Darkness in the Twilight
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
By Psycho Ferret and LunarCrystal
One Last Kiss Goodbye
The ground on their way to the ruins was unusually soft, indicating a recent rainfall in the area. The path was muddy and everyone's footsteps seeped into it - all except for Gaddes, who was in fact, in a wheelchair. Unfortunately, he'd needed someone to push him through the slush, uncaring if his numb feet and front casters were occasionally buried in much. His goal was clear. He wanted to see the fort. On this mission, he would be nothing more than a bystander rather than an active soldier on reconnaissance. He knew his limitations, and more than once, he needed to be carried over fallen logs or vines that got too thick.
He felt bad when he noticed in everyone's expression how trying it began to get that he'd requested to be on the mission. But it was mostly Chris, who pushed Gaddes through a puddle of muck for the umpteenth time, that threw Allen sidelong scathing glances. He desperately wanted to ask, 'Why the hell did you agree to bringing him along?!' Knowing it was in poor taste, he was sated with making faces, pushing along with the sword clanking lightly at his belt.
Allen stalked at the head of the group, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. He was alert, but he had one thing on his mind. He had to see the fort... or what was left of it. Calm determination was settled on his pretty features, long hair swaying behind him with his movements. He looked every part the knight, besides the lack of the smooth blue uniform he'd once donned.
He was not unaware of how Chris and the others felt about bringing Gaddes along, but he couldn't deny the brunette this. They had lived here, rebuilt it before. They didn't have the right to keep him from seeing it. When they reached the fort without any occurrences, Allen paused just at the front. He was silent a long moment, looking at the charred remains. "Right here," he whispered softly to himself, "stood the gates..." The blonde stepped within the rubble, looking around. "And the guard towers here and here... and the wall went all the way around--look... there's a bit of the rope that we'd used for Angelina. .."
Riden ran to catch up with his commander, a hand on the hilt of his short sword to steady it. Kio took up the rear, behind Chris as he pushed Gaddes the last stretch of the way toward what used to be the heavy timber gates of the fort. Now, all that was left were fallen logs and splintered poles that remained of it. Gaddes took a deep breath, looking around, taking it all in. He wouldn't make Chris carry him over the rubble ruin, as he in his chair would never make it. Riden hopped over some debris, catching himself before he felt, and quickly skipping to the next good foothold over the ruin.
"Hey, boss," chirped Riden, hopping next to Allen carefully as they climbed over the stone and wood. Looking back, he noticed they were quite far into the sea of debris, seeing Kio, Chris and Gaddes watching them from the edge of it. "Boss, what should we do with the Sarge?"
"I'm not sure. We all have our own areas to examine... we can't carry him." Allen turned his head to look over his shoulder at the three that hung back, pursing his lips slightly. Allen could leave it up to Gaddes, but if he chose to see more of it, what could they do? Allen certainly couldn't carry him. And he was rather sure Kio might have been getting tired of carrying him already. The blonde rested a hand on the hilt, looking at them. He wasn't sure. All he knew was that there were places he wished to see. Painful memories would resurface, certainly, but he had to see.
Gaddes pulled back a bit, Riden watching from the distance as he saw the sergeant point commands to both Chris and Kio - who looked at each other briefly before nodding in compliance and hopping onto the pile of debris. Soon, Kio and Chris were with Allen and Riden upon the sea of broken stone and timber, carefully balanced on loose piles of rock.
"Sarge said to move on with out him," Kio explained, half glad he didn't have to carry the weight of his sergeant and at the same time depressed that he could not join them.
Allen looked at Gaddes for a long moment, then nodded. "Alright... we'll meet back here in a few hours, mm? If anything happens, shout." With the other's agreement, he turned, wandering off, wading through the rubble. Eventually, he came to what was left of his rooms, looking around at the debris with a soft sigh. Everything in ruins... wandering the layout of it, he murmured to himself, envisioning the setup, the way it had looked to him.
"Her chest would be about here," he whispered, turning his gaze to the side...
And froze.
The chest was untouched, uncharred. It gleamed softly in the light, the finish unscratched, untouched by dust or soot. It lay undisturbed, as if knowing he would return. The lock was unhinged, and before the chest lay a single handprint, as if someone had braced themselves there, the soot barely disturbed, as if by the rustle of a dress, a small footprint.
An almost violent shiver crawled up his spine as he stared, his eyes wide.
"Boss," called Riden breathlessly, again having to carefully hop over debris to catch up with his long limbed commander. He came up next to him, bending over and leaning on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. "You sure are limber, boss. What'd'ya find?"
Taking a moment with his lungs replenished, he looked up at Allen's face, saw the look of near horror upon it, and furrowed his brow. He touched Allen's arm lightly, tugging on the gauzy sleeve of his poet's shirt. "Boss? What's wrong?"
Allen stared at the gleaming chest for a little longer before he turned his eyes to Riden, shaking his head. "You... you see it, right?" Over his shoulder one could see the chest, proudly settled where it had always been. He wanted to make sure he wasn't hallucinating again. It had to be real... the imprints there before the chest, the undisturbed setting of it.
He knelt down before the chest, careful not to upset the imprints in the soot, one gloved hand clasped over his heart. He could feel the rough, racing beat of it as it hammered against his ribcage. The blonde bowed his head slightly... if he had never believed in a god before, now it had to be so.
"I - I didn't bother . . ." Riden stuttered, following his gaze as Allen moved. There he saw the immaculate chest, totally clean and polished. Riden blanched, wide eyes staring as he spoke in a breathy wonder, "Holy Jechia! Is - Isn't that . . . the chest you kept in your room?! It's . . . gods, it ain't even scratched!" He came forward, excitedly reaching a hand to touch the wonderous thing before - so pristine, that it nearly seemed to glow.
Allen shook his head a little, unmoving. "I can't believe it... do you see the handprint? It's like... it's like someone was here when it happened, Riden." Allen lifted his gaze to look at the piece, cerulean eyes glittering in the light. Celena... maybe she really was an angel. I can't believe it's so... it's still here."
The blonde shifted forward, carefully lifting the lid off of it. All the dresses lay within, still folded carefully within. For another few moments, he stared at it, then shut it, locking it quietly. They... they would take it back with him.
Allen stood, looking over at Riden. "Come here... there's something I have to see." With that, Allen started off, his footsteps quick, hurried, hopping through the rubble carefully. It was obvious where he was headed... where the fallen soldiers lay buried, where they had lain Celena.
Again, Riden had no choice but to hastily follow his commander, tripping awkwardly over fallen logs and turning over several stones. Allen was already several paces ahead of him when he fell hard in trying to keep up, his arm hitting the hard edge of a jutting stone. He heard the crack of his bone before he felt the pain.
White hot agony seeped into his every being, and he cried out. "Boss!" Carefully, blinking back tears, he nursed his arm, holding it close and situated himself upon the debris so that he could sit. His head swelled from the pain, and he tried very hard not to cry from it.
At the other's cry, Allen turned, hand on the hilt of his blade instantly. But a quick look offered the explanation that it was a wound caused by his own faltering. Another man out for at least a little bit. Quickly, Allen navigated his way through the rubble, kneeling by Riden's side. "Can you walk?" It was obvious the other man's arm hurt... badly. If he could walk, he'd send him back to Gaddes' side. If not... he wasn't sure that he'd do.
