A/N: This. This. What the hell. The is horrible and mean and depressing and what the hell. Oh, well. I hope you all like it anyway.
Title: Finding Loss in Victory
Author: liketolaugh
Rating: T
Pairings: None
Genre: Horror
Warnings: Blood and gore
Summary: The exorcists thought that, once the war was over, they'd be able to live out their lives. They were wrong.
Disclaimer: I only wish I owned -man.
A clock ticks on the wall, muffled by the hum of a hundred voices. Chatter rings throughout the dining hall, and Allen rolls his eyes as Lavi wraps up another joke, smiling slightly nonetheless.
It's been a year since the death of the Millenium Earl and a month since it was confirmed that the world was officially akuma-free. The Black Order had won their war at last.
The happy thrill of victory had buzzed through the ranks for an average of two weeks before the truth set in.
There were no more akuma.
There was nothing more for them to do.
Still, the buzz of happiness made the month a breeze. Those who still had family to return to had long since returned home, while those who had none lingered at the Order, content to stay where they were for now.
None of the exorcists went home.
The Order relished in the newfound peace. Life went on at a drifting pace, for there was no hurry, not anymore. There was no more danger, no more death, and no more constant fear – fear of akuma, fear of defeat, or fear of grief.
But even in this unity of delight, the exorcists stood apart. Though every member of the Order had a story, a reason to fight, a reason why 'Before' became 'After', it was the exorcists who remembered the pain and exhaustion of near-constant missions and battle after long battle, the exorcists who could often scarcely bear to remember their pasts, the exorcists who, even now, remained broken.
Even now, one did not approach an exorcist – the members who wore the night-black uniforms, looked upon, whispered about, respected almost to the point of reverence – unless they approached you.
Of course, they could always approach each other.
"Hey, Krory," Lavi called out suddenly, causing said man to turn and give him a questioning look. "Still having trouble?"
Krory's head dropped and he gave a glum nod. "Yes. I know that there is no blood left, Lavi, but oh, I thirst for it." His lips parted slightly, revealing the gleam of fierce fangs.
Allen looked over to Krory and reached out to pat his arm comfortingly. "It'll be alright, Krory. It's bound to get better eventually."
Krory looked at him and gave him such a miserable look that Allen's already fake smile wavered slightly, before slamming back into place.
"You'll be fine," Allen insisted, stressing the last word in such a way as to leave almost no doubt.
"You think so?" mumbled Krory, eyeing him warily, but with a hint of hope.
Lenalee offered him a smile. "You will. We all will, Krory. It just might take a while."
Krory smiled, looking substantially happier than he had moments before, and dug into his meal with a bit more gusto.
"So how's the record coming along, Lavi?" Allen asked, returning to their earlier subject, food now finished.
Lavi shrugged, giving Allen a half-grin. "As well as ever, bean sprout." He ignored Allen's protest at the name. "I've just finished with the final fight between you and the Millenium Earl. Bookman's almost caught up to the present, old panda."
Allen chuckled just as Lavi barely managed to duck a kick from the previously-lurking Bookman, causing the two to launch into a somewhat violent argument.
Kanda, a few seats away, caught his eye then, and within moments, they, too, had begun fighting, with an exasperatedly sighing Lenalee between them.
Yes, Allen thought that everything was going just fine, considering.
Of course, he hadn't known that that wouldn't last long.
Absently, he flexed his left arm, wondering why it felt so stiff.
Krory got worse and worse as days went by. Before long, he could barely walk by himself, so dizzy was he. Finally, though, he just collapsed, eyes falling shut, and he wouldn't wake up again, no matter what they tried.
Three days later, Krory was dead.
It was a shock, a wake-up call. Just because there were no more akuma didn't mean there was no more death, just that there was a lot less of it. Those who knew Krory mourned; everyone else was a bit more sober.
Krory's death, they later admitted, would have been almost certain if they'd thought about it, remembered his dependence on the blood.
But it was an isolated incident. The only one of its kind, simply because of Krory's odd Innocence.
Life went on. No one left. No one tried to make them. And things continued. Kanda trained, Allen looked for ways to help, Lavi worked on his documentation, and Lenalee lingered around the science department, handing out coffee.
"Kanda?" Allen questioned, slightly incredulous. "How did you manage to get that?"
