Ash kept Luna around for another week or so, but once the raptor started to feel antsy and cooped up, she was left to find the pack and run loose along the island. Outside, the air was growing colder.

"It's getting close to winter," Ash said absently as she nursed a warm cup of tea. Allen had come to find she wasn't much of a tea person, but around the colder days, she always craved something hot. She would grudgingly stick with the tea, as she wanted to reserve her limited stock of coffee for special days. It wasn't in his particular tastes, either, but he liked a tad more than she did.

"We should probably start stocking up on more wood, then." He glanced over toward the wall where they stored their firewood and motioned to it when she glanced his way. "We're getting low enough as it is, anyway."

She craned her neck to view the wall herself, humming softly and settled back onto the couch, taking a sip from her cup.

"We'll go in the morning, then. It's getting dark out right about now." With that said, she drained the last dregs in her cup, paused to eye the emptied inside and set it on the table after. "And we should probably restock our pantry."

The pantry was one of the additions they had gained since the benders had come through. It held a lot more food, and it served as a great storage unit for it all: from the meats being hung to cure and be turned into jerky, to the plants hanging from the ceiling, or the preserved canned goods and dry foods from the boat. The last he checked, they were indeed running low. She fell quiet after that, but it felt unusual, worried. Brooding, even. Her typical energy was lacking and it concerned him. She was actually sitting still. No fidgeting hands were seeking to do something, whether it was crafting something new or repairing something worn. In fact, she'd been like this most of the day.

When he sat beside her, she barely noticed, not until he gently prodded her shoulder. She hardly reacted to that, just giving him a scant glance, her lips pursing together and her brow knit closely into a furrow.

"Are you all right?" She looked ready to spout off her usual tirade and he pointed at her, stopping her words. "And don't tell me you're fine. You're not. You're actually sitting still and not doing anything at all. In fact, you've been like that all day."

Ash clacked her jaw shut, and he saw it twitch slightly. The gears were turning in her head, but what she was thinking, it could have been anyone's guess. She finally averted her gaze, slumping in her seat.

"You've been here five years, as of today."

He stared at her, uncomprehending at first. It dawned on him slowly, but surely.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded and exhaled long and slow and quietly. Her lips were still pursed into a tight, thin line. Next thing, she'd probably start chewing on them and he wished time and again that she wouldn't do that…

"Yeah, I…started keeping track of things and paying closer attention to the days since you got here. At first, I wanted to see how long it took for you to finally go 'peace I'm out' and leave, but after a while…" She shrugged, catching his eye for only a moment. "I started keeping track because…it felt important. I don't know how long I've been here, I've lost track of so much time, so many years because it didn't feel important anymore, but now it…it does."

She stopped there and waited, and it was with baited breath, trying to assess how he'd react. It was as though she was waiting to see if her response was going to ignite something with him, but she wasn't entirely sure what it would be. Her entire body was edgy, he noticed, from the straight line of her back to the jutting curve of her shoulders. It was as though she was weighing her options between fight-or-flight and was leaning toward the latter.

When he offered her a tentative smile, some of the tension bled out of her frame, but not quite all of it. She was still charged with enough energy for a good leap well away from him.

"I can't say it's been an easy time, for either of us, but at least neither of us was alone for it."

When he offered his hand to her, she stared blankly for only a moment, like it was a foreign object. After a moment's consideration, she slid her hand into his and he gently curled his fingers inward over hers, warmth radiating from her hand and right up into his. If he had shown this kind of gesture to her years ago, she wouldn't have responded at all, except to maybe get up and walk away. How much has changed. He barely noticed when he began to absently run his thumb along the back of her hand.

"I'll be honest, I never expected for my life to end up with me being here. I always expected…something else. I thought, at the very least, the Secret War would be over and after that…" He hesitated, thoughts coming to a standstill. He had never really thought about the aftermath of the war. What would he have been doing, if things had gone the way he had been hoping? There would be no need for Exorcists or the Black Order. Time and again, he thought of it, but never in great detail. Never for an extended period of time.

He had to remind himself that he wasn't there anymore. He couldn't go back, no matter how much he wanted, no matter how much he wished to. He was here, and he was lucky to have a friend here too, instead of being completely and utterly alone. His world was gone, swept away in the past. The thought depressed him a bit more than he cared to admit.

Ash waited for him to speak and he realized rather belatedly he had fallen completely silent in the interim of his thoughts. Allen cleared his throat. "Sorry. I just…lost track of what I was saying. Ah." He grinned sheepishly at her. "Thank you. For letting me stay, I mean. I still can't believe it's been five years. It's a bit surreal to think about."

And it really was. Five years? The time didn't seem to add up, but in the end, it did. He really has been here for five years.

