Chapter Nineteen:
Whole Made of Pieces
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Before you came round my heart would never beat much faster
Before you came round I was ready to slow down
Before you came round I was heading for a small disaster
Before you came round I was ready to blow me down
-"Technicolor Beat" by Oh Wonder
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He awoke with his heart hammering away in his chest, gasping for air past the painful lump that was forming in his throat. He tried pushing the images out of his head, but they stuck with him, refusing to quietly fade. Allen eventually got up, needing to move around, to feel the ground beneath his feet, to feel something real and tangible.
He was more than a little shocked when he nearly stumbled over Ash outside his room. She was up against the wall, nowhere near the middle of the walkway, and curled up with her knees to her chest.
"Hey," she said quietly, without looking up at him. "Bad dreams?"
He nodded, wiping at his brow. It came away clammy and slick with sweat. "You could say that."
"I hate bad dreams." The irony wasn't lost on him. He turned and pressed his back against the wall, sliding down to sit beside her. She immediately flopped her head against his shoulder.
"You do realize," she started slowly, "that you're in nothing but boxer shorts, right?"
Oh. Right.
…there was that one thing he forgot. Then again, he hadn't been expecting to run into Ash. He started to get up.
"I should—maybe I should change—"
She laughed softly, patting his shoulder.
"I won't tell anyone if you don't."
Ash fell quiet and for a while, they sat there, in a strangely comforting hush. He wondered what time it was.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Allen blinked, realizing he almost dozed off. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Not really, it…it was just a dream."
"Okay. If that's what you want."
She didn't press the issue, and he was grateful for it.
He didn't want to relive seeing the Oni swarming their home and bearing their weapons and turning into Akuma mid-invasion. He didn't want to say how terrifying it was to see Ash there, shot down, crumbled to dust, unable to heal. He didn't want to feel the heart-wrenching failure of not seeing them coming, even when they had been right in front of him. It reminded him too much of the events that had happened in Paris, when he and the others had been retrieving Timothy. That was the last mission he had gone on with any of his friends, before he ended up here. He didn't want to relive or talk about it, any of it. Even after four years, he wasn't ready to speak about it to her. Not yet.
"I'm sorry," Ash said after another stint of quietness. "I heard you thrashing and I was coming over to check…and I chickened out at the last minute. I had a feeling it was a nightmare, but…" She exhaled softly. "I'm just a shitty friend sometimes. I'm sorry."
"It's fine, I'm…I'm fine. Really."
"Just fighting monsters in your head?"
How on point she was, she'd probably never really know.
"…something like that."
Ash lifted her head and he could make out her features still. The fire in the main chamber was still somewhat alive to provide just enough of a soft glow to see her. Just barely.
"Do you need anything?" She asked softly.
"I'm fine."
"You sure?"
She was so close, so warm. For just a moment, he forgot about the dream. It felt like bliss to not have it weighing down on his mind, to see Ash sitting there beside him, well and alive.
He didn't think as he leaned over to press his lips to hers, catching her surprised gasp midway.
She pulled away almost instantly. She didn't look happy or angry. Just confused and…worried.
Dare he even say, she even looked…afraid.
"…why would you do that?"
"I…I just…Ash, wait—"
She was up before he could answer, stalking away to disappear into her room, leaving him alone outside.
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She wasn't home when he woke up a second time that day. Her bow and other weapons were gone. So was her pack.
She could survive out there, indefinitely, if she so wished, without ever returning to this place. She could easily find another homestead, there were plenty of viable areas, probably even some he had never glimpsed. She didn't need this cave; she simply preferred staying in the one place that she could call her own. They both knew that.
"What was I thinking? Oh, that's right. I wasn't thinking, at all."
He debated going out after her. He debated staying in and waiting it out. He tore either side down and rebuilt them both back up. Luckily enough, he didn't have long in waiting. Ash didn't stay out for days like he had almost been expecting. She came back in the evening, hauling in supplies and fresh meat. When he hurried over to help, she barked at him that she had it.
He backed off, but followed her regardless.
"Ash, I wanted to talk about what happened and—"
"Don't know what you're talking about."
"Last night, I—"
"Nothing happened. You had a bad dream, we sat up a while, we went to bed."
