Don't Go

Notes: Set during chapter 23 of Left Behind. And look, a scene from Ash's perspective!

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It was their second Christmas together and Allen had yet to see the tree. She still wasn't sure if this was a good idea. She barely recalled what Christmas was for anymore, except the vague exchange of gifts, decorating a pine tree—Yamatai had the wrong species, she remembered that much—and well…people to celebrate with. Last year seemed to have gone on with some amount of success, but this year, she was still unsure.

She found herself cursing herself for worrying.

This was Allen. Of course he was going to like it. It was hard hitting the buttons that made him go from loving something to hating it, but it was plausible to accomplish. He'd probably love the damned Compies more, if they hadn't tried to eat his face nearly four years ago. They were deceptively adorable little shits, even by her standards. Besides, she's worked too hard to back out now, and she wasn't going to let her time spent planning all this go to waste. She's let herself back out of too many things because of doubt and second-guessing herself in the past.

When he finally had emerged from his room, the first thing he did, predictably, was hug her. Ah yes. He was fond of giving those out. She's since grown used to letting him do so. The light, affectionate kiss on the cheek was something he was slow to introduce, peppering it every now and again sparingly. It was…nice, letting someone in like this. To become familiar with them up close and personal. A part of her, she's come to find in recent years, is that she felt satisfied with the attention and starved of it when she didn't have it. It tore away what little armour she had left around her, exposing a very vulnerable bit of herself she hasn't allowed to see the light of day in years. Decades. Perhaps centuries. It was new and different and terrifying, leaving herself open like that, in letting herself remain that way in front of someone else. She had forgotten what it felt like to allow herself to be open like this.

She was even more surprised when Allen didn't take advantage of that. It wasn't just the inexperience at an intimate relationship that kept him at bay at times, but it was the genuine concern he exhibited when around her. He knew she wasn't used to that level of intimacy, hasn't been for years, and he wanted to show he respected her need to grow used to that. It wasn't just for her though. It was just as much for the both of them, to see where things went. He was trying. The most she could do was offer the same courtesies he afforded her, to not push him away.

After they had both eaten and he had torn open his gifts and well after he had sobbed over the sketchbook she gave him featuring those he'd lost, she broke open a bottle of red wine. The label had been torn, so she wasn't sure what year it was, but it had been sweet and warm and delicious to the taste. He declined at first, trying to remain steadfast in his decision to opt out of drinking with her. They spoke for a while, making plans for several things—more exploration, practice runs at the range, the next hunt, and she even teased the idea of going down to the sea caves to find salvage that washed in with the current.

When he had finally decided that perhaps one small glass wouldn't hurt, it was all she could do to hide her giddy delight. She had never truly wanted to pressure him into drinking with her; she wanted him to decide of his own volition. She wanted him to always have the choice to say yes or no to something that was easily within his grasp. It was possibly this flaw of hers that has given him invitation to extend his stay with her for years instead of days.

Choice.

She has tried, over the years, to never truly take it away from any survivor who came upon and wanted to leave Yamatai. Even when it seemed like she was herding them along with her own agenda in mind, she tried to never truly control anyone. Having the ability to choose for oneself was important.

Ash was glad he had chosen to drink, even if it was just the one glass, but she would have been fine if he had never touched a drop that night at all. Disappointed, but fine. As it turned out, Allen really was a lightweight. He barely finished the one and only glass he had for the night before falling under the wine's sway.

She found that hilarious, up until he started growling at the tree to stop looking at her. Or was it the tree decorations? She couldn't tell after some point and she had to drag him back to the couch to keep him from slicing it up after he summoned his clawed left hand. He even whined at some point for the little golden golem decoration to come down and meet her, but the wooden carving remained adamantly stuck at the top of the tree. She distracted him with tender kisses on his mouth, his nose, his eyelids, even on the scar on his brow and cheek. She whispered sweet nothings and promises that he wouldn't remember later on but she would. She'd hold herself to them, whether he recalled or not.

After she had his attention fully on her, when he'd forgotten all about his intent on pummeling the tree, he broke down. She hadn't been expecting that.

They weren't tears of joy like they had been earlier. He was purely grief-stricken.

Suddenly, seeing him intoxicated wasn't so funny. Not when he was like this.

"Please…please don't ever make me leave. I can't lose anyone else, not again…I can't."