"I technically didn't let you stay," Ash pointed out. "You chose to stay. I just gave you a room to use."

He laughed softly at that. "Regardless, I'm still thanking you, you can't stop me from doing that either." He gave her hand a squeeze, only then just realizing he was still holding it. She hadn't pulled away yet and he was reluctant to let go. Just a little longer.

"And I want to work on my promise to you. To find a way we can both leave. Together."

She almost pulled away, but stopped when he held onto her hand, just a little tighter, to remind her he was still there, he wasn't going anywhere and she stopped. She didn't try to snatch herself away like she probably would have done a year ago, two years ago, definitely five years ago. She stopped, held still, watching him with guarded eyes. He couldn't tell if she was being completely skeptical in her silence or if she was weighing whether it was a valid task either of them could undertake.

"I'm not leaving until then," he pressed on adamantly. She frowned.

"That could take years. It's been hundreds for me. It's been five for you. We're not any closer today than we were yesterday or I was years ago."

"You don't know that. And I'm not going to give up." He gave her hand another gentle squeeze. "You shouldn't either."

Ash continued watching him, and he saw the doubt welling up in her face, pooling up in her eyes, could already hear the protests building up in her head and forming words on her lips. He promptly put his other hand over her mouth and the effect was immediate. Ash's shoulders slumped, her ears fell down against her head, and she stared at him with the obvious question of, 'Are you serious right now?'

He smiled. "No. No more 'buts' regarding it. I realize it's a bit of a task, but I don't think it's impossible. We just…have to figure something else out that you haven't tried. Okay?"

Ash made quite a show of rolling her eyes, but she nodded all the same, reached up and tugged his hand down.

"Fine, Mr. Optimism. We'll try things your way. Which, by the way…do you even have a plan?"

"Erm…not yet…" He scratched the back of his head, feeling more than a little embarrassed and it reflected even more so in his stilted laugh. "But, I'm sure we'll figure something out! I just wish I could access the Ark here; it'd make things a lot easier…"

He saw the light of recognition in her eyes when he mentioned the Ark, but she chose not to comment on it. She still had his hand clasped in hers; his left hand, he belatedly noticed and she was staring at the cross embedded in the back of it, at the glint of the Innocence there.

"It could take years," she repeated more stringently. "Why are you wasting your time on one person like this? On me?"

When she met his gaze, her eyes were searching, frantic for an answer, but what it was, he didn't know exactly. What did she want him to say?

He carefully extricated both his hands from hers and cupped her face again.

"Because you're my friend. I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't like giving up on my friends." He grinned suddenly and he could tell that alone threw her off by a mile. "Besides, someone has to help patch you up when you can't do it yourself. And I have to make sure the first thing you get when we're off this island is tiramisu!"

She looked appropriately startled at his declaration and it was what he was aiming for. He didn't want her brooding anymore; the grim, uncertain look on her face didn't suit her. Slowly, a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips and she was relaxed, finally. She had been nothing but a ball of pent up tension most of the day, especially in the last hour.

"Fine. Your optimism wins this round," she relented with a soft laugh. "I still expect a plan in the near future."

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied dryly with a faint smile in return. Carefully, she reached up and tugged one of his hands down and he belatedly realized he was still holding her, had leaned in so close, he was completely enveloped in the radius of the natural heat she emitted. It was refreshing compared to the chill of the rest of the cave, except by the fire, of course.

She didn't pull his other hand away, he noticed. She had her hand still pinned on top of his, keeping it in place where it rested, cupping her face. Her eyes slid shut and she sighed.

"I refuse to forget another person. I refuse to let go of this. I'm not letting it happen anymore. I won't let it."

She squeezed his hand, and when she opened her eyes, they were both blazing hot gold, a pair of twin flames beating back the dark. There was a steely, adamant determination lining her face—from the set of her jaw to the crinkle near the top of her nose that was slight snarl, he could believe in what she was saying. If he cracked open a dictionary and looked up the word 'resolute', he was pretty sure a picture of her face as it was in that moment would be right beside it. There was more steely resolve in her want to keep her memories intact than with getting off the island, but it was something he hadn't quite seen before until now.

"I don't know why this place makes me forget. Or maybe I just let myself forget, but I don't want to anymore. I don't—" She faltered, her hand squeezing his tighter. "I don't want to forget you."

He wasn't sure who had leaned in first. One moment, he was taken aback by her statement, a half-smile curving his lips upwards, the next he was breathing in her scent—

(pine sap, sea salt, campfire wood smoke, so vivid and heady and all rolled into one)

—and her lips—

(surprisingly soft, so inviting and hot to the touch, he was sharing a kiss with fire incarnate)

—were pressed flush to his. And she wasn't pulling away or tearing herself from him like the last time. The weight of her pressed up against him, a constant, a steady wave of heat enveloping him like always when he was close, but he never knew she was this soft. He was used to thinking of her as lean and hard, lined with nothing but toned muscle. Not supple and soft to the touch like she was now, not pliable enough to mold itself against another body. And against his body, no less.

