Last Orders [A DGM fic]
So I wrote this fic for Loren for Komui's birthday, and she talked me into posting it for the public eye. ^^; So... Here it is.
Last Orders
The cherry wood casket laid out at the altar was empty. The entire wake was a lavish affair, grim as it was.The deceased would have wanted it that way. The coffin was to his tastes exactly. It was a rich red wood, polished, and hand-carved. Hundreds of votive candles had been set out in Headquarters' grand cathedral and were flickering dimly, casting soft shadows on the faces of the gathered. No expense had been spared. Komui had seen to that much.
For once, just once, he'd wanted to let that selfish, arrogant bastard have his way. This was his last chance, after all.
The thought choked him a little as he ran his fingers over the finely etched engraving below the Order's crest that had been branded into the coffin's face in gold. The letters were in a feminine hand. Linali's actually. She was such a sweet girl, to do this for them, but Komui knew that no death left her heart unbroken. This one had hurt her more than most.
Even if Komui closed his eyes, he could still feel the subtle ridges in the wood, spelling out a name he had never thought he would see here. It was beyond a matter of hope. He had never bothered to even think it, so wild was the dream that this day could ever come.
General Cross Marian.
It was supposed to be a routine mission. Komui knew that. And because he knew that, he had let himself ignore all of the warning signs presented along the way, ignored how deeply unsettled reading the mission dossier had made him. He had bitten his tongue to keep himself from asking Cross to stay, to assign another General in his stead. Because such words and actions were dangerous. If he let his bad feelings and his whims rule him, there was every chance that he could lose his post and with it, Linali.
Besides, the orders had come down from the Vatican themselves. They were the Pope's personal army, after all. When all was said and done, there was nothing someone like Komui could do against a request from them.
And.
It was only a bad feeling.
He had no real evidence that the mission was a front, that the vaguely worded instructions were code for something far more dangerous and sensitive.
"You're really not going to take anyone with you?" Komui had asked in surprised as he processed the paperwork to transfer the mission from request status to filled status. "You're allowed up to two Exorcists--"
"I don't need help for something like this," Cross had dismissed, flicking ash onto the arm of Komui's couch. Komui remembered watching it fall, remembered how irritated he had felt as he stamped the mission and sent Cross on his way.
"Tim says he's not going again." Komui looked up at Cross' words just as the Golem in question flitted out its master's sleeve to curl up happily on a stack of papers.
"How will we contact you?" Komui asked immediately, feeling the vague feelings of uncertainty in his chest take sudden, sharp shape, the stab of anxiety stealing his very breath away.
"You won't," Cross answered simply with his usual cocky smile, dismissing Komui's concerns with a careless gesture of his hand as he turned from him.
As Cross walked out, Komui gripped his pen briefly in his hand, some shapeless words fitting themselves to formless thoughts stirring in his chest. They made it to the tip of his tongue, and as Komui made a quiet, uncertain sound he intended to lead to speech, they were stillborn. The thoughts vanished with a single thought of consequence, of Linali, of how Komui would be damned if he let a bad feeling cost him his sister's happiness.
He gave no thought to his own.
Cross lingered at the threshold of his office at the sound, stayed a moment, and then wordlessly walked on.
He never came back again.
It was almost two months since the Vatican had confirmed Cross as dead, and Komui had spent three of those weeks fighting them on it, all those rash, baseless things he had been afraid to do before vanishing in the face of a greater fear.
Because if Cross Marian was truly dead, what was there to keep up from becoming down?
There was no body, Komui had attested, only barely able to keep the tears from his eyes as he argued his voice hoarse and raw before their grand jury. Many of the Order's followers disappeared without a trace due to the nature of Akuma virus, it was true, but this was a General they were talking about. Surely if Cross had died, there would be more obvious signs than someone finding a trail of bloody tatters of a coat that had the General's badge affixed to it. Yes, it was true they had no contact with Cross since then, but Cross was not exactly known for keeping in touch.
