Chapter Twenty-Three:
Heavy in Your Arms

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This will be my last confession
"I love you" never felt like any blessing
Whispering like it's a secret
Only to condemn the one who hears it
With a heavy heart

-"Heavy in Your Arms" by Florence + The Machine

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He didn't know how she did it, sneaking in another tree without him noticing, just like the year before. One would think that dragging something that big, that long, and that bulky would elicit enough noise to alert everyone else around. But no, no…Ash somehow managed to sneak in another tree, and she even had almost all the decorations from last year hanging from its boughs. The ones that had been roughened likenesses of creatures were now textured and refined, and even painted. There were also new additional ones added into the mix.

The Timcanpy one would always been his favourite, though. He missed the golem fiercely. He was glad that Ash put his little carving up at the top of the tree. The real Tim probably would have done the very same, perching right there.

Ash would have loved the little golem, he just knew it.

She was arranging a few more decorations on the tree when he snuck up from behind and pulled her into a hug. She laughed softly and said, "Heard you coming a mile away, you know."

"Mm. Don't care. It's looking wonderful."

She chuckled more earnestly when he squeezed her and lingered long enough to give her a peck on the cheek.

"Well, since you're here, mind putting some of these things up higher? I can't reach."

She held up a little Báthory carving, a piece of string tied around a loop crafted out of the old girl's backside. He let her go and took it, scanning the higher branches for an empty one.

"You've been working at these when I wasn't looking."

"I worked on them right in front of you, you just failed to notice," she countered with an impish grin. She turned back toward the stove, where she already had a myriad of dishes finished or waiting to be at any rate. The air was thick with the scent of cooked meats and spices and herbs and wood smoke and freshly crushed pine.

He glanced at her sheepishly.

"You've whittled quite a lot in front of me," he admitted. She cast another faint smile to him over her shoulder before turning back to the food. He found a few other unhung decorations and placed the last of them up higher where Ash couldn't reach, all the while wondering how she got the Timcanpy carving up there by herself. He concluded that Ash had her mysterious ways of doing things.

Or she jumped. Most likely she jumped.

Allen stood back and took in the sight of the area that had been decorated after he finished. It was small and limited, but it had grown since last year. Colourful strands of clothe had been woven together into tight braids and hung like streamers in the tree. Pieces of glass, coloured and clear, had been melted together, glinting prettily in the firelight and turned into little spheres that hung here and there. There were very few of them, but they were noticeable. And all the little carvings from last year had indeed been refined and detailed and painted. He was finding them all over again.

And of course, nestled at the base of the tree sat a few presents. He took pause at that, before jolting on the spot. Right. He'd almost forgotten. He stole a glance over at Ash, still working away at whatever dishes she was preparing. All of it intermingled and made his stomach roll with hunger, but he pushed the thought of food aside and went back to his room.

He rifled around in two or three footlockers before finding what he was looking for: a tarnished bronze box. It was decorated rather blandly, with concentric shapes here and there to mark the corners, but it was wholly an unimpressive little bauble. The box did its job, however, and that was all that was important. He winced as the hinges squeaked in protest when he lifted the lid.

Coins from varying countries and eras, seashells, feathers, beads, a few fangs from the predators of the island and more were wrapped up in pieces of red clothe inside. A few gold coins lay scattered inside, glinting amongst the others. He set aside one of them, which had a hole near the top of it, perfect for the leather cord he had in the box. He put a few other things to the side, before lingering for a long while on the pieces of red clothe. Allen rubbed the material between his fingers, remembering the day he had gone to search for Ash when he found it. It was her waist sash, or parts of it. He didn't know why he kept the pieces. He didn't know why he hadn't given it back yet.

Today is better than not at all, he finally decided as he swept it out. Everything on top went clattering back into the box and he slammed the clamshell shut, returning it back to the footlocker. He wrapped everything else up into the red clothe.

Perhaps she'd want this back. He tucked it away into the pocket of the hoodie jacket he had on. When he emerged from his room, Ash was already lounging on the couch, several dishes laid out on the battered old coffee table. After she spotted him, she waved her arms openly toward the food.