He didn't focus on that as much as he did the feel of one of her hands threading through his hair, making his scalp tingle pleasantly, or the way her other hand clutched at his shirt, keeping him pinned close. He pulled away for a moment, if only to breathe but it was short-lived and he was diving back in again, tentative and slow. She, in turn, was more active, now tugging at his shirt with a restless and renewed energy. He was late in realizing what she intended and she already had ripped his shirt, much to his dismay.

She pulled away long enough to mutter in apology, "I can fix that later," before pressing her lips against his again and he was enveloped in another wave of warmth. Her fingers traced light patterns against his exposed flesh, thin trails of pleasing heat carving their way across his chest, past the massive scar across his body and a satisfying shudder trailed down his spine in response.

A part of him had wanted this for some time now, even if he wanted to quash the desire, stamp it out of existence—especially after the last time. He had wanted to respect she didn't feel comfortable with the idea of a relationship beyond what they had, but now…

A part of him wanted to give in. He wanted to have the taste of her to linger on his lips, to feel her bare skin pressed up against his…

That thought stood out so vividly and suddenly that he pulled away abruptly, clutching at her shoulders to keep her at arm's length at the same time as he caught his breath.

"What changed?" He asked, and he sounded breathless as he met her startled, wide-eyed gaze. He tried to glean an answer from her eyes—mismatched now, one blue-grey like the stormy sea, the other a lively gold, both touched with a fevered light in them—but there was nothing yielding. She was looking back at him in that same searching manner, her hands gently resting on his forearms, and she actually looked properly stunned. It dawned on him that she didn't know any more than he did.

"Does it matter?" She softly countered. He could think a little straighter now and the longer he had a grasp on clarity—

(don't think about the way her fingers had danced across bare skin, the way she tasted, the way she smelled, the way she had felt pressed close)

—the more he had time to pull together coherent thoughts. And the more Allen watched her, the more he could see building up behind her eyes, the more he could make out. A lump grew in his throat when he saw something he least expected, not just in her eyes, but the way she was holding herself now. Drawn up shoulders, stiff body, all sharp angles and leaning toward one conclusion: get ready to run.

He's rarely seen that look of worry and utter distress on her face and it was slowly being etched into her features now. Allen tried to relax, hoping she'd mirror him.

"It should matter," he replied quietly. "It shouldn't be some spur-of-the-moment thing based on a split-second decision."

Her words came back with an echo, tainting his thoughts. "You are trying to pry open a door that can't be closed once it is opened."

The bitter irony struck him hard because he honestly couldn't recall who had initiated it this time. Had he leaned in first, like the last time, or had she beaten him to the punch?

"What is it you want? What changed?"

She studied him and the open blankness was rather new. The tension and stress that usually marred her face, the guardedness she kept up everyone else and even around him was gone. He probably would have failed to lie if someone asked him then and there if he thought Ash looked beautiful to him in that moment. Her hair, usually swept back and tied up, tumbled messily over her shoulders and down her back, thick mahogany tresses tipped in vermillion. Shorter tufts lined her brow and framed her face, brushing against her high cheekbones. There was one particular strand that was sitting just off kilter to her left eye and he swept it away without thinking. He tried not to focus on the painfully earnest way she looked at him, staying still like a deer frozen in lamplight as he did.

His gaze traced over her lips and he recalled with vivid lucidity the way they had burned against his like liquid fire and a part of him ached to taste them again. He tried to ignore the way it made his heart beat twice as fast just thinking about it.

"I don't know anymore," she finally answered, her voice quiet and soft. So unlike her. Too small. Her voice was too small and quiet and reserved. It didn't suit her any more than the fear colouring her eyes. Her hands still gripped his forearms and they squeezed him, gently, carefully, mindful of the claws tipping her fingers—

(those had been surprisingly gratifying to feel, the way they had gently raked along his skin, carving invisible lines in the wake of the heat her fingers left)

"—but I want to believe in that promise, I want to believe that for once, I might get off this fucking hellhole, and that I might…" She stopped herself short, taking in a long, shuddering breath. She squeezed him a little harder, her brows knitting together as she looked at him again, searching. "I want to believe that so much, it hurts. I want to believe I'm not a worthless case and that I might have a chance—I actually want to hope. And it's all your fault."

The way she spat out the last few words, it didn't sound like an accusation. It certainly didn't sound like she was placing blame, either. It sounded more like…gratitude.

