Chapter Ten:
Friction

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"Every friendship goes through ups and downs. Dysfunctional patterns set in; external situations cause internal friction; you grow apart and then bounce back together."
-Mariella Frostrup

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The Solarii never ventured close to where he and Ash resided if they could help it. Even if they had superior numbers and a myriad of weaponry at their disposal, they knew better than to attack her stronghold or wander too closely in the pine forest just above their shantytown for too long. Her fiery powers alone was enough to dissuade them, and of course, they had coined her with the unaffectionate nickname of 'Fire Walker'. (Allen found a bitter irony in that nickname alone. When he once pointed it out between their…similarities after learning about it, she scoffed and grumbled, looking rather disgruntled and told him to not get any ideas based on family names matching nicknames.)

But regardless of nicknames or not, the Solarii would sooner attack the aggressive herds on the northern end of the island than Ash's stronghold, and he's seen it before. Those who weren't over the edge yet were absolutely terrified of her and with good reason. They called her a monster. Now that Mathias had been killed and Himiko was gone, they were nothing more than scattered remnants, rogue cells—although he doubted they knew that, mainly due to the storms continuing on schedule even without her influence.

"The Dragon's Triangle is more violent in comparison to the Bermuda Triangle," Ash had told him, once again as a reminder. "It's riddled with enough storms to last a while, even without the Sun Queen riling things up. It's just the more unusual ones that are absent."

Almost in a prophetic turn of events, that very same night in which her reminder was said, a large storm came rolling in over the island, casting its dark shadow over everything it touched. Carmilla and Báthory took shelter within the pine forest together, and the raptors bedded down in the cave with them. Not even Ash would go out amidst the howling wind and the lashing rain for the following days it had remained.

"Too dangerous," she actually admitted with a cross look on her face. "But that also means the Solarii and the Oni alike won't be out and about, setting up more traps. Not if they want to remain intact."

On more than one occasion, he and Ash have had to disable snares, bear traps, and tripwires around the island, if only to bypass some of the Solarii themselves without triggering a gunfight.

Those were numerous enough as it was. Sometimes the Solarii started it.

Sometimes Ash did.

Allen loathed it when she did, especially when he was actually present and in danger of being shot at. He couldn't bring it upon himself to return an arrow back in the face of the onslaught of enemy fire. Instead, he ducked behind cover, if only for a few seconds before Molotov cocktails or sticks of dynamite would come sailing his way and he had to scramble. Ash was always there, though. He had never been caught alone with them, not since he first found himself on the island of Yamatai. She was always a shield, the driving force, the spear point. If they were ever caught, she was always going on the offense, allowing him to crouch behind cover while she diverted their fire onto her.

He hated every moment she did, almost as much as he hated it when she started any fights. It made him feel utterly useless, the few times they were out caught with the Solarii shooting at them. But he couldn't bring himself to kill another human being. Incapacitate, perhaps, but the finishing blow never came from him. The thought of felling someone with the mindset of "kill or be killed" the way Ash did just didn't sit right with him.

If it had been an Akuma, he would have fought back without hesitation—especially if it meant a chance to save the rotting human soul within the demonic machinery. If it were the Noah or even the Millennium Earl, he would have gladly fought with actual fervor if it meant destroying another evil entity in the world. But other humans, even those that meant him harm…he found he couldn't.

He hated it with his gut, but every time he tried, he froze. So he let Ash handle it, even if it meant knowing she was killing them and not just debilitating them. They could have escaped, all those people, but they really were too ingrained in the lifestyle they had immersed themselves in. If they had gone back to polite society…he could imagine a number of things, actually. Many of which would have ended with them being removed from that aforementioned polite society indefinitely, and sent to yet another isolated prison to spend the rest of their numbered days in solitude with like-minded criminals.

Just because he pitied them and their situation, and how they ended up where they were, didn't mean he condoned them or their actions. This was especially true since they tried to kill him on sight if they thought they could get away with it, just for being associated with Ash.

