Through Darkest Unknown
By:
SurreptitiousFox245

Disclaimer: I don't own DGM. All rights go to their respective peoples. I'm just borrowing.

Quick Author's Note: Sorry for the wait. This is unfortunately more of a side project for me, my main focus being my Dragon Age and Elder Scrolls crossover, and with school starting again soon and me having some newfound health issues as of late (finding out you have epilepsy when you're 20 and spent your whole life planning on being in law enforcement isn't fun), I'm gonna have less time to write. Updates are going to be sporradic, but I promise that I will not abandon this story.

Anyway, hope y'all enjoy!


Chapter 2: Dreams No Mortal Dared to Dream


"Deep into that darkness peering,
long I stood there, wondering, fearing,
doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal dared to dream before.
"

-Edgar Allen Poe, "The Raven"


She creeps through the locker-lined hallways absently, body going through the motions and mind not quite there to process it. Emily isn't usually this distracted in the mornings, but she'll argue until she's blue in the face that she has every right to be for this particular one. The sole of her left foot gives a phantom sting, as if to just remind her that the scrape is still there, unexplained and staunch. Impossible, but there. She has no logic to give the situation she finds herself in any inkling of elaboration. It frustrates her. Frustrates her beyond belief.

Well, of course, the simplest explanation would be that she hurt herself either sometime during the night or before going to bed, and the injury was transferred into her dream by her subconscious. Dreams are a way for the mind to process the day, after all—she knows this. But there's something about writing it off as mundane that doesn't feel right. It all makes her feel like banging her head against a wall in hopes that it might knock whatever screw has fallen lose back into place.

That's what frustrates her, truthfully-that the logical explanation doesn't feel right. Because logic and sense and reason are her sanctuaries, her havens.

Doesn't feel right. She scoffs at sentiments like that. That she's buying into one now…with this of all things.

But the scrape stings again, and she's back to square one.

Some kid pushes by her in a rush to get to class, but she ignores him instead of grumbling about it like she normally would. She's hard-pressed to care this morning. A few sharp turns and she's found her homeroom. More shuffling through rows of desks and laughter of the other students who find her general weirdness repulsive, and she's in her seat. Immediately after homeroom is science, in the same classroom, but it's just one of those days and Emily knows she's not going to be able to concentrate. Maybe that's what she needs, though—chemistry. Good ole' scientific method and hypotheses and data to get her head on straight again.

Who's she kidding—she hates hard sciences, preferring a human element to her experiments, but she can't keep making her dream more than what it is. A dream. That's it. Weird, even for a lucid dream, but a dream nonetheless. The scrape on her foot is happenstance. No more, no less. Happenstance.

Her teacher drones on about chemical formulas, but even that can't distract the teenager from the fact that she doesn't believe herself for a minute.


Lunch period doesn't bring with it any relief. For one, Amanda is hounding her. Not unusual, but the redhead isn't in the mood to deal with her best friend's antics. Not today.

To her credit, though, the blonde does seem to realize this about halfway through an hour of her babbling being accompanied by nothing but Emily moodily picking at her sandwich. "Hey, you don't look so good. Something up?"

Emily shoots her best—only—friend a glower that's halfhearted, and the other girl knows it. Or doesn't notice the venom, that's always a possibility with her. Amanda is the blonde, peppy, cheerleader-type at first glance, but she somehow during middle school ended up going the band geek route. Not that one could tell by looking at her, but that was half the appeal to it for Amanda, Emily thinks. She's known the blonde since they were five, and Amanda has never been one to do what's expected of her. Outside the box or not at all, she likes to claim.

"No."

"Oh, my Emily-is-lying senses are tingling now," Amanda huffs, all but climbing across the end of the long lunch table the two always claim for themselves. "Spill. Parents fight again? Brother Dearest finally find a way to get on your nerves? Ooh, no! Did you finally run out of random statistics to pack away in that head of yours?"

The redhead rolls her eyes, grinning despite herself. Coming from anyone else, all of that would have seemed taunting, but not from Amanda. "No. Just…weird dream, is all." It's meant to placate, but it only makes the other girl suddenly drop all humor and frown. Too much concern, Emily thinks. Or maybe not. She doesn't know.

Green eyes soften a bit along with her usually boisterous voice. For all the annoyance she can be, Emily will always cherish the fact that Amanda knows when privacy is more important than levity. "Are the episodes back?"

"No!" Emily's quick to shake her head back and forth. "No. Just a run-of-the-mill weird dream. I didn't sleep too well. Thanks, but it's nothing to worry about, honest!"

Amanda leans back to sit properly again in her chair, picking up the wrapper from her silverware and throwing it at the redhead's face halfheartedly. "Better be nothin'! And you better take a nap when we get outta' this hellhole. Lack of sleep isn't good for you especially."