He offered a faint smile, as the tension in her frame that had her drawn taut and ready to spring at any given moment finally left her. The anxiety and dread that riddled her mismatched eyes was fading, leaving behind faint traces of apprehension, an uncertainty in traversing into uncharted waters, but there was hope left behind. A growing well of confidence that bolstered him as well.

"And…us?" Allen pressed tentatively. There was still that matter and ignoring it could only go on for so long. He didn't want to risk tearing apart the relationship they already had preserved between them, but it was a question he both needed and dreaded asking. She watched him for a long while, and there she went, she began nibbling at her lower lip. He had to resist from stopping her, even though if he didn't, she'd eventually bite through and then she'd be bleeding…

Thankfully, she stopped shortly after starting, if only to answer.

"I think I want to try."

He didn't protest when she rushed forward this time, her lips crashing into his and that intoxicating aroma of hers—pinesapseasaltwoodsmoke—came assailing him in a welcome flash, the feel of her hands pawing at him and his at hers in return, her heat flushing into him. He quickly found himself fumbling along the further it went, his inexperience becoming rather painfully obvious, but she was slow in return, patient, guiding. She halted in her earlier fevered energy in lieu of slower responses. Allen couldn't recall when or how they managed it, but they were suddenly in his room, the both of them already half-undressed, with her underneath him on his bed. He shivered with every swipe of her fingers across his bare skin and every time she exhaled a whimpering moan because of what he did to her…

Well, it certainly meant he must be doing something right.

He reveled in how it felt to have Ash's body pressed to his, the air electric between them. When her clothes were finally torn away, he could see the scars on Ash more clearly, most of them pale rakes torn asunder across her body. He traced the pads of his fingers across one of them, just above her navel, while his eyes trailed up to meet hers. He could already see the answers etched in her face to the unspoken question he had on his lips. She didn't remember where she'd gotten them from and asking wasn't going to make the memories magically appear. And frankly, this probably wasn't the time to be asking anyway. He chose not to voice it and instead dipped his head down to meet his lips with hers.

Allen groaned when she bucked her hips upwards against his, exhaling sharply at the sudden flare of his arousal. When he pulled away just enough to look in her eyes, he was surprised by how hoarse his voice sounded when he asked, "What now?"

It was difficult to push aside the way his body thrummed with anticipation, or the way his heart was beating so fast. He tried to keep his focus on Ash's face, on her eyes. He could see flecks of amber in the stormy blue-grey one, but he couldn't tell if it was the wolf in her rising or if they were natural speckles. Ash raised herself up just enough to brush her lips against his, fleeting and chaste, before turning her head toward his ear just enough to say quietly, "It's your choice."

The door had been thrown wide open at her words that had been uttered almost akin to an invitation.

He hesitated, only briefly, with his hands on her thighs, holding her tight and he was startled when she slowly lifted one of her legs, hooking it against his hip. It was the last push he needed before he was diving back into her scent, her warmth, the need to feel her skin gliding against his. He let off another groan when her hips bucked against his again, a pleasant shudder racing all over him, both from the way she had rubbed against his length and at the way her hands wandered and explored, tracing searing patterns on his skin.

When he finally slipped inside her, he took a moment to revel in the feeling of her around him, tight and warm and moist. His awe was short-lived and it quickly turned to raw hunger, a sudden need to keep going. He rocked his hips into hers, relishing in the soft whimpers and moans she made as she moved with him. A ragged groan escaped past his lips as he gathered her up closer to him, his face buried against her neck.

The mix of her scent, of crushed pine and wood smoke and the hint of sea salt, was more potent up close. It was dizzying and intoxicating, and it brought out a single thought, a brief moment of clarity and possessiveness that punched through: Mine.

Ash was his and his alone.

The way Ash whispered his name in his ear was almost like a prayer, a plea that urged him to keep going. He obliged, slowly increasing his pace. She knotted her fingers through his hair, moments before she stiffened and arched into him, a wordless cry on her lips as she reached her climax. It didn't take him much longer to follow her example, teetering on the edge until release, riding down his spine like liquid fire.

The minutes ticked by as they lay there afterwards, winding down and catching their breath. She stirred after some time, if only to twist around from her side and entangle her legs with his, curling into him with her face buried into the crook of his neck. Ash's breathe came in soft ghostly puffs, tickling against his skin. He didn't want to move, didn't want to be the one to end the moment. He wanted it to linger as long as possible, to cling to the feeling of contentedness. Allen draped an arm across her back, pinning her closer still, his fingers tangling in her hair. The blankets were still kicked to the side, but they didn't need them. Ash was warm enough for the both of them.

Allen could already tell she was asleep and he was halfway there. He let his thoughts drift until they scattered like embers in the wind and eventually he was gone and asleep as well.

OoOoOoOoOoO