He brushed a gloved thumb against the smaller man's cheek, offering a little smile. "We'll get you fixed up."
Riden swallowed, bashfully lifting up his gaze and wincing slightly as his broken arm moved. "Okay, boss." He looked down, that same child-like expression of such sadness filling his features - as it had been ever since this war started. "I'm sorry," he sniffed, "I didn't mean to break my arm . . ."
"It's okay, Riden, don't worry about it, okay? Things happen. I was just too focused on where I was going. It's my fault for making you try and keep up." The blonde man smiled, looping an arm about his waist, tugging him gently up to his feet.
Riden nodded, carefully keeping the broken appendage close to his chest. He took a deep breath, surveying the ruined landscape to get back to the ship before turning his gaze back to his commander. Absently, he wiped away the tears that watered his eyes. "I'll stay with you, boss." he said, trying to sound firm like his big friend Kio.
Allen just smiled softly, nodding "Alright... I'll make sure to go a little slower, alright? Just let me know if you need to rest or anything." Allen kept his arm around the other man's waist, letting him lean on him if the pain got too bad. He took his time, going far slower to accommodate Riden. He didn't want to rush him...
With careful maneuvering, cautious stepping, they eventually arrived to the other end of the ruins of the fort, to the back where the wet, sloppy ground began again. And there in the corner, against where a wall once stood, was the ruins of a wrought iron fence, irreparably bent and missing in some places. Caskets that were buried deep within the ground had risen up, sticking out at their ends in an eerie calm. They had to step over the fence carefully, Riden still protecting his arm.
It was a mess. There had been at least a hundred graves in that yard, and at nearly each of them, a rotted old box casket rose up through the surface, mud crowding around it, building on it, marring it all. The day was already bad enough, promising rain later with the heavy gray clouds the floated thickly over head. While it was uncomfortable to see so many caskets situated above the surface at odd ankles, like oddly growing geometric trees, Riden was most shocked and awed by the casket in the middle of the graveyard. The one that he himself, among the other members of the Crusade, had built and helped bury.
Celena Schezar's coffin, white maple now so marred by the mud that had produced it from the ground, coming out of the ground at almost a prone angle. It was as if it floated up to the surface, and now lay frozen in the muck like a land locked boat.
Allen quickened the pace just slightly at the sight of the coffin that rose in the middle. Still careful, wary of the muck, Allen headed towards it. Making sure Riden was alright on his own once they reached it, Allen let go of him, treading carefully to the casket, uncaring of the mud that stained his normally pristine clothes. He'd have a hell of a time getting out of it, with the thick, watery substance sucking at him as he moved.
A stained, gloved hand rested on the edge of the coffin for a long moment. He debated it, debated opening it. his stare was hard at the wood, though he found no faults in it. No one had opened this one.
A moment longer and the blonde grabbed a vine, dragging himself out of the mud. He grasped the heavy coffin tightly, slowly tugging it out with him. When it hit harder ground, when he'd finally been able to stand, he searched about for something to wedge it open with. After a bit of wandering, he found a shard of the gate that had been blasted apart from it. Long enough to hold, to have leverage. He snatched it up, heading quickly back towards the casket and set about prying open the nailed lid. Sacrilege, he knew, whispering soft apologies under his breath as he worked at the lid.
Nails were worked up, squeaking as they were pulled from the wood like errant teeth, releasing the lid one by one until finally - it popped up and fell to the coffin's side. Vivid sky blue taffeta was the first thing to catch the eye, lined in white lace and gold. Untorn, not a rip of the seam or tear in the bodice as it gently hugged Celena's dainty waistline. It glittered, shining slightly even in the dim overcast lighting, surrounding her body in it's lovely folds. She'd been buried in the wintertime, and so she was buried with a long sleeved dress - sleeves that were not so abundant, and were obviously for show.
Melzin had always kept flowers underground in his apothecary, so that they would grow no matter what season it might have been. He even had forget-me-nots, as they had a medicinal quality for being a sedative. A bundle of the tiny blue flowers had been placed into Celena's white porcelain hands - hands that now . . . were still smooth as silk and white as ivory.
Her face. It was in complete peace, unmarred and untouched by time and decay. Her cheeks still demurely flushed, her lips still pink as roses, her eyes closed in slumber, and her hair . . . shining silver curls crowned her head, framed her face and practically made her glow.
She was the very image of an angel.
"By... Jechia," he breathed softly, hesitantly reaching out his hand to almost brush her cheek before he paused, jerking off the soiled glove. He'd cut open his hands in places from his frantic work, but he didn't care. He brushed his fingers lightly against her unmarred cheek, his eyes widening. It was like she'd only been buried a day ago... nae... like she'd never been dead at all. It was almost as if any moment, she would flutter her eyes open and sit up, like she would simply smile at him and hug him...
No. No, she was dead. The cool touch of her flesh was not one of warm blood pumping in those veins. Allen bit back tears, gliding his fingers through her hair--hair so much like Angelina's own.
Beautiful. She was simply and utterly beautiful.
Holding his arm to chest, Riden came up then, still in shock from the rest of the graveyard and now rendered completely speechless at the sight of Celena's unsoiled corpse. The soldier's compassionate little heart beat heavily in his chest at the sight of her pure features, her beauty. In how she clutched the bundle of forget-me-nots to her chest against the bodice of her lovely blue and white gown.
"L-Lady Celena . . ." choked Riden, placing a hand at the edge of her casket and staring down at her where Allen now stroked her hair. "She's - boss. What's going on?"
"I don't know," he choked out softly, shaking his head. "She should... it shouldn't be like this by now." He didn't understand much about the decomposition of bodies, but even with that... by five years, near six... she should have been past this. Far past this. But her body was no more brittle or fragile than it had been before. He was afraid to lift her from the casket. But now that he'd seen her as such... he couldn't leave her, could he? And the casket would be too hard to carry himself.
The blonde bit down on his bottom lip lightly, looking at her. Why every time he'd been able to move past this, when he'd been able to continue on with his life did this pain resurface? Why, always, did her memory come back to haunt him, to send him spiraling once more into a moroseness, a distance.
"Boss," cried the little soldier, his voice so soft and timid, "You're not ... gonna leave her here, are ya?"
"I can't... no, I can't," he whispered softly. A few more moments he stood there before he moved, hooking his arms under her legs and at her back, carefully lifting her and holding her close to him. He couldn't leave her there, not like that. Allen glanced over at Riden, tears lingering in his eyes. "Let's... let's go back, okay?"
Riden nodded numbly, following his captain carefully back over the debris. They had to move slowly now, with Allen's precious cargo and Riden's broken arm.
~
When they'd reached the others on the other side of the ruined fort, everyone was in the same shock as Allen and Riden were still in - watching Celena in the knight's arm as if she were about to come back to life any moment, her pretty curls still bouncing with each step, her hands still holding the flowers, her face in peaceful slumber - as if she were dreaming of something beautiful and whimsical.
Somehow they were able to make it back to the ship, and those with Allen followed quietly behind him as he carried the late Schezar through the corridors of Crusade. Gaddes was ahead of the group that followed, pushing his wheels forward with occasionally bringing up a hand to wipe away more tears that spilled passed his cheeks.
