Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.
NOTE: This is a CIM (Curse is Magical) chapter. CIM supposes a curse can restore beyond what is capable by the human body. Please note that CIM and CIP chapters shared some content. They simply moved in different directions.
-x-
He couldn't quite bring himself to take it down.
Komui leaned against the opposite counter, as he had done so many times in the past months. It seemed like there was a permanent hollow now in his back for it, the two of them fit together so perfectly. This room, built by him in a replica of the one they had left behind in the old headquarters, it was the one part of the facility that was truly his. Improved upon by him. Made specifically for him.
It would not be so comfortable for anyone who was taller. He was lucky, he was tall by Chinese standards, but still on the shorter side of average for Europe. And it was a European, probably Section Chief Peck that would take this office. He was taller, taller than Reever even, and this place wouldn't fit him.
It wasn't large enough to hide that man's secrets. He would have to expand it, to include a place for the leftovers of the Third Exorcist project.
And that meant Komui had to remove the leftovers of his own project. Kanda.
The butcher paper stared down at him, the lines beginning to run and crowd together towards the center, and Komui smiled at it, tilting his head upwards in an effort to keep the tears in his eyes. He hadn't cried, not for Kanda, not for himself, not even for Lenalee, and here at the end of things it didn't seem appropriate, somehow.
Kanda certainly had not cried. Not even when Rhode tore him apart. He had told the Nigerian that she had taken 'his people,' and at the time he had not thought to ask what that meant. Who was it that Kanda considered his people? The Japanese, who might never recover from what the Earl had done to that country? The Order? Lenalee, and Lavi, Allen and Marie and the other Exorcists?
Did he have that special title, to be one of Kanda's people?
His smile grew, and the tears used the deeper wrinkles of his eyes to spill out and escape. The butcher paper was watching, but of course it wasn't going to have the opportunity to tell anyone. He honestly wasn't sure what to do with it. Throwing it away was like throwing the struggle away, throwing away the hope that there was still something he could do about it. Leaving it for his successor to throw away was no better than what he was doing to Kanda, to Allen, to the Exorcists.
To Lenalee.
He told himself that he could still protect them from America. He told himself that Epstein would let him. He told himself this wasn't goodbye, and he'd seen Lenalee again soon.
He told himself if he looked hard enough, he'd be able to get Kanda back.
Tiedoll was right. He lied.
And keeping that butcher paper was like keeping his mistake, folded neatly in stacks of records that Bridget would no longer be around to go through. It wasn't the kind of thing that one ought to keep in their hope chest, after all. There were other things in that chest, sitting in storage on the mainland, if it was still there.
Their parents' things. He had sold the house soon after the Order took Lenalee, having decided that wherever she was would be home, but there had been a few things he was not comfortable with leaving behind. They were small things, his mother's favorite shawl, permanently bearing the homemade perfume she wore and gave as gifts during holidays. There were his father's harrows, rusted from their last use in the rice fields that had paid for his education. There was Lenalee's first toy, which had been his as well as a baby.
It was more than half empty, he had hoped to fill it with things for her and present it to her when she was married.
And this, this timeline of pain and betrayal, it had no place there.
The lines scurried away from him now, terrified of his hands as he tore them down, sheet by sheet. The colors all ran together, which made no sense as all the water was in his eyes and not on the paper, and pins fell around him in a shower. But it was no match for him, the paper was crumpled and there was a fire in the metal trash bin before he thought to wonder where the box of matches in his hand had come from.
There was venting in the room, in case an Akuma penetrated it and was destroyed the gas needed somewhere to go. The fans kicked on automatically, removing the smoke, and his watering eyes made out the writing on the box, a hotel in India.
This was the box of matches they'd recovered from Cross Marian's quarters, after his disappearance. Like other memories, it too had a place in this room.
He felt himself smile again, sadly, and wondered at the symbolism there a moment before he gently set them down. His glasses were off and cleaned on his shirt, his eyes were wiped, and then he took a deep breath and began gathering the memories worth taking with him.
It was called a hope chest for a reason.
-x-
The library was not the quiet place it once was.
For one, there were a lot of Order personnel in it. Because it was not yet fully unpacked, and everyone had better things to do than to make it tidy, it was rather a mess of half-opened boxes from where the science or research teams had torn through for a specific text or translation. It was a veritable maze and sound didn't travel well, which made it an excellent place to have a secret discussion.
