Chapter Twenty-Two:
Dust and Light
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"Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
-Excerpt of "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas
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The weeks seemed to crawl past at a snail's pace lately. Winter continued to creep up just as slowly, but its advance was apparent regardless. The chill in the air lingered longer, leaving them to breathe out mist with every exhalation. Heavy furs were needed to keep the cold at bay, at least for him. Ash never needed them for herself, but she had plenty to spare for him. Still, even wearing the furs didn't come close in comparison when he was sitting side-by-side to the werewolf.
Snow never seemed to fall naturally on Yamatai. It only occurred when Himiko was a present entity and at the moment, he was grateful she wasn't. But now it was cold enough to make him wish it would. He was just glad Ash hadn't forced him out to go hunting again.
The last time that happened, he couldn't very well hold his bow, never mind loose an arrow. His fingers had turned completely numb, useless things that couldn't even twinge the barest movement to pull and release a bowstring. Ash was so much smaller, she should be the one struggling, but she had that internal heat, an eternal fire burning away at her core, burning her up from the inside out and keeping her blissfully warm. She was so much warmer than anyone her size had any right to be, almost feverish to the touch if one didn't know any better. She should be brain dead from the constant, sweltering her body goes through, but she lived, moved, breathed, existed just fine. Her biology in comparison to his was unique to her, just as his was unique in comparison to hers.
Komui and the others at the Science Department would have loved to know how she did it. They would have wanted to know how she could coexist with such a volatile element and not burn up just by breathing, never mind when she willed the fire into existence. He knew that he was still amazed when she let it dance across her skin without any repercussions. He was even more amazed when she changed its colours and shapes to imitate actual life.
Ash would probably have hated being poked and prodded by anyone, and he could only imagine the kind of chaos she would unleash if they tried.
The thought brought a bittersweet smile to his lips. The more he thought about it, the more he hated this rift between his old life and this new one. She wasn't an Exorcist, but she sure as hell could have fought in their ranks like one. She didn't have Innocence, but she had fire. She had strength and heart and she was changing. Five years ago, she had been cold and aloof. No real obligation for morals other than 'protect by any means necessary' and 'any means' meant killing those she had deemed a valid threat indiscriminately. Without question, without remorse.
Today, she would hesitate. She would the Solarii go, she actually spared them, has told them to run with a nasty bark in her voice and a promise of violence in her words, but she never gave chase any longer.
Not if she didn't have to.
Her reputation alone was enough send them scurrying away like rats into the dark and screaming in terror. They might not fully remember everything, having been reset too many times, but instinct led them away as quickly as their legs could carry them.
It was enough for her these days.
And it was enough for the Solarii as well, to a degree. There were still the itchy-finger, trigger-happy idiots who fired at them on sight most of the time. However, without Mathias or the Russians instigating and enforcing 'kill on sight', the Solarii were happy to simply let them pass through unharmed. They were edgy and guarded, but oddly respectful in keeping their distance from either him or Ash without violent leadership and influence.
It was a strained kind of truce, but a truce nonetheless. At the very least, he didn't quite fear the idea of getting shot in the back as much or as often while they traversed the island at this point in time.
He was actually fairly proud of her.
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"Checkmate."
He stared at the board in dismay, at the arrangement of the pieces, and glowered at the overly cheery-faced werewolf sitting across from him.
"You cheated."
"I would never. You're just terrible at strategic games, like chess." Ash said in a syrupy sweet voice as she reached over the board and plucked his king's piece up, wagging it in her fingers. She was still wearing that smug smile on her face. "I annihilate at this game. You haven't won once!"
"That's because you use dirty tactics. And I'm rather good at chess."
"Right. I use dirty tactics, just like you cheat at poker." She snorted and he scowled, crossing his arms, tilting his head back. "But oh, wait. You don't cheat. Therefore, I don't use dirty tactics. I'm just better at strategy than I am at games aimed for luck."
Ash smiled sweetly. He scowled a little. She began resetting the board, dexterous hands guiding every piece with practiced ease. The pawns, the knights, the rooks, the bishops, the queens and kings were all lined up accordingly to their places. More often than naught, he ended up with the white pieces and she the black. A touch of irony, that. She gave him the first move and yet, she still killed at the game.
Just as she was finished, he reached for her hand to still her, if only for a moment. She looked up, head tilting to the side questioningly at him.
"Why don't we try another game? We've already played three times."
"Sore loser, are we?" Ash chortled, a slow crooked smile perking her lips up. "Now you know how I feel going up against your demon card skills."
He sniffed pointedly. "It's not my fault you've no sense for the game. You're hopeless, even with help."
"You are a terrible teacher. And you're teaching me poorly on purpose so I have no chances of playing against you at a fair advantage." Ash countered with another snort, withdrawing her hand back to her side of the board. He sighed and shrugged.
"A different game?" He pressed. "You have several others, I've seen the boxes." He paused and added as an afterthought, "Just not Monopoly. Anything that doesn't require owing money."
