Chapter 37

Adam's POV

A warm hand encircled mine, pulling me from the darkness. I found Allen again, only this time he looked around twelve or thirteen. Older, but still not his true age yet. Not like his true form, in the real world.

Broken…

"You came back," he commented, his voice drawing me out of the madness once more. I nodded, focusing on him. He did not appear scared, or curious as to know why we stood in front of the Vatican, at the foot of the great city. Nor did its unfamiliar appearance seem to make him the slightest bit uneasy.

"Do you know what is happening to you?" I asked him. He paused, looking sad. I feared he knew that his body was already dead. The boy looked down at our joined hands, and tightened his grasp as if he thought that I might suddenly release him.

"I know that I have died. I thought this was my personal Hell, but…" he glanced up at the city, a strange expression crossing his face. "No one is here, and the air is oppressive. And everything is full of memories. This place is like Hell, but I fear it is no Hell. Simply a test."

"What kind of test?" I asked, wondering if it was too much to hope that he may still have a chance to return to the real world we both lived in.

"This place is full of memories. Every house, every room…even the cabinets contain memories," he said softly. He shuddered lightly. Wary, but not afraid. "Some of them are mine, some of them are yours. Yet there are still some…I believe belong to us in a previous life. Belonged to Noahs."

He looked up at me, a solemn gaze in his eyes. "I think this is a test we must go through to become Noahs."

I looked around. The Abyss was present as always, but near the top, light sang in the darkness and cast it away. A part of me agreed with Allen, whispered that he was right, and that we must traverse through the memories of our lives and of the lives of our Noahs. Near the Abyss live the darkest memories, full of grief and pain and regrets, and the things that haunt our nightmares. Near the light—

"Adam, are you dead too?" Allen asked me. I turned to him, my heart aching for the twinship between us.

"No. I am not dead. And I do not believe you are either," I answered, hoping that I was right. He had yet to make a choice, after all. He frowned and tried to pull his hands away. I did not let go.

"I remember what happened. I fell, and I felt all of my bones as they broke. I felt it," he argued. "And I remember Mana singing me to sleep, and I remember slipping into darkness—"

"You did die," I amended. "But I believe you have the choice to remain that way. I think you must walk the path of the Noah, and decide if you will return to the world of the living."

"The memories there…there are enough to fill an entire city full of houses, every house's room," he said uncertainly, the first flickers of fear entering his eyes as he gazed back towards the city. "Some of them are bad. Some of them…"

His voice tremble and I wanted to cry with him, cry for him. "Some of them, I am not certain I can look at again."

I put my hands on his shoulders and turned him towards me.

"Allen, listen to me," I commanded. He looked at me, a child who has seen too much, but nevertheless a child. "We must go into the city and look at each and every memory."

We would undoubtedly find pieces tucked away, hidden and forgotten. Good ones. Awful ones. But in my heart, I knew we still needed to unearth each and every piece if we wanted to return. And I wanted Allen to return so badly.

The boy shook his head, the fear growing. He had every right to be afraid. "No, I do not want to."

"One look, Allen, and I promise you we will lock it up immediately if it becomes too much for you to bear," I swore, begging him with my voice, pulling him closer. He jerked himself out of my grasp and took several steps away from me.

"Please do not make me go through this," he begged me. My heart hurt for him, but still, for that reason, I snatched him again. He fought. "No! Let me go!"

"No. You said it yourself Allen. You have to go through with this," I replied, hoping he would understand.

"What did I say?" he demanded, looking at me in alarm and disbelief.

"You said that you did not know who you are," I replied, staring into the depths of his soul. "If you are a Noah, then you are my counterpart. If you are my counterpart, then these are all of the memories that will show us who we are."

His lip trembled, and I could see all of his inner strength hanging by mere threads. What has he gone through to make such a strong person this vulnerable? What could have broken him so much that he longed to return to childhood? What made him fear taking his original form?

Slowly I released my grip on his shoulders, and slid a hand back into his. I squeezed gently.

"I will be with you every step of the way. I will not leave without you," I promised him softly. "We have people waiting for us to wake up. If we hurry, you can see them again soon."

He looked up at me, tears streaming from his silver eyes.

"How can you know it is me they are waiting for?" he asked, voice cracking. "How do you know all of the people I love do not hate me?"

"Because they are the ones who asked me to stay by your side," I answered simply, with all of the sincerity I possessed in my being.