"Where are we gonna put her?" he strained.
Allen shook his head slightly. He had no idea. He just knew he couldn't leave her there, he just couldn't...
Ethan bit down on his bottom lip, quietly speaking up. "She... I'll sleep elsewhere you can put her in the room I'm staying in." Though the thought of having slept in the same bed as where they would put the long-since-dead girl was creepy, eerie... he couldn't help it. She had been beautiful and still was.
The blonde nodded slightly to him, offering a thanking smile, moving past everyone to the room. He rested her gently on the bed, brushing his fingers against her cheek then turned, walking back out. "I shan't be long," he said softly, then slipped outside of the craft again. The chest. He had to bring the chest, he felt
Chris looked at Ethan, at a complete loss, staring after the knight as he left and the back towards Ethan's bed, where Celena now lay. He shook his head, not wanting to leave her - he had had a crush on her at one point, after all. A trembling hand found his brothers arm, and he gripped it.
"What the hell is going on here, Ethan?" he whispered, "This is almost too much. She's not - not rotting or anything. And it's been nearly six years...."
Ethan bit down on his bottom lip, looking over at Chris and shaking his head. "I... I don't know. It's not natural at all. She shouldn't be like that." Truth be told, he was a little frightened of it. For her to be so perfect... she looked exactly the same as she had the day they'd buried her.
"Get the hell out of that room now and leave her the fuck alone." came Gaddes' harsh tone from just outside the room. Chris jumped at his voice and quickly fumbled to comply, pulling his brother out and shutting the door. He looked down at the sergeant where the man sat in his wheelchair, gulping slightly. He could probably still knock me down to the floor with one strike, thought Chris as Gaddes looked at them shrewdly through narrowed eyes.
"And guard this door. Both of you. No one goes in. Got it?"
Ethan sighed softly, bowing his head a little. He nodded slightly to the older man. But he couldn't get his mind off her face, how perfect she'd looked.
It wasn't much later that Allen returned with the chest. He'd had to move slowly, carefully, but he'd brought it. Ethan was startled at how untouched that, as well, was. Frightened of it. There were things at work that science didn't explain... of course, many things in this world were so.
~
Angelina had been put to sleep in her father's bed for the afternoon while Hans was busy with his duties. She heard the door open, and it startled her awake. Scuffling of boots, of men entering the room that she could not see, frightened her slightly and so she hid among the covers of the bed, hoping they would not notice her. Angelina's logic suggested that if they didn't touch her, they couldn't really see her unless she spoke - such was the thinking of a five year old blind child.
"F-Father?" she whispered, risking to break her cover yet her voice remained very small and timid.
Allen blinked, glancing over at his daughter. "There's no reason to be frightened, Princess. It's only me and Kio." The blonde smiled softly once they'd settled the chest down, walking over to his daughter, brushing her hair with his fingers. "I thought you were asleep, I'm sorry if we woke you up."
She touched his hand as soon as he'd made contact with her, taking it in her gasp and holding it tightly before her chest. She had truly been frightened. "I couldn't smell you . . . I didn't know it was you. What was that big noise? Did you bring something? It sounded big."
"It's... your mother's chest, princess. We're bringing it with us, there's no need for you to worry, alright? We'll go back home soon." Allen sighed a little, curling his bare hands in hers. He did not smell of rosewater, no, nor were his clothes immaculately clean as they usually were. He smelled of dirt and mud, mixings of the swamp, soot. He smelled dirty, unlike the soft, clean scent he usually had.
"You found mother's chest with her dresses?" she asked curiously, happy that he had found it and ignorant to the fact that it should have been thoroughly destroyed along with the rest of the fort. Kio pointedly left them alone, his clobbering footsteps fading down the hallway after shutting the door politely behind him.
"Father, can we look through it? I know - I know you don't like to. Because mother hurt you with leaving us. But I want to feel her dresses, father. Please?"
"I..." Allen sighed softly. He had intentions of burning it when they reached home, when they reburied her. He could do her this favor now. He picked her up in his arms, carrying her over to the chest and lifting the lid off. He set her down before it, putting her hands on the top dress. "That one I bought for her when we were living in Palas."
~
Allen didn't spend time doing much of anything except keeping his daughter company. Everyone on the ship figured it was triggered by his sister's untouched and beautiful corpse being aboard the Crusade, just in Ethan's room. Not even Gaddes saw much of him for most of the whole trip back to Palas, where Celena was taken and settled into Allen's bed while proper funeral arrangements could be made for her.
Chris and Ethan continued to be in charge of guarding the room in which she was kept, keeping their word that nothing, no one would ever disturb her eternal slumber. They were given specific instructions not to let anyone in, except, of course, Allen himself. Not even Gaddes was allowed inside, though he made several subtle complaints. It wasn't his place to be there anyway, though he'd grieve on his own time.
It really wasn't any surprise to Chris or Ethan that Allen had stepped inside, the morning on the day before she was to be buried in the graveyard overlooking the gorgeous Asturian oceans.
He'd come frequently to see her face, to stroke her cheek. When he did see to her body, he'd stay there for hours, talking softly to an ear that could not hear him. He didn't mind... he knew she was dead, but he could tell her of her daughter. Of how much she adored the dresses he'd shown her... and how much Allen loved to remember her in them.
He did not whisper to her as if she could hear him now. He knew... he knew she was gone from him. But the mystery of her lack of decomposition was amazing nonetheless.
In that morning, a subtle difference was noticed in her usually placid demeanor - and in a fluttering of lovely black lashes, Celena's eyes slowly opened and focused on her brother. Her delicate pink cheek was stained demurely with a blush, and her perfectly curved lips turned up into a smile. "Good morning, Allen," she whispered, her voice like a dream and her eyes sparkling like sapphires; bright and alive.
Allen just stared at her, his eye widening slightly. She... she was dead. She had to be. He'd gotten over this, he couldn't be hallucinating again. His ungloved hand had rested softly against her cheek, now curved to lightly cup it. His mind whirled, confused.
Celena giggled at his confusion, scrunching up her nose as her short silver curls tickled along her forehead. She set aside her bundle of forget-me-nots and sat up, still giggling. "Well, aren't you going to give me a kiss?" she laughed lightly, bringing up her hand to caress his cheek.
"You're dead, Celena," he whispered in shock. "You've been dead for nearly six years, you can't be moving. You can't be talking to me like this." Allen shook his head in disbelief.
Then she said something that probably would have shocked any perfectly sane, brave man to jump and claw ravenously at the ceiling, "I know that quite well, thank you very much for reminding me."
Allen started, staring at her for a long moment before he stood, taking a few steps back. He was... frightened of her. This betrayed laws of science that even he knew. Religion... his faith had been shattered but now... what could be going on? Allen put a hand to his head, frustrated. He could not be hallucinating again, damn it.
"*What* in the world is the matter?" she demanded softly, frustrated that he still had not given her a kiss good morning. She let out a heavy sigh, standing and approaching him; was put off even further when he continued to move several paces backwards. "Oh, for goodness . . . I'm given one day to say goodbye and this is how I'm welcomed? Hmph, and I thought you'd be grateful."