He was still unsure how she did it with that game. How she managed to play circles around him at a game that literally had no end. He should be good at a game that handled debt, and yet, she played him for a chump. How in the hell did she do it? Especially when she had no one to play against except for him!
"Geez. You still hung up on our last game? That Cross guy must've fucked you up if you're still worried about all that. You do realize that all of the proprietors he went around racking up debt with and shoving your name on the bill to pay back are dead now, right? You know that you don't owe anyone any money right now, right? You have no debt attached to your name."
Ash waved her open-palmed hand in an arc in front of him as she said this, her voice taking on a strange monotonous tone. It did little to relieve him. She also sounded and looked rather silly.
Allen groaned and put his face in his hands, suddenly feeling sick. "No Monopoly. Never again, please. I know that it's fake money, but please…just no Monopoly."
"…Jesus, he really fucked you up. Remind me to not get you a credit card if we ever get off this rock."
"What's a credit card?"
"Hoo, boy…"
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"Have you tried talking with her?"
"Are you kidding me right now? I'm not being facetious either, by the way. In case you were wondering."
"I'm serious, Ash—have you ever tried talking to Himiko?"
"Oh, you're serious." She blinked at him. "You really were serious. Okay, no, I haven't. I'm not talking to that undead psycho bitch. You wanna know why? This is why: it's because she has, on multiple occasions, tried to fry me with lightning, drown me in the ocean, throw me off cliffs and into open air, and has had her clutches on the goddamned Oni for centuries and they ain't any better! You try talking to those samurai assholes and find a middle ground with them, which, surprise! You can't. They have a completely separate, archaic way of thinking compared to Westerners—that's us—and they've been steeped in their ancient culture for the self-same centuries and are utterly opposed to change. Have you ever seen an Oni with a shotgun or a rifle? I sure as hell haven't and holy Christ, stick your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye the day they do, because hell will have frozen over because holy shit, they're changing—"
"Okay, okay! I think I've got the picture. Talking, apparently, is out of the question."
Talking to Himiko, that is, he thought with a faint bemused smile. She seemed to have no problems talking with him now.
"Yeah, also…try talking to a corpse. They're not exactly chatterboxes."
"But wait—what about her soul?"
Ash blinked at him, and her mouth clacked shut as she stared at him in a properly quizzical, stumped manner.
"What?"
"You said, her soul was immortal. That her body—her vessel—was mortal and dead, but her soul is what's still alive and trapped in the body. What exactly do you do, when you…you know."
Ash frowned at him.
"I…destroy the body. Burn it. She's dead; she can't exactly feel pain. And after that…the storms stop. She's temporarily dispatched of until the next reset. Then she's back. Somehow."
Allen's lips curved downward as he processed that. It was so simple and yet…he felt there was something missing. But what?
"So you're saying her body…"
"It comes back. Her body returns. Her soul comes back as well. Don't ask me how, I don't know how, but it just does. And I know what the crazy bitch wants and she's not getting it."
"And what's that?"
"A new body. She wants a new vessel to transfer herself into. She's a powerful being, if she's stubborn enough to hang around for a few thousand years in a dead body and not move on like she should. She is power hungry and Himiko wants to continue playing it up as a queen-turned-worshipped-goddess. These storms are dangerous, and if she ever got ahold of someone that she would willingly transfer herself over into, and got out into the world…if that happens, it's game over. Even if she died in that new vessel, her soul would still hang around and…"
Ash hesitated, dropping her gaze.
"I have no fucking clue on how to make her stay gone. I've been trying. I burn her, I drown her, I actually dismembered her and scattered her all over the island. I think…I think I once strapped her dead ass to a raft and tried floating her away, see if she'll be tricked into destroying herself with her own storms, but…" The werewolf shrugged, listless. "Obviously, nothing I did worked. Except, I did piss off the Oni, I accomplished that. Man, they were mad. But, that's a story for another time."
Well, he hadn't known all that and it was almost as disturbing as it was interesting to know the different methods Ash has already tried in dispatching the Sun Queen. And these were probably just some of the ones she could remember.
"And you're the only one she truly keeps trapped on this island. The only one she'll actively prevent from leaving if you try." Allen concluded with a dejected sigh. He stared over the diagrams that Ash had brought out; sketches of the monastery and what it might have looked like, if the rage of time and Himiko's violent storms hadn't reduced it to rubble. It would have looked beautiful in person, he realized. The parchment was yellowed with age, and one corner looked faintly singed. There were tiny figures ringing the entrance, little silhouettes, and he concluded that they must have been the Oni, if the shapes of their bodies—and possibly armour—were any indication to go by.
"We've established this, yes." Ash replied with a nod. She was leafing through other sketches she's done in the past, but she stared at them in vague wonder, like she wasn't entirely sure it was her hand that had created them. Half-remembered memories were probably filing past her eyes as she tried to recall exactly when she had drawn them. He saw it written so plainly on her face that she was trying to cling to them now, instead of letting them go, either willingly or not.