To my surprise, he charged at me, wrapping his arms around me tightly. I was taken aback, but still I rested one arm around his shoulder, using the other hand to cradle his white head against my beating heart.

"I feel scared," he murmured into my clothes.

"Me too," I confessed. "But neither one of us are lone in this, Allen. We have each other."

He pulled away then, and taking me by the wrist, he dragged me across the bridge to the closest abode. Together, we pushed it open, and walked into it.

::

Darkness. Screams. Pain.

I felt claws in my leg and I screamed. I used my father's knife and plunged it into the monster. Hot blood spilled all over me and in the heat of the moment I took a flint and began to strike it in the fire place. A spark caught on the tender and flared to life. The monster cried—no, screamed. I saw its form, white and grotesque, covered in black blood with awful claws and a body that changed form at will. Now it could hold no singl form longer than the beat of a heart and its skin bubbled, boiled underneath the firelight. And it writhed amidst the mess of my dismembered family members. I screamed, cried, felt bile rise. There was half of my brother, his eye missing, stomach and intestines spilling out on the ground in a tangled mess. My mother lay by me, a hole in her chest, the heart missing. Her lips moved impossibly, mouthing pillarpillarpillar. And the torn limb beneath the monster. Light died in her eyes. The writhing creature caught her by accident and lashed out, smashing her flat in a spray of blood and a sickening crack.

I found myself on my hands and knees, vomiting up nonexistent food and drink. By my side, Allen kneeled. He smoothed back my hair, rubbed my back and thumped it. He looked solemn and a little pale, a little haunted as well, but he was otherwise collected. I sat back tiredly, gazing around the room. I t had furniture, unlike in the dream, or vision, we just saw. Like the cupboard in the corner.

"Think it has anything in it?" I asked him, getting back onto my own two feet. He grabbed my arm, concern written all over his face.

"Are you alright?" he asked me.

"I can continue on," I told him. He frowned.

"But you…"

"You may be used to these things, Allen, but I have good memories to sustain myself with,"I interrupted him.

And in the end, it is those good memories that save you.

I walked toward the cupboard, taking it by the handle. Allen took the other half. We opened it, plunging into a darker, more awful memory than the first.

::

Mana's POV

Allen had started breathing almost as soon as Adam fell unconscious, and the room breathed a collective sigh of relief in him. But then began the awful process of watching them suffer. Allen could not move, his body too broken. But Adam could, and he clutched Allen to himself so harshly we feared it would harm him further. Yet no matter how we tried, no one could separate the two. Only a matter of five minutes had passed. And it was not as expected. Adam was taking the brunt of everything. And Allen was struggling simply to live. I assumed they were moving quickly through the memories, but I worried if it was quick enough. He needed to make his choice. Once he made his choice, he could go through the transformation, and it would heal him. At the rate they were, both of them had grey skin, and we had been forced to put whittle in their mouths to prevent them from biting their tongues off. All of the Noahs were gathered in the room, waiting, antsy, uneasy, fearful. I hoped our collected presence eased things along.

"The stigmata are beginning to appear," Lulubell murmured, her unreadable gaze focused on them and them alone. "It has yet to break the skin, but they are nearing the halfway point."

"It is going too quickly," Tyki muttered.

"It can go no other way," I replied. "Whether we like it or not, their time is running out."

"Red—he has not had enough time to recover from viewing the memories. He is beginning to weaken," Tyki replied, gesturing to Allen. It was not something that we could judge by seeing, but something we could sense. Currently, Wisely was monitoring them, looking at their progress.

"But Adam—shaken as he is—is still strong. He will pull Allen through," Wisely told us, a strange certainty in his voice. "He will not leave Allen behind."

"Even if he chooses not to continue?" I asked.

"Even then, he will still force Allen to go on," Wisely replied. He smiled. "But fear not. The hardest is behind them now. The happier memories will give him strength."

"And if he does not recover when he reaches their room on the Ark?" Sheryl asked, daring to ask what everyone has worried about. I did not close my eyes nor hide the pain in my heart.

"He will be given the same choice we all are. The one that determines who we will wake up as." I answered.

::

Allen's POV

I collapsed on the ground sobbing. Adam used all of his strength to haul me up, though he was as wearied as me.

"One more door, Allen, and we are done with these dark memories," he swore. Tear stains streaked his face, and he looked haggard, almost a physical manifestation of my own misery churning in my heart and mind. Nevertheless, his gaze remained determined and he looked ahead.