Oh, straight up denial was the name of the game she was playing. He frowned as she sat down to start cutting the meat she'd brought in.
"I wanted to apologize. I was too straightforward and I realize that now…" His words faded when she stood suddenly, freeing her hands of all things, thankfully enough, although he resisted the urge to back away when she looked his way. Her eyes were frosty and hard as stone.
"Look. Nothing happened and that's the way it will stay. All right?"
"I kissed you. I'm not sure that qualifies as 'nothing'."
Her jaw tightened up as she glared up at him. "Nothing. Happened. And it will stay that way."
She turned back to resume her work. Allen wasn't satisfied by the answer.
"Why don't you want to talk about this? Why pretend it didn't happen? You're clearly upset."
Ash stopped in her tracks, her back still to him.
"Fine. You want to talk about it? I'll answer your question with one of my own: Why would you ever think that kissing me, a goddamned monster, was ever a good idea in the first place?" She peered over her shoulder at him. "Answer me that first. Then we'll move on with the conversation."
She sat back down, leaving him speechless. It didn't last long, unfortunately for her.
"I'm sorry if you felt uncomfortable with what I did. I shouldn't have done it. But I won't apologize for seeing you as another person and not as a monster. Don't you think you deserve to be seen as such?"
"You're an idiot."
"Perhaps I am," he replied, clawing through his head for more. "I can already tell you don't want me to do it again. I won't. I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," Ash snapped. "You probably only did it because you need an outlet or something. And unfortunately, since I'm the only woman around—if you're being honest about liking only women—I just happen to be the only choice around. It's called 'convenience'. But whatever you think you're feeling—it ends now. It's a matter of that same convenience and lack of diversity that's messing with you. When you leave this place, you'll find someone more suited to your tastes or type or whatever, because trust me, I ain't it."
"That isn't why I did it. I did it because I…I like you."
He was just as surprised by the admission as she was. And he had been the one to say it.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "You did not just say—oh, god damn—you didn't say that, you did not just say that."
Ash stood back up, looking ready to reproach him again. She held her hands out toward him and he could see they were shaking.
"You…whatever it is you think you're feeling…just stop. Right now. Because it can't go anywhere. I've told you before, I'm…I'm just not made for that lifestyle. I'm a monster—a very long-lived one with ironically fatal memory issues and I'm going to forget everything over time. It's not an 'if' or 'maybe' or 'possibly going to happen' thing, it's a guaranteed thing. And even if I wanted to have something, I can't. Not with that shit hovering over my head, just waiting to snatch away anything that might come out of it, good or bad. I'm going to forget and…and I can't stop it. I don't want to forget, I don't want to-to forget you, I don't. Believe me, I fucking don't. But it's going to happen regardless of what I want."
Her hands were balled up at her sides and shaking, like she wanted to hit something. He wasn't sure if it was because she was angry at him or at what had happened, or if it was over something else. She actually looked ready to cry, although she was doing all she could to hold the tears back. He wanted to backpedal the moment he heard the crack in her voice. He hadn't wanted to make her cry, but pretending nothing happened wasn't going to accomplish anything.
"What do you want?"
She blinked, and the first tear fell loose, trailing down her cheek.
"I don't want to ruin what works with us. And I don't want to forget. I just…I want to remember things. This island has taken too much shit from me enough as it is. The least it can do is leave my fucking head alone."
Ash stiffened when he reached up then, wiping away the tear. "Maybe I can help figure something out, so you do remember?"
She gaped at him, briefly speechless. "It doesn't work like that," she finally said.
"Then we'll just have to find something that does."
He let his hand linger, cupping her face. She didn't pull away from the touch. Instead, she reached up, resting her hand on his and closed her eyes, taking a measured breath.
"Don't keep promises you can't keep, Allen."
Gradually, she pulled his hand away, turned on her heel and sat right back down to finish working.
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He noticed the change in the way she reacted and interacted with him almost instantly in the coming days. The lacking in contact was palpable and it left a frozen, coiled lump in the pit of his stomach when she would go out of her way to avoid him. She was distancing herself, really; trying to return to her old habits that ordained a sense of detachment between them. Just enough to keep them apart, but still close enough that they could work together like before.