Ash took in a deep breath and let it out just as slowly.
"There's something I'm missing. I don't exactly know what, though. Why me? Why is Himiko so damned determined to keep me trapped? I'm not Japanese, not one drop of my blood is related, in any way to any Asian culture whatsoever, even. Not even here in Yamatai. I'm a mutt, I'm sure of that, but I'm fucking white. There ain't nothing special enough about me."
"You're positive?" Allen asked dryly, although he regretted it nearly just as quickly.
Ash gave him one of her famous 'Are you stupid?' looks and he sighed, raising his hands in mock surrender.
"All right. I can believe it. You definitely look like you'd belong more in Europe than you would in Japan…"
She certainly didn't have any facial markers that he'd identify as part of the Asian culture—whether it was Chinese, Japanese, Siamese, or any number of the countries in the east.
"I'd prefer Italy…in the Tuscan countryside." Ash exhaled, looking toward the fire pit. "A field of sunflowers, fresh vineyards…I wonder if they still have those. And the old villas. I've always wanted to stay in one."
A melancholic light was in her eyes as she kept staring at the fire. He didn't hesitate when he reached over to gather her hand up in his. She met his gaze and he smiled at her.
"Then we'll do just that. We'll go to Italy too, when we figure out a way to leave."
She watched him carefully before she curved her lips into thin, crooked smile.
"Promises, promises," she said in a warning tone. "Be careful with those."
"I aim to keep them." He said stubbornly, giving her hand a last squeeze. He started to pull away, but she grabbed hold of his fingers, gently keeping them there. Ash laced her fingers with his.
"I believe you," she smiled and it was softer this time. "I'll hold you to them."
His smile split open into a wide, hopeful grin.
"Deal."
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"How much of the world do you think has changed?"
"Probably everything. Hopefully everyone didn't blow each other up all over the place and we just happened to miss it. Somehow."
"'Blow each other up'?"
Ash sighed. "In…I want to say 1945? I think that's right." She shrugged. "They…made a weapon. A really…really powerful weapon. And they dropped it on Japan. Twice. It completely decimated the cities. Leveled them."
Allen felt abruptly cold at that. It started in his belly, like a hard, coiled knot of ice and it slowly spread out to his limbs as he stared at Ash. She was scraping away at branches, carving them into feasible arrow shafts.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
"Why? And who's…they?"
He could barely hear himself speak, but Ash heard him well enough.
"…the Americans. With a…a team of people from Europe, I think." Ash said quietly back.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
He didn't think it was possible, but he went colder still until he was numb all over.
"We…we were at war. The Japanese attacked us, unprovoked in 1941. They bombed Pearl Harbor, in Hawaii. We were trying to stay out of World War II. But…we got pulled into it all the same." She frowned, her brows knitting together uncertainly as she lifted her gaze to stare off into space. She was groping for more, he knew. He was surprised she remembered all this, but couldn't recall her own birthday or legal name.
He didn't recall any of this when Ash had told him—bits and pieces, granted—of the vehicles and bunker buildings that lay scattered across the island. Remnants from a great war hundreds of years old, reminders that it had happened. She gave him the barest of information, but he had never, not once, stopped to think and ask for more until now.
Allen wished he hadn't.
"I think…Germany started the war initially, though. In 1939? Something about…World War I and the aftermath. They were in some kind of economic recession and they had to take the brunt of blame for the results of the first Great War. And…they got angry about it over the years. Something about a man named Adolf Hitler…"
Her jaw tightened and she returned to her work, slow and steady. Her knife sluiced through the wood like a hot knife through butter, shaping out the arrow shaft.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
"It was a horrible thing. And soon after that bomb-dropping event happened, everyone wanted their own atomic bomb, and everyone eventually got theirs, big weapons of mass destruction. Nuclear weapons. Wars cropped up all over the place over the course of the rest of the twentieth century, and stupid Americans became the quote-unquote, 'World Police'. We had bases popping up all over the place after the fact and…and…"
She stopped working again, staring at her hands. He stirred, and shuffled a few steps closer.
"And it's…blank. I can't remember anything else." She threw the shaft of wood she was working on with a frustrated growl and it clattered noisily across the room. Ash leaned forward in her seat, gathering her head in her hands, her elbows resting on her thighs. "I can't remember…anything else. Just stupid tidbits and facts, scattered pieces of the puzzle, but that's it. I can't remember anything about myself, but I can remember things about a stupid war that happened hundreds of years ago and—and I…I…"
She was shaking. Whatever spell that had been holding him in place broke and he strode forward, sitting beside her on the couch and gathering her up in his arms. She didn't resist and didn't try to pull away. Instead, she folded in, pressing up against him and the cold that had flooded him moments before fled in the wake of the heat radiating from Ash. It wasn't long before he noticed the front of his shirt was growing wet.