It's Emily's turn to frown. "School isn't that bad! And you're not my mother!"

"Pshh! Best friend, same difference. Nerd."

"No, it's not! Amanda!"


He is back in the ark the following night. He tells himself that the gloomy, foggy island that is Headquarters contributes, and he visits the ark again for the clear skies and perfect, decidedly not chilly temperatures, but Allen knows that's a lie. At least this time around. Tonight, he is in the ark out of curiosity. A little fear. A tad bit of trepidation. But mostly curiosity.

He has to know if the girl is a threat, first and foremost, provided her strange appearance in the abandoned city wasn't a one-off. Allen is fairly certain that he cut any access the Noah had to the ark after reversing the download back in Edo, but in his short fifteen years of life, the exorcist has come to realize that nothing should surprise him anymore. And along with that, that nothing should truly be considered impossible.

No one thought a Level 4 was possible, and, well, that happened.

So the Noah finding some way to infiltrate the ark the Order now technically possesses via himself isn't completely off the table as a possibility. Even if she isn't a Noah or otherwise affiliated, who she is and what she wants isn't clear. She looked confused and lost, sure, but vanishing like she did when he found her? Allen shakes his head. He doesn't know what that was, but it has "suspicious" written all over it.

Timcanpy flying almost teasing circles around his head drags him out of his musings as he wanders what of the city they've managed to map (he isn't going to chance getting hopelessly lost when he does have a bit of a time limit to mind, thank you very much). This causes him to frown at the not-so-little-anymore golem. Tim had seemed…odd around her, hadn't he? And when he came back into the room—had the golem been leading her?

"Did you find her, Tim?" he asks rhetorically, letting the sphere land on his outstretched hand and not expecting much in way of response. Tim is smart and creative in communicating, but never has the golem ever spoken. He deadpans. Not that Allen wouldn't put it past Cross to have modified something akin to vocal chords on Timcanpy. He already has a mouth…

Speaking of mouth, that sharp-toothed grin stares up at him, a bit too mischievous for the teenager's liking. "Why do I feel like you're up to something?" More grinning, and Allen sighs.

He tries not to let his thoughts get too dark as he wanders, waiting for…well, he doesn't really know what. It's difficult considering recent events. He's grateful for the reprieve from mission after mission after mission—Komui's influence, no doubt—but a part of him wishes for something to do only so he doesn't have time to think. Allen won't lie—Cross' death is a blow he can't quite put to words. Yes, his master hadn't been the greatest person. He had plenty of flaws that a young child probably shouldn't have been exposed to, but Allen also has to ask where would he really be without Cross? He doesn't know. Probably dead somewhere. He doesn't like thinking it, but it's the truth. He doubts he would have snapped out of the state he was in after Mana's death without the general, much less become the exorcist he is today.

Then the 14th would have just taken over eventually. Still might, but would he be fighting against it so much had things not turned out the way they have? The answer isn't optimistic.

And then, he thinks, another reason Cross dying hits him so hard is because of how he viewed the man. Insufferable, maybe, a bit too selfish and greedy to a fault, knowing far too much and refusing to share the damned information…but Cross also seemed so infallible. Infallible in the same way Allen had seen Mana as invincible—and isn't it ironic in the worst of ways that the two people he'd seen as unbreakable ended up dying so tragically?

It's three more purposeless turns before he hears the muffled gasp that he suspects he was not meant to hear. It doesn't matter, he hears it anyway, and jerks himself around to face the figure seated on one of the odd benches scattered along the white buildings. The strange girl who had been occupying his thoughts stares back at him, pale, shaking hands clasped over her mouth under ocean eyes that are blown wide in something straddling the fine line between shock and fear. Something twinges in him at that, at her fright, but he can't afford the time to ponder it. She's dressed similarly to the last time he saw her, sans being soaked through. Her shirt is the only difference, being a pastel yellow in color instead of too-bright lime.

Timcanpy flaps his way over to the redhead, much to Allen's chagrin, and circles her a few times. She doesn't seem to notice him. "Y-you!" He didn't think her eyes could go any wider, but they do when he speaks.

"Me?" she squeaks. Her voice is not quite as scratchy with shock as it was before. Lower than one would think by looking at her, though. "This is my dream! Why would you have to ask me that?"

Any thoughts, preconceptions, suspicions halt so suddenly, he's surprised he doesn't give himself whiplash. "Dream?"

This nameless girl's eyes darken with a spark of anger as she lowers her hands to curl defensively into fists at her throat. She fidgets, he notes. Incessantly, and her eyes dart around as if remaining in one spot is too difficult. "Yes! Dream! I can usually wake myself up, but I couldn't last night and I can't now! And I remembered all of it when I woke up! 90% of a dream is lost within the first minute of waking, but I remembered everything! That's not normal!" The ends of her ponytail are fisted in her hands, and she yanks at the curls as if fighting the urge to pull them out of her skull.