Allen slid down the wall, his back against it, tucking his head into his hands. "I can't be seeing you, not again. This isn't happening," he whispered to himself, his lithe frame trembling softly. This... couldn't be happening.
Celena's brow furrowed in concern, kneeling before him and placing a gentle white hand upon his arm. "My poor darling. You're frightened. I'm sorry," and it really did sound as if she meant it, moving forward and giving him a tender embrace, "Please forgive me for hurting you so badly. Those last days . . . we hardly had any time for each other, did we? I'm so very sorry, my love."
Allen hesitantly slipped his arms around her, afraid to touch her, afraid that he would just be hallucinating all over again. But before she had told him that she'd never been dead. Now, she knew it... she had... one day? "It's... I miss you so much," he whispered hoarsely into her shoulder.
"I know you do." she said with a soft smile playing across her lips. She pulled back slightly, gazing down into his distraught face and pushing back some stray hair behind his ear. "But you haven't exactly been all that lonely, now, have you? Poor, poor Gaddes. Oh, Allen, I'm so sorry about him. It truly is a horribly world to live in sometimes."
"I... he..." Allen sighed, shaking his head. "He doesn't deserve this... he doesn't deserve to be like that. Angelina doesn't deserve to be blind... gods, Celena, she keeps saying she's in love with the Basram soldier. I don't know what to do..."
Carefully, she settled herself next to Allen on the floor and leaned lazily against the wall. She'd had a very long nap, it seemed. Taking his hand into hers, now warm and tender in it's grasp, she gave him a little smile, leaning in to give him a fond snoodle. "I know you don't. But no one really knows all the answers, do they? If they did, everything would be perfect, and no one would be very happy. Gaddes doesn't deserve what he has to live with. And our daughter does not deserve to be blind. You're right, of course. But bad things happen to good people. And they'll be alright, I think. Even if Angelina grows up to marry a Basram soldier, after this whole war is over - everything will eventually turn out right in the end. You'll see."
"But you'll still be dead in the end," he said softly, looking at her, curling his fingers lightly around hers. He didn't want her to be dead... but if she stayed somehow, it wouldn't be fair to Gaddes. There was another chapter in his life that was to be dedicated to Gaddes and Angelina. "He... he is a good man," he said after a long pause, bowing his head slightly. "He never hurts her."
Celena nodded. "Yes, I know. And in turn, she is the only one who has shown him any kindness. My dear brother, your heart has grown so hard since I've been gone. Have I hurt you so badly to make you grow cold to the world?"
"I... I don't know. Everything that's happened, it hurts too much, Celena. It hurts so much that I can hardly feel the compassion I did before. I hate it... I hate the fact that I've, that everything has changed this much."
She smiled demurely then, looking down at her legs which were folded under the vivid light blue taffeta of her dress. She gently squeezed his hand. "Is there something I could do to comfort you and bring you out of your melancholy?" she nudged his shoulder playfully with her own, biting her lip as her smile widened, "Cheer you up a bit?"
Allen just smiled a little. "Just... talk with me. Please?" The blonde turned his gaze to her, sighing softly. "I've wanted to hear your voice again, you know." He reached up, stroking her cheek softly.
Celena blinked at his touch, quirking a small grin and leaning into it. "I'm talking now, aren't I?" She giggled, that same silver bell giggle and laughter that had coursed through their home so many years before. "What would you wish to talk about, my love?"
"I don't know," he said softly, smiling sheepishly. "Just anything. I just want to hear you, is all." The blonde just looked at his sister, watching her. Fear still lingered, but it had mostly eased.
"On the floor?" she asked, an eyebrow raised in suspicion though her face was full of the same humor she'd carried when she still lived.
Allen smiled softly, shaking his head. "Anywhere. It doesn't matter to me. I told you, I want to hear you is all." Again, he brushed her cheek with his thumb tenderly.
She giggled and stood up, still holding his hand and tugging Allen to his feet as well. Playfully, she pinched the wire rims of Allen's glasses and shook them a little. "Why? You can see me now, can't you?" She poked him in the stomach and tickled his sides.
Allen laughed a little, putting his arms loosely around her waist. "I can see you... but it's not the same. I... I miss your voice so much."
"Ah!" she said, kissing him lightly upon his lips before skipping over to the bed. She launched herself upon it, landing in the soft mattress, her silver curls flying about her head as she laughed. "Shall I sing to you then?"
"Yes," he said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her. "Yes... sing to me."
They were interrupted by a loud grumbling noise, however, that came directly from Celena's stomach. Her hand found her abdomen, the same place where she carried their daughter, that now called quite clearly for something to it. "Oh," she groaned, slumping slightly, "Maybe after breakfast?"
"Ah... you're hungry?" Allen blinked, quirking a brow. She was dead. Why would she need to eat? Allen looked a little confused.
"Well, yes, Allen. I get hungry. You know, eating food, having meals, the whole bit." she explained sarcastically, throwing him in annoyed look. She really was hungry, and his questioning delayed her breakfast.
"But... you're dead," he said plainly, looking at her. It still didn't explain why she needed to eat. Allen blinked a little, shaking his head slightly.
Celena sighed dramatically. Honestly, even her scholarly brother could be so dense sometimes. "Look, I know I *was* dead, but I'm alive now, for a whole day, and if I don't get something to eat, I'll - well, okay, I won't die of starvation. But I'm really very hungry. I'll - I'll . . . I'll pop your eye out." She nodded resolutely, marking her statement with a final harrumph.
Allen just looked at her, slowly arching a brow. "Are you sure it's a good idea to go out there? I mean... there are other people out there. That might just... be a little frightened."
She rolled her eyes and threw him another of her signature grins, "What do I look like? Someone who's *not* lazy?"
Allen sighed, shaking his head a little, standing. He slipped outside, walking to the other rooms, getting a bit of food. For himself and for her... he caught glances from the others. He rarely ate very much... but now, he was getting food for two people... and they just didn't know it.
When he came back, Celena was poking around her trunk. She'd brought out her favorite dress, a day gown of light blue with white and gold collar she'd worn one day with gloves. Affixed to her body as she gazed at it in the mirror, she saw in the reflection that Allen had come inside with a tray of breakfast - from the looks of it, it was cold turkey and fruit bowls with two glasses of juice. She smiled, sniffing again at her dress as she'd detected the heavy odor of his cologne on it.
"Why does my dress wreak of your cologne?" she asked as he closed the door.
Allen glanced over, blinking... then he managed a small, almost wry grin. "Angelina. She apparently likes the way I smell. She'd gotten into the chest and pulled out that dress--which I might add, I am very pleased to see how well it fits you--and managed to spill my cologne onto it."
He set the tray down, letting his fingers glide softly over the skirt of the gown. But it was like they had melded, the two of them, in some strange way.
Celena lifted her chin, still smiling her perfect smile and only had eyes for Allen. "Angelina did that? She must have gotten it from me." She smirked, and pulled Allen into her arms, letting them hang loosely around his narrow waist. She was forced to look up at him then, and it made her scrunch her nose. "You were always so tall. I love how tall you are, like a great pillar of undying strength. You were always so protective of me. How I loved you for it."
