Amputee

A/N; ok I got a request for an Allen/Bak (which I've never done before) and this idea just hit me in history class the other day when we were watching this old war movie, this is set in the first world war by the way... so yeah... there is a letter type thing in here, and I may be confusing at first, but you'll get it by the end. Hope you all enjoy it! And I hope whoever requested it enjoys it! Even if the Allen/Bak is very, very mild.

-/-/-

"OVER THE TOP!!" (1) The sergeant bellowed and the 15 year old boy tensed, waiting until the first few soldiers ran ahead of him before vaulting over the edge of the mud slicked trench, a taller redhead and a Japanese youth on each side of him. The sound of bullets whizzing by his ears no longer fazed them, the explosions didn't even throw them off anymore, war had hardened them all into fighting machines. Allen Walker had been 13 when he enlisted, tall for his age then, and with white hair to boot, he easily passed off as a short 16 year old. Lavi bookman, another member of his platoon, a history student before the war, had figured out his real age almost right away, but said nothing to the uppers.

"It's your life Allen. If you wanted to fight so badly, then it was your choice to come into this god forsaken war of attrition and I have no right to stop you." Allen was like his little brother on the battle field, in the trenches, when they got short breaks from the constant noise and death around them on the front.

Yuu Kanda, a Japanese immigrant to England, had lived there for most of his life, and fought for the country he called home because his honour wouldn't allow anything else. He was cold and acted like he didn't care, but whenever they went over the top he would have gladly taken a bullet for Allen or Lavi, they were his family here, they were all brothers.

Allen's eyes had always been exceptionally good; he liked to joke with Lavi and Kanda that he could see the bullets coming towards him, that's how he had never even been grazed by either a bullet or shrapnel. The truth was it was all intuition, he could sense danger coming his way and he moved with the speed and grace only a child could posses to avoid injury.

Bullets and the even more deadly shrapnel flew past Allen as he charged a head of Lavi and Kanda towards the enemy trench. Allen hated it, killing them. It was like killing just another average guy walking down the street. Sure he had heard the things people said about the Germans, nailing kittens to the doors of Belgian churches, forcing the citizens of little country to stand in front of them while engaging the French in battle, killing babies for sport, he had heard all of that and he honestly didn't put much stock in it. To Allen's mind, it was just exaggeration to motivate the soldiers to kill without any qualms.

"I promised I would fight... that I would keep walking..." Allen whispered to himself as he jerked his head at the last moment, feeling the wind of a bullet as it flew by at blinding speed. He was half way across no mans land. Half way to where he could try to kill people who were just doing what their government had told them to. Allen felt empty, he didn't want to see the blood anymore, but he knew that he had to, even if it mean his hands would never be clean, he had to fight so that his children could be free, so that they wouldn't be ruled by a dictator.

"ALLEN!" The white haired boy turned to look at Lavi, seeing his horrified face for just a moment, before the world seemed to explode, the roar of a shell exploding ripping through his ears, a ripping, horrible pain in his left arm, before the world went sank into a quiet, dreamless darkness, where he was free from the blood that stained his very soul.

-/-/-

"We had to amputate. He would have died otherwise." Allen's right eye cracked open as he heard a muted voice, the other was covered in a bandage and held shut. He could see a blurry patch of red in a dark uniform facing a patch of golden yellow in a white coat of some sort.

"Where am I?" his voice sounded raw and painfully confused as it cracked.

"Allen!" the boy turned his head to Lavi, blinking them into focus as the redhead knelt beside the bed with a strained smile, "Thank God you're awake!"

"Lavi... where am I?" Allen rasped out again, smiling at the teen he had come to see as a brother, wondering why his face fell when Allen asked the question.

"You're in the hospital Allen... you were right beside a shell when it exploded, and you were hit with shrapnel in the left eye, you'll probably be blind in that eye, and in the left arm. They... had to amputate it..." the redhead took Allen's gun calloused right hand and smiled holding back tears as well as he could.

"Wha-what?" Allen choked out, slowly turning his head until he could see the empty spot on the bed where his left arm should be.

"Hey! Look on the bright side! You get to go home, and see your dad again right? A-as soon as the war ends, I'll come out and visit and Mana can make up both up some of the amazing soup you're always talking about and we'll go out to the shore and go swimming and try and pick up some girls! Won't that be fun Allen? Allen?" the younger looked over at Lavi who was smiling as brightly as he could, soft white bangs sliding across his forehead to reveal the long gash hurriedly stitched up running along his face and forehead, only his eye covered by a bandage.

"I'm... going home?" he choked out and the redhead nodded slowly as Allen smiled dazedly and stared up at the ceiling, "Home..." he whispered, barely listening to the older soldier jabber on about nothing. Kanda came in for a while, threw some insults at him about his height and being an idiot for getting hurt, same old stuff, before patting his head and leaving with Lavi. Allen didn't really hear any of it though. 'Home... after... two and a half years... I'm going home... I never thought I would be so lucky...'

"Allen Walker?" The sliver eye jerked open as the pale face turned to the tall blond man in a white doctor's coat, "Hello, I'm the doctor who amputated your arm, Bak Chan. How are you feeling today Allen?" the man asked briskly.