"This isn't a dream," he responds, brows now furrowed in a bit of concern because she honestly looks as if she's worked herself into quite the state over this. "Who are you? How did you get here?"

"No, I'm asleep!" she wails. "I closed my eyes, and then woke up here! Just like last night! And then my alarm went off and I woke up in my room again! But I had this damned thing on my foot, and…and!" Allen notes the way she's carefully avoiding putting the sole of her left foot on the ground, and he only assumes from her lack of shoes that she somehow hurt herself on the bricks. He takes a cautious step closer, hands raised in what he hopes is a nonthreatening manner. Looking at this girl…she's not dressed as if she came here purposefully. Why wouldn't she have shoes? Appearing disarming is one thing, but this? Maybe he's too trusting, but there's something off here.

Timcanpy hesitantly flips about her shoulders, but the golem refrains from landing on her. Probably best considering her panic. "Miss, it's okay. My name is Allen. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on, and you're not making much sense." He still watches her, keeps his distance. She sniffles a little against the tears, takes a shuddering breath, loosens her grip on her hair, fidgets more with her fingers, but she doesn't move as if to strike. He takes that as a good sign.

"I-I'm Emily. Where…where are we? Why are you the only person I've seen?"

Allen purses his lips in thought. "First, I need to know how you got here, Miss Emily."

"Just Emily. Please." Her nose scrunches at the formality, but she otherwise complies. "I told you. I went to sleep. It's like I just closed my eyes and then I woke up on this bench. The same thing happened last night, except I got up and wandered around. This…thing seemed to want me to follow it." She gestures to Timcanpy with a half amused, half annoyed look on her face that Allen can honestly sympathize with. He loves Tim, but the golem is a handful.

The boy grins a little in an attempt to be reassuring. "That's Timcanpy. He's a golem. I wondered if he led you to the piano room."

She blinks in response. "Seemed like it, I suppose. A-anyway. I…I wandered around, but before I could say anything yesterday after you found me, my alarm woke me up, and I woke up in my bed in my house. I scraped my foot on the bricks last night, and it was there when I woke up. I don't know what's going on. I'm asleep, I know I'm asleep, but I can't wake myself up. Things that happen to me here translate. Where are we?" Oceanic eyes are pleading with him for answers, and he deflates a little. She's a scared girl not understanding what's going on. The least he can do is try to answer her questions. Cautiously, but still try.

"Noah's Ark. It's usually empty when it's not in use, but I walk it at night sometimes."

Her laugh was expected. "Okay, good one. Where are we really?"

"Noah's Ark," he answers again, dry and deadpan. Her brows creep up to her hairline as a few seconds pass by and she realizes that he's being serious. It takes her several seconds longer than it probably should have, but he has to concede that the entire situation is beyond odd. He'd be having trouble accepting such an answer if he were in her shoes…metaphorically speaking.

"Oh, God," she mumbles finally. "You're serious. So, either you're telling me the truth, or you at the very least believe it to be the truth. But…no left side favoritism, you didn't look in that direction. Steady eye contact. No change in blinking patterns. You…you really aren't lying. Oh God."

Allen does furrow his brow at her rambling, a little bemused. Blinking patterns? Left side favoritism? She hasn't looked at him straight for more than a few seconds—how could she possibly notice all of…whatever that is? It's pushed aside though as her breathing steadily becomes more labored in her panic. "Miss—er, Emily. Emily, breathe, it's okay."

"No, it's not! I'm dreaming, I have to be, and…and somehow… I thought Noah's Ark was supposed to be a boat! I need…I need to wake up! This isn't real! You're not real!"

Allen winces, not having expected that to hit him at all. Allen Walker is really Mana's construct, isn't he? The question rolls through his head without his consent, but he pushes it away with shaking hands. He kneels down so he is face to face with the now sobbing girl, but he is careful not to reach out and touch her. "I don't know what's going on, either, but denying that it's happening isn't going to get us an answer."

"Take your logic and shove it! I need to wake up, dammit!" It's muffled and cracked from the hands over her face and the tears, but he deciphers it nonetheless. She's rocking herself slightly, little motions probably meant to soothe, but it seems to not be working. "Emi—!"

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

She's gone again, and he's once more left with a disconcerting silence that gives him no answers.


Final Words: I'm making these chapters shorter than my norm (2-3,000 words as opposed to my usual 10,000) because I'm trying to illustrate the fact that Emily's appearances in the Ark aren't very long. Typically, the longest dreams we have at a time are around 30-45 minutes long and occur mostly in the morning hours. I'm just trying to illustrate the fact that the time spent dreaming is actually rather brief, so the amount of time Emily actually spends in the ark isn't that long at all. It'll gradually get longer. Gradually. Not at first, though.

R&R!
~SurreptitiousFox