"I cannot do this," I cried, trying to curl in on myself. So awful, so many memories. Horrible darkness that I will never be able to escape, oh why would he not let me fall here and allow me to wither away? I looked back at him desperately, begging him with all of my heart and soul. "There is too much darkness—"

"Allen, there are good memories waiting for you after this," he reminded me soothingly, forcing his own pain and desperation down. He was in the same state as me yet he still held onto hope, and the belief there is still light in our world.

"Please," I wept, sobs wracking my body. "Do not make me do it!"

"One more," he repeated, holding a locket for me to see. I squeezed my eyes shut as panic seized me, and despair. He still wanted us to go through it again. I would rather stay here for all of eternity than look in one of those dark dark memories. "We have come so far, and after this, the worst is behind us."

Perhaps it was his belief. Or my own. How much further could we sink into the abyss?

I squeezed my eyes shut, and reached out for the locket. A sudden whispering crept into my mind, soothing and comforting.

If he is swallowed by the misery, or reaches the point he is beyond saving…

I recognized it as Wisely's voice. He was perfect, for coming in at this moment, then. To reassure us that no matter what dark days we have, there are still bright days to come. As sure as the sun sets, we have misery. And as sure as the sun rises again come morning, there is joy in life.

The Noah inside will do whatever is necessary to protect the host.

Adam's fingers curled around me, and I realized we were as one now. Very nearly of the same mind and heart.

"The sun will always set, and the sun will always rise," he said. "We must see the beauty in both, and remind ourselves that one will always follow the other, and we always have both. We must cherish our lights, and wait out the darkness until morning comes."

His fingers squeezed my free hand.

"I have the courage to wait for sunrise," he whispered. "Do you?"

I drew in a deep breath. I fumbled with the locket's latch a little, and it opened.

We were plunged into darkness again, this time into my worst nightmare, my imagined hell where all of the people I hurt or maimed waited for me. They waited to lay on me all that I have done, and more. Giving to me what I deserve.

Adam's POV

I awoke from the memory of Allen's dream, and found him laying by my side. His face was pale, and there was no expression to be found in his eyes or his visage. He was empty. I knew that every memory added to his darkness and broke him. But the fact he is still here, by my side means he made it through. After all of the pain and sorrow we had carried together throughout this trial, it is this one that finally broke him. It is sad to see him so empty. It took the violence of every memory before us, from us, all of that pain and fear and grief to push us to the edge. And that last nightmare had all of those things. It nearly drove me to madness, and it at last broke poor Allen.

I touched Allen's shoulder, receiving no response from him. Not even a flinch or a blink. MY heart rose to my throat. Would he be able to return now? Did I have the power to bring him back from the brink?

"Allen, you are done with these shadows," I told him, voice barely rising above a whisper. He said nothing to me and continued to stare straight ahead into nothingness. I did not see the slightest flicker of emotion in his gaze. He looked dead.

I bit my lip, struggling. I did not know what to do to help him. Still, I offered my hand to him, hoping he would take it and seek comfort in the fact we are safe and we have stepped out of the darkness. It was not fair to him, nor to either one of us, to make him relive those memories. Even the memories of the Noah's previous host. And yet still I must push him on.

"Will you come with me to see better days?" I asked him.

"There is no light. Even the light I see around you cannot possibly exist," he said without an ounce of emotion in his voice. "What is the point of going on when there is only darkness? There has never been light. Only lies."

"That is where you are wrong," I replied, slipping my hand into his. I stared into his eyes, ignoring the unsettled feeling in my stomach as he simply stared, unliving, into me. "Without light, we cannot know darkness. And without darkness, we cannot know light. If we only knew light, would we love and crave it as we do?"

"Because of the light, we hate the darkness and know it exists," he responded. "What is the point of seeking it, if it only makes you hurt more?"

I took his chin between my fingers and tilted it up. Unfeeling, and without hope, he stared into me. Me, with my tears and heart pouring out from my eyes, with undying hope, stared back into him.

"We know the light, and it soothes our hearts and chases the darkness back to where it belongs," I said softly. "And when we are in the light, we stand in utter bliss. And that makes it worth everything."

"What makes it worth everything? What makes it worth the pain and sorrow and blackness?" Allen demanded without real want.

Tell him, said that mystical voice in my mind. Tell him the truth about what makes life worth living through the never-ending patterns of happiness and sorrow.

"Love," I said at last. "When you are with others, and you love with all your might and receive that love in return, it makes all shadows seem dimmer in your mind and heart. And thought the shadows grow taller when it leaves, it is those feelings and memories of love that make you wait for its return. You live in the hope that you will love again, love people, the taste of freedom, love of life itself."