It was too bad for them that she was always around. And that meant they always made a mistake with trying to engage with him. It usually meant bringing a werewolf's wrath down on their heads. And by god, it just wasn't a pretty sight. He always felt sort of guilty that he was glad she was on his side and he'd most likely never be on the receiving end of those terrifying powers of hers.

Just thinking of the mere possibility of her turning on him made his stomach turn sour.

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The ruins they faced were mostly intact. It felt strange to be looking at something that has withstood thousands of years against all odds, and at the most, only suffered superficial damage. Most ruins around this island had been victims of the destructive wear-and-tear of the weather, the Solarii raids, even the passing of the new dinosaurian inhabitants. Ash led him through the building, and the evidence of its testimony to remain unbowed was immediately apparent. The staircase was still mostly standing, although there were several steps that had given in and splintered away.

Whatever furniture that might have been here was long gone, and signs of previous islander inhabitants were more apparent than its original owners. There were paintings on the walls, stains of white against the tarnished dark wood, simplistic figures of Himiko all over the place. Occasionally, words such 'Father Mathias Will Save Us' and 'NO ONE LEAVES' were smeared on the walls. They had to traverse through the old home to get to another part of the island; it was new to him, of course. He hadn't been through this trail before. Ash, predictability, knew every inch of this place in comparison. She's had decades, perhaps even centuries' worth of time to memorize everything, including new footpaths and game trails that arose due to external meddling and changes in the environment.

She motioned for them to climb the staircase.

"Careful," she said, eying the fallen steps. She assumed a more cautious gait as she moved and he mirrored her, stepping carefully in the same places she would. Something cried out abruptly on the floor above them. Ash froze, ears stiffening to a ramrod straight position, eyes searching pointedly. She sniffed openly, and he knew she could pick up scents that he couldn't possibly fathom. The little cry came again, and she visibly relaxed.

"Bird," she confirmed. They continued moving upwards.

As they approached the final floor, Allen soon came to find he stood corrected: the intactness of the building was not at all complete. There were chunks missing along the back wall and parts of the roof were gone as well that couldn't be seen from the front. It provided them a clear view of their path below, however. A thin and crooked trail pressed right up against the cliffs and he assumed that was where they needed to go. Why they needed to go this way, he couldn't yet decipher. Ash was strict on her silence regarding the subject, but she insisted that they needed to go this way.

Ash was the first down, leaping from the second story onto the thin stony platform behind the old house. There wasn't much room for him to land. He'd have to nail this just right—

Something came up from behind him and smashed right into the back of his head. Pain splintered like glass through his skull and a mixture of black, white, and red spots danced rapidly across his vision. The wind was knocked out of him and as he hit the floor, it gushed out again. Tightness settled in his chest as he struggled to draw breath, but his lungs weren't cooperating. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he thrashed onto his hands and knees while the anguish still pranced about in his head.

His vision cleared and he sucked in a breath, if only for a few seconds. He caught sight of a wild-faced man bundled in faded, salt-crusted baggy clothing. A baseball bat was enclosed in his hands and Allen caught a glimpse of red staining it (Blood? Was it his blood? Or was it someone else's?) before an earth-shattering roar trumpeted away in his ears. The very floorboards beneath him shook, almost threatening to snap apart and send him plummeting.

Breath began to seep back into him in small, painful sips and his head dulled to a constant, painful throb that seemed to intensify and fade in consistent intervals. But he didn't miss how the man froze suddenly across from Allen, terror washing across his wild face, and a moment of clarity streaked inside him. It was gone in a matter of seconds, giving way to pure, undulating terror.

Ash came barreling back through the gaping hole in the wall, a blur of movement too fast for the eye to follow. She made a beeline for the wild-faced man, who went stumbling away as soon as she appeared. He fled into the next room, trying to escape.

"No, no! Mercy, mercy please! Please, spare me—!"