They had to keep looking.
They had to find him, bring him home, make things right again--
Then General Theodore came back one day, demeanor quieter than usual. For the first time in as long as anyone could remember, the General's age really showed through. Even Kanda found himself concerned as his master shuffled through the halls of the Order as though every muscle and bone in his body ached. It took him nearly an hour to crawl down to Hevlaska's chambers, and he accepted no help along the way.
He produced a single cube of Innocence to her, and she took it into her embrace and quietly spoke to it.
Her voice shook the entirety of the Order that night.
This... is... Judgement.
A few days later than that, Theodore's team returned after being sent out by their master. After losing Kanda somewhere along the way, the two remaining made their way down to Hevlaska's chamber as well.
The same place Theodore had found Judgement, they found a second cube of Innocence. Hevlaska confirmed that it was all that remained of Maria, removed from her very body.
Not even Komui was able to hold on to his denial any longer.
Cross was gone.
There was not even a body to bid farewell to.
All that he had ever been and all that he might have become had been completely erased.
There was nothing left.
This was it, this elaborate, vacant casket, filled to the brim with roses that were only the exact shade of Cross' hair. Komui toyed with a single petal between his fingers now, thinking to himself that he would never get to feel that hair against his hand ever again. Or tell Cross about his ridiculous feelings. Ask Cross if he felt the same. Komui would never even get to hear the rejection he had been so afraid of all this time.
Or anything.
Ever again.
How could he ever atone for what he had allowed to happen?
How could he sleep at night, knowing it was his own fault that there would be no one with him when he woke?
How could he look at Linali again, when he had failed so completely to protect someone he had loved? How could he pretend to be someone who could do anything to save her?
He was just, he-- He was so-- Everything was wrong and--
And--
A hand touched his shoulder, followed by a soft, unassuming voice that managed to shake him free of his thoughts.
"Komui? Are you hurt...?"
Looking down, Komui became faintly aware that his palm was aching so he uncurled his hand only to discover that he had closed his fist around the stem of a rose and a few of the thorns had drawn blood.
"I-- I'm sorry," he managed to whisper, pulling his hand away to step back from the casket. He didn't even know how long he had been standing there, staring off into space. It was only then that he realized that it was Allen speaking him.
"It's okay," Allen reassured him with a startlingly easy-going smile, though Komui was able to read the effort it took him to make his face relax that way. And both of the boy's eyes were red and perhaps a little bit puffy. He had been crying.
Allen was always so honest about his feelings. Komui had always admired that in him, envied it even.
"Am I in your way? I should get going," Komui mumbled, partly to himself as he took another step back. "I'm... I'm very sorry for your loss--"
"No, it's okay," Allen repeated, smiling still as he offered Komui a helpless little shrug, sighing something that sounded quite like the usual exasperation he reserved for his master as he glanced one last time at the casket.
"I said my goodbyes already. Will you let me take care of your hand for you?" he asked instead, gesturing to the sluggishly bleeding wounds in Komui's palm. "You always take such good care of me when I'm hurt, after all."
Komui was surprised not to detect any sarcasm in the boy's voice. Startled into compliance, Komui only managed a nod as he allowed Allen to take him by the arm and lead him out of the cathedral.
They ended up in Cross' quarters somehow. Komui did not recognize where they were going until they were right outside the door.
"Allen...?" Komui asked uncertainly, glancing over at him as he spoke. He found that Allen's normally open expression had shuttered off into something troubled and much harder to read.
"...my master made me make a promise to him before he left," Allen began slowly, not meeting Komui's eyes as he stared intently at the blank face of the door, as though he was looking directly through it, at Cross' life, at Cross.
"He's so selfish, isn't he?" A laugh left Allen's lips at that, clumsy and disbelieving. "He always makes me do things I think I can't do just to prove to me that he's right and I'm wrong. And I couldn't turn him down this time either. I hate him."