Words stuck in his throat like bits of bones as she cried. He wanted to get them out, but he struggled to find the right way to do it. What exactly could he say that he hasn't already said? Promises were good and well to spout off, but until words became actions, there was little he could say to comfort her. He hated every second he went without speaking as it stretched out into unyielding silence. After a while, however, he began to think that maybe he didn't need to say anything to her. She calmed and quieted down, and only when he actually checked, he found she'd fallen asleep.
Perhaps saying nothing was better in the end, and just being there was enough for her.
At least, Allen hoped so.
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He couldn't breathe past the thick veil vapors and smoke; it stung at his eyes and his lungs, all the while blurring his vision to the point of tears. The fires around him were burning something foul-smelling and he hoped it wasn't toxic to breathe in. Through the haze and crackling roar of the fires, he could just barely make out the sound of voices. They were muddled and tinny, like he had cotton stuffed in his ears, but the more he picked his way through the rubble, the clearer it got. The ringing in his ears was finally fading too.
The hellish red glow of flame against black smoke made it hard to make out what was in front of him, but it was starting to thin out. This was bad. They'd been ambushed by the Solarii. It seemed their impromptu, unspoken truce had been broken. Whether it was a declaration on the part of all Solarii, or just a small core group, he couldn't say.
Either way, things got nasty and in a hurry when he and Ash were traversing through one of the old war bunkers. He was surprised anything still ran, but there was power coursing through the place; electricity thrumming through the walls and the wires. Some of the old generators were still going—their loud humming had drowned out a lot of the scuffling that Ash had heard long before him.
The next thing he knew, bullets were zinging through the air, and he was shoved behind cover while Ash took to charging forward. After that it grew…hazy. He wasn't sure what had happened, what Ash or the Solarii had done after that, but the explosion that had followed up the firefight rocked the entire compound to its core. Everything was instantly in ruins, his ears were ringing, and he couldn't find his balance for a few terrifying moments. The smoke was thick; the fires were tangibly felt as he stumbled through the rubble. Every time he inhaled, he was on the verge of breaking out into a coughing fit.
As the smoke cleared and he could see through it more clearly, he could make out shadows dancing on the walls, and voices speaking. Soft, garbled, but voices nonetheless. He recognized Ash's. The other one, he didn't.
The closer he shuffled forward, however, the more he could make out.
"—just fucking finish me off already, you bitch. C'mon. Why make me suffer?"
"It's a mercy you don't deserve." Ash replied in a clipped tone.
"Mercy," the first voice spat back mockingly. It was distinctly male and with the fringe of pain coating his voice. "What the fuck would a monster like you know about mercy? You slaughter us left and right and don't give a fuck."
"Apparently, I know a lot more than you do. You slaughter unarmed people—men, women, children, the elderly—anyone who shows up on this island and shows an ounce of backbone against you and your lot."
Allen could hear the absolute bitterness in Ash's voice. He edged closer, could make out definite shapes against a wall now. Ash was leaning against a wall beside a doorway, her form cast in a rusty orange glow from the fires close by. A rifle lay beside Ash in a crumpled, crushed heap. He didn't doubt the weapon's destruction was Ash's handiwork. In front of her, lying underneath a pile of concrete and steel rebar was a Solarii brother. His legs and lower abdomen was crushed beneath the rubble. Most of his form was cast in shadows, but he could make out the flicker of his silhouette between the dancing light.
"Father Mathias taught us how to survive. He taught us well." The Solarii brother wheezed out what Allen assumed to be a laugh, but it quickly devolved into a gurgling cough. Ash reached over and flicked the man upside the head. It was a small action, but coming from her, it elicited enough pain for him to cry out when his head snapped over to the side.
"Father Mathias is an insane nut job. I've seen his journal entries scattered across Yamatai. He taught you to be stupid, mindless thugs that only kill everyone who resists the Solarii and to lick his boots when he commands it. He'd kill any one of you without a second thought if it meant furthering his goals with Himiko. I've seen him do it."
"Shut up." The Solarii brother reached for her weakly, but she simply scooted away from his reach.
"Make me. Oh, wait…you can't."
Ash sneered, but it was half-hearted and gone in a flash. Allen saw more pity on her face than hate for the dying man. She looked up suddenly, meeting his eyes and she simply nodded her head to him.
"You should probably head outside. This ain't exactly an ideal environment to be breathing in."
Allen closed the distance, mindful to avoid a spitting length of flame that spilled over the concrete suddenly. The Solarii brother gargled out another laugh.
"Well look who it is. The White Demon. You two are a fucking riot, you know that? Bunch of fucking monsters, the pair of you—urgh!"
One of Ash's small hands was wrapped around the Solarii brother's neck, cutting off his words and his air. Her claws dug into his skin mercilessly, threatening to pierce through. His eyes bulged and his hands weakly scrabbled at Ash's hand and arm, trying to pry it off as he gasped.
Allen jumped forward, alarmed.