He was having difficulties maintaining the same standard she seemed to have already achieved. He was used to the familiar and calming warmth she presented when she was near. He had grown accustomed to her sitting beside him, sometimes even going so far as to hold his hand or lean on him. He often had to catch himself from reaching out to her. Weeks passed like this and the tension was tangible and strained. She had been opening up. Getting close. He missed that sorely because it had taken so long for her to get to that point and it had taken only a split second to shatter it all to pieces.
Everything was just business in her books now.
It would have been better for him if he could simply switch things like that himself. It was almost like she had forgotten anything and everything between them, that she was pushing it away in lieu of…well, not what it used to be between them.
But he caught her slipping too from time to time.
He'd catch her reaching back sometimes, whether it was for his hand or to pat his shoulder. Every time she did and he saw it, he'd feel his breath hitch, waiting for something that never came.
He could understand her reasons, respect them, even. She was afraid of delving into unknown territory that would most likely, eventually, erode with time. It'd be something she'd forget and what terrified her the most was that she knew it was coming. But the tension was beginning to wear on him, pulling his nerves tighter and tighter still.
"I wonder how long the rains will last this time."
Allen pulled himself from his thoughts, looking up. They had taken refuge in one of the old war bunkers, sheltered from the lashing rains of yet another storm. The fire was going strong. For now.
An old gun, huge and long dead, rested on its swivel, its barrel sticking well out of the slit that opened up to the seas beyond. Fleetingly, it reminded him of a level one Akuma's gun barrel and he shivered. Ash was sitting next to it on the lip of the bunker slit, looking out as the rains danced across the sea below, and upsetting the waters that had been mostly calm earlier that day. The skies were gunmetal grey for now, but they were beginning to grow darker.
Night was coming.
"Hopefully by morning, they'll stop," he answered her. She made a soft humming noise in return. Even by the fire, he could feel the wind winding its way inside through cracks in the bunker's armour, cold tendrils that tugged at his clothing, determined to chill him further.
"We can move in deeper, if you'd like. This spot's a little exposed."
"We've already got the fire going."
"I can make another."
"I'm fine."
She didn't recoil at his irritable tone, although he regretted it almost immediately. She watched him with that impassive mask of hers in place. Ash turned her eyes away after some time, back out toward the grey sea.
"If you say so."
She went quiet and remained that way for a while. He felt the strain between them tugging at him again. After some debate, he said, "Um…actually…maybe we should move. We could get attacked, if we stay here."
By the Oni, by the Solarii, by some nimble-footed dinosaur that could hopscotch its way across the cliffs to get to them. It went left unsaid, but it was implied and that was enough for her. When she returned to look at him, she pursed her lips, glanced at the fire and it was out in a wink, barely a hiss of smoke left over. Ash picked herself up and strode over, collecting the bundle of firewood they had gathered. The ones in the makeshift pit were cold to the touch, not even a hint of embers left over or even a glowing spark inside the wood. The blackened ends smeared charcoal over her clothes, but she didn't seem to care a wit. He gathered the packs and their bows while she waited.
Their new spot was a little harder to get to, but it was better protected from the winds and the cold, at least. The air was still chilly, although that soon faded after Ash got the fire going again. It warmed up quicker, to say the least, without all the heat being blown away.
Allen rubbed his hands together and held them over the fire, the coldness fading as warmth seeped in.
"We didn't bring enough food for this delay, did we?"
Without a word, Ash dragged her pack over and rooted around it before yanking a few parcels wrapped in varying animal hides out. She tossed them his way. He picked one of them up, recognized the particular way it was wrapped and met her expectant gaze.
"Ash, I couldn't—"
"You can and you will. I can go longer without a little bit of food than you. I'll be fine. Just eat."
He stared at her, torn between feeling grateful and annoyed.
"Even when you're trying to act cold, you somehow find a way to be kind. I wish you'd choose one or the other."
Ash blinked, her jaw not quite tightening, but it wasn't relaxed either.
"I'm not being cold."
"You're close enough to it. You've been like this since the night after I kissed you."
"Don't."
It was a simple word, quietly spoken and with little emphasis, but it sounded like a gunshot in his ears. Another 'don't' meant to not talk about it. To forget it existed, to forget it ever happened.
She eventually would.
He wouldn't ever be able to.