Kanda, holding a hand over his bleeding arm, 'che'ed and glared at him. "Mind your own business, bean sprout," he snapped.
Allen huffed. "It's Allen," he retaliated. "You'd know that if you paid attention. Of course, if you paid attention, you wouldn't have cut yourself training."
"Che. Like you'd know about paying attention, idiot bean sprout."
"My name is Allen!"
Strange accidents like that started to happen all around headquarters. Allen supposed that people were just growing used to complacence. Lavi dropped his hammer on his foot and hopped around cursing for ten minutes. Komui caused even more chaos than usual, spreading minor despair around like rose petals. The lack of active battle seemed to have a detrimental effect on Chaoji, who had trouble lifting something at least once, and even Lenalee seemed to be losing a little of her grace, stumbling during takeoff on a trip to town.
Then another report came in; General Nine was dead.
"Dead?" Lavi demanded, startled enough to drop his pen. "How did that happen?"
Komui's face was slightly grim, standing straight in forced formality. "No one quite knows," he told them. "She appears to have been mauled, but no one's sure how. Lau seems to have nothing but human scratches on him, but it was clearly an animal who hurt her."
"That's strange," Lenalee murmured, frowning as she tried to figure out how that could have happened.
Allen rubbed his arm, which, in the last few days, had started to ache.
The finders were whispering. Well, okay, the finders were always whispering. It was what they were whispering that was strange.
They were saying that the exorcists were incapable of not fighting akuma.
That's ridiculous, Kanda snapped, hand twitching towards Mugen.
We haven't fought akuma in two months and we're fine, Lenalee said, one foot scuffing across the ground, feeling the blood red anklet jiggle on her ankle.
But the scientists seemed to agree, and Allen got the feeling that there was another part to the whispers, something they daren't say in front of the exorcists.
Allen knew that because he'd wondered about it, too.
But Innocence doesn't hurt the exorcists. It saved them. That was how it worked.
Allen's arm ached.
Komui was fussing over Lenalee even more than usual. She rolled her eyes; it was nothing unusual, but still, it was annoying. He was insisting that she find something more engaging to do, something that was good for her.
When that didn't work, he took them all out to town, the entire remaining Black Order. They had a lot of fun that day.
Komui seemed a bit clingier than usual, Lavi later commented.
After a moment of thought, Lenalee agreed.
"Oh!"
Lenalee yelped as her feet suddenly slid out from under her and she went tumbling forward, arms flung out to break her fall, violet eyes wide. Allen lunged forward and caught Lenalee in one arm, automatically wrapping it around her to absorb the impact.
As he did so, he hissed, arm tightening slightly as a sharp sting ran through it. "Ow," he mumbled, forcing himself to relax as the pain passed.
Lenalee pushed herself up, giving him a slightly worried look. "Allen? Is something wrong?"
He forced himself to smile at her. "Nothing, Lenalee. Just caught you awkwardly, is all."
Lenalee didn't look so sure. "If you're certain…"
Allen waited for her to be out of sight before he reached down to his arm and rubbed it, wondering why it was bothering him so much lately.
The next day, Chaoji didn't come to breakfast. Timothy, who had become friends with the exorcist as time passed, scurried off to find him. Minutes later, a scream ripped through the air of the halls, silencing the chatter.
"Timothy!" Allen called back, worried, and he stood, hurrying out to go after him.
When he reached Chaoji's room, he found Timothy, pale as a ghost and with eyes wide, pressed up against the wall opposite, trembling.
"Allen," he choked out, as soon as the white-haired boy was in sight. "Chaoji…"
Allen turned his head and looked into the open door of Chaoji's room, and silver eyes widened.
Chaoji was limp against the wall, dark bruises stark against blue-tinged skin, eyes open and glazed, mouth gaping slightly as if to gasp for air. He was dead.
Allen's gaze travelled down, to the Innocence bracelets innocently clinging to the exorcist's wrists.
After that, there really couldn't be any doubt. Chaoji had been alone in his room all night; when Timothy had arrived, the door was locked, though Timothy had a key.
The finders once again edged around the exorcists, most of whom were grimly accepting of the situation, if not a little bitter. They'd always expected the war to claim their lives; they just hadn't expected to die this way.