Allen smiled softly, resting his hands on her shoulders lightly, then tracing one into her curls. It was hard to believe that for a day, even, she was alive here, that she was moving and talking to him. That if someone entered, it wouldn't be him hallucinating, it would be true. "You were my strength," he said softly, looking fondly at her.
The look in his eyes, how sad it seemed to her. The fondness of a love long since passed, and she had to wonder if this gift, her visit for a day, was blessing or curse. Was it cruel to stir his emotions, she wondered. She kissed him them, quickly closing the distance between them, standing up on her toes and meeting his warm lips tenderly with her own.
He sighed softly, holding her. He knew he would feel horrible when they had to bury her again. He would have been fine... but now the emotions had welled up all over again. She was here with him, she was touching him, talking to him, kissing him... and he would lose her all over again. He brushed his fingers against her cheek softly.
Pulling back, reluctant to break the kiss but doing so anyway, she cupped his face and looked at him very sadly. "I'm sorry, Allen." she began in a melancholy tone, "I must admit, that it was partly my decision to be here one last time. I was selfish and impatient, and I'm so very sorry for doing this to you."
"No... I... I want to see you again. It's okay," he said softly, shaking his head. It would cause him pain again, but... he could see her again. So it was worth it, right?
Celena nodded resolutely then, trying to convince herself that she'd made the right decision in doing this. This one last chance to conclude everything properly; a final goodbye. "We have much to talk about. I don't even know where to start." She took his hand and led him over to the bed, settling herself upon the downy mattress. "Since I have the whole day, I'll let you decide. It's morning now. Is there anything that might be on your mind?" She made a face, "Besides the fact that I've scared you shitless just being here..."
Allen sighed, sitting next to her. "I... I'm not sure. There's so much to talk about. I can't think straight... this is all so unexpected." The blonde bowed his head slightly. "I guess... why... why are you still like this, even after 5 years...?"
To this, Celena smiled pleasantly, letting out a soft little laugh. She touched his face, and gazed at him fondly, her heart swelling with her love for him. "It is our blessing." she explained plainly.
"But how," he asked, looking at her. "It's... it can't be physically possible." Granted, there she was before him, but it was still so hard to believe. "Our blessing...?"
She sighed heavily. "Well, it's kind of hard to explain. Okay, there's really no explanation for it. But - you can kind of say we were granted to stay our true selves after death until we found our new lives. Um, does that make sense? It's not just me. It's you too. And mother."
"A-and mother?" Allen blinked, frowning a little. "I don't understand. How... why is it happening just to us?" Allen shook his head slightly. "What do you mean me, as well?"
Celena sighed again, looking down at the floor thoughtfully. This was going to be a long conversation, she thought to herself. "Well, where should I start? You know how we're supposed to find a new life after this one? Be reborn?"
Allen nodded slightly, turning his gaze towards her as he listened. The concept of it would be hard to grasp he knew... and the reality that she was here, if only for a day, was as difficult to understand, to comprehend as well.
"The way I was told it worked for us was that until we go on to that life, to be reborn, we're allowed to stay as we were the day our body dies." she explained, scooting up next to him so that she could snuggle a little. She always loved his rosewater cologne. "It's our gift, I guess. If you can call it that. Like - the gods respect us, or admire us. They gave us the gift of beauty until the moment we've decided to move on in the afterlife to be reborn. Understand now?"
"Somewhat." Allen pursed his lips slightly, nodding. "So... that's why you're here, then... because you haven't chosen to move onto your next life?"
"No," she answered, "Because I have . . ."
"...But you said you have one day. So you're using this last day to say your goodbyes."
She turned her gaze to him then, her eyes sparkling with the tears that threatened to spill. Yet she smiled, happily, and leaned in close to him, to his face, and rubbed his nose with her own. "Now you understand." she told him.
Allen nodded slightly, looking at her for a long moment. He looped his arms around her, tugging the girl close to him. "I hope you live a happy life," he whispered softly, resting his chin on her shoulder.
She pressed her cheek into his hair, embracing him tightly. "Not nearly as happy a life as I had with you, Allen." she whispered back. "Not nearly as wonderful. Not even close."
"I can only hope you will be," he said softly, hugging her tightly. "You deserve it... after all the hell you went through here, you deserve it and so much more."
"Nothing could describe the bitterness I felt that I'd died. When I left you behind with our daughter," she cried, "When I left you to fend for her and you alone. Or the hurt -- the absolute sorrow that I've left in your heart. There's nothing to describe it. I had to come back, one day, to tell you everything I meant to tell you and never got the chance to."
Allen shook his head a little, biting back his own tears, holding her tightly. "I don't want to let you go again, even if I have to..." his voice shook slightly, but he valiantly controlled it. She meant so much to him. She couldn't have helped dying as she had. It wasn't her fault...
"The river," she whispered, choking, "It was the river during that horrible winter time - before Basram attacked."
"It's okay, it wasn't your fault," he said softly, shaking his head. "I promise, it wasn't your fault..."
A few painful moments went by, Celena's voice choking on her tears before she'd been able to reply at all. It was as if she read his mind with her answer, and she felt she needed to make him understand. "That was what eventually killed me, Allen."
"I don't care, Celena, it doesn't matter. You're back for a little... we... we should bide our time well. Not like this..."
"Then how?" she asked, pulling back and wiping away at her face, sniffling.
"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "but not like this, not crying like this. You should... you should see Angelina. I'm sure she'd love to talk to you, to meet you..."
Smiling, she rubbed her thumbs along Allen's cheek, brushing the tips of them with his wire rimmed glasses. "How old is she now, Allen?" she asked.
"Five... she's nearly six," he said softly, just smiling. "She's beautiful, just like you are." She looked so much like Celena it hurt sometimes... she even still, he couldn't deny her beauty. She'd grow into a gorgeous woman.
"And . . . and Gaddes?" she said, anxious to meet her daughter, but worried for her brother's lover as well, "How is he? Might I see him too?"
Allen tensed slightly. "He is... well... he's better than he had been before." He sighed softly, his breath ruffling the soft curls. "Of course you can see him if you wish it..."
"Well, from the looks of it, I'd say it's still mid-morning," she said, standing to gaze carefully out the window, pulling back a bit of the drawn curtains. She turned to Allen again, still smiling, "I'd like to see our daughter, Allen." And her eyes grew so sad, "To see how much she's grown under your care. You must have spoiled her rotten with gifts, if I know you well enough."
"Mm," he said softly, standing with a quiet sigh. "I'll go and get her." the problem would be explaining why her mother was here... and why she wouldn't be here the next day. He made his way quietly outside, heading to the girl's room, rapping softly on the door. "Princess? It's father..."
Like any energetic little girl, Angelina woke up very early to play with her toys. She was still dressed in her frilly nightgown, sitting on the floor in front of the toy chest Allen had sent from Palas. It was full of new things for her to play with, and she kept discovering new toys and dolls she couldn't quite place in the descriptions. She smiled toward her father's voice, holding up a little black haired doll from Freid.
"Father! Is this doll fair haired or dark haired?" she asked, "I can't tell the different anymore. Uncle Gaddes has dark hair but lost the itchiness on his face." She sighed. Dark and fair completely confused her.
Allen laughed a little, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. "Dark haired, princess. Come on, let's get you dressed. You should be up and dressed already, mm?"