The problem was that everyone thought so.
Lavi had therefore decided the best thing to do was to listen. And being that the rows were not rows so much as lines of debris, the top of the bookcases seemed a better place to listen to the concert of whispers than anywhere else. And so there he was, on his back lest anyone see his silhouette, in the warm air trapped near the ceiling, listening to the leaves the wind had blown in.
Komui Lee was resigning today. They'd seen the boxes themselves.
Kanda Yuu had been driven insane by the attack last night. She saw him in a wheelchair just that morning, being taken from a secret treatment that might restore his sanity.
Inspector and Secretary Leverrier was going to take over as head supervisor of the Order. The paperwork had already been signed.
They were going to have to move again; the science department was already packing boxes.
The Noah was still on the Order grounds, marauding as one of them.
They were the normal rumors, sans the juicy gossip of who was dating who and who had violated their sacred oaths. And Lavi didn't know if a single one was true.
Someone leapt lightly up on top of the bookcase adjacent and Lavi left his eye closed. Better that the panda think he decided to have a nap than be punished for what was on his mind.
He was being purposefully given these jobs because Bookman didn't want him anywhere near it. He had been at panel every day, and yet now he had been excluded from Leverrier's interrogation of Kanda and the Order's subsequent interrogation involving the Nigerian, of all people. He had been excluded from Allen's reinstatement, and the questioning regarding what role he might have played in whatever happened to Kanda two nights ago.
Kanda was in the infirmary and far from insane, but there was definitely something on his mind he didn't want to share. After he talked to Allen he clammed up and hadn't spoken more than a few words to anyone. And given the way Allen was behaving now, all smiles and hope-
The panda didn't even try to get his attention nicely. His ear was grabbed with iron fingers – literally, since the old man was wearing the fingertips he normally wore when using Heavenly Compass – and Lavi found himself toppling unceremoniously off the bookshelves. They were tall, requiring a staircase on wheels to reach the top, and he had exactly enough time to get Ozuchi Kozuchi free and catch himself without having to resort to rolling on – and possibly dislocating – his shoulder.
Yet despite his initial anger, he said nothing at all when Bookman landed lightly in front of him, and he followed the diminutive old man from the library, ignoring the surprised looks they were getting between shelves.
After all, it was hard to catch yourself with Innocence without talking to it, and he wasn't about to admit that it sometimes wasn't necessary. The closer he grew to that Innocence, the more panda worried about it becoming a crystal type. Innocence that became parasitic would compromise his ability to remain neutral, as it could have effect on his decision-making process.
Which was getting him in trouble anyway, if the set of the old man's shoulders was any indication.
They walked through the halls silently, Lavi grinning at all those they passed, and soon the old man led him to a room he'd only been in during the initial wandering around in their new headquarters. It was a smoking room, with lovely deep upholstery and ornately carved woodwork, and the panda indicated where he wanted Lavi to sit with a sweep of his wide sleeves.
Lavi did so, in synch with the closing of the door.
He expected the slap on the back of his head, and he accepted it only because blocking it would result in worse. He didn't grimace and whine about it, though, remaining upright and stiff on the couch, and he heard a gusty sigh behind him.
"Idiot."
The rest of the people in the library might buy that he was hiding from the old man to take a nap in there, but it was still out of character for Bookman to blow his cover like that. Or to drag him into an unused sitting room to yell at him. Or, really, to hit him when there was no one else around to see it.
Which meant there was someone else around to see it.
Lavi went over his memory of walking into the room again. No golems, none of the bugs they'd used to spy on Cross and Allen's conversation, or at least not visible. There was a vase of flowers that were still alive on the coffee table, and the room was awfully dust-free for being used infrequently.
Why would Bookman bring him to this place . . . ?
"What have you heard?"
Did he really expect him to say? Yet Bookman circled around him, settling himself on the opposite sofa, like they did this all the time, and after giving him a glare Lavi decided he meant it.
"The usual. People've seen Komui packing up but they don't know why. They know Kanda's in the infirmary, but not what's wrong with 'im, they're not happy about all the stiffs from Order administration still hangin' around, and they're rattled about the Noah's visit."