Timothy was quieter than usual; nowadays, he usually stuck close to Noise Marie, by far the most level-headed about the whole thing, though his mouth was often set in a firm line, one hand on Timothy's head in silent comfort.
The clock was ticking.
Timothy is in the cafeteria when his eyes widened and he choked. Marie was the first to respond, one arm sweeping him up like he weighs nothing and the other searching out any injuries that might be appearing. Timothy just looked at him with wide eyes, the gem in his forehead glowing violently, and then, suddenly, he went limp, like he had fallen asleep.
A few tense minutes later, his breathing stopped.
Marie's head dropped in silent sorrow, and the tension at the table the exorcists, even Kanda, had been assembling at lately ratcheted up a little.
Lavi tried to lock his hammer away, in a closet with Miranda's Time Record, Marie's rings, and Socalo's hoops. It didn't work.
They couldn't touch them to take them off anymore.
It had only been half a hope anyway, and Lavi thought that the scientists were more upset about it than the exorcists when they couldn't come up with a way around it that worked.
Allen found that his arm was getting harder and harder to move.
Froi Tiedoll didn't know about what was going on. He visited late at night, mentioned a few problems with his Innocence to the scientists, and then went to sleep.
He had gotten up later, Kanda later found, staring up at the ceiling. He must have.
Maybe he had known.
He had, Kanda thought, at least suspected.
Because the expression he wore, hanging from the ceiling with one of his plants wrapped around his neck, was anything but surprised. Only disappointed. Just disappointed.
Just sad.
Sadness doesn't mean much from the dead, and Kanda let out a harsh 'che' before turning away to storm off, not looking at where he was going, and not touching Mugen.
If he admitted it to himself, and he never would, he was a little bit wary (afraid) of the sword now.
The science department was going nuts.
Well, they were always nuts. Even Lenalee would admit that much. But they were worse than usual, searching for a way to stop the Innocence, to remove it, to simulate whatever it was about fighting an akuma that stopped it from going crazy, anything to save the exorcists.
It wasn't just because they were important anymore.
It was because they were friends.
Socalo was found with entrails stretching across the hallway, spattered in a gruesome pattern across the floor. The scientists only worked harder; even Komui was on overtime, working as hard as he could to save them.
When Marie was found, bound by his own Innocence strings and with them wrapped about his throat like garrote wire, they worked even harder.
Privately, the exorcists wished they would stop. False hope was worse than no hope at all.
Things were getting worse; Miranda slipped in and out of the normal timestream, seemingly speeding up and slowing down at random. Netherworld insects burst into existence around Kanda unexpectedly, attacking him with vicious, tearing teeth, forcing him to beat them away. Lavi couldn't touch his hammer at all for fear of burning himself. Allen's arm ached constantly, often sending swift jolts of pain through it, and he couldn't move it at all anymore.
He admitted this aloud to Miranda, who was even more jumpy and anxious than normal, and she just shivered, eyes worried, biting her lip nervously.
"Brother!" Lenalee snapped exasperatedly, batting Komui's anxious hands away. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
"But Lenalee," he worried, withdrawing his hands as if burned, but not taking his eyes off her. He hadn't been the same lately; when he wasn't working his very hardest, he was with Lenalee, hovering and not letting her do a thing on her own. It was driving her nuts.
"I'm fine," she repeated, starting to walk away. Within moments, her feet slipped out from under her, and she fell hard to the ground.
"Lenalee!"
Komui's cry echoed down the hallway, an even more familiar sound than normal, as he rushed forward to where she lingered on the ground, breathing hard, eyes screwed shut and fists clenching and unclenching in frustration.
As he dropped to his knees beside her, she relaxed abruptly, looking up at her brother with distressed violet eyes. He looked back down, concern etched on his features.
"My ankles hurt," she admitted in a whisper, as if it were shameful… or as if it were something to be afraid of.
His eyes immediately darted down to where her feet laid limp on the ground. The stigmata on her ankles were slightly inflamed, red around the edges, swollen and painful-looking.
Silently, he scooped her up and held her close to his chest. She didn't resist.
Tension at the Order was perhaps higher than it had ever been during the war. At least then, they had been pretty sure that when they died, it would be in battle, and it would not be at the Order, but elsewhere, with them being completely prepared for it.