"Everything else is still cooking. It'll be another few hours, but here's first course. Dig in!" She beamed at him and he found himself smiling back just as broadly. She didn't need to tell him twice.

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A powdered jade oxen figurine sat in his lap. The little stone creature was laying down, its head tilted slightly up, as though gazing up at the sky. A demure look had been chiseled on its face. He picked it up and turned the surprisingly heavy figurine in his hands, noting how it seemed to have been polished away of any aging that might have once been present. There were still traces of rust-orange veins here and there, belying just how old it really was.

Ash had a small smile on her face as she watched him turn it over and over again.

"It's authentic, I think. Historians say Ghengis Khan had an entire fleet of ships that disappeared back in his hay days. That piece right there might just be a part of that treasure fleet. Who knows? Maybe some of the ships crashed here on Yamatai," she explained as she reached over to tap it. "But I also figure you're sick of looking at dinosaurs and a little piece of something else might be a more welcome sight."

He laughed. "Wouldn't that be something? And thank you, I love it."

They wouldn't really know, not until they left and had it appraised somewhere, he supposed. Perhaps by a historian or a museum could take a look at it to ensure its authenticity.

One thing at a time, he told himself as he set the little oxen figure aside. It joined a small pile of objects Ash had either crafted herself or had salvaged from the depths of Yamatai. Briefly, he wondered if any of the recovered trinkets had come from the sea caves.

She offered him one last object, this one wrapped in a small cut of rabbit fur, tied together with a thin piece of hemp rope.

"Last piece."

He took it, feeling the weight and noting the squared shape.

"A book?" He guessed, looking at her. They had plenty of books already, most salvaged from wrecks or even from the boat. She shrugged, offering no other concrete answer. He quickly untied the rope and slipped the fur away. Indeed it was a book, another leather bound thing, but it looked fresher than her usual ones. The pages weren't yellowed with age yet, as far as he could see.

He looked up at her again, but she continued with her silence, but that gleeful twinkle in her eyes set him on edge. Allen turned back to the book in his hands, unwrapping the leather cord that bound it shut and flipped the cover over—

—and he swore he felt his heart stop and the air freeze in his lungs.

Lenalee stared back up at him.

Lenalee.

She was smiling, her lips parted just enough to show a hint of teeth, and her dark eyes were bright with quiet laughter. Her hair was short and neatly trimmed, just like the last time he'd seen her, just barely brushing her slim shoulders. He could recall the first time he'd met her, though, when it had been so much longer…

He lingered on the page, drinking in the details, and it seemed an eternity had passed before he moved on. Lavi stood out on the next page, grinning impishly up at him, all teeth and twinkle-eyed. The sketches were exquisitely done, he had almost been fooled into believing they were photographs. A lump began to form in his throat, lodging firmly in place and making it hard to breathe past as he kept turning pages.

Krory. Miranda. Bookman. Choji. Kanda. Komui. Johnny. Reever. Link. Timothy. Fo. Bak Chan.

Even Timcanpy and Master Cross.

Most everyone he's spoken to her about was in the book. There were empty pages, plenty left over, but he assumed that more drawings could be filled in them in the future. He went back over them again until he felt his throat pinch up tightly and his vision blurred hotly from tears.

"Um…"

He was startled at the gentle touch on his shoulder, nearly dropping the book in the process. Another set of hands darted out to steady it and pressed it back into his hands.

"This…" His throat tightened and struggled to push past the hard lump still lodged in it. "When did you know what they looked like?"

Ash smiled awkwardly, tentatively. "Remember a few weeks back, when you were sick?"

"…ah."

"Yeah, you were kind of out of it, but I…managed to wrangle some people out of you. Descriptions and the like."

Allen turned back to look at the book. The Noah and the Millennium Earl weren't in there. Neither was Mana. He was sort of glad to have had enough sense to not mention them, but with Mana, though…

"I…did something wrong by doing that, didn't I?"