The knight smiled, kneeling down beside her, resting a gloved hand on her shoulder.
Angelina's lips pouted severely. "I don't want to get dressed yet, father. I want to play first." Hugging the doll to her chest, she made a face at him and pulled away. Why should she have to bear the burden of responsibility anyway? She wasn't a grown up and therefore refused to comply. She was a spoiled little tyke, as Gaddes would put it so eloquently.
Allen sighed, shaking his head. "Come on, get dressed. There's someone you need to meet, but you can't meet her like that." Sah... if Celena got wind of this... The blonde ran his fingers through her hair gently. "Please? And you can play afterwards."
"I don't want to meet anyone." she insisted, standing and moving to a corner of her room. "I want to play."
"Don't be like this, Angelina," he said softly, looking at her. Celena wanted to see her... "You'll enjoy meeting her, I promise. For me?"
It was something in her father's voice, desperate, quiet, pleading. A five year old didn't know such words, but their definitions didn't matter so much as the existence of them. It made a little tug at her heart, bowing her head and already feeling the guilt creep up into her head to swell and strain. The doll she held was firmly squashing against her chest, and she turned away from her corner.
"Fine, father," she said, "Where are you?"
"Over here, princess, right by the bed where you were a moment ago." Allen was grateful... he would have been horrified to tell Celena that her daughter wanted to play moreso than meet her. He was wary, frightened enough of telling Angelina she was meeting her mother.
This time, Angelina obeyed her father, having gone to him and let herself be tugged into a little dress. It was her favorite one, she noted. The one with stitches all over the fabric that she could feel and run her fingers over, embroidery that drew whimsical swirls in her head as she traced their fine silky lines. It was a new dress, as all of her dresses were new since they left the fort. But this was a special dress, only to be worn on special occasions.
Little white tights were covering her little legs, pantaloons tugged on, and eventually a pair of little black shoes. Her rag ties were undone to let her curls fall and bounce in crisp ringlets, and to big bows were placed on either side of her head. She already felt like one of her dolls with her hair done as it was, and dressed as she was made her feel it more so.
Allen looked at her for a long moment, a proud smile on his lips. "You're so beautiful, princess, you know that, right?" The blonde stroked her hair softly, standing, her hand grasped loosely in his. Recently she'd wanted to walk more and more on her own... and he couldn't blame her. She was nearly six, after all.
When she was ready, he led her quietly to the room where Celena waited, opening the door.
"Well, hello," said Celena softly, as soon as the door was shut behind them. Her eyes lingered upon the image of her little girl, the child she'd borne from her own body. Watching as Angelina stood holding Allen's hand, squirming a little, but so pretty in her little pink embroidered dress and silver curls - the same that crowned Celena's own head - she couldn't help but think how perfect, utterly and immaculately perfect their daughter was.
With eyes that glistened tearfully, she approached Angelina slowly and stopped, kneeling before her. Angelina's face softened in curiosity at the sound of Celena's voice, her head slightly tilted and letting her ringlets fall over her face. She sniffed the air, able to detect something so minute but important. And what she said then thoroughly surprised both Allen and Celena.
"Mother?" she asked with a smile. Celena's eyes darted to Allen briefly, before breaking out into a smile and crying, holding Angelina so very close and tight. While the little girl was surprised by the hug, she quickly relented and threw her arms around her, her hair flowing over Celena's arms in silver waves.
"That's right, Angelina." sobbed Celena, "I'm your mother."
Allen was silent, watching them and he couldn't help but wonder at how alike they were. Unlike in his son, nothing of him seemed to linger in Angelina. But he didn't mind so much. She took on Celena's life and continued it. She was... perfect. No matter that she was blind, she was perfect nonetheless.
Together, they were amazing... both of them so beautiful, so perfect.
The blonde let them talk, let them hug and he simply watched. It was something he had pictured before, but never... never dreamed of ever seeing it, the two of them meeting.
During their moments together, several questions had been asked. Mostly of what Angelina was up to, the names of her dolls, meeting the Fanelian princess and princes, and their wings. Celena was horrified that they had treated her so cruelly, but was glad that Allen had been there to take care of her. Children were cruel, she knew that well enough.
As Angelina had settled into her mother's tender hold, laying on the bed with Celena's arm around her, she had asked the question that was the most important. "Why did you leave us, mother?" she had asked, her quiet voice breaking through the stillness. Celena was so very gentle and loving, her fingers stoking Angelina's cherubic little cheek and gave her a little squeeze.
"I'm sorry, my darling," she had answered, "I was on a very grand adventure, you see. I couldn't come back until now. I'm afraid tomorrow I must leave again, as well." Angelina had protested with a heartbreaking plea, hugging her tightly as if to anchor her to the bed. All Celena could do was soothe her with gentle words. "We will meet again, my little angel. Your father has taken very good care of you, and I will always love you, and I'll always be in your heart."
Of course, Angelina sniffled and cried and protested some more - but eventually she had accepted her mother leaving. She would go on another grand adventure, so she had been told, and with reassurances that they will in fact meet again, she was able to leave her mother's side once again. By then, it was already mid-afternoon. They had shared a lunch together before it was time for Angelina's nap.
Allen carried Angelina back to her bed, as she had fallen asleep in his room. When he came back again, Celena was sitting in Allen's armchair, curled up and sobbing quietly to herself.
Allen shut the door quietly behind him and upon seeing Celena's upset, padded over to her side and perched lightly on the arm of the chair. He slipped his arms around her, pulling her into a gently, soothing hug. He didn't speak, there was no need to, after all. All that mattered at the moment was soothing away her tears, holding her, comforting her. It would be his last chance, surely, this day to hold her like this, to feel her so close.
Blonde hair draping over his shoulders and spilling against hers in a wash of gold, the knight rested his head lightly atop hers as he held her, rocking her slightly.
"She's so beautiful," she cried, whispering hoarsely and clutching him. Her heart was breaking as much as Allen's was, she was sure. "We made such a beautiful creature, Allen. So beautiful. Poetry couldn't - couldn't even describe her perfection."
"I know, Celena, I know... she's perfect, just as much as you are," he whispered softly, closing his eyes behind the wire-framed glasses, arms carefully around her frail form.
She smiled then, pulling back just enough to gaze at her brother, her husband, and wipe away his tears with her thumbs. Letting out a little, heartbroken laugh, Celena brought her nose to his and snoodled him. Then she kissed him tenderly and stroked her fingers gently through his hair.
"We did pretty good, didn't we?" she said tearfully.
"We most certainly did," he said softly, giving a little smile. "We were lucky." To have been blessed enough to see one another again, to be blessed with the support they'd had from Ethan and the others, to be blessed with such a perfect creature as their daughter.
She laughed again, her eyes sparkling as they gazed at her knight, her Allen. Celena caressed his face, like she had so many times before, all those years ago before she'd died. "For once, something good finally happened to us. Angelina is the most perfect child I've even seen. And . . .," she took a breath, her heart aching with the words she needed to say, "I'm sure you'll continue taking good care of her. You and Gaddes together." She smiled sadly, "You're a very good father, Allen."
