[Jan. 01] [D.Gray-Man] End of Days, Part 1
Title: End of Days, Part 1
Day/Theme: Jan. 1st/this universe we cannot control
Series: D.Gray-Man
Character/Pairing: Ensemble, with a few OCs.
Rating: R
Notes: AU set right before the end of chapter 134, but assume spoilers through chapter 143 and following. I'm also setting myself a twisted challenge - write a multi-part fic based solely on 31_days prompts for one month.
Here is where it begins and where it ends. A man, his hair far too gray and his face far too lined for his age, stands in the middle of a large chamber. Both eyes are wide open and desperate as he studies the floating, glowing circle.
They're playing God, and while he knows what that means, he no longer cares. All that matters is that this works.
It has to be here... it has to be.
Thoughts and facts race through his head faster than even he can track them, colliding and layering one on top of the other until they threaten to overwhelm him, but he says nothing, not even to the woman who lies crumpled at his feet. She keens the same two words over and over again, but he gives no sign that he hears any of it.
Threads of light are interlaced throughout the circle, meeting here, diverging there. His eyes are frantic, but the motion of his hand is slow and precise as he traces the chaotic, interconnecting paths, finger always a careful inch away from the threads themselves. The obvious target is a huge tangle of light that nonetheless seems to be filled with shadow. It was the first thing any of them thought of, but he knows eliminating that would be like lancing out one tumor after the disease had spread to every cell in the body. A grand gesture, but ultimately pointless. It would only grow back.
But there... off to the side and not where he expects. There. He notes the location then turns away sharply, heel of his hand pressed hard against his right eye. It doesn't help.
The woman on the floor sobs and vomits and curls up even more tightly into a fetal position, but he does not allow himself to react. That was one of the first disciplines he forced himself to re-learn. He has needed it often, in these latter days.
"Ready..." His voice has no inflection. He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he strikes out viciously with his right hand, trusting memory to guide him (the palm of his hand is covered with blood, but that doesn't hide the crystalline patterns now starting to break across his skin). He pierces the disk in what he prays is the right spot.
"Now!" he shouts as light explodes around him and the gurgling screams are cut off mid-breath. He can only trust that he is doing the right thing. He can only trust that the others obey. There is no way to check, no way to be sure. There's nothing he can do to control the outcome.
The circle wavers and cracks. The decay pattern continues winding up his arm. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, echoing the words he has been ignoring up until now. There's no answer, but the apology was only an automatic formality, so that's all right.
He's going to go to Hell for this. They both are, and there's no guarantee that they've succeeded in doing anything other than fucking things up even worse than they were before. Finally, he breaks, finally he reacts, falling in bitter laughter. So, he was going to Hell. So what? What did it matter? After all, he's been living there for the past four years.
The circle shatters.
It ends. And then it begins.
* * *
Someone from the next generation would know exactly how to describe the looks on Komui's and Reever's faces after that second phone call: shell-shocked.
The first phone call was bad enough. After that one, they merely looked stunned. For ten minutes after Komui had slowly, haltlingly hung up the phone, they stayed where they were, waiting for what they had heard to stop being mere fact and start becoming real.
There had been too much bad news lately. Komui now had to force himself not to flinch whenever the phone rang. Reever was starting to develop a reputation for snapping and snarling when anyone approached him with a hesitant "Boss, there's something you need to know..."
They had spent too much time helplessly bracing for bad news--too much time trapped in that miserable state Jerry termed "hurry up and wait"--that the receipt of good news caught them unawares. For a few minutes, they simply had no idea what to do. The sudden release of tension shook them nearly as much as any impact.
"They're okay. They're all okay," Reever said for the fifth time. Repetition had still not made it real. From the way he was slumped against the wall, straw barely clinging to the corner of his lip, it looked as if he was about to slide down to the floor at any second. Even his hair had gone limp, the spikes dragged down as he'd plowed his hands through them over and over during the hours when the phone remained silent. Anyone who didn't know better might assume he was drunk.
Komui eventually drew back his hand from the phone, but he kept staring at it as if expecting it to ring any second now with Branch Chief Bak calling to tell him I'm sorry. It was a mistake--they're all dead after all. We couldn't even find the bodies. Their Innocence was destroyed by the Noah. We lost.