"I can't. I'm not going to be able to forget like you, Ash. I can't just go back to that routine where I have no idea what to say or do that won't set you off, or won't get a reaction at all, even."
"You are trying to pry open a door that can't be closed once it is opened."
There was a flash of anger that danced across her face. It was short-lived, but it was there. She pushed herself to her feet, her pawed feet scraping noisily across the concrete as they raked across it. She started back toward the way they had come, but he was already scrambling to his feet, trotting after her.
"Why don't you want to talk about this?"
"Because there's nothing to talk about."
"Yes, there is," he insisted, rounding himself into her path. She stopped short of colliding into him, leaning away when he reached for her. "You're afraid to feel something, anything, for anyone beyond what you present on the surface to them. That's why you make sure everyone who lands here feels as unwelcome as possible, and you include yourself in that equation. To make them not want to stay, to make them want to leave, and that way, they'll never grow attached to you."
"You got me in a box here. Great detective work there, Sherlock. Got anything else to add to the case?"
She was glaring at him in a rather painfully earnest manner. That was the most he'd gotten out of her in weeks.
"You're afraid to forget, so you don't grow attached or give your trust to anyone. You're afraid to do that with me. But the problem is, you already have. You wouldn't have risked your life to save mine on multiple occasions if that weren't the case."
"I 'risk' my life doing a lot of things. Not just saving people. I apparently go cliff-jumping for fun, remember?"
"You didn't know if the Oni had killed me or not weeks ago. You could have left me behind. You came anyway, either to collect me alive or dead. Would you have done that for anyone else? Have you ever done it for anyone else?"
She didn't answer. Ash looked appropriately staggered at his inquiry. She averted her eyes, trying to keep from looking at him and lurched to go around him.
"I'll be back in the morning."
Allen turned to intercept. For a moment, he thought she was going to strike back and he was prepared for that. Instead she tried to jerk away and broke free, stunned.
"Please stop running and talk to me. If not about this, then about our friendship and where it stands. I see you these days and you're trying to put back on pieces of a mask that you threw away a long time ago, and all I want is the friend back that would read from that awful joke book and sincerely laugh at it. I want the friend back who went climbing in sea caves for treasures. I want the friend back who taught me to shoot a bow and arrow and how to communicate with the raptors and the rexes successfully without looking like a complete idiot while doing so." He swallowed past the lump in his throat.
"I just want my friend back."
She grew tense as he spoke and for one horrible moment, he thought she was going to bolt and he couldn't tell what she was thinking.
She took a step forward. He thought his eyes had been playing tricks on him at first, but she took another toward him. The distance between them was small, but it might as well have been a great chasm. All at once, an eternity passed within only a few seconds and he was suddenly being gripped hard in a tight embrace, Ash's head pressed against his chest.
"I don't want to forget you. I don't. I don't, I don't, I don't."
She kept repeating those words, over and over again until it was a senseless babble mumbled into his shirt. Slowly, Allen encircled his arms around her, still wary that she might try to yank herself away and make a dash for it. He was surprised when she started sobbing after he did and he held her all the tighter for it.
After some time, she fell quiet. In between that and when she had begun crying, they somehow found their way on the ground, sitting in front of the fire. For a long time after all that, he felt he needed to say something. Anything. He was afraid to break what tenuous truce they had come to, however. Afraid that either she'd do it or he would end up doing it.
"I do care, you know."
He startled out of his stupor. He had nearly been lulled to sleep.
The arms around him squeezed slightly, reminding him that Ash was still bundled in his arms, her head on his chest, her body pressed to his side.
"You're the only person I care about on this stupid island. I don't want to lose that," she said, her voice nearly inaudible.
He waited, hoping for more, but she didn't say anything else. Her comment alone, however, had been strangely enough. An admission that was finally confirmed aloud instead of through actions. Time seemed to crawl by after that. Slowly, he came to realize she'd fallen asleep.
He stayed up after he unrolled her bedding from her pack, even though he felt exhausted himself.
She's stayed up too many times when they were out overnight on the island, taking up hours that should have been his shifts and burdened herself with the watch. Letting him catch some sleep and earn his rest. He thought of the other small ways she's shown she's cared, if not in words like she had just admitted, then through actions. For Ash, actions were louder than any spoken word.
Letting her sleep for once was the least he could do to show his appreciation.
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