Another teeth-rattling bellow arose, cutting off the pitiable cries into a strangled scream. That too came to an abrupt and sickening end. It was either a few minutes or a few hours that passed before everything slowed down into focus. Allen was wobbling up to his feet when he felt hands helping him back up the rest of the way. The world was still a dizzy and spinning mess, but even Allen knew what had just happened.

"You killed him," he said, trying to focus on Ash's face. It remained, more or less, in its constant stony mask she normally wore. The hard, thin line of her lips; the furrowed brow and unreadable mismatched blue-grey and gold eyes; the sharp angle of her chin matched with her high cheekbones and tanned skin—she'd be pretty if she didn't scowl or glower so much. Even the scar across her cheek and the bridge of her nose wasn't that terrible. And she looked so young, he almost couldn't believe she'd been alive for hundreds of years.

He batted away the hand that was prodding at him, trying to turn him around and check his head.

"You killed him!" He repeated, this time more firmly as the spinning began to subside. He glared at her—or hoped he was. "He was begging for mercy—and you slaughtered him without listening, without thinking!"

She stopped completely and listened with that impassive stare, although he knew she was beginning to get annoyed. Her jaw tightened up and the muscles in her neck grew corded and taut. He took the pause as a sign that she wasn't ready to speak yet and glanced behind her. He almost wished he hadn't. He met her gaze with a steeled resolve, his fists clenching up into balls at his side.

"He was surrendering to you—how could you be so heartless? What if this had been our chance to start an alliance with the Solarii? It can start with just one man, just one! Have you no humanity left in you—HEY! Stop!"

She pushed past him and when he grabbed her arm, she whirled so fast on him in return, he didn't know he had been pinned to a wall until his head slammed up against it. It sparked another round of spots and wave of pain threatening to consume his vision. Only when it cleared could he gain a full sense of what was happening. Ash had her arm braced against his chest, not his throat, but she was making it clear just how very strong she was—and he found he might not be able to unpin himself if he wanted to be free. Not very easily. His chest ached where she pressed her arm against it, using her smaller height to an advantage. It was like trying to breathe past a metal vice.

Both her eyes were golden and almost glowing as she regarded him with a quiet snarl painted on her face.

"Have you forgotten all of what I've told you about these assholes?" Her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear her. "He was going to kill you. He was going to try, anyway, to bludgeon you to death by smashing your skull in. He caught you by surprise. He caught me by surprise, and it's rare someone can do that. I'll grant him that much."

A rumbling growl built up and spilled out from her, the vibrations traveling up to press in against him. Her eyes flickered ominously when she glanced over her shoulder. Her ears pressed flatly against her head.

"If you had been the one to beg for mercy, he wouldn't have spared you. These are men who have murdered children. Babies, even! I know, because I had to clean up the damned mess. They left the bodies to rot and I had to be the one to burn them and put them to rest."

Her grip on him loosened, but only slightly. It was enough that he could draw a breath easier.

"They wouldn't have had any qualms about spilling the blood of a kid your age. They'd enjoy hearing you beg for mercy. They'd laugh. They are the ones who have lost their humanity! At the very least, I give survivors a chance. I give them shelter and food and attempt to get them off the island. I do not pressgang them into joining me."

Her arm fell away and he saw that it had transformed into a furred appendage from the elbow down, tipped with lethal claws at the end. He saw their tips stained red and he looked away. When she met his gaze, they were still hard and cold.

"You're the one who chose this life, even after being given several chances to flee to the comfort of civilization. You chose to stay. I didn't make you. You made your choice, now you get to lie in the grave you dug up for yourself."

She strolled away with that left hanging in the air between them, over to where she must have dropped her pack and slung it back over her shoulder. His mouth went gone cotton-dry and any argument he had left faded. He could still felt the heat of anger broiling away in the pit of his stomach but it was also tying itself into hard knots at the same time. He wanted to speak but the words wouldn't come. On some level, he knew she was speaking the truth. He just didn't want her to be right.

"They received the due reward of their deeds. They cast aside their own humanity the moment they were inducted into the Solarii Brotherhood, the moment they embraced it. If they want to harm those who try to or cannot defend themselves, then they should expect to get hurt by those can fight back. It's as simple as that."