"You can call me a monster all you like," she said, her voice quiet with a steel edge to it. Both her eyes flashed gold and her fangs were bared. The Solarii brother opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, but no sound came out. "But you don't ever call him that. Do you understand me? You don't call him a monster. His name's Allen Walker to you."
Allen reached for her, to pull her off, but she was already retreating and the man was gasping and coughing, struggling to breath. He could see bruises already forming in the shape of Ash's thin fingers against the man's neck. Ash caught Allen's eye and he stared at her, disappointed and stunned. It took the man a full minute to catch what little breath he could pull into his lungs. It settled on a wet tired wheeze. Allen stared between the Solarii brother, the rubble piled on top of him, and Ash. He moved toward the rubble and grabbed hold of a sizeable piece. He wouldn't be able to move it on his own. He nodded to her frantically to come over.
She didn't move.
"Allen," Ash called.
She still wouldn't move from her spot.
"Help me move this. We're not leaving him under here."
"Allen."
"Help me!"
"His legs and lower abdomen are crushed," Ash said gently. He hated how quiet she was. How resigned. Like a parent explaining something complicated to a child and he was that child and he still didn't seem to understand. "The only thing keeping his guts inside him is all of that. He's a dead man."
"Don't say that! We can still…still…"
He trailed off, desperately grasping at straws, but the words wouldn't come. He glanced down at the man pinned beneath all the debris and detritus, winced at the glassy eyed, bloody-smiled look the Solarii pinned him with and the stilted, puffing laugh he forced out of his mouth.
"Walker, huh? The Fire Walker and Allen Walker. You're a match made in hell, aren't you? What are you, an item? You're always together. You screw, too, don't you? Yeah, you do. Guess I won that bet. Too bad I can't collect my money now."
"Shut. Up." Ash snapped at the man, sharp and quick and with all the snarl she could muster in her voice. Allen hesitated, staring at the pieces of rubble in his hands. If he helped the Solarii brother, he'd die. If he left him there, he'd die. He looked back at Ash, trying to see a better way but none were coming to mind.
"Why won't you help him?" His voice came out as strained and tight. He couldn't tell if it was the desperation he was feeling, tightening up in his chest and squeezing until it hurt or if all that was because of the smoke.
"I am," she said, pressing up against the wall again with a tired sigh. "I'll stay with him until he's gone. I'll come find you after. Get out of here. This smoke might be toxic."
"But…he's…"
"A dead man talking," Ash said, meeting his eyes once more. "I won't kill him the second you're gone, don't worry. It's a mercy he doesn't deserve."
"And letting him die slowly is what he deserves?" Allen snapped back. A bloom of anger, hot and quick, rose inside him.
"Is killing him what he deserves more than leaving him to die? He's dead whether I pull him from under all of this crap or if just leave him here. I don't have the skills, the equipment, or the gear available to keep him alive even if I did get him out."
His jaw snapped shut tightly and abruptly at that. He barely even heard the tinny and hoarse, "I'm right here, you know," from the Solarii brother. He just kept staring at Ash, the weight of the only three decisions crushing down on him; an ultimatum with no winning solution. Or was that the heat and the smoke messing with his head?
Leave him to die slowly, or dig him out and let his insides spill all over the place and cause him worse pain and die quicker, or simply kill him? There was no outcome that would result in his living in the end. It was only a matter of time before he passed.
Ash wasn't staring back at him any longer. She dropped her gaze to the Solarii brother, watching him rattle noisily from one breath to another. He was staring up at the ceiling with a cloudy-eyed gaze. Allen slowly lowered himself down on the other side of the man, his limbs feeling like lead weights all of a sudden.
"Hey," Ash called. "You need to get out. It's not safe in here."
"I don't think he'll be much longer. I'll stay until then."
"Goddammit, Allen…"
Ash sighed and he saw her get up from the corner of his eye, strolled to the side he was sitting, and plopped down beside him.
"Fine. If you get sick, it's your fault."
"Fine," he grouched back. The sounds of chaos unexpectedly seemed muted. The light of the fires died down considerably, but the smoke was still present. He had to pull up the hem of his shirt over his nose to breathe through and even then, it was still difficult. He stiffened when Ash bumped his shoulder and held something to him. It took him a moment to realize it was a flask. She wagged it at him, and he could hear liquid sloshing around.
"Give him some of this," she said, not looking at him. "Dying man should get a last drink, at the very least, don't you think?"
He eyed her, boggled, but took the flask slowly nonetheless and uncapped the top. He winced at the strong scent wafting from it the second he did, leaning toward the trapped man beside him. The Solarii's eyes slid lazily toward him, trying to gulp down a breath past the wet gargle in his throat.
"Whassat?"
"A last drink," he muttered flatly.
"I'd say…'fuck you'…thinkin' it's Dilo poison, but what…the hell? I'm already a dead man, right?" The Solarii let out another choking laugh and leaned up as far as he could. Allen tipped the flask over just enough to give him a sip and even that small sip sent the man wracking with coughs.