Not knowing what to say to that, Komui held back and simply let Allen talk. Komui was not the only one who had lost Cross, after all, and it would be egotistical of him to think that he could mourn Cross as deeply as Allen did. Allen had lost his third father now, after all, and he was still only sixteen. That was a great deal of loss in so few years.
At that age, Komui had only lost one set of parents and his sister, and that alone had nearly driven him out of his mind.
"He told me once that you have to love someone before you can truly hate him," Allen continued quietly. "I didn't understand what he meant, but I do now and he was right. He's always right, about everything. And I hate that too. But he is always right, so I-- I'm sorry, okay?"
"Sorry...?" Komui echoed in confusion, but Allen refused to elaborate. He simply brought a key out of his pocket and let them into Cross' room.
"Come in," Allen invited, disappearing into the dark room himself. The pain in his hand nearly forgotten, Komui followed out of concern for Allen. Out of habit, he closed the door behind him.
"Allen, I'm going to get the lights, okay?" Komui asked as he squinted into the darkness, eyes adjusting slowly to make out the silhouettes of shapes against the scant light coming in through the curtained windows.
As he was waiting for an answer, he felt Allen's hands on his wrists, then felt the unmistakable scrape of rope against his skin as his hands were bound together in front of him.
"Allen, what are you--"
"I'm sorry, Komui," Allen repeated from earlier, voice a quiet whisper against Komui's ear. Komui felt something soft press against his eyes as Allen blindfolded him, and what little of the room he could make out went black.
"My master made me promise not to let you mourn for too long if something happened to him," Allen continued apologetically, though there was a harshness to his voice that Komui only recognized from when Allen was particularly emotional or upset. Such as when the invasion on Headquarters had happened.
"He wanted me to show you that it's not the end, that the Enemy is stupid if they think they could ever stop him. And that he never breaks promises that he's made, and he promised once that he would never let you go."
Those words made Komui shiver, though he was not certain why. He felt Allen's hand grip his arm, dragging him further into the room. Then he felt the bed against the back of his knees, forcing him to fall back against it. His bound hands were then fastened to the bedpost above his head, restraining him there, and the smell of Cross against the pillows and sheets nearly overwhelmed him.
It was so easy to forget, in that moment, that Cross was never coming home again.
"I wanted to let you know, Komui," Allen murmured, and Komui felt a smooth hand trace over his cheek and lips, "it's okay to pretend."
There was the sound of glass tapping against glass and a few seconds later there were lips upon his that tasted of wine.
Pretend.
It was okay to... pretend.
Komui could feel his tears soaking into the blindfold as, instinctively, he kissed back. He tugged pitifully against his restraints, but Allen would not unbind him. Allen had been taught better than that. If Komui was able to feel him, it would shatter the illusion.
Allen pulled away long enough to take another sip of wine before he kissed Komui again, this time passing the drink between them. A little escaped the corner of Komui's mouth, but Allen was quick to catch it with his tongue before it stained his master's nice sheets. A pitiful sound left Komui's lips at that, desperate and searching. There was a note of shamelessness to it, of pleading. It was a sound that dizzied Allen, robbed him of all his reservations, of his inhibitions.
Swallowing dryly, he offered Komui the mercy of another kiss, a kiss of substance. It was hard enough to bruise that demanded Komui to surrender himself to it.
Don't make him forget that I'm gone, Allen. Remind him that I'm not.
And so Allen carried out his last orders that night, reminding Komui's body of what his heart so badly wanted to believe.
When it was over, when the last sigh of Cross' name had left Komui's lips and dissipated into the night, Allen freed Komui's arms from the restraints but did not yet remove the blindfold. He pulled Komui against his chest, and Komui embraced him shakily back in return, grip tight and terrified.
"...I love you," Allen murmured, lips brushing against Komui's damp forehead as one hand threaded through the soft half curls at the back of Komui's neck.
"A..Allen?"