"How do I do that?" he asked me. "I do not have enough memories of love to sustain me as they do you."

"But what memories you have continued to give you hope, did they not?" I asked. "When you lived in darkness, beneath Leverrier's orders, did those memories save you?"

"They haunted me," he argued.

"They reminded you that life is not always cruel, despite the pain awaiting at the other end. Like a promise, you know love is possible, and that if you wait long enough, reprieve will come."

A spark of emotion lit his eye, though it flashed so quickly I could not identify it.

"You paint a pretty picture, for all that love does not truly exist," he replied, pulling away. I felt my hope grow. He was moving. He was responding and beginning to feel. Perhaps these were negative emotions, but I did not care. Allen was beginning to recover from having his spirit broken. Maybe it had only been in shock.

"Love exists," I replied. The emotion returned, this time anger and fear and panic. These emotions were about to surface. His gray eyes watered dangerously.

"Prove it," he hissed, struggling to hold back something caught in his throat.

"Your death was not among those bad memories," I pointed out gently, holding his gaze. "Do you know why?"

He stared at me with agony growing in his gaze. He needed to know, deep down I think he did know. More than that, he needed someone to tell him, to confirm it. So Allen shook his head.

"Because you were dying, and in your last moments your father held you in his arms. He sang to you. Even when your heart and breath stopped, he continued to sing to you. He sang even as your mind shut down. I am even willing to be my life that he sang even after your last processed. Because he loved you."

The dam broke, the tears spilling over. Allen cried out, letting years and years of emotions built under his skin flood out. He screamed and sobbed, clinging to me in the wash of a thousand feelings he had never before voiced.

Mana's POV

Adam and Red lay side by side on the floor in the commons. Neither one had stirred for twenty minutes now, their thrashing had subsided. Allen's body had knit itself back into the proper pieces and places, and he was now as one with Adam. Fresh rags rested on their foreheads to staunch the flow of blood from their foreheads. All around the room, the other Noahs were in various states. Most of them had slipped into sleep, as it was late and they were exhausted. But a few were still awake. Wisely was seated by the two transforming kin, watching their progress in his mind's eye. Tyki sat against the couch, his gaze never leaving Allen's face. I myself sat at Allen's side, waiting for any other signs of progress.

I heard the sound of someone approaching, but did not move to respond to it. Lulubell came into my line of vision as she set a fresh bowl of water beside us. She took another rag, and began to wipe away the excess blood from Allen's death. Silently, I watched her. I wanted to help her, but that scene was still too fresh in my mind. I even had his blood on my clothes, now dry.

"It has only been a couple of hours," she murmured. "How far along are they?"

"They have made it past the bad memories," I answered. I took Adam's cloth off to check the progress of the stigmata. As soon as I removed the cloth, blood welled up from the row of holes. They had yet to form the proper shape, though that meant little. They could form in three days or in three minutes. I put the cloth back on.

"How far along are they in the good memories?" she asked as she cleaned the blood off.

"Not far yet," Wisely answered. Lulubell nodded. She paused in her work, and turned to me, gesturing to me.

"You should get cleaned up. You are covered in blood. You have some time."

I shook my head, though I did want to.

"I cannot leave him yet," I replied. "Not until I know that he is safe."

"He is deep enough in the good, a few minutes will do no harm," Lulubell assured me, and I knew she was right. Still, I did not want to leave his side, lest things take a turn for the worst, or he wakes up before my return. No, I think more than either fear, I simply wanted to be by his side for the entre ordeal. To care for him from beginning to end, to see him through all of his pain and misery.

"He is reliving the time you taught him to swim," Wisely said, a smile touching his lips. Somehow, those words soothed me enough, and with reluctance I rose, dragging myself from Allen's side. Red was strong, I reminded myself. He made it through the worst and was swimming through beautiful memories now. Happy ones.

::

Red's POV

There was once a man, a clown, who lost his brother in a fire. He had loved his brother dearly, and when he died, this man began to go mad," Mana started, tucking me into the bed. He sat down next to me, laying me down, and holding me loosely. I pretended to adjust myself into a more comfortable position. In reality, I was trying to cuddle up to him.

"Allen, does it have to be this story?" Mana asked me. I glared at him.

"You promised me you would tell it to me tonight!" I reminded him. He hated this story.

He groaned, giving in.