He looked up sharply at her, catching the worried expression painted on her face. He disliked the idea of putting the book down, but he did it all the same to free up his hands and pulled her into a crushing hug. She let out a startled squeak, frozen stiff for the first few seconds. He was glad when slowly, he felt her arms creep up along his backside to return the embrace. Her fingers clutched at material of his hoodie jacket, her face buried against his shoulder. Her mixed scent of smoke and pine and sea salt assaulted him more fully and he lingered on the smell as he gathered his words.

"No, you didn't. You…you gave them back to me. I was almost starting to forget what they looked like, but this…" He stole a glance at the book on the table and gulped down a deep breath. It came back up as a stilted laugh that quickly turned into sobs. "You gave me my friends back."

He was sure, at some point, that the only thing that kept him upright was Ash and that was only because he had her pressed up against him. She took it in stride, though, quietly letting him lean on her until he felt drained and his face was tight and dry from crying and he was drawing breathe in shudders.

Only when he felt completely done did she move, as though on cue. She propped him a little straighter, holding him firmly at arm's length, studying his face, cupping his face gently. He offered a watery smile when she asked if he was all right, her eyes still glittering with concern. Allen dropped his head a little until his brow rested on hers and he took a brief moment to breath in her scent again. It steadied him a little, to have something familiar to hold, to breathe, to focus on.

"I'm fine, I promise," he said in a quiet voice, closing his eyes. "I feel better, thank you."

He leaned into the warm hand that cupped his face and he sighed into the kiss she gave him, short and sweet, but warm all the same in more ways than one.

"I love you," he said quietly as she pulled away and he heard her breath hitch when he did. He opened his eyes and saw she had pulled back to stare at him, but it wasn't with surprise like he had almost been expecting. No, there was more acceptance deigning her features, although perhaps there was some amount of mild shock mixed in. Slowly, the corner of her lips tugged up a little.

Not quite a smile, but close, and her eyes glittered meaningfully.

"I know."

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Allen was positive it was early morning. Having no windows tended to skew time perception, even now. That, and there was no proper clock. All he knew at the moment was he was awake (just barely), he was warm (very much so), and Ash was lying beside him on her belly and face buried against the pillow. Judging by the way she was breathing, she was still fast asleep.

He sat up, running his hand through his hair, wincing at the dull and persistent throb in his temples.

Why did I agree to the wine? I told myself never again…not after what Master Cross did last time I had any alcohol.

He blamed it on the high-on-cloud-nine feeling he had been coasting since the last gift Ash had given him last night. He probably would have agreed to that noxious-smelling moonshine Ash drank if it had been offered to him. He couldn't recall everything with absolute clarity, but he could remember snippets.

Eating the last of the food after it finished cooking. Sitting up late, talking and reminiscing. Making plans for the next hunt, practice at the archery range, exploring the island. The wine had been sweet and warm, another of many prizes taken from the boat and saved for special occasions, he remembered that as well. Ash hadn't been affected by it, as usual, but he clearly had. He remembered snippets of her bare skin, hot to the touch against his. He remembered how fiercely and passionately she kissed him, the fragrance of her tantalizing smoky scent, and how tightly he gripped her hips to his when they joined together as one.

Everything else was hazy, but that was clear enough, in its own way.

Allen reached over and brushed some of her hair from her face, then he was tracing his fingers over the tattoo on her left shoulder and the one on her back. The pads of his fingers dipped over healthy rough skin and across smooth scars, all of which were painted with the golden yellows of the giant ankh etched in her skin. She had told him about how it was the symbol for life in Egyptian culture, after he had asked about it when it drove him mad that he couldn't remember what it was.

He found it a bit ironic. The scars she chose to cover up would have—and quite possibly should have—ended hers, but she rose up all the same and lived. Like embers rising from ashes, he thought absently. Like a phoenix.

Ash stirred just as he lifted his hand away, breathing in deep and opening her eyes slowly. She blinked a few times and sat up. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her back, and covered up her bare breasts while the blankets pooled around her hips. She blinked again when she looked at him, and he smiled in greeting, drinking in the sight of her.