"Oh, god…fuck, that's…strong. I bet you…did lace that with…fucking poison. Didn't you…Fire Walker?"
"Sure. It's how I stay immune." Ash replied back blankly.
The Solarii let out another raspy, wet laugh. Allen winced at the sound. It grated at his ears and all he wanted was for it to stop. It was a noise that no human should be able to make. The hoarse noises continued to pop from the man's mouth, louder at first, but it was also slowing, struggling to push through. Every breath sounded like it would be his last, but then he'd pull in another one, just as horrible as the one before it.
It took him a few minutes to realize, however, that the noises had stopped. The silence following after that revelation was a deafening roar in comparison. Ash stood up beside him, circling around to the other side of the man. She gently placed her index and middle finger against his throat, ears occasionally twitching.
"He's done for. Let's get you out of here." She said. She pulled her hand away from the man's neck, and guided them over to pull his eyelids down so he longer stared up at them. She straightened up after, brushing her hand down her faded jeans.
He stared up at her like she was suddenly a stranger when she met his gaze. She pursed her lips into a thin line, brow furrowing. He knew that look. Allen cast another glance at the man and a shudder streaked up his spine as he stood to follow the werewolf out.
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"You're still mad at me, huh?"
He didn't answer. He didn't need to, not verbally anyways. His silence was enough. Ash sighed and he heard her tiptoeing closer until she was sitting beside him. They sat like that for quite some time, under the canopy of stars. It was a clear, unseasonably balmy night. Summer was almost gone and more often than naught, autumn weather had begun settling in. Tonight would probably be the last warm night in a long while. It felt nice, but he didn't enjoy it as much as he thought he would. The cave had been stifling, he needed out, but now that he was, he didn't feel any better.
"Allen…"
"You let him die."
She didn't speak up for another minute. He suspected she was choosing her words with care. She did that a lot with him. She was trying not to snap like he suspected she usually would with anyone else. She was actually trying to communicate instead of bulldogging her way through a conversation. Any other time, he would have appreciated the gesture, especially now that…
Well, he wasn't sure what to call what was between them. What could he possibly label it as? They certainly weren't married. They weren't engaged. They were…they were…
"What would you have had me do, Allen? Tell me."
He looked up sharply at her, and saw she was waiting, and rather patiently, for him to answer. He opened and closed his mouth several times like a gaping fish caught on the line. He racked his brain for a proper response, but none were forthcoming. He thought back to the Solarii brother, how utterly hopeless the situation had appeared. The man had been a goner, and even his optimism couldn't win out this time.
Allen lapsed into bitter silence. Ash gently touched his shoulder and he flinched away. He saw from the corner of his eye the hurt look on her face and she retreated quickly, as though he'd burned her. A small bit of guilt welled up inside him at that.
"Even if we dug him out, he would have died."
"I know that."
"If we had tried to save him, he would have been in more pain than he already was—"
"I know that! Don't you think I don't know that? I'm not stupid, Ash!"
He turned on her then with a snarl of his own. For what it was worth, she held her ground this time, unflinching. He, in turn, was full of pent up anger. He was the one who wanted to rage about how unfair it all was.
"Then what would you have had me do, Allen? Tell me. I'll be sure to hop in a mad little blue box, turn back time, and fix all the mistakes I made. Tell me what I should have done, Allen."
He was at a loss for words once again, but a few managed to surface this time around.
"You should have tried. Solarii or not, you should have tried." He pressed ardently. She gave up long before she even attempted to see another way.
He started to get up, but her next words stopped him. "I tried to save Solarii, once. A long time ago. I think. It's…hazy. I remember they mostly repaid me by firing bullets into my chest. Ripped through me. Or they'd shout to their 'brothers' and have them ambush me while I was trying to help their injured party. That's what happens every time I tried. Or…what I remember, anyways, which isn't very much."
Her lips thinned and her eyes grew dark as she recalled what little memories she had left to go back to. Nothing but memories of Yamatai and the violence she's endured and dished out with equal fervor. No comfort, no kindness. Nothing but blood and fire.
"I think his name was Daniel."
Allen stared, properly shocked this time. Ash continued, seemingly oblivious.
"He was on vacation when he got swept up by Yamatai's madness and storms. He hated most of the other Solarii, mostly the overzealous fanatics, but he followed Mathias's orders regardless of all that. If we were anything but what we were, he wouldn't have hesitated to kill us."
"…why are you telling me this?"
"You humanize them. You see something that I sometimes forget is there. I'm sorry I'm not as kind-hearted as you. Especially when it comes to the Solarii. I don't see those things as often as I should, even if I know it's there." She screwed her eyes shut, swallowing hard. "You see things in people that I've forgotten about. That I blinded myself to. They may be monsters of men, but they're still just human and I treat them like they're worse."
She looked tired when she finally opened her eyes, when she glanced at him.
"Sometimes I forget that you're human and I…I pretend I am one sometimes. Pathetic, aren't I?" She snorted and slowly pushed herself up to her feet. "I'm sorry that there wasn't any other way. You have every right to be mad at me. I'll leave you be now. Or for however long you need your space."