"It's-- It's not, I mean..." Allen grimaced a little, coming to his senses as he realized his mistake. "I mean... I care about you a lot, Komui-- Or else... else I wouldn't've made the promise. But that... He wanted me to say that for him. You know how awful my master was at doing things for himself." A slightly bitter laugh found its way to Allen's lips just then.
"...but I, too, I guess..." he mumbled, sighing as he struck the headboard with the back of his head, eyes closing in disbelief. "He is always right about everything, isn't he?"
Komui didn't answer immediately, still trying to understand what Allen had just said to him.
That Cross--
"Can... Can I stay here a little longer, Allen?" he begged quietly, far beyond caring how pathetic he sounded.
"Stay as long as you like," Allen answered easily, stroking Komui's hair slowly with one hand.
Komui fell into an exhausted sleep that night to the smell of open wine and burning cigarettes.
When he dreamed, he dreamed he was home.
- - -
Several days later found Komui outside of his office. It was still a week before his personal leave was up, but he wasn't here to work. There was something that he wanted to do.
"Tim?" he called quietly as he opened the door without going in. There was a rustling of papers as the Golem dug itself out from under the pile it had gotten lost under before it fluttered out in front of Komui. Smiling because he didn't know what else he could possibly do right now, Komui reached out and petted one of the Golem's wings for a moment before speaking again.
"Could you... play the last recording you have of Cross and me?" Komui requested, then drew his hand back as Tim fluttered back to the vantage point it had been at when it initially recorded the entry, then began to play.
A flickering image of Cross appeared on the sofa in front of his desk and an image of himself appeared sitting tiredly behind it. Komui watched as Cross stood from the sofa and walked towards him, smiling that insufferably smug smile of his.
Komui waited for Cross to pause as he had that day, then drew in a deep breath and stepped forward, looking up at him.
"I love you," he whispered as he had been unable to that day. "Don't go. Stay with me, please. Because. I love you."
Cross, being a memory, said nothing in return. But Komui saw him sigh at Komui's inability to speak then, and then Komui saw the love he had never known to look for before in those unfathomable gray eyes.
And then Komui watched helplessly on as Cross smiled obliviously and walked on past him, disappearing into the hall.
Last Orders
The cherry wood casket laid out at the altar was empty. The entire wake was a lavish affair, grim as it was.The deceased would have wanted it that way. The coffin was to his tastes exactly. It was a rich red wood, polished, and hand-carved. Hundreds of votive candles had been set out in Headquarters' grand cathedral and were flickering dimly, casting soft shadows on the faces of the gathered. No expense had been spared. Komui had seen to that much.
For once, just once, he'd wanted to let that selfish, arrogant bastard have his way. This was his last chance, after all.
The thought choked him a little as he ran his fingers over the finely etched engraving below the Order's crest that had been branded into the coffin's face in gold. The letters were in a feminine hand. Linali's actually. She was such a sweet girl, to do this for them, but Komui knew that no death left her heart unbroken. This one had hurt her more than most.
Even if Komui closed his eyes, he could still feel the subtle ridges in the wood, spelling out a name he had never thought he would see here. It was beyond a matter of hope. He had never bothered to even think it, so wild was the dream that this day could ever come.
General Cross Marian.
It was supposed to be a routine mission. Komui knew that. And because he knew that, he had let himself ignore all of the warning signs presented along the way, ignored how deeply unsettled reading the mission dossier had made him. He had bitten his tongue to keep himself from asking Cross to stay, to assign another General in his stead. Because such words and actions were dangerous. If he let his bad feelings and his whims rule him, there was every chance that he could lose his post and with it, Linali.
Besides, the orders had come down from the Vatican themselves. They were the Pope's personal army, after all. When all was said and done, there was nothing someone like Komui could do against a request from them.
And.
It was only a bad feeling.
He had no real evidence that the mission was a front, that the vaguely worded instructions were code for something far more dangerous and sensitive.