"Only because I've had someone to help me. More than just one. Everyone here, everyone at the fort. Even... the Basram." As much as he hated to admit it, Hans had helped her quite a bit. He'd taken care of her in the camp, according to her, he'd never hurt her once. Always so gentle with her. It was as if he viewed her as one of her dolls, so pretty and fragile.
"I know you had help," she confirmed gently, nodding in agreement. Letting her hand curve to his face, she looked him straight in his lovely sapphire eyes, glad that they could once again see, and said, "But what I mean is that *you* are a very good father."
Allen sighed softly, shaking his head a little. "She's so stubborn because I've spoiled her. I can hardly say no... that's not a good father." Allen smiled a little sheepishly, looking at her.
"Her looks are a bit disarming, I'll admit," said Celena, standing from the chair and tugging Allen up to join her. "But I know you have a very good heart, and so does she. She might be spoiled, but you love her so much. That's what makes a good father. As long as she has you to love, and as long as you teach her to be kind and caring - she'll be alright."
Allen looked at Celena for a long moment, then hugged her gently. "You always were so much wiser than I," he said softly, his eyes slightly closed.
Returning the affection, she only smiled gently. "I was overbearing and intolerable, at times. Even impulsive. You know that."
"And still wise nonetheless. hush," he said softly, hugging her close. Impulsive... it seemed to be a family trait, really. And overbearing... and intolerable... it ran in their veins.
"Which reminds me," she said, keeping her cheek pressed into his chest and closing her eyes, "I'd like to speak with Gaddes. I know your relationship with him, and I know that he's been the only support you've had in raising Angelina after I . . . well, in any case, I'd like to see him one last time, if that's alright."
"I'm sure it would be," he said softly, inclining his head a little. "He loved you in his own way, after all. He's said it several times." He brushed his thumb lightly against her cheek, a faint smile on his lips.
"Then - if you would fetch him. . . unless he's busy," she quickly added the last, knowing the other man's condition and not wanting to impede upon him - even if this was her last day on Gaea as Celena Schezar. "I'll just wait here." she said with a slight smile, stepping away and slipping onto the bed.
~
Gaddes was a little surprised when Allen insisted on his returning with Allen to his room. The blonde was brimming with a bit of excitement, though he wouldn't tell Gaddes what from. "There's someone you have to meet, Gaddes, come on," he said softly, walking alongside the other.
If he was even hallucinating again... Gaddes swore he'd just smack him around until he snapped out of it. That decided, the glided quietly inside the room, glancing over at Allen, arching a brow as the blonde shut the door behind him.
Excited, happy, smiling and giggling, Celena lay upon her stomach on the bed facing the door. She had watched as Gaddes entered, wiggling her finger to him in a playful little wave. "Hi, Gaddes," she chirped.
Gaddes tensed slightly at her voice, looking at Allen for a long moment before he, too, slowly glanced over at the long-dead sister. She was lying there... waving at him... smiling. "Oh hell no," he said softly, rubbing at his eyes.
He cared about Celena, sure... but he couldn't be hallucinating, too.
Celena slumped upon the bed with a grand sounding groan. "Ugh, this is getting old fast," she complained. Righting herself again and moving to the edge of the bed, she quickly explained to Gaddes the situation. One whole day to say goodbye was what it basically came down to, hastily adding in details and even a gentle touch to reassure him that she was in fact real.
"I know it's a little unbelievable," after she'd finished explaining, and now gazed sadly at Gaddes - truly taking him in for the first time since he'd entered the room, "But I'm here for now, believe it or not."
"You were dead, Celena, how do you expect him to react?" Asked Allen softly, a quiet, mild chiding, resting his hand lightly on Gaddes' shoulder. The brunette listened with growing unease. Dead... and then living again, if even for a day. It seemed unnatural. Creepy, even. But the lingerings of death didn't cling to her... that was, perhaps one of the eeriest sensations.
He brushed his rough hand against hers sighing a little. This would take a little bit of getting used to.
"Well, there's no time to get used to it," she said, as if reading Gaddes' mind, "I'd like to speak with you, Gaddes. I know it's odd, and I know you're more than a little scared. But it's important and there's not much time left. Okay?"
Gaddes nodded numbly to the girl's question. He'd hear her out, no matter how creepy this was. Allen had wanted him to speak with her and she had something to say... that was reason enough.
So, slowly she stood and moved back to Allen's armchair, settling herself in the bouncy seat which she remembered loving so much as a child. Gaddes came next to her, sort of adjacent to her before locking his wheels. She smiled sadly at him, taking his hand then and bringing it to her lips.
"How are you?" was the first thing she could think to ask.
Gaddes arched a brow slightly at that. Well, that certainly wasn't what he'd been expecting. "Er... well enough," he answered a little lamely. Allen sat on the edge of the bed, silent.
"You look different," she said, smiling fondly and touching his face, not unlike the way she had done with her brother, "Shaved, and dressed in his clothes. Thinner too."
Gaddes turned his head slightly away at that. Looking different... in the spoken and unspoken manners. Clean shaven and such, it was still odd to him, but even so, there was still that reminder that things had changed for him. Things were utterly different. He felt the gentle gloved hand upon his shoulder, soft reassurance and managed a little nod to the woman.
Seeing the sadness cross his features, Celena immediately launched herself into apologies. She took his hand into her own, rough and callused but she did not care, and pressed it to her cheek. "Oh, Gaddes, I'm sorry. You are still the handsome sergeant I've always loved, of course. You should know that. Nothing can change that, dearest Gaddes."
Gaddes shook his head a little, looking at her, the faintest trace of bitterness lingering in his voice. "And you?" He had to change the subject. His changes weren't the best things to talk about with him.
"For being dead for six years, I'd say I'm doing pretty good," she replied with cheek, a sad smile on her lips and winking slightly to him. He just nodded slightly, looking at her. She had something to say, she'd said, and thus he waited, Allen's hand resting gently on his shoulder. It was still hard enough to believe that she was here, alive, if even for a short while.
Celena felt the room grow very warm, as this was not going as smoothly as she had initially hoped it would. But she continued anyway, taking a deep breath and hoping it would get easier for the poor man to handle. "I wanted to talk to you about my family," she began, "I know you and Allen are in love, and that you care for him . . ." It would have been a little easier if Allen hadn't been standing right there but she'd had no choice.
Gaddes just listened silently, waiting for her to continue. He wasn't going to speak unless he had to. This all had a rather odd quality to it, and even though Allen was offering comfort behind him, he was sure that after this was over, it would be Allen that would need the comfort. He'd lose his sister a third time in his life.
But for now, his thoughts were on the matters at hand.
Finding some sort of resolve within herself, she turned toward Gaddes and took both of his hands into hers, holding them tightly, firmly, and looking deeply into his eyes. "Gaddes, listen to me. You're all that they have left. You need to take care of them in my place, okay?" She tried not to choke, not to sound tearful then, but gods, it was so hard to keep her voice steady, "You listen, and listen good. I love you very much. And I love Allen very much. And I'm not going to be able to be there for him after this. I've always loved you, and I wouldn't want any other person in the whole wide world taking care of my daughter and my brother. Do you understand?"
Numbly, the soldier nodded. Even though things had changed drastically, he still cared for both of them. He couldn't--and didn't want to--deny her this. He knew Allen would be giving one of those tiny smiles back there, looking at the both of them. The soldier curled his fingers lightly around hers. "Yes," he said softly, forcing his voice to keep steady.
