It was the day after Allen's execution, and Howard Link stood in the doorway of her room, studying the place that he had grown familiar with over the last 6 months. In the aftermath of this entire mess, Link had been assigned the task of getting rid of Allen's few possessions. The old him, the one from six months ago, would carry out his task quickly and efficiently, without delay. But that version of him was gone.

He walked over to Allen's bed, and took in the worn blue sheets, the faded white pillowcase, and the plump pillow. He remembered how excited Allen had been when she had first bought the pillow.


"So fluffy!" Allen squealed, squishing her face against the thick pillow.


His lips twitched at the memory, how simple and innocent Allen's joy had been, for a woman who'd seen so much destruction. He carefully packed them in one of the boxes.

Next was the wardrobe. Allen didn't have many clothes in the first place, so it was far easier to clean it out. She only owned her exorcist uniform, undergarments, a few shirts, pants, a couple skirts, and a single white sundress Lavi had given her.


"A pretty dress for a pretty lady!" An Indian shopkeeper called, advertising his wares. Lavi grinned, and gestured to the man.

"Sounds like you Allen." He said, and Allen laughed.


All of it smelled like peppermints.

He found a bottle of peppermint perfume and a bundle of love letters from Lavi in the bottom of the wardrobe. He carefully wrapped the bottle in the sundress, and put it and the letters in the box with the clothes. Link made a mental note to give them to Lavi. He wasn't oblivious to Lavi and Allen's relationship, and he knew how hard Allen's execution had hit the bubbly red-head.


Lavi stood next to Bookman throughout the execution, but Link could see how much emotional strain the boy was under. His hands were squeezed tight, and blood oozed from his fists and where he had bitten through his lip in a vain attempt to keep silent. He was grounding himself, preventing himself from running up to the pyre and attempting a poorly thought out escape plan.

He nearly broken down when Allen's dress broke into flames and swallowed up the woman with tongues of red fire.

He let out a choked sob when Allen let out a tortured scream as her skin burned, her hair glowing and burning from the licks of flame.

The last image that he saw of the woman, while she was alive, was her fear-ridden face open in a tortured scream, eyes shining bright with tears, right before she was drowned in the flames.


Slowly but surely, the rest of her meager possessions were packed into boxes, and distributed. He brought the final box, the one with the bottle and letters, to Lavi.

He knocked on the door of the Bookman's room, and waited.

He was not disappointed when a moment later, the door swung open, revealing Lavi standing there.

The redhead looked absolutely ghastly. His face was red and blotchy from excessive crying, and he looked like he hadn't slept well, with circles under his eyes. He still wore the same clothes he had worn during the execution ceremony.

"What do you what?" Lavi hissed, glaring through bloodshot green eyes. Link frowned, but offered the box to the redhead without a word. Lavi glanced at the box, before returning his fiery glare to Link.

"What's this for?" He asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"These are Allen Walker's personal possessions." Link said quietly, taking in how Lavi's hostile image collapsed. He gingerly took the box from Link, and nodded.

"Thank you, Link." He said softly, before closing the door.

Link stood there for a few moments, listening to the muffled sobs emitted on the other side of the door. It wasn't much, but it was enough, he decided. He had delivered his package, and now the recipient had to grieve.

And then the man left, leaving a man not supposed to love behind.


Even a week later, he could still smell the cloying scent of the peppermint perfume.