"You're really not going to take anyone with you?" Komui had asked in surprised as he processed the paperwork to transfer the mission from request status to filled status. "You're allowed up to two Exorcists--"
"I don't need help for something like this," Cross had dismissed, flicking ash onto the arm of Komui's couch. Komui remembered watching it fall, remembered how irritated he had felt as he stamped the mission and sent Cross on his way.
"Tim says he's not going again." Komui looked up at Cross' words just as the Golem in question flitted out its master's sleeve to curl up happily on a stack of papers.
"How will we contact you?" Komui asked immediately, feeling the vague feelings of uncertainty in his chest take sudden, sharp shape, the stab of anxiety stealing his very breath away.
"You won't," Cross answered simply with his usual cocky smile, dismissing Komui's concerns with a careless gesture of his hand as he turned from him.
As Cross walked out, Komui gripped his pen briefly in his hand, some shapeless words fitting themselves to formless thoughts stirring in his chest. They made it to the tip of his tongue, and as Komui made a quiet, uncertain sound he intended to lead to speech, they were stillborn. The thoughts vanished with a single thought of consequence, of Linali, of how Komui would be damned if he let a bad feeling cost him his sister's happiness.
He gave no thought to his own.
Cross lingered at the threshold of his office at the sound, stayed a moment, and then wordlessly walked on.
He never came back again.
It was almost two months since the Vatican had confirmed Cross as dead, and Komui had spent three of those weeks fighting them on it, all those rash, baseless things he had been afraid to do before vanishing in the face of a greater fear.
Because if Cross Marian was truly dead, what was there to keep up from becoming down?
There was no body, Komui had attested, only barely able to keep the tears from his eyes as he argued his voice hoarse and raw before their grand jury. Many of the Order's followers disappeared without a trace due to the nature of Akuma virus, it was true, but this was a General they were talking about. Surely if Cross had died, there would be more obvious signs than someone finding a trail of bloody tatters of a coat that had the General's badge affixed to it. Yes, it was true they had no contact with Cross since then, but Cross was not exactly known for keeping in touch.
They had to keep looking.
They had to find him, bring him home, make things right again--
Then General Theodore came back one day, demeanor quieter than usual. For the first time in as long as anyone could remember, the General's age really showed through. Even Kanda found himself concerned as his master shuffled through the halls of the Order as though every muscle and bone in his body ached. It took him nearly an hour to crawl down to Hevlaska's chambers, and he accepted no help along the way.
He produced a single cube of Innocence to her, and she took it into her embrace and quietly spoke to it.
Her voice shook the entirety of the Order that night.
This... is... Judgement.
A few days later than that, Theodore's team returned after being sent out by their master. After losing Kanda somewhere along the way, the two remaining made their way down to Hevlaska's chamber as well.
The same place Theodore had found Judgement, they found a second cube of Innocence. Hevlaska confirmed that it was all that remained of Maria, removed from her very body.
Not even Komui was able to hold on to his denial any longer.
Cross was gone.
There was not even a body to bid farewell to.
All that he had ever been and all that he might have become had been completely erased.
There was nothing left.
This was it, this elaborate, vacant casket, filled to the brim with roses that were only the exact shade of Cross' hair. Komui toyed with a single petal between his fingers now, thinking to himself that he would never get to feel that hair against his hand ever again. Or tell Cross about his ridiculous feelings. Ask Cross if he felt the same. Komui would never even get to hear the rejection he had been so afraid of all this time.
Or anything.
Ever again.
How could he ever atone for what he had allowed to happen?
How could he sleep at night, knowing it was his own fault that there would be no one with him when he woke?
How could he look at Linali again, when he had failed so completely to protect someone he had loved? How could he pretend to be someone who could do anything to save her?
He was just, he-- He was so-- Everything was wrong and--
And--
A hand touched his shoulder, followed by a soft, unassuming voice that managed to shake him free of his thoughts.
"Komui? Are you hurt...?"
Looking down, Komui became faintly aware that his palm was aching so he uncurled his hand only to discover that he had closed his fist around the stem of a rose and a few of the thorns had drawn blood.