"Hmm," Bookman grunted noncommittally. "You're angry with me."
Again, completely blunt, when it was obvious the room was being monitored. Lavi gave him another look, less of a glare this time, but Bookman's eyes were closed.
Apparently, though, he wasn't waiting for a response. "You resent that you were not included in any of the records made after the Noah apparently took incriminating memories from Kanda."
That was a trap; technically he shouldn't care enough about it to be resentful. But at the same time, records were by far the most important thing to a Bookman, and as far as the Bookmen were concerned, curiosity and unease at being excluded were allowed.
"I-"
"You're an immature idiot," Bookman interrupted blandly. "I am Bookman. You are my apprentice. You shall do what I ask of you, when I ask it of you, without question. That is what it means to be Bookman's apprentice. I have no patience for your adolescent ego."
Lavi just stared at him. Ego had nothing to do with it – he was apprentice to Bookman, and that meant-
That meant what Bookman had just said was a load of crap.
The panda opened his eyes, calm and clear, and Lavi swallowed his protest and reformed it. "I needed that information to include in my own records-"
"You do not." Bookman's eyes closed in approval, though his tone was rough. "Your records are second to mine. It only matters that my records are complete. You shall give me details on what you overheard in the library today, written, before nightfall. I daresay you should begin working on it immediately."
Lavi made a noise of stifled protest, then stood up sharply. He started to say something, then swallowed it, and Bookman growled, low in his throat, though he did not move. "Is there something you want to say, Lavi?"
Lavi waited the appropriate number of beats. "No."
"Good," was the immediate reply. "I expect your work by sundown."
Lavi gave a short, stilted bow, heading for the door and closing it just quietly enough not to be a slam. From there he stalked in the direction of their quarters before turning down one of the halls and letting his shoulders slump a little. He passed the golem in the corner and wandered out onto a balcony. There were golems keeping surveillance there as well, but they were facing outward, trying to spot intruders in the woods. The nearest turned and scanned him, and, recognizing him as an Exorcist, they paid him no more attention.
It helped that there were no doors on this floor, so the golems outside had been programmed to do just that. Security figured the golems on the inside would be sufficient, and they were right.
Panda was going to have a hard time getting to this balcony without being seen, but it wasn't impossible.
In fact, the old man came from above, once again, leaping lightly to Lavi's side a scant five minutes later. He did not lean against the railing as his apprentice was doing, and Lavi did not look at him, content with staring out at the long shadows marking the end of a very frustrating day.
At least he had his answers, now. "So Komui's really leaving, huh?"
There was no other explanation for creating a record that stated that Lavi had been excluded. The object was to protect him from inquiry from the Order's new head supervisor, something that wasn't sitting well with Lavi at all.
"Hmm," Panda said, though it was in the affirmative. "It would appear he is resigning."
"What happened with the Nigerian?"
The old man was silent for a moment. "He is a very powerful man, and adheres staunchly to his principles. He and Komui were professional."
That was probably the best answer he was going to get, so Lavi let it go. He'd read Komui's record before they even arrived at the Order, so he knew of their previous encounter. "And I'm assumin' Leverrier's using last night and Allen's link to the Fourteenth to keep a closer eye on him."
"Lavi." Bookman's voice was hardly a rasp, it was so soft, and Lavi blinked, actually looking at the old man. With the long light, the shadows around his eyes were more pronounced. "You may disagree with my motives but you will obey them in letter and spirit."
Lavi frowned. "I already know too much," he pointed out in what he hoped was a reasonable tone of voice. Between Allen and Cross there was already a question as to whether the Order would ever let either of them go. "What is it about Kanda that makes this more dangerous?"
"Are you becoming attached to him?"
Yes. Lavi was a bit too attached, truth be known, but so was Bookman. It was an answer in and of itself. "So there's a record you've already withheld."
Bookman sighed, and wound his scarf free. "Put it out of your mind. And be sure to write down everything you heard in the library."
"Gigi-"
"I'll need to beat you over the head with it later. For the record."
Lavi half-glared as the old man used the scarf to snag the balcony railings above him, and vowed to write small enough that it could all fit on one sheet.
-x-
"He looks awful."
The voice was quiet. On someone else it might be called petulant, but Marie knew well the meaning behind the seemingly unspecific words, and chose not to chide him for it.