The exorcists were afraid; that much was clear. They tried to hide it, held their heads high, but each one was tense, tempers running hot, snapping at the drop of a hat or less. The finders avoided them, walking on eggshells, whispering, hardly daring to look. Hardly ever did you see a member of the science department anymore, so busy were they, trying to do something, anything.
But still, they knew that time was ticking by, and the exorcists were hyperaware of every passing second.
"Allen?"
Miranda's voice was quiet; it hadn't been loud for days, now. Not since Marie had died.
Allen turned his head toward her, giving her that little forced smile that was getting harder to give by the day. "Yes, Miranda?"
"Are you scared?"
Allen didn't answer, not for a while. Finally, though, voice even quieter than Miranda's, he admitted, "Yeah."
"I am too," she confessed, shaking slightly, the metallic items in the box she held rattling almost inaudibly. Then, "Does your arm still hurt?"
"…Worse, now."
Suddenly, pain, worse than he had been feeling thus far, ripped through him, starting somewhere in his arm but quickly consuming his whole body, and a strangled cry escaped his throat, the box tumbling from his grasp, mouth opening to gasp.
"Allen!" Miranda's cry seemed to reach him from a long ways away, the crash of another box falling to the ground hardly registering as she rushed toward him, fingers hovering just above his skin, like she was afraid to touch him.
Then she gasped, and he forced his eyes to open, his gaze slowly and painfully dragging itself to her.
She was frozen, bolt upright, Slowly, a glow erupted from her shoulder, her Time Record dropping gradually from it, growing.
Then she began to age, slow at first, with little wisps of gray in her dark hair and the beginnings of wrinkles on her face. Allen hardly noticed as the pain began to fade away, silver eyes locked with her dark gaze, wide and startled.
The aging began to speed up, faster and faster, until she was shriveling, pain etching on her features. Silver-gray hair began to grow fragile and wispy, wrinkles deepening, skin stretching across the sharpening angles of her bones. Her skin turned gray, and then her eyes, glazed and unseeing, fell shut, and Allen watched with wide-eyed horror as her body crumbled to dust, and her Record deactivated, falling to the ground with a clatter.
It looked so unremarkable, lying on the ground like that.
But Allen stared at it with such horrified eyes that no one could truly mistake it as such.
Tension had grown to an unseen panic, nearing despair. Lenalee could hardly walk for pain, Lavi couldn't even let his hand stray near his hammer, and Kanda spent as much time beating away his netherworld creatures as not. Allen was always hurting, to the point that he couldn't even hide it anymore, and he couldn't even move his shoulder anymore.
The science department was in a panic, trying to do something, anything, to stop it, to slow it, anything, anything.
There were four exorcists left. All of them were grim. All of them knew what was coming.
The end was near.
They could feel it approaching.
Allen was curled in a corner, panting and sweaty. His right hand was clutching at his left desperately, his face screwed up in pain. As he sat, another wave of pain crashed over him, ripping a scream from his throat and making his right hand tighten convulsively over his painfully twitching left.
The pain died after a few moments, leaving him panting again, silver-gray eyes wide and frightened and confused. Slowly, he let go of his wrist, and opened and closed his hand, looking at it with his mouth set in a grim line, silver eyes troubled and resigned.
"There are no more akuma to hunt," he muttered to himself, or maybe to it. Another twitch of pain sent his fist clenching shut again, nails cutting deep into his palm and fist colliding with his chest sharply as he bit back another scream. That wave, too, died away, and he let out a shuddering sigh, keeping his hand on his chest, but letting it open, resting there as he breathed. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "It's not my fault!"
That answer didn't satisfy the angered Innocence; another scream, loud and long and far worse than the last, rent the air as agony grasped Allen's form, making him arch back until his head hit the wall, leaving a bloody spot to mark its place, and his nails dug into his chest. The scream didn't stop this time, growing louder and harsher as seconds passed, right hand scrabbling against the floor, tears streaking down his face, and left fist tightening, tightening on his chest…
Then it broke its threshold, left hand growing into its larger form, claws lengthening, sharpening, and then they tore through the flesh of Allen's chest, his screams cutting off into agonized gasps, even more painful to listen to than the scream, as they buried themselves deep inside him.
For a moment, Allen was almost frozen, blood pouring from his chest, left hand twitching and jerking even while buried inside him, right hand clenching and unclenching, eyes frozen wide open, mouth gasping for air.