"I-- I'm sorry," he managed to whisper, pulling his hand away to step back from the casket. He didn't even know how long he had been standing there, staring off into space. It was only then that he realized that it was Allen speaking him.
"It's okay," Allen reassured him with a startlingly easy-going smile, though Komui was able to read the effort it took him to make his face relax that way. And both of the boy's eyes were red and perhaps a little bit puffy. He had been crying.
Allen was always so honest about his feelings. Komui had always admired that in him, envied it even.
"Am I in your way? I should get going," Komui mumbled, partly to himself as he took another step back. "I'm... I'm very sorry for your loss--"
"No, it's okay," Allen repeated, smiling still as he offered Komui a helpless little shrug, sighing something that sounded quite like the usual exasperation he reserved for his master as he glanced one last time at the casket.
"I said my goodbyes already. Will you let me take care of your hand for you?" he asked instead, gesturing to the sluggishly bleeding wounds in Komui's palm. "You always take such good care of me when I'm hurt, after all."
Komui was surprised not to detect any sarcasm in the boy's voice. Startled into compliance, Komui only managed a nod as he allowed Allen to take him by the arm and lead him out of the cathedral.
They ended up in Cross' quarters somehow. Komui did not recognize where they were going until they were right outside the door.
"Allen...?" Komui asked uncertainly, glancing over at him as he spoke. He found that Allen's normally open expression had shuttered off into something troubled and much harder to read.
"...my master made me make a promise to him before he left," Allen began slowly, not meeting Komui's eyes as he stared intently at the blank face of the door, as though he was looking directly through it, at Cross' life, at Cross.
"He's so selfish, isn't he?" A laugh left Allen's lips at that, clumsy and disbelieving. "He always makes me do things I think I can't do just to prove to me that he's right and I'm wrong. And I couldn't turn him down this time either. I hate him."
Not knowing what to say to that, Komui held back and simply let Allen talk. Komui was not the only one who had lost Cross, after all, and it would be egotistical of him to think that he could mourn Cross as deeply as Allen did. Allen had lost his third father now, after all, and he was still only sixteen. That was a great deal of loss in so few years.
At that age, Komui had only lost one set of parents and his sister, and that alone had nearly driven him out of his mind.
"He told me once that you have to love someone before you can truly hate him," Allen continued quietly. "I didn't understand what he meant, but I do now and he was right. He's always right, about everything. And I hate that too. But he is always right, so I-- I'm sorry, okay?"
"Sorry...?" Komui echoed in confusion, but Allen refused to elaborate. He simply brought a key out of his pocket and let them into Cross' room.
"Come in," Allen invited, disappearing into the dark room himself. The pain in his hand nearly forgotten, Komui followed out of concern for Allen. Out of habit, he closed the door behind him.
"Allen, I'm going to get the lights, okay?" Komui asked as he squinted into the darkness, eyes adjusting slowly to make out the silhouettes of shapes against the scant light coming in through the curtained windows.
As he was waiting for an answer, he felt Allen's hands on his wrists, then felt the unmistakable scrape of rope against his skin as his hands were bound together in front of him.
"Allen, what are you--"
"I'm sorry, Komui," Allen repeated from earlier, voice a quiet whisper against Komui's ear. Komui felt something soft press against his eyes as Allen blindfolded him, and what little of the room he could make out went black.
"My master made me promise not to let you mourn for too long if something happened to him," Allen continued apologetically, though there was a harshness to his voice that Komui only recognized from when Allen was particularly emotional or upset. Such as when the invasion on Headquarters had happened.
"He wanted me to show you that it's not the end, that the Enemy is stupid if they think they could ever stop him. And that he never breaks promises that he's made, and he promised once that he would never let you go."
Those words made Komui shiver, though he was not certain why. He felt Allen's hand grip his arm, dragging him further into the room. Then he felt the bed against the back of his knees, forcing him to fall back against it. His bound hands were then fastened to the bedpost above his head, restraining him there, and the smell of Cross against the pillows and sheets nearly overwhelmed him.