"Fine. One day, the clown joined a circus. He met a boy there, a waif with red hair and an arm that looked like a demon's arm. The clown had a dog, and this dog befriended the lonely boy. In return, the boy loved the dog. When an evil man beat the dog to death, it was the boy who mourned over the animal and buried his body. While he was crying at the dog's grave, the clown came to visit him.

" 'Why do you cry?' the man asked the boy.

" 'The dog licked my hand. His tongue was warm,' answered the crying boy. And the clown realized this was his dog's friend."

Mana paused, his eyes looking sad. "He adopted the boy, traveling with him for many years, raising the boy. But he was not a sane man, and he often mistook his son for a dog. Sometimes he forgot the boy existed. The boy did not mind, for when he was remembered, he was smothered in love. They lived together for five years. After five years passed, the clown died of illness. The boy was so sad, he withered away to nothingness, unable to cope with the loss of his father."

I loved that story. No matter how mad the clown was, he loved the boy with all of his heart despite his appearance and his status as an orphan. Mana hated it. He said no father would want his son to wither away like that, nor would he want his child to be treated like a dog.

Mana began to pull away, rousing me slightly from my doze. My fingers curled around his jacket.

"Do not leave me," I mumbled desperately. He paused, then returned to his place by my side. He wrapped me in a warm embrace.

"I will have to leave soon," he told me softly. I pressed closer to him in response, feeling a little more awake now. He sighed, though it was more out of habit than true exasperation. "Then I will sing you to sleep first, alright?"

I nodded in response. Mana shifted and begin to hum. I recognized the song and relaxed in his arms.

"A naoidhean bhig, cluinn mo ghuth…"

::

I opened my eyes, staring at the tiny box in my hands with misty eyes. Tears of happiness.

"That was a beautiful memory," Adam said softly, speaking of the warm and powerful emotions the memory invoked in me when I had been that age. Where safety and happiness need only be found in the arms of my father, where every touch was proof of his love, where a song from him sent me off with the sweetest dreams. It was a time when I lived in ignorance, with a world no larger than Mana's arms and Mana's songs.

"Why do I feel like there are not enough happy memories for us to go through?" I asked him. I wiped away the wetness slowly, savoring the precious tears shed through happiness rather than grief.

"There will never be enough," Adam replied. "Happiness is so light…when we hold it, we still do not feel full. We always want more. Darkness weighs on us so heavily, sometimes it feels that we feel nothing else except that weight."

I stared at the box, wondering if I was strong enough to continue on. He was right. All of the darkness battered us, making us bend beneath its control, its yoke. Happy memories soothed the hurt and the scars, but I still feel the scars. Does he? I saw his memories. He has so many, so many beautiful ones. Things I did not have. It makes me feel my pain all the more.

"How do I focus on the light?" I asked him. He was quiet for a moment.

"When it is hard to see ahead, sometimes you need to look down where you are now and focus on the moment rather than where you have been and where you are going," he said at last. "Instead of thinking of all pain and grief you have felt and will feel, only focus on what you have today. And remember that there will always be sun after the rain."

I took a deep breath. When we returned, I think I will try to do that. Hopefully I will finally have the strength to put all of my demons to rest.

"Well said Adam," a smooth voice praised, echoing all around us. We both turned to see a strange form, a black figure with an eerie grin and two white orbs for eyes.

"What are you?" Adam asked. Rather than hear it, we felt it in our heart, being, and soul.

I am the Noah of Time. The Noah within Adam and Allen.

Thank you everyone for your support and your reviews. I am sorry it has been so long, but I have been really caught up in school since I've been studying abroad. After this there is only one more chapter. It's hard to believe it is coming to an end so soon! Please bear with me, I am swamped with work at the moment, so I will probably not be able to update until mid-June, when I go back home.

There will not be a sequel, I am sad to say, but I hope you all will understand why when you've read the end. I still plan on posting a bonus chapter explaining the Noah and their purpose, but I think I will post it as a separate story ( it will likely only be a one shot).

That being said, for those of you who read my other stories, I have some news: I am not the same person I was when I started this, or when I started Fate Screwed Me Over. This story is almost at its end, but I think it kind of shows that I have changed as a person. For this reason, I will be re-writing two of my stories (Fate Screwed Me Over and its prequel). I apologize, but Fate Screwed Me Over never had drafts before I posted the chapters, like this story does. I cannot continue writing the story because I feel like how far it is come and where it should go no longer fit, so I will rewrite both (They are not abandoned, I swear). Just please give me some time and patience!