She started to leave and he scrambled up after her, gently catching her hand to stop her. She froze in place, glancing at him questioningly.
"I don't—I don't want to be alone. Please." He smiled wanly, tentatively. "It's…it's not okay, but…I'm glad you admit that. I know that…not everyone can be saved, no matter how much or how hard we try. I hate that I couldn't do anything, but sometimes, I think I need reminding of that, too. As much as I don't like admitting it myself."
She considered him for a moment. Something brushed against his finger and he glanced down long enough to see her pinky stretching out to his. He curled his hand a little, meeting it. He pulled the rest of her against him in a heartbeat, and he felt her breath ghosting against his collarbone.
"I know we'll probably always see things differently, but…thank you. For trying, at least. I can appreciate that much."
The air was balmy, but Ash was a whole lot warmer. It was soothing. He closed his eyes as he tangled one of his fingers through her hair. It was getting long, she'd need a cut soon so it wouldn't snag on anything. Come to think of it, so would his…
Ash hummed softly. He began to say something else, but sneezed abruptly instead. He froze just as soon as she had and they stayed like that for nearly thirty seconds.
"Allen?"
"Hm?"
"…did you just sneeze all over my head?"
"…I…am so sorry."
"…gross." A beat passed. "I think you're getting sick."
OoOoOoOoOoO
He hated being sick with a passion. Everything ached like tomorrow. He was freezing cold and burning hot all at once. His head felt as though it had been stoppered up with cotton and snot, and the pressure behind his eyes and against his temples was absolutely horrendous. And that's nothing compared to the congestion built up in his chest, or the sweat that soaked his clothes and blankets.
"I told you this would happen, but noooo, you don't want to listen to me…" Ash said somewhere to his right. She muttered something else in what he suspected to be Chinese, although what dialect, he was lost on. Wait, when did Ash know any Chinese? He groaned back in response, his vision swimming so he closed his eyes and waited. He kept shoving his covers off and then pulling them right back on, only to kick them off minutes later. This little dance has been going on for the last week, ever since the aftermath of the ambush. And keeping solid food was another challenge altogether. The most he's been able to do that was thin broth and water without puking.
Then there was the oxygen tank she made him breathe through every few hours…
Ash was checking that right now. The tank was heavy and made of metal, almost a meter tall and filled with pure oxygen in gaseous form. The top had a knob to twist it on or off, and could feed the air through a thin plastic tubing that led to a mask. He currently had pressed that over his mouth and nose, and could feel the gentle rush of air against his face. He could barely breathe enough as it was, but Ash made him wear it all the same. Something about 'pure oxygen' being better than what he was breathing on a normal basis. Everything had dissolved into textbook medical gibberish as far as he was concerned.
"Almost done with this thing," she muttered to herself after straightening. Turning back to him, she leaned on the bed and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, wiping away his sweat-laden bangs. He groaned again, his voice muffled behind the mask. After a few moments she pulled her hand away. "You're a little cooler now. How're you feeling?"
"Horrible."
"Sounds about right. You've got pneumonia. I told you to leave, when all that smoke was up in arms. Now you're sick because it got in your lungs and screwed with your immune system. You're lucky that's all you're suffering from. It could have been worse."
"Worse than this? I doubt it," he complained, yanking his covers back on when a violent shiver overtook him. "How much longer do I have to wear this thing?"
"You can probably stop now, actually," she said, softly prying the mask away and turning back to the tank to turn it off. The gentle, constant hiss it was making stopped altogether and it was relatively quiet again. She sighed. "You think you can keep something down?"
"Some broth, maybe."
"I'll grab some, then."
She was gone a moment later and he was left alone in his room.
He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he opened his eyes and saw Ash sitting beside him in a chair, her foot propped up on her knee, a book in her lap. She was flipping through the pages, eyes skittering back and forth as she read silently. When she sensed his eyes on her, she looked up long enough to assess him, then turned back to the book.
"You fell asleep. Your broth got cold. I can heat up your bowl, if you're still up for it."
Allen stared for a moment, closed his eyes and coughed. His chest and throat hurt from coughing so much. "What're you doing?"
"We have antibiotics," she answered, although it didn't make much sense until she added, "I'm still trying to figure out what ones I can give you. I don't want to screw it up and then you end up sicker because I gave you the wrong thing."
Her voice grew small and worried.
"I think I've narrowed it down, but…I don't want to screw it up."
He peeped open his eyes and stared at her dully, then let his gaze slide to the book in her hands. It was a medical text, one of several that had been on the boat. She tapped at the current page she was on.
"I think I've got this. I'll double-check. It's the most referenced meds used for pneumonia, so…we'll give it shot."