"Morning," he said, moments before she leaned forward and promptly dropped her head to rest against his shoulder. He winced when his headache flared at the jolt of movement, but it subsided just as quickly.

"How's your head?" She said, faint amusement colouring her tone. He sighed and winced when it gave an especially violent throb.

"You knew?"

"You barely managed one glass and then you were gone. You got mad at the tree and threatened to pummel it."

"For what?"

"Apparently, looking at me." She tilted her head back to look at him, a sleepy grin spreading across her face. "You have a rather dark and possessive streak in you that I didn't know about."

He frowned heavily at her.

"Neither did I. Did I know it was a tree?"

She snickered, pulling herself up a little closer until she was pressed against him. The flush of her body heat relaxed him some and even ebbed away some of the pain in his head.

"I think you did, and you still wanted to beat it up. Or maybe it was the decorations dangling in the tree you were mad at, it was hard to tell after a certain point."

He groaned, tilting his head back a little in embarrassment. "I didn't destroy it, did I?"

"No, no. I distracted you."

"How?"

"Lots of kissing, which led to other things…"

Ash's breath suddenly ghosted against the side of his neck and she chuckled softly. He could already imagine the Cheshire grin she was probably sporting. Allen felt his face flush and he knew it was probably red all over. Oh yes, he remembered that part rather well…

He was disappointed when she pulled away, heat slowly eking away in lieu of her absence.

"I'm gonna make some coffee. You want some or would you rather have tea?"

"Tea please, but wait…" he said as he reached for her and she paused at his hand on her upper arm. She looked back at him questioningly. "Just a little longer?" He gave her arm a soft squeeze, a faint tug back toward him. She stared for a moment, before sliding a little closer and then he had her tangled in his arms again, flopping back onto the mattress.

Allen knew she wasn't a very…well, she would call it being "touchy-feely" although he would have gone with another way to call it. "Affectionate", perhaps. She has been alone, isolated, stripped of that kind of contact for so long. She barely tolerated it when people touched her, and the only ones she seemed more lenient towards were the raptors, Báthory, and Carmilla. But he was glad, all the same, that she seemed to have added him to that very short list and that she willingly let him this close and then some.

He held onto her, enjoying the simplicity of the moment.

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He could see the Pachy just up ahead. Its dome-like head was hard to miss, as was the built frame it held itself proudly up in. Stocky body and tail, short powerful neck and muscled limbs made up the vicious creature. The Pachy bayed softly and its breath misted in the cold air. The Pachy's brethren answered the call in kind, farther away from where it was. Clacking its beak, it swung its domed head back and forth before going back to its grazing, snorting all the while it did.

Allen glanced off to the side, just briefly, saw Ash lounging against the trunk of a tree with her bow in lap whilst she hid from sight the same as him. She had her eyes closed, her legs crossed and her hands behind her head in a rather casual posture. He knew she'd eventually start hurting in the shoulders and along her upper back if she held her arms up like that any longer, though.

Allen turned his gaze back toward the Pachy, saw it coming closer slowly but surely. If he didn't act soon, it would find him and then that would be bad news all around. He's seen the way they've pummeled deer just for venturing too close and it was never a pretty sight. He steadied his bow and plucked the bowstring back until he felt fletching kissing his cheek softly. The Pachy stopped suddenly, thick tail bobbing back and forth while its head froze, bright eyes searching and cautious. He took in a breath, held it, released. The arrow went hurtling forward, its trajectory perfect as it struck home deep in the breast of the Pachy.

The animal squealed and bayed loudly, the entire shaft of the arrow nearly buried fully in the Pachy's chest. It stumbled on unsteady legs, its stubby arms trying to smack at the arrow shaft in vain. Allen held his breath a little longer, even after it toppled over and continued its twitchy dance while prone on the ground.

"Pachys are stubborn bastards, all the way to the end," Ash's voice called. He turned to see her picking herself up and rolling her left shoulder in circles with a wince. "But that was a great shot, you must've hit a lung. That's why he collapsed and ain't charging us. Good job."

He looked glumly back over to where the Pachy had fallen.

"It's still alive," he pointed out. It's suffering.