"But then that makes you no better than they are," he shot back, without thinking, without preamble. That surprised her, if the thoughtful pause she took was any indication. Her jaw tightened moments later.

"If I was anything like them, I would have left you to die on numerous occasions. I would have watched you die. I would have enjoyed watching you die. I chose to save you instead, like I chose to save those whom I could get to in time, before the Solarii did. I've spilled my blood to save your little neck." Her lips peeled back, if only for a moment, and he caught a glimpse of the large canines that always seemed much too big to be in a human's mouth. Too big, too sharp, too…inhuman. "You're the one who's no better than them. You wouldn't pick up a weapon to save anyone if it came down to that. You'd stand by and watch like the rest of those bastards."

She left him with that said and it filled him with shame and anger. He noticed her arm had returned to normal, the fur gone and replaced to its lanky, lean usualness. Except for the blood still staining her fingertips.

Even if she washed that away though, he felt like he'd always see it.

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He didn't follow her. Not at first. Maybe not ever, if he had his way. He stayed where he was, where she left him, in the house with the corpse of a man who had attempted to murder him. He knew there were humans out there that, no matter what, might not deserve to live. They didn't deserve the chances they had been given, while others who suffered did. Conflict tore at his gut like a wild animal, making him feel sick. Or maybe that was his head injury messing with him. He wasn't sure anymore. Was he concussed? He didn't know that either, but he struggled to stay awake. It didn't work.

Allen was startled awake at the peeping warbles of a pack of Compies in the same room as him. Most were scattered around or were already dining on the corpse of the Solarii brother. A few were beginning to venture closer toward him, warbling with deceptive cuteness. It was almost dusk and the room was grey with shadows, but the Compies' bright green hides were still discernible enough. He panicked, scrambling to his feet and glanced out the hole in the wall. One of his only routes was blocked by the nasty little Compies. He didn't want to just barrel on through them, nor did he think knocking through a wall would be wise. It might bring the rest of the old house down around him.

And then I'd be dinosaur food for sure if that happened. If the house doesn't kill or injure me, they certainly will try. With a resigned and bitter sigh, he took to the gaping open hole where Ash had disappeared through hours before and landed on what little ground there was left over. Allen pressed against the cliff and shuffled along the thin trail, mindful of his steps. It looked like what used to be a large pathway carved into the sides of the mountain had fallen away and collapsing the rest wasn't in his plans today. Eventually and thankfully enough, the narrow footsteps widened out and gave him ample room to walk without the threat of falling down a chasm. It took him the better part of an hour to make his way down the cliffs.

When he finally managed to find level ground, he found a hole to crawl through to get to the other side of a huge slab of mountain. It was where her tracks led. He couldn't even stand up completely most of the time. Judging by the wooden beams haphazardly stuck inside it, someone didn't want the tunnel to collapse suddenly. He came out the other side a little sandy, but quite alive and found himself on the slope of a hill. Down he went, following a predesignated trail carved out between the seagrass and sand.

A few old World War II trucks and even a few tanks were scattered across the sandy landscape. Their hides were rusted beyond measure, and their wheels were rotted and collapsed. No way would he ever get to drive around in one. Ash would complain all the time whenever they passed one by, lamenting on how the boat was the only engine she'd ever fix again in her lifetime.

"I miss my car. I actually…I actually kind of remember it. It was beautiful—black stripes, shiny bright yellow chassis…and the roar of that engine, the feel of the steering wheel in my hands…" He could already hear her sigh wistfully, and it was perhaps the only time she ever did that sort of thing. The sudden thought of the werewolf curdled his mood all over again and her earlier words came back to bite at him. The way she had told him how he was no better than the Solarii when she was the one with blood on her hands…

The nerve of her! Just when he was starting to appreciate her company—even if she was right, he did choose to stay here and well, live with her—she had to go and ruin it with those erroneous and downright ridiculous accusations.