He couldn't see, after all. Not exactly.
So instead Marie pursed his lips. "I am not surprised to hear you say that." He'd like to argue that their general hadn't exerted himself in weeks, but it certainly wasn't true. He had not been eating or resting well since the mission, even once the panel found Kanda not guilty. His stomach would become delicate when he was anxious, and he seemed to find rooms chilly when Marie thought the temperature was comfortable.
"You could alleviate some of his worry, yet you are not," Marie continued. "Your silence bothers him."
"Che," was the only reply, and Marie frowned at his mental image of Kanda, lying on the sheets, arms crossed and ankles crossed and generally utterly unapproachable.
Still, they were words, when he had been silent for nearly two days, and Marie was glad that concern for their general was enough to break that silence. It was serious, that Kanda would see and remember him only in the last few days yet observe such a marked change in the man. Had Kanda seen Tiedoll when they first returned, he would have been horrified.
And perhaps that was what Kanda was getting at.
There was the silken hiss of hair on cotton. It would be a long time, maybe so much as a year, before it was grown back enough to make the high ponytail that Kanda preferred, and Marie had grown used to the new noise. As much as he had grown accustomed to Kanda's heart.
It had changed again, these last few days. It was not his weight that had altered its sound so much as his emotions, and now it was the same steady beat he recalled from long ago.
His heart sounded right again.
"I did not try to dissuade him," Marie admitted. "For a time I thought he would leave me behind."
A catch in Kanda's breath, a half-formed snort. Clearly he did not approve.
"But even if he had, I would have pursued you on my own. You are a fool if you think I should have done otherwise."
"Who's the fool?" Kanda snapped, and it was accompanied by fabric and a sharp creak of the bed. He had sat up. "Have you become both blind and stupid in the time I don't remember?"
Yes. He had hit the nail on the head, if Kanda had been reduced to name-calling. "I was blind before you left, Kanda," he reminded the other teen coolly. "And if I am stupid, perhaps you can help by reminding me how many times we encountered Noah that we expected. Tell me how many times we knew our battleground before we set foot upon it, and knew who our enemy would be."
There was much to be said for knowing that you were going to encounter a Noah, and all the danger that it entailed. He might have gone in blind, but he did not go in ignorantly. It didn't happen that frequently.
It still made what they had done risky, and perhaps stupid in a way, but it was better than what had happened just two nights ago, when he had slept through an attack. He had never even heard the Gate open.
"And did you know your battleground?" Kanda snarled. "Did you know there would be two Noah and four level fours, when it takes a general to defeat just one?" Yuu didn't wait for him to answer, because of course the answer was no. "You know what that cost him."
"And it bought us an Exorcist," Marie countered. "Do you truly believe we could find an accommodator for Mugen, train them, and have them at your level in even a year? You're the one who told us what we're facing."
Kanda made a sound halfway between an exasperated whine and a growl. "And you believe that? What's to say it wasn't simply an illusion created for my benefit? Everything I told you could have been contrived!"
"You did not believe it so-"
"You shouldn't have trusted me!" It rang through the infirmary, the curtain could do nothing to dampen it, and Marie felt the heat of Kanda's glare on his face.
"I didn't." It was flat and cold. "Whatever you and Mugen have, Noel Organon and I trust each other. I am blind, yet my Innocence remains my partner. The first thing the Order required of you upon regaining consciousness was to face Mugen, and Mugen did not renounce you."
"Tch," Kanda growled. "And you didn't think my synch rate was a problem?"
"Mugen believed you would recover." He brought his voice down in the hopes that Kanda would follow suit. The last thing they needed to do was have this argument loudly enough for Tiedoll to overhear. "Questioning the judgment of Innocence is to question the judgment of God."
He heard more fabric, shifting tightly, and guessed that Kanda had crossed his arms again and turned away. "And that's why you're a fool."
Marie sighed but he didn't pursue it; they had disagreed on religion as long as he could remember. Reason would get nowhere with Kanda like this. He felt as if he had betrayed them, and letting him read the panel's findings . . . Kanda would see any compliance with the enemy as a betrayal as serious as running Tiedoll through himself. It was guilt that drove his anger, and Kanda was going to have to deal with that himself.
Marie honestly thought the conversation was over. But then he heard an intake of breath, wet and shallow, and a hoarse whisper. "You're right."