"About as well as one can feel when they're missing an arm I suppose..." the white haired youth smiled tiredly as he sat up with a grimace.

"I see. Do you mind if I inspect the stump?" he asked and the boy gestured invitingly with his good hand.

"Be my guest, you're the doctor!" he smiled and Bak grimly noted the unusually pale skin and light sheen of sweat on the boy's forehead. Quietly unravelling the bandages Bak looked at the fresh wound carefully before sighing.

"Allen, I need you to tell me your real age." The young man looked at the doctor in surprise for a moment.

"How-,"

"A doctor can tell when looking at the bone of a patient. Your record says you're 18, and have been in the service since you were 16. But that's a lie isn't it? Look, I won't tell anyone, you won't get into trouble, I just need to know so I don't overdose you on painkillers." The blond man looked up at Allen sharply and the boy sighed tiredly as he ran his shaking hand through his hair.

"I'm 15 as of last Christmas." He said quietly, as the man's eyes widened.

"You joined when you were 13!? How?"

"I was tall for my age... and I have white hair, so I could pass off for a 16 year old if I disguised my voice." Allen shrugged with a shy smile.

"You're an idiot."

"I know... I... I really am an idiot... thinking war would be so glorious. I'm just glad to be going home and being able to see my father again." Allen smiled as he looked down at his only hand, clenching it into a fist and relaxing it, almost experimentally. The doctor blinked in surprise for a moment, before sighing and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

"Want a fag?" he asked, holding out the pack, pulling out a cancer stick as Allen shook his head no and lighting it up for himself. Bak leaned on the backboard of the hospital bed, taking a long drag of the smoke as he studied Allen.

"Mr. Chan?" Allen asked hesitantly after a moment.

"Call me Bak."

"Ah, alright, uhmm, Bak... I... was wondering... would you get me a pen and paper? I wish to write to my father... tell him I'm coming home." The white haired boy's only silver eye looked up into Bak's pale blue ones pleadingly and the doctor sighed before nodding.

"Sure thing kid."

-/-/-

Dear Mana,

I'm sorry I ran away so long ago, I just wanted to go to war so badly, I wanted to do my part to protect the future generations, my own children from ever having to fight like this, or from ever having to be ruled by another nation. Looking back, I know I was somewhat idealistic, and I sure as hell know I was more than a little naive, but that is still my reason for coming to war. It's been two and a half years, and I've changed a lot. I've gained many friends who I see as brothers, and I really think that I've grown up. I've killed, and I've almost been killed, and I really wish it weren't so. I can't ever give those people back their lives, even if I live for a hundred years. I've learned so much about human nature, and about what it really means to be human. On the battle field, we're not men anymore; we're animals, each one fighting for his own survival. It's a place you love to hate. I was hit by some shrapnel dad. I've lost my left arm, and I'm most likely going to be blind in my left eye, but I don't really mind. I had two and a half of killing and being scared out of my wits, wondering if I'm going to be next, or if the guy next to me is going to be blown to bits before my eyes, or is I'll see one of the people who I've come to care about out here die before my eyes. It's not a place I want to be anymore. I want to come home, and I just pray that you accept your stupid son back into your home, the home I never should have left behind. As soon as they give me the 'OK' I'm taking the first train back home to our dinky little town just outside of London, and never looking back. The doctors here are very kind, and I know they will take care of me until the time comes. I hope to see you soon father.

You're son,

Allen Walker

-/-/-

Bak crumpled the piece of paper with the neat handwriting of Allen Walker as he slid down the brick wall and sat, staring up at the sky. Infection had kicked in three days after Allen had written his letter home, and he had died two days after that.

"If even Allen of all people, who has been here since day one didn't make it, there isn't any hope for any of us seeing the end of this war is there?" his redheaded friend had asked, tears streaming down his face as his right eye was bandaged, he had come back in because of a piece of shrapnel getting him in a similar fashion to Allen's left eye.

"You really wanted that kid to live didn't you Bak?"

"Shut up Fou. It doesn't matter; he was just one of a thousand soldiers." Bak snapped at the orange haired nurse.

"Then why are you crying?" she asked gently, smiling softly as the man hastily wiped the tears away.

"I'm not. Leave me alone." The nurse sighed and walked back into the hospital, leaving the blond haired doctor to sort things out himself.

"I bet you didn't know this Allen..." he whispered to himself as he turned his gave back up to the sky filled with soft white clouds,

"But I knew your father..." tears slid down his face as he lit up his lighter.

"And he was killed by a German air raid two years ago." The flame touched the crumpled paper and slowly licked its way up, erasing the words written there from existence.

"At least you get to see him sooner than you thought you would." Bak watched the smoke from the burning letter waft heaven wards before vanishing on the breeze, remembering the boy's dying words.

'I'm only sorry, I didn't get to say goodbye before I left.'

-/-/-

A/N; well, that's all she wrote. Depressing but sweet, please tell me what you all think hmm?

(1) 'Over the top' is what soldiers called it when they were told to go 'over the top' of the trenches to attack the enemy trench. It was a mostly suicidal war tactic, that killed too many people for it to be worth the 200 meters they were fighting over.

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