The way he gripped her, it was like a dying man trying to cling on to the last bits of life he had left, to not slip away. He was holding her like he was afraid she'd disappear at any moment.

As awkward as she felt, she also realized that he was offering her a piece of him he hasn't shown her before. He could be deceivingly open about many things, but deep down, she had a feeling he had plenty of things hidden away in his head that he had yet to share with her. He had secrets he wasn't ready to divulge, fears he wasn't ready to admit he had—even to himself.

She gathered his face in her hands, gently and with care, the realization dawning on her just how broken he really was and how well he hid it, even from her. "I won't. I won't make you go."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise, I won't."

"Promise?" He pressed, his voice just barely above a whisper.

"I promise. Okay? I promise I won't." She pressed her lips to his once, twice, and lingered longer the third time. "I don't want you to go. And I won't make you go if you don't want to."

He leaned in, stealing another kiss and pulling her in tight. When he pulled away, he blurted something out. She blinked at him, having not caught it and he repeated it, asking, "Do you love me?"

She stared, taken aback by the inquiry for only a moment. It didn't take any longer for her to answer him and she surprised herself with her own answer. She didn't want to be weighed down by any doubts or worries or fears.

"Yes."

"You promise?"

She gathered his face in her hands again, and he leaned into the touch, watching her as sharply as one could when they were under the influence. Ash has come to find that she loved his silvery-grey eyes. They were always filled with a hope she thought she had lost in herself a long time ago. Every time he looked at her, however, she found it was beginning to rekindle itself inside her. She found it equal parts terrifying and funny how he could do that and perhaps not even realize what an impact he's had on her.

"I love you, Allen Walker, and if anyone else ever says otherwise, they can go fuck right off. Okay?"

He stared at her with his hazed over stare, before giving her a slightly lopsided grin. He leaned forward to kiss her again, but it was less artful this time. He pulled away, sighing and rested his head on her shoulder.

"Tell me that again in the morning…when I'm sober."

Ash snorted, but she said she would. She allowed him to remain there for a few minutes, to hold her tight. He needed this more than he would have ever let on when sober, more than he'd probably care to admit. She wasn't the only one who has been starved of affection and for much too long, it seems like.

After some time passed, she gently roused him. He was half-asleep, but woke all the same, his hair a little mussed. She laughed softly and smoothed a particularly outstanding lock of white. He watched her with some amount of returning clarity.

"You want to go to bed?"

He nodded. "Yes, please. Oh…my book. I want—I want my book."

"You can bring your book," she said softly, reaching over to grab it off the coffee table and she handed it to him. He held it tightly to his chest and sniffled, his eyes beginning to mist over.

"Thank you. You don't realize how much this means to me. You gave them back."

Ash helped him up, letting him lean on her as she walked with him, her arm draped along his waist to keep him steady.

"I think I have an idea of how much it does."

He sniffled again as they strode towards his room.

"Can I have another kiss?"

"You will probably never realize this, but you are a rather cute drunk half the time."

"Am not."

"I wish I had a video camera so I can show you all this."

"Whassat?"

"A wonderful device to blackmail people doing stupid stuff with."

"…that sounds fun."

Ash broke out grinning. This was more along the lines of what she had in mind for Allen. She didn't want him brooding and broken and sad. It was painful to watch and it reminded her too much of herself, but with less pieces of her puzzle to work with. She wanted him to smile again.

"Well, then, remind me to buy us a video camera if we ever get off this wet rock and we'll go be jackasses together."

He sniffed pointedly, looking mildly offended. "I'm not a jackass. You can be, though."

"Woooow. Welcome to the Dark Side, Allen, I think we might have cookies somewhere around here." He brightened at the mention of cookies, craning his neck to look around them. She sighed. "Not literally. It's an expression."

He wilted as they crossed the threshold of his room.

"That was mean."

"Says the drunk man."

"S'your fault." He complained. She helped him to sit on his bed. He snatched up her hand and gave it a squeeze, watching her pleadingly. "Don't go. Please."

She studied him carefully before she nodded. "Okay. I won't."

"You promise?"

She sat down and slowly, wrapped an arm around his waist once again, resting her head against his shoulder. She felt him slump a little, his head coming to lean on hers, his arm pulling her in closer still. She could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, and it was a soothing noise. Ash closed her eyes.

"I promise."