He almost started grumbling aloud about it all as he tromped down the beach, past the seagrass that was beginning to thin out and give way to a sandy, rock-littered beach. There was a pillar of stone with natural steps sitting in the middle of the beach, and a path between it and the cliffs looming over the beach. He skirted between the sea spire and the cliffs, until he came upon the sight of the water itself. There were a few more bunkers here, most of them more intact than the ones where the PT boat usually sat. He could make out evidence of docks, too—or what was left of them. Most were smashed up beyond recognition, and all that was left were stubs. All except for one.

It must have been sheltered from the more violent of currents or maybe it was just luck and good engineering, because it was mostly intact. What surprised him the most was the pristine white boat that sat there, right there in front of him at the docks. It looked so out of place, with its untarnished keel and the brilliant paintjob. It bobbed gently in the calm tides, the last of the sunlight feebly pushing through the overcast sky on the horizon, giving it a soft, almost ethereal, glow to it.

As he approached, he could make out the name of the boat on the side: 'Parvus Sed Potens'. It startled him slightly, to see a Latin phrase as a boat name. 'Small but mighty'. Curious. The boat was moored to the dock, and there was a makeshift gangplank set up against the side and he mounted it, taking care with his steps so as to not get knocked off.

The design of the boat was strange. Different. Streamlined and made of material that was most decidedly not wood. He'd even go so far as to describe it as 'futuristic', because that was most likely how it really was. It wasn't of his century. It was probably much closer to Ash's time period than to his own. The thought of her again made him realize who it was that had found this thing. She was always wandering off on her own, when she wasn't teaching him something. She was also probably the one who tied the line and set up the gangplank. Is this what she wanted to show me? This boat?

She had been so insistent on coming here, tight-lipped on why they were heading this way, that he wouldn't have been surprised. Allen wandered the deck, pausing to take in the high-rising cliffs, the distant horizon where the clouds gathered and the sun fought to peer through. It was getting dark, though, and the clouds were painted a deeply bruised purple and blue. In the distant, he could hear faint rumblings. He sighed. Just what they needed on Yamatai: another storm.

Allen stiffened. He heard something. It sounded like a voice. It was muffled and tinny, too quiet to make out the words, but distinct enough to recognize all the same. He turned back away from the gunwale and spotted a door. Through the small glass window, he could make out the flickering of light. He crossed the deck and just as he was about to grasp the doorknob, he stopped himself. Ash was most likely on the other side and if not her, then a Solarii brother, for sure. Confliction tore into him, and he stood there for nearly a minute, trying to decide whether or not to investigate. All the while, he could hear the voice inside, speaking softly. Then it grew quiet. So very quiet. He swallowed, his throat aching and dry, as he grabbed the doorknob and opened it.

It turned out to be Ash behind it. Her back was turned to him and she was hunched over a console. A bright screen sat in front of her, but there was nothing there. Just light. She didn't turn to acknowledge him. She said nothing at all. He remained in the doorway, frozen between coming inside and leaving her where she was. Allen wasn't sure how long he stood there, or how long she remained immobile where she was, but it felt like an eternity and only a few seconds all at once.

"I was…wrong."

He startled when she finally spoke. Ash's voice sounded so rough and hoarse, he almost didn't recognize it. He almost believed it had been someone else entirely, that they weren't alone, just the two of them.

"I was wrong, for saying you were no better than the Solarii. That was…that was stupid of me."

He blinked at her owlishly, shocked. She remained where she was, still hunched over the console beneath the glowing screen.

"I really am the one who's no better than the Solarii. Stupid of me to say that. I'm…" She stopped herself short, balling one of her hands up into a fist. Her knuckles cracked so loud, he could hear it from across the room. "I'm the monster here. I can't even say I have a shred of humanity left because I'm not human anymore, and I—"

She laughed. It was soft and without a trace of warmth or humour. He's rarely heard her laugh before. He would have believed her incapable of it on more than one occasion, to be truthful.

