THE CAVE: CONTINUUM

Part Thirty-Two

His torturer pushes him into his cell. Allen isn't quick enough to put his hands out to protect himself from his fall, and strikes his head hard against the cold stone floor. He hears the grinding of the rusty hinges and the clunk of his prison door closing—finally he is alone and the torture has stopped.

He has no strength left to push himself up off the filthy stone floor to sit upright. Warm fluid drains slowly from the wound to his forehead, dripping down, forming a small puddle of his crimson red blood. He needs to rest his weary, beaten body and he also needs sleep. It had been four hours of hideous torture which had felt like days to him after being strung up by his raw, bleeding wrists.

The only thing that had gotten him through all of the pain had been Kanda. He had thought about his husband's long, flowing, black hair slipping off his shoulders, caressing his own bare skin. Then he would take his fingers, and slip them through his lover's soft, silky strands.

With every crack of the whip, being snapped across his back had marred, torn, and ripped at his flesh. He had grounded his teeth at the pounding, stinging, burning of his skin that the whip had left as a reminder of his captivity. His beloved Kanda had stayed in his thoughts thinking about him soothing those raw, burning wounds with his gentle touches and kisses which helped him stabilize his half-crazed mind.

Now that he is back in his repulsive cell, beaten and weary, he somehow has to stay strong and conserve what strength he has left, for it will not be long before he has to battle the demon beasts. He hears the clicking of boot heels striking against the stone flooring, echoing throughout the cavernous dungeon—he knows its Rouverlier.

"Open the door," he commands sharply to the minion that is with him. Allen doesn't open his tired eyes, nor does he make any attempt to move which leaves his crumple body lying on the hard floor looking like a pile of rags.

Rouverlier walks over to him and with the toe of his boot rolls him over. Allen's arms and legs flop limply as he rolls onto his back, his arms falling wherever, no different than an under-stuffed rag doll. He wills his mind to stay quiet at the extreme pain tearing through his body from the raw, bleeding lacerations on his back—he appears to be dead.

"Well now, I guess we have broken the young Exorcists spirit and physical strength too," the ex-Inspector chides, his repugnant chuckle resounds off the stone walls.

"It appears he will be out for hours, but once he wakes up bring him food and water to revive him a little. Then we'll put him in the arena with the first demon beast and see if he survives," Rouverlier coarsely orders his minion, his chuckle turning into loud laughter.

Allen hears the scuff and swish of his boots turning around on the stone floor then walks pompously to the cell door leaving him alone. The prison door's harsh grating sound creaks and thuds close as the noise erupts inside his already aching head.

He couldn't move. His strength depleted from his body. Falling into a deep sleep, Allen remains lying in the same position Rouverlier had left him. His mind drifts with dreams, ebbing and flowing from image to image. He's rolling, sliding onto his stomach, the sensation of warm water washing over his burning, painful back then shifts to feeling a cool substance spread over the wounds with the lightest touch. He sees a soft veil float down covering the open lesions, protecting them from the air.

He dreamily rolls onto his back for a moment, feeling cool liquid flow down his parch throat, quenching his thirst, bringing moisture to his dry lips. He drinks what he needs. It feels as if his body is floating, hovering, everything around him gentle, as if he might be in heaven.

"Kanda?" a rasp comes from his hallucinatory state.

"Master Allen, shhh or we'll be heard. I'm a finder undercover. I hope this helps to regain some of your strength. The balm is a special mixture from the monks with great healing powers. I cannot bandage your head wound for it will show, but I was able to sew a couple stitches to hold it together. I have to go now," the finder whispers into Allen's ear. He knows Allen is too far-gone to know he is there with him, nor will he remember the finder had been there to help him.

"Kanda, I love you," a soft whisper comes from Allen's lips before falling into an unconscious state.

The finder, clothe in a monks robe, gently lays Allen back in the position he had found him. He leaves him with solid food and more water, quickly exiting the cell.

Allen isn't sure how long he had slept, but one eye opens while the other, badly bruised and swollen, can only open a slit. Even with his bruises and wounds he feels more alert than earlier, not to full capacity, but he feels some of his strength returning.

He manages to sit up and spots the food and water that had been left for him by the cell door. He crawls over and eats heartedly, filling himself with what nutrition he had been offered and drinks all of the much needed water, then lies down to rest once again. It suddenly dawns on him that his back is not burning as it had when he had fallen asleep.

He recalls his dreams of his wounds being cleaned and some substance being spread on his back. 'The veil—could that have been bandages?' Allen thought. He stretches his arm back as far as he could and reaches under his blood soaked shirt and sure enough there are bandages hidden beneath. Someone had helped him, but whom? He could only remember Kanda in his dreams. Could Kanda be here already?

Allen touches the stitches someone had carefully sewn, hidden under his hair. 'There is no way Kanda could have made it to the castle that fast,' Allen's thinking. Whoever had helped him, he is eternal grateful.

Now he needs to calm himself even more and regain more of his strength. Kanda had taught Allen how to meditate and figures this is a good time as any to utilize those skills. He had learned it is an excellent way for him to revive himself, renewing his energy. Though he doesn't sit in the position generally used for this exercise, he knew from what Kanda had taught him, it doesn't matter as long as he engages himself into being in the present and let go of everything else.

Taking deep breathes, Allen quiets his mind with each inhalation and exhalation, allowing his batter body and mind to release the pent up emotions and pain. He stays in this state for quite some time and can feel his body calming, ignoring the pain, letting it go—his strength returning.

He hears the noises around him but lets them go as he continues to stay in the present. The soft pitter-patter of footsteps he tunes into as they approach his cell, then, once again, the jingling of keys, the scraping of the key sliding into the lock and then the click which unlocks the door to his prison is a clear sound to his ears. It must be time.

To be continued …

A/N: I apologize this is a short chapter, but I could not finish the whole story and have it edited before the end of this week. I hope you enjoyed the chapter as we prepare for Allen to face the demon beasts Rouvelier has in store for him. I know you all are waiting for this to happen and it shall begin in the next chapter.

Thanks you so much for all your reviews, comments and thoughts. I truly appreciate everyone who took the time to write even the smallest comment—I cherish them all. So, until next week everyone have a great weekend!