It was so easy to forget, in that moment, that Cross was never coming home again.
"I wanted to let you know, Komui," Allen murmured, and Komui felt a smooth hand trace over his cheek and lips, "it's okay to pretend."
There was the sound of glass tapping against glass and a few seconds later there were lips upon his that tasted of wine.
Pretend.
It was okay to... pretend.
Komui could feel his tears soaking into the blindfold as, instinctively, he kissed back. He tugged pitifully against his restraints, but Allen would not unbind him. Allen had been taught better than that. If Komui was able to feel him, it would shatter the illusion.
Allen pulled away long enough to take another sip of wine before he kissed Komui again, this time passing the drink between them. A little escaped the corner of Komui's mouth, but Allen was quick to catch it with his tongue before it stained his master's nice sheets. A pitiful sound left Komui's lips at that, desperate and searching. There was a note of shamelessness to it, of pleading. It was a sound that dizzied Allen, robbed him of all his reservations, of his inhibitions.
Swallowing dryly, he offered Komui the mercy of another kiss, a kiss of substance. It was hard enough to bruise that demanded Komui to surrender himself to it.
Don't make him forget that I'm gone, Allen. Remind him that I'm not.
And so Allen carried out his last orders that night, reminding Komui's body of what his heart so badly wanted to believe.
When it was over, when the last sigh of Cross' name had left Komui's lips and dissipated into the night, Allen freed Komui's arms from the restraints but did not yet remove the blindfold. He pulled Komui against his chest, and Komui embraced him shakily back in return, grip tight and terrified.
"...I love you," Allen murmured, lips brushing against Komui's damp forehead as one hand threaded through the soft half curls at the back of Komui's neck.
"A..Allen?"
"It's-- It's not, I mean..." Allen grimaced a little, coming to his senses as he realized his mistake. "I mean... I care about you a lot, Komui-- Or else... else I wouldn't've made the promise. But that... He wanted me to say that for him. You know how awful my master was at doing things for himself." A slightly bitter laugh found its way to Allen's lips just then.
"...but I, too, I guess..." he mumbled, sighing as he struck the headboard with the back of his head, eyes closing in disbelief. "He is always right about everything, isn't he?"
Komui didn't answer immediately, still trying to understand what Allen had just said to him.
That Cross--
"Can... Can I stay here a little longer, Allen?" he begged quietly, far beyond caring how pathetic he sounded.
"Stay as long as you like," Allen answered easily, stroking Komui's hair slowly with one hand.
Komui fell into an exhausted sleep that night to the smell of open wine and burning cigarettes.
When he dreamed, he dreamed he was home.
- - -
Several days later found Komui outside of his office. It was still a week before his personal leave was up, but he wasn't here to work. There was something that he wanted to do.
"Tim?" he called quietly as he opened the door without going in. There was a rustling of papers as the Golem dug itself out from under the pile it had gotten lost under before it fluttered out in front of Komui. Smiling because he didn't know what else he could possibly do right now, Komui reached out and petted one of the Golem's wings for a moment before speaking again.
"Could you... play the last recording you have of Cross and me?" Komui requested, then drew his hand back as Tim fluttered back to the vantage point it had been at when it initially recorded the entry, then began to play.
A flickering image of Cross appeared on the sofa in front of his desk and an image of himself appeared sitting tiredly behind it. Komui watched as Cross stood from the sofa and walked towards him, smiling that insufferably smug smile of his.
Komui waited for Cross to pause as he had that day, then drew in a deep breath and stepped forward, looking up at him.
"I love you," he whispered as he had been unable to that day. "Don't go. Stay with me, please. Because. I love you."
Cross, being a memory, said nothing in return. But Komui saw him sigh at Komui's inability to speak then, and then Komui saw the love he had never known to look for before in those unfathomable gray eyes.
And then Komui watched helplessly on as Cross smiled obliviously and walked on past him, disappearing into the hall.