"Then let's give 'em some mercy." She countered, offering a hand to him. He took it and groaned as he was pulled to his feet. His legs were stiff from crouching for so long, having grown numb over the last hour. He followed her at a slower pace, picking through the undergrowth as she carved a path over toward the Pachy on silent footsteps.

Its thrashing had stilled considerably, he noticed as he approached. It clacked its beaked mouth as Ash came around to its backside and knelt, pressing her knee against its neck. She pulled one of her long knives from a sheath at her thigh. It was the bone-white one that looked almost reminiscent of a fang, with a steel-edge in the curve. With deft fingers, tilted the hilt towards him. He stared, unmoving.

"You took the shot. It's your kill."

"But…I've never…"

He was never the one to land the killing blow. Not like this. It had always been Ash and even then, he had never been up close like this when the deed was done. She continued to stare up at him expectantly.

"I know. But it's time you started. Don't bother with the heart. The ribcage is too close-knit together to land a proper hit. Slice the carotid. Along here," she motioned with her other hand along the neck and the Pachy gurgled in response to her touch, whining out a weak bark of protest. He flinched at the noise. He still had yet to reach for the knife. She had yet to retreat her hand.

"We need food. They need population control. There's got to be a balance somewhere." She wagged the knife. He stared at it apprehensively. She sighed softly. "The longer you stand there, the longer this guy is gonna be in pain."

He tentatively reached for the knife, his hand clasping around the leather wrapped handle. The blade was nearly as long as Ash's forearm and yet she handled it like it was nothing. It felt awkward in his hand. He was more used to the blades that took the place of his fingers on his left hand. They were an extension of him, more so than the long fang-like knife he now wielded. He briefly wondered if it was ivory fashioned in the likeness of a fang with a steel edge imbedded in the natural curve of it.

Allen looked back at the Pachy. Ash was still kneeling on the animal's neck. She motioned to the spot he needed to strike at again. This time the Pachy moaned and didn't move, but its breathing was more noticeably labored and stilted.

"Don't be meek about it," she warned as he knelt beside the Pachy. The animal's eyes, once bright and lively, were beginning to dim. His hand was shaking when he pressed the edge to the spot where Ash had shown him. She reached out and steadied him by putting her hand on top of his. He met her eyes, still reluctant.

"I…"

"A quick cut. That's all it takes. You'll be fine."

An arrow was one thing. It felt almost impersonal to loose one. But up close, looking into the animal's eyes and hear its struggles to breathe, its fight to live, even with a knife to its throat—that was a completely different thing entirely.

His fingers loosened and his grip was nearly lost before he tightened it up. No.

He had been wanting to show he could hunt just fine without assistance for some time now. Deer he had had no problems with, and neither the rabbits or the boar that roamed the island—when they were still around, that was. They were always down and dead before he had picked his way over to them. He had had to hunt before and this should be no different. Besides, how else was he to earn the right to hunt a bull Trike? Allen steeled himself, pressing the knife down a little harder until he saw a ribbon of red eke out from beneath.

"Quick cut," Ash reminded him again, her voice gentle. He pulled at the knife and it sliced through flesh with frightening ease. Blood gushed out and he hurriedly stood when it began pooling beneath him. The Pachy wailed, but it died down just as quickly as it had arose and soon the light in the animal's eyes went out. Ash waited before picking herself back up to her feet.

"Clean kill," she said in approval. She eyed the Pachy like a prize, her tail wagging slightly as she began circling. "Healthy male. There weren't many older or injured members in the herd, otherwise we'd have taken them instead."

Turning back to him, she placed her hands on her hips, a faint smile on her lips. "You did a good job, Allen."

A mixture of pride and uneasiness nestled down to settle in his chest.

"I've never had to do this before. Not—not like this, I mean."

"You mean the killing blow."

"It's different in combat. But when it's not in self-defense, or the defense of others…"

"It feels strange taking another's life when your own doesn't seem to be at risk," she offered and he nodded. She motioned to the Pachy.