Then his eyes fluttered shut, his left hand fell limp to the ground, and he relaxed against the wall, a long, too long, breath shuddering out of him for the last time.
Don't keep trying to stop it, Lavi told them.
It's a fool's task, Kanda said.
Just let go, Lenalee pleaded.
The science department ignored them; the only reaction was a few stray tears, falling down Komui's face as he worked harder, faster, more desperate, and a choked sob that escaped his throat.
Soon, Kanda failed to beat off the netherworld insects, exhausted as he was from sleep lost doing just that, and they tore him to pieces. By the time they were finished, there was no possible way to identify him, just a sword lying in a puddle of blood.
For a while, nothing happened. A strange hum seemed to be in the air, but Lenalee looked at Lavi, and Lavi looked at Lenalee, and they nodded, eyes dim, but not crushed. Broken, but not destroyed, never destroyed.
"I love you, brother," Lenalee said to Komui, and her Dark Boots wrapped themselves around her legs and took off in two different directions. Her leg was torn away, and she bled to death within minutes, Komui crying, holding her, telling her that he loved her too, and he would never forget his precious sister, never.
"Lavi."
Lavi didn't look up, focusing on the paper in front of him, writing his last entry. He'd long since caught up to the present; he'd been focused on recording the aftermath, as detached as he could manage. "Yeah, you old panda?"
Bookman didn't react as he normally would; he looked almost pensive, eyes focused on Lavi. "Do you regret joining the Black Order?"
For a moment, Lavi didn't answer, but then he paused, set his pen down, and leaned back to smile lazily at Bookman, mask almost disturbingly easy to maintain. "Nah. I never have, honestly, and I definitely won't regret it now. Bad form, you know?"
Bookman 'hm'ed, almost thoughtfully. "You do not believe that you should not have come?"
Lavi shook his head, not hesitating. He was shaking, grief in his one green eye, but there was no uncertainty present. He didn't regret anything. Not really.
The next day, his hammer erupted in the flames of the fire seal, and Lavi was burned to ashes.
Bookman looked on, face unreadable, but perhaps with a hint of grief hidden in his gaze. That night, he recorded only one thing.
The exorcists were dead.
This is the end of exorcists, and the end of the age of Innocence. Only I remain, and I can feel my ending drawing near. Soon, there will be only the finders, the scientists, and medical.
It's strange, I think. Before, Innocence was all that kept us exorcists from dying. Now, it's the reason that we're all dying at once, and not peacefully, at that. It's a finicky little thing, that's for sure, and a dangerous weapon to have.
Still, maybe it's for the best. Exorcists, they don't have anything to live for anymore. Their lives were hunting akuma. So maybe this is a mercy, I don't know.
With the exorcists gone, the rest of the Order will be able to move on. The scientists will find something new to research, the medical staff more people to help, and the finders a new cause to devote themselves to. I think Komui said something about giving everyone letters of recommendation before Lenalee died.
Komui doesn't say much anymore.
But look at this, I sound all depressed, don't I? That's not right. But your Innocence turning against you will do that, I guess.
Heh. Bookman will have to find a new apprentice soon. Bet he'll sulk, the old panda. Hey! New guy! Make sure he's not sulking, alright? Bookmen aren't allowed to do that, he told me so. So make sure he's not.
Ha, I guess this is what I get for becoming attached, huh? I'd say to take this as a lesson, but I don't really regret anything. Bookman'll probably do it for me, anyway. Old panda.
I think that this'll be the last time I'll be able to write in here, so… See you in the next life!
- Last entry by Lavi Bookman, the final alias of the 23rd Bookman's second apprentice
Heh... yeah... As you can probably tell, I'm one of those people who likes to take a look at the Innocence almost as its own character. Of course, I interpret the relationship between Innocence and exorcist as slightly abusive... *rubs back of head sheepishly* I hope you liked it, regardless. This really is kind of along the lines of what I think will happen, after. What with the imperative to hunt akuma and all. But. Anyway. Please review!
Edit: Apparently, Bookman's needles are Innocence. (this is what I get for skipping large portions of material...) Pretend they aren't, this is a good way to end this that I otherwise wouldn't have. I also discovered that Bookman had an apprentice before Lavi. That, I fixed. *eye roll* Sorry!