"I can't wash the blood from my hands, no matter how much I scrub. For every life I save, I've probably taken away ten in their place. And it doesn't matter how much good I do, maybe I'm just…not a good person."

Ash straightened a little in place, but she still looked…beaten. Tired. Small. It was as though all her quiet bravado and sharp words and armour had built her up into someone larger than she really was. Underneath it all, she was just a tiny woman in frame and stature and she looked more like that than what he was normally used to.

"I'm a little jealous, you know. Of the Solarii Brothers. I hear them talking sometimes, about the lives they believe are still back where they came from. Families and friends and time they think they've lost. And all I can think of is, 'they get to remember'. They get to have that. And me? I don't get jack shit. I don't get that at all. I don't get to look in a mirror, and say 'I got my mom or dad's eyes or nose or face or stupid-as-shit-stubbornness'. I-I don't get to recall all the stupid shit I got away with as a kid and I don't get to shudder at all the things that should have killed me and I survived it. I don't get to recall the people I went to school with or grew up with. I don't get to know if I had friends, any at all, nothing. I have nothing left."

Another barking fit of laughter that sounded so cold, it made a shiver run up his spine. It faded just as quickly as it had come, with a bitter tinge in the aftermath hanging in the air. She heaved a sigh and pushed herself away from the console, another bout of silence steeped between them. When she spoke again, if it was possible, her voice had grown softer, quieter. He would even dare to say, more vulnerable. Perhaps the most he's ever heard before from her.

"All I get when I try to think of how things might have been for me, is a gaping black hole where my memories should be. Everyone I might have known or cared for, they're dead. I already know that much. They've been dead for…hundreds of years. And every day, I try to think, 'who did I grow up with, who raised me, who loved me' and every day, I just…get nothing. I have nothing to hold onto. My memories have just…rotted away. I have nobody to look forward to, no one to mourn. I wish I could use the excuse that I'm doing all that I do here for survival, that I'm doing it so I can eventually leave and get back to…whoever I used to call my loved ones. But to be honest, I don't even know anymore. It's just…a kneejerk reaction now. The Solarii shoot at me, I shoot back. I don't even think about trying to make peace any longer. They don't want it."

Ash turned around as she spoke, leaning up against the console with her arms crossing over her chest. She kept her eyes pinned to the floor, as though she was deciphering something hidden there that only she could understand. He could see, though, her face was gaunt and ruddy-cheeked, and heavy bruised bags sat beneath her eyes, like she hadn't slept in days, weeks.

She'd been crying.

"I'll bet even you remember someone's face. Someone whose memory keeps you grounded. Sane, even. You might be saner than any of us on Yamatai combined, really. It's practically been overnight for you, but they're still there, aren't they? Up in your head, I mean."

He didn't have an idea of how to respond to that, any of it, really. This was the most she'd ever spoken on a personal level with him. So earnest, so truthful. She even admitted to being wrong. Apologized. Recognized her flawed methods. He was starting to question whether or not he was dreaming or worse, dying and Compies were nibbling at his face. He discreetly pinched his arm and flinched when the pain registered, crystal clear, and he recognized that yes indeed, this was real. She was actually…opening up.

This was perhaps the closest she'd ever get to baring to anyone her soul. Did werewolves even have souls? They had to have a soul, right?

Allen shook that last thought away. Carefully, he crossed the threshold and turned to lean against the console beside her. She looked more exhausted up close, like the weight of the world was crushing down on her shoulders and back, but she wasn't quite ready to bow out quite yet. She didn't look at him as he approached. She was avoiding his gaze, avoiding looking at him directly, even when he came to stand right beside her.