"If you didn't, your life would be in danger. Maybe not immediately, but you understand that you'd probably starve if you didn't hunt, right? You could probably get by on nibbling on edible grasses and other plants, but there's only so much they can do before your body broke down from the lack of fats and proteins that only meat can provide. It's hard at first, but it gets easier."

"I know all that, I've known that for a while now, but it's…it's…"

"Actually getting personal."

"Yes. It's exactly that. Personally doing this. I guess I've just grown used to being at a distance…"

"Using a bow," she finished for him. He shot her a sour look. "I don't know everything about you. But I know enough to gauge how you think, how you feel. I know this wasn't easy for you."

He frowned at her, even as her face was schooled into a carefully neutral mask.

"And yet, at times, I feel like I don't know what you're thinking. Like now, for instance," he replied.

A faint crooked smile adorned her lips, surprising him.

"Sure you do."

She circled around the Pachy, quiet paws along the forest floor to come stand by him, her hands clasped at the small of her back.

"You know enough," she continued with that vague smile still on her face. "Isn't that what matters?"

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"Hold still."

"What are you doing?"

"Just hold still. And close your eyes."

"I can hear what you're doing."

"Doesn't mean you know exactly what I'm doing."

Ash sighed, but he could see her eyes were closed all the same. He stepped forward, carefully looping a leather cord around her neck. Dangling at the end was the gold coin he had intended to give her on Christmas, but well…

He had been rather distracted by many things.

At least I remembered instead of forgetting entirely, he thought. Ash tilted her head, but kept her eyes closed and a wry smile began to tug at her lips. She reached up to touch at the coin, but he chided her softly, telling her to wait. She sighed and dropped her hand. He finished tying a tight knot and stepped back.

"Okay. You can open your eyes now."

"You know, I'm not much of a jewelry person," she started, obliging and glancing down to touch at the coin again. "But…this is actually pretty cool."

"So, you like it?" He couldn't keep the apprehension from colouring his voice. She was still examining the coin, lifting it up as high as she could.

"Yes, I do! Thank you," she said, her eyes flicking to meet his, her smile still present. He grinned back in relief. She was examining the coin again, head tilting over slightly. "This writing…it looks like ancient Greek."

"I think it's a drachma," he offered helpfully.

"That's right, but…I didn't think the Greeks minted any in gold. And I didn't think they came this far to the east. I don't recall seeing any trireme wrecks anywhere on the island…"

"It's possible they've been destroyed; the Greek empire was rather vast, if I remember correctly."

Ash stared at him, dumbfounded and impressed. "That's…pretty spot on, they had colonies sprinkled all over the place." She grinned at him. "Look at you, history buff. I didn't think you knew about all that."

"Trust me, Lavi was the one who would know more about historical things. He used to talk about them all the time; I just picked up snippets here and there. And, well…it helps I traveled all over the world during my training."

Her smile softened a bit. "It helps," she agreed, dropping her gaze back to the coin. It hung just below her collarbone and it was nearly three inches across. It was pretty big for a coin. It glinted in the light from the fire pit. Looking back up at him, she pushed herself up as high as the tips of her toes could allow her, just long enough to give him a peck on the cheek. "Thank you. Really. But, you didn't have to, you know."

"I know that, but I still wanted to."

He saw her tail was wagging. Slowly but steadily, it swung in arcs behind her. He wondered if she was aware she was doing that.

"Hey," she said quietly, anxiously, as her smile dropped away. He found himself mirroring her, feeling the air between them snapped taut, electrified almost. The seconds ticked by, and she kept her gaze locked on his, her lips pursed together. He waited, knowing eventually his patience would pay off. He wasn't disappointed when he felt her fingers snake forward to loop between his, her knuckles pressed to his. Her eyes flicked to their hands for a brief moment, then rose back up to meet his and a smiled ghosted across her lips.

"I love you."

Allen wished he could say he was half-surprised by the abrupt and quiet admission. Words only meant so much to her. Actions tended to speak louder, but to hear her say those three little words strung together, well…

A smile of his own quirked and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers and he sighed gently, eyes sliding closed.

"I know."

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