Kanda stilled; so it was loud enough for him to hear. It was coming from behind the other curtain, the only other patient in the infirmary. Inspector Tasha.
"We were . . . complacent." A swallow, thick and painful, but then another breath. "We won't . . . make mistake . . . again."
It was not only his words. It was the way the air bubbled even when he was not speaking. It was sharply different from the previous background noises Marie had heard, and it was definitely not good.
"Matron!" He swiped the curtain out of his way, for once not interested in whether Kanda followed him or not. Matron was speaking with someone on the phone, it was tinny but it sounded like Howard Link, and Noise Marie raised his voice. "Matron! Come quickly!"
She heard him, perhaps Link had as well, but the phone disconnected and then he was sweeping the other curtain out of the way, and by the inspector's bed. His breathing was not labored, though it was growing more and more shallow, and the soggy sounds were less pronounced. There was less and less air in his lungs.
The first woman to approach was not the Matron, it was Nurse Lydia, and he stepped aside. There was nothing Noel Organon could do but slice open the inspector's chest, and he would do it if he knew where to cut. He heard her fumbling with the equipment, and then the sound of the blanket being cast aside and skin smoothing over skin.
He was hardly breathing, yet his mouth moved with his next exhale. "Exorcist . . ."
"His chest is full of fluid," Lydia murmured urgently, when Matron was within distance. "He's suffocating."
She immediately ran to the cabinet, and there was the clink of metal on a tray before she hurried back to the bed. Kanda had gotten up as well, though he was now standing well out of the way, merely observing.
"Keep trying, inspector," Matron murmured, her voice both rigid and calm. It was an order to an inspector. "It will be easier to breathe very soon."
"Matron-!"
There was the sound of something very sharp cutting air, and then the press of metal against flesh. The inspector twitched on the bed, his heart discouragingly weak, and Marie heard fluid gush across skin.
The improvement was immediate. The next breath the inspector took was deeper than any Marie had previously heard, and more fluid poured from the incision Matron had made in his chest. But with it Marie plainly heard the bubble of more liquid, in his lungs rather than surrounding them. His heartbeat did not strengthen.
"His lungs are filling as well."
Matron tsked. "You will not develop pneumonia," she continued to order, and there was a clatter of metal on metal and the pulling apart of cotton fibers. Lydia was swabbing up the fluid. "You have survived this long, inspector, and I expect you to continue doing so!"
Tasha made no noise to indicate he heard. His breathing continued, deeper, and the rattle was more pronounced.
"Lydia, go prepare another transfusion." The nurse left at once, and Marie stepped forward.
"May I assist?"
"You already did." She was cleaning up the inspector with sure strokes, and then he heard the sound of catgut being drawn from its box. "Had we waited even a minute more . . . thank you, Marie."
He listened to her begin to stitch, hard to hear over the inspector's breathing, and cocked his ear to the door as it opened. The footsteps were unmistakable; he was excellent at putting them to faces, but he had heard them so frequently in the last month that he could not forget them if he tried. And Kanda-
Kanda was standing right there in the open, not ten feet from the foot of the dying inspector's bed. Outwardly he did not react. His heart, however, was another story.
Damn Howard Link. At times he thought the young inspector was on their side, but with what had happened, perhaps it was no surprise. Perhaps it was the price for disobeying orders and helping them.
Perhaps it was the price of complacency.
Leverrier said nothing to Matron, though Marie clearly heard a sharp nod, a greeting. Matron did not respond, he was not sure she'd even seen it. Nor did the bedridden inspector greet his superior. It seemed he was no longer conscious, which was likely a blessing, considering he was getting stitches to what was essentially another stab wound. And he had lost so much blood already – probably the reason for the transfusion.
Tasha rattled.
There was a short, thick silence.
"Kanda Yuu." Leverrier's voice was soft. "Report to my quarters at once. I will be along shortly."
-x-
Author's Notes: I know, be still your beating heart, right? Two updates in a week? IMAGINE THAT! Sorry to kind of cliffhanger it, but the next part is long, so I will save it for the next update. The more of this I write, the more scenes I want to add – darn you reviewers! You chipped away at my evil wanted-to-end-it-five-chapters-ago heart. ::shakes fist in your general direction::