"Okay," she said, whispering and pursing her lips though she tried to smile. The smile faltered slightly, and she tried to laugh it off, tearfully. Finally, Celena relented to wiping away at her eyes. She looked to Gaddes with a softness in her sparkling eyes, scuffing his nose playfully with a forefinger. "Hey," she said to him, "You look good."
"Yeah... so do you," he said as soft as the last time. She did, especially for being dead, after all. Being dead. No, she wasn't... not really, for the remainder if the day.
"Well," she smiled, opening her arms a little to him, "Do I get a hug then? Or are you just gonna sit there being creeped out for the rest of the day?"
Sitting there and being creeped out would definitely be happening, of course. He sighed a little, embracing her gently from where he sat. She even smelled the same, it was... eerie.
It was still awkward for him, she could tell, and somehow she'd slipped into his lap to let their embrace linger. Awkward, perhaps - but the affection was still tender and sincere. This was the very last time she would get to say anything important to Gaddes, and she had better say it before time ran out. So she nuzzled her cheek into his, and whispered into his ear.
"Take good care of my brother, Gaddes. He and you are a good match, you know. A good match. I trust you more than anyone else," and she did what she had tried so hard not to do - she'd begun to sob quietly with her words, "Please, Gaddes. Promise me to take care of him. To love him. And never leave him. And Angelina."
"I promise," he whispered, his voice trembling softly. He would have done so even without her asking. After all, he had been, hadn't he? He'd pledged himself time and time again to the Schezars... and that was one thing that hadn't changed through everything. It had come back to that. He kept his arms comfortably around her, hugging her.
After a few moments within Gaddes' embrace, she finally looked up tearfully toward Allen. Her eyes searching and wide, tears still spilling. She managed a weak smile toward him, barely able to whisper, "I'm getting a little tired now, Allen."
Gaddes released her when Allen came to his side. The blonde lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedside, lying her down. "Remember, I'll love you no matter what, okay?" He said softly, his voice trembling a little. He was losing her again... a second time, he was losing her to death.
She groaned in defeat as she was laid upon the bed, looking up helplessly at the ceiling and blinking away at the tears that spilled. She swallowed mournfully, "We never got married . . ."
"It doesn't matter... it's just a symbol, Celena. I love you, even without it," he whispered, brushing her hair away from her cheeks gently. He wiped away his own tears with a shaking hand, looking at her sorrowfully.
Celena wiped at her tears, blinking again and yawning a little. "At least it doesn't hurt like a son of a bitch this time," she commented, faltering for a smile, "I don't want to leave you again. In our own way, we were always married, weren't we?"
"Language, Celena," he chided softly, a little teasingly. "Be a lady about this." He brushed her cheek with his fingers, kissing her forehead gently. "We were, yes... always."
Swallowing again, she nodded, looking behind him towards Gaddes and reaching for the sergeant. "Gaddes," she beckoned softly, "Come." The soldier wheeled himself quietly over beside Allen, both men looked at her from where they were. It hurt, to know they were losing her again.
"Allen, you come over here on the bed beside me," she said to her brother, "And Gaddes will stay right there. Yes, that's good." She barely watched as both men complied to her request, Allen settling next to her carefully, taking her right hand, and Gaddes on her left beside the bed in his chair. She yawned again. "Gosh, I'm tired. What time is it?"
"Nearly around ten, I would say," answered Allen softly, sadly, wiping the tears from his eyes again. The sky was already dark around them.
"It's a hard thing for me to ask this, but - don't be sad," she pleaded gently, her tears betraying her, "Please don't be sad for me. I'm going to move on now, and so should you. Allen and Gaddes, you have each other, in perfect love and perfect trust." She squeezed both of their hands fondly. "Don't be sad that I loved you both. That I gave you a daughter, Allen. Don't be sad about our happy times. Be happy about them. We had many, despite our hardships." Allen shook his head slightly. He couldn't help but be sad about it, even if she asked him not to. Thrice he'd lost her, now, and this time the hardest. Only a day.. they'd only had a day.
"One last kiss," she said to Allen, remembering her mother's lessons, "We must not forget what mother taught us about one last kiss goodbye. Or did you forget how thickly she'd lay on the guilt when we were little?" Allen sighed softly, leaning forward and brushing his lips gently against hers. One last kiss goodbye. And this time, it truly was goodbye and how much that thought hurt him so. He stroked her cheek softly, warm tears slipping over his cheeks.
Celena had stopped crying then, letting the kiss linger with it's warmth as the darkness began to sink in. Just a gentle fatigue to slowly take her away, no pain, no agony, no labored breathing. A sigh escaped, and a contented moan. Her eyes fluttered a little, and she smiled her beautiful smile.
"Thank you," she said, snuggling into him fondly, tiredly and giving him one last sleepy, "Goodnight, Allen."
Allen curled his arms gently around her, hugging her close as he felt the breathing ease from her body. He sobbed softly into her shoulder, the lithe frame curled in his arms.
Gaddes swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, feeling the hold he'd had on her hand relax and go limp. It was all so strange, and he found that he couldn't quite cry over her yet. Not like this, anyway. "She - she told us important things, Allen," he whispered, looking at Allen as the other man cried over Celena's thin frame, "Didn't she?"
Allen could only nod, long hair spilling over now how cold shoulders. Important things, very important things. Though they had known them deep down, the actual conscious realization of them hadn't registered.
After a bout of crying, he gently settled her down into the mattress, wiping gently at his tears.
~
So that was it. Celena had come back for one day, to give her daughter a time to meet with her and know what she looked like and what she sounded like. She had come back to tell Allen of her undying love her him, even in the afterlife. She came to tell him that she accepted Gaddes as his partner, and made them pledge to her that they would always love each other. These things were the important things, that needed to be said by her voice alone. To see her one last time and kiss her goodbye properly.
Surprisingly, the day of her burial, there was nothing but sunshine streaming through some clouded that floated high above. The breeze held the lingering scent of salty sea brine, and when everyone finally left the filled in grave plot, Allen lingered there with Gaddes beside him. It was a beautiful spot of land, really, and it was right next to Encia's grave stone, Gaddes had noted.
"So," braved Gaddes after a minute, looking up at Allen carefully in the mid afternoon sun, "Do you think she's happy in her new life now? Or is she still floating around somewhere in with the stars?"
"She's happy," he said softly, turning his gaze to the chest of dresses that rested beside her grave. He would let his sorrow go with them. The knight knelt down, watching as the bright flames licked at the wood of the piece, as the dresses and other scattered items burned within. It was as if he was letting go of her, releasing her. She could go on and he wouldn't hold her back here with his mourning.
"She's as she deserves to be."
Gaddes moved slowly next to Allen, bringing his hand to rest upon the knight's shoulder gently. He gave him a reassuring squeeze before bending down and kissing his temple. No one was around to see them, so a little affection in so public a place he could risk. "I'm very proud of you, you know," he said, "And I think we'll be okay."
Allen glanced at him, offering a little smile. "Yeah... yeah, we will be. We'll all be okay, now." The knight leaned back lightly against the other man, that faint smile still lingering.