She didn't say anything for a good, long minute. He was still searching for the right thing to say. What could he say to someone who's been alive for much longer than he has, who's seen and most likely done so much more on this little island than he's done in the last sixteen years of his life? She hasn't seen much outside of Yamatai for centuries, but something told him that despite her limited scope of the world, she still had more to give than she was willing to let on.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Her voice was so soft; he thought he had imagined it at first. Simple and quiet words and they had sounded so…fragmented, and they were coming from her. They were words she probably hadn't said in years, words she wasn't used to saying, even. When he looked back at her, he was suddenly reminded that she could, in fact, actually cry. He remembered the night they had lost that man to a piece of shrapnel in his gut after a nasty storm that had passed through, and how she had tried so damned hard to save him, and ended up losing him all the same in the end. He recalled how she had cried when they lit the funeral pyre and asked him if it was stupid of her to cry for a stranger who had no one else to mourn his loss in the world. A complete stranger. She had cried for a complete and utter stranger's death and it was the first time he's seen her do it.

Now she was crying again.

Without thinking, he reached over and wiped away the tear that was rolling down her cheek. She flinched, and he nearly expected her to move away. Instead she snapped her head up and glanced at him sharply, like a deer caught in the light of a torch. She stared at him like she was going to flee from the gentle touch, or retaliate in a violent manner because she didn't know how to react appropriately. He could see the gears turning in her eyes and they suddenly froze, trying to unjam themselves and send up a response for her to issue out.

"I don't agree with how you deal with the Solarii. There could be better ways. Why Mathias believes turning to violence and murder, and forcing such choices upon those who follow him to obtain his goals in leaving this place is beyond me," he started slowly, choosing his words with care as he pulled his hand away from her face. Her eyes followed the movement of his hand, as though expecting him to strike unexpectedly, but she remained still. It felt more like he was trying to handle one of her raptors than another person the way she watched him so sharply.

"But I was wrong for saying you were no better than they are. You, at the very least, try to help people, where they actively seek to hurt them. You give those who wash up on these shores a choice, like me. You didn't force me to stay. In fact, you were more adamant on my leaving."

He smiled, attempting to soften the situation. She didn't return the gesture. But at least she was looking at him now, studying his face as though trying to decipher what he was going to say or do next.

"I don't agree with your methods," he repeated. "But I don't agree with theirs, either. Just like you don't seem to agree with mine."

He tried to offer her another smile, another opportunity to perhaps lighten up, but she didn't seem to be buying into it. His smile eventually faded and he sighed quietly. "I'm sorry you don't remember anyone. It…it must be hard. I can't imagine forgetting the people I miss."

"You never talk about them."

"It doesn't mean I don't miss them any less."

She didn't have an answer to that. He had to think of something else to say. She continued to watch him like one of the raptors would, with that unblinking stare that they were so good at when they were focused on something that held their interest.

"When you…when you have to…burn someone's body. To let them pass on, I mean…when you cry, is it…" He hesitated, feeling his face flush. He bit his lip, chewing on it before pushing forward. "Do you…pretend that they're someone you might have known, when you could still recall your memories? Someone you loved?"

"Yes," she said, her voice soft once more. "Sometimes."

Night had finally and fully fallen upon them. There were blinking lights in the cabin of the boat, a soft amber glow from somewhere else and the luminosity of the screen behind them gave off enough ambient light to see by. He could hear the sea outside, gently lapping up against the boat, but occasionally the clipped growl of thunder rumbled to remind them another storm was coming.

"We should look around. This boat looks like it was abandoned in a hurry. Maybe most of the supplies are intact."

Allen sighed as Ash pushed away from the console they had both been leaning on. Whatever atmosphere that was between them had all but vanished and her usual air of indifference was once more cocooning her, but Allen sensed a bit of a change. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he could sense it all the same. He just hoped it was for the better.

"You…had a rather sudden change of heart," he prodded carefully, watching as she moved about the cabin, pausing at another console on the adjacent wall to where he stood. She was inspecting something, although he wasn't sure what. "You usually take days to mull over something like this. But this time was different. Why?"

"It's just what the Doctor ordered, I suppose. I'm a stubborn idiot too ingrained in my ways without glancing at the highway option. Maybe it's high time I looked into other…methods."

Allen hadn't a clue what a 'highway option' was, but he cautiously assumed it meant something good. That was what her tone was insinuating, at least.

…he hoped.

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