She stood, setting the book down on her chair before she left. He stared at the book for a near-full minute before sitting up and reaching across to grab it. Allen tugged it over and brought it face up to look at the tiny print on the glossy pages. His head swam as he tried reading through one passage alone before he grumbled quietly to himself. Half of what they were talking about was dry and long-winded, as well as too many words he couldn't even pronounce.
Is this how far medical advances have come? He was both in awe of and pitied the poor souls who dedicated themselves to memorizing such things in pursuit of a medical career. The list of medications and what they treated that was recorded on the page continued on and on. He pushed the book away just as Ash returned with a bowl of warm broth in one hand, a bottle of water tucked under her arm, and a tinier plastic bottle of something else along with a tiny cup in the other.
Allen sat up straighter in bed, trying in vain to suck in some air through his congested nostrils. He gingerly pushed off several balled up pieces of tissue paper from his bedspread.
"I think I need more," he said sheepishly.
"I'll grab some in a few," Ash answered softly, offering him the bowl first. His nose cleared some at the sudden heat and he could almost smell the broth. He began spooning a few sips, savouring what little he could properly taste. His stomach rolled, but he was able to keep it down for the most part. That much he was grateful for.
"This should help with bringing the fever down, along with helping clear up your congestion in your airways, too. That smoke made your lungs vulnerable, and the air outside didn't help you any when we left that building, either. That's why you got sick."
Ash was talking more to herself than to him at this point, which was fine. Allen was only paying half attention to what she was saying. She continued to babble on, about what she had been reading for the last few days, carefully researching the antibiotics the texts referred to and suggested, versus the one she actually had on stock. Amoxicillin seemed the most common, she stated, along with clearing up other minor infections.
He was almost done by the time he noticed she was waiting, the tiny cup still in her hands, only it was full of pink liquid medicine now. He sipped up the last of his broth, feeling slightly better.
"Is that it?"
She offered the cup wordlessly.
"I'm not a doctor. I'm not even the Doctor. I'm just as rubbish at medicine."
That made no sense to him. He almost questioned what she meant, but thought better of it. Sometimes, Ash just didn't make sense. Maybe it was from living in this crazy place. Maybe living here made people crazy.
I live here too, so who am I to judge, he reminded himself as he took the cup and eyed the thick, pink liquid inside. He'd never seen pink medicine before.
"Is it safe?"
"For your sake, I hope so. I don't get sick. I don't even remember the last time I was."
"You were sick before," he mumbled before downing the cup. It was slightly sweet, slightly bland, slightly smooth, slightly gritty and it was all of those things at once. All in all, he had been expecting worse.
"No, I wasn't."
"Yes, you were," he insisted and even then, he could remember that night, in the giant truck hiding from the cold rain with the Carnotaurus just outside, trying to tear in after the both of them and then Báthory coming in at the last moment. The old girl had saved them both and then Carmilla came in the aftermath to take them back home. "You passed out shortly after I found you. You were blinded by Dilo poison and you had a really high fever."
She stared at him for a while, her face betraying nothing. In the end she looked away.
"I don't remember all that."
"I'm not surprised…you were out for most of it," he reminded her, offering the little cup back. She took it back and gazed at it in her hands, rubbing her thumb along its plastic side for a minute.
"I'm sorry."
He blinked slowly at her, not quite comprehending at first before he belatedly asked, "For…?"
"I'm not a soft person. I don't…care much for the Solarii. Or people in general. And it's hard to…" She paused, and a pained look crossed her features as she tried to search for the right words. "I don't see things the way you do. I'm trying, but it's hard sometimes. I'm trying to not be like I used to be. It's not who I want to be."
Ash exhaled slowly and noisily, curling up on the chair she sat in, a leg drawing up to her chest. She's been apologizing for a while now. He knew she meant it, too. Ash rested her chin on it as she stared at the wall opposite her.
"I wouldn't have stayed with him. I never did, before I met you, I mean. I wouldn't have even left him alive. I would have shot him, moved on, never looked back."
Allen blinked again, sniffling as he listened. Her voice was so soft and quiet, it was nearly lulling him back to much-needed sleep. It was, dare he admit, soothing to listen to her speak, despite the grim topic she was broaching.
"I actually hesitate with them, because I met you. I regret having to kill them, if I even have to. And I try not to now. You've probably noticed already." She faltered then, and the calm between her words had him nearly dozing. When she began speaking again, he jerked half-heartedly awake at the sound of her voice.
"I know I'm not human and I never will be again, but…being around you, I sometimes feel close enough to it. I hate what I am and…who I am, but when I'm around you, I almost feel…normal. And I don't hate myself as much. That's the one thing I like to forget about." There was a pause, and then, so softly he barely heard it, "I think that's what I love about you."
If he had had a clearer head, he would have responded. He probably would have gotten up and said something, anything. But his limbs were lead weights and he was already groggy from being ill, from being cold and hot all once, from coughing until his chest and throat and abdomen were sore. So he listened, filing this rather one-sided conversation away for later, telling himself he'd talk to her later about it before drifting back to sleep again without ceremony.
OoOoOoOoOoO