In a few minutes, the reality would set in and Komui would bound out of his office, hugging all and sundry, crowing that Lenalee was alive and safe and that oh, yes, the others were all coming home as well. At the moment, however, he was repeating a litany over and over in his mind in counterpoint to Reever's spoken one:
Lenalee. Kanda. Lenalee. Lavi. Lenalee. Allen. Lenalee. Bookman. Lenalee. Tiedoll. Lenalee. Cross. Lenalee. Marie. Krory. Lenalee. Miranda. Lenalee. Safe.
As he named them, Komui held each of them in his mind for a moment, whole and safe. There wasn't anything else he could do to protect them. All he could do was wait for them to actually come home and try not to think of the many ways it could go wrong on a simple journey between there and here.
If that wasn't enough, they had found a new exorcist and had stolen not just the Ark but the Earl's Akuma plant. At least that's what Komui thought he heard. Lavi and Allen had both been trying to talk into the mouthpiece at once, and there had been a lot of scuffling and snarling. They'd given over at once when Lenalee demanded the phone. She had been brief, perhaps sensing that things were bordering on too much. A quick, "we'll be home soon, nii-san--give everyone my love," and then the sound of the handset being put down on the other end. Slowly, the end of Komui's litany began to change. Safe, and maybe we have a chance of winning this thing. Maybe Lenalee and I will live to see the end of this after all.
Reever shook his head and laughing softly. In a few minutes, he'd be running down to the common room, telling everyone the news and laughing as the joyous holler and whoops echoed through the Order.
Komui no longer slumped back in his chair. The blank expression on his face started to shift into the beginnings of an impish smile. The tips of his fingers tapped together, and the nervous fidgeting said he would spring out of his chair at any moment. He might even roll around on the floor, making a paper-work angel on the carpet.
Reever rocked away from the wall and bounced on the balls of his feet, grinning, the straw pointing nearly straight up. "Right. Well, I suppose I should go tell the others, then." He turns, waving goodbye over his shoulder
"What? No, that's not possible. It'll be days before... right... What?" Komui's brows drew together, and Reever could feel himself aging five years with each passing second. It had only been a few minutes. Had something already happened to Lenalee and the others in that short time. "You're sure?"
Komui finally looked up at Reever. Reever hoped for a thumbs up, a thumbs down or any sign of all as to what kind of news this was, but Komui shrugged and looked as if he wished that Reever had some sort of answer.
"I see... No, don't contact the Vatican just yet--I want to find out what's going on first. Right. That's right."
Again, Komui put down the phone slowly and haltingly.
"Well?" And again, after Komui didn't answer, "Well?"
"It wasn't about Lenalee and the others," Komui said, but he sounded stunned and he spoke perhaps a little too precisely. "Apparently there are three exorcists in the order that no one knew about. And they're waiting outside. Right now. Outside the gate." He pulled off his glasses and polished them on his shirt sleeve, nearly bending the frames in the process.
For a good long time, Reever simply turned this new information over and over in his head. It didn't change any. He closed his eyes and sagged back against the door. "The universe can stop being crazy any time now."
After about five minutes they figured they should call in the rest of the team and get a look at their supposed new comrades.
Part 2
Day/Theme: Jan. 1st/this universe we cannot control
Series: D.Gray-Man
Character/Pairing: Ensemble, with a few OCs.
Rating: R
Notes: AU set right before the end of chapter 134, but assume spoilers through chapter 143 and following. I'm also setting myself a twisted challenge - write a multi-part fic based solely on 31_days prompts for one month.
Here is where it begins and where it ends. A man, his hair far too gray and his face far too lined for his age, stands in the middle of a large chamber. Both eyes are wide open and desperate as he studies the floating, glowing circle.
They're playing God, and while he knows what that means, he no longer cares. All that matters is that this works.
It has to be here... it has to be.
Thoughts and facts race through his head faster than even he can track them, colliding and layering one on top of the other until they threaten to overwhelm him, but he says nothing, not even to the woman who lies crumpled at his feet. She keens the same two words over and over again, but he gives no sign that he hears any of it.
Threads of light are interlaced throughout the circle, meeting here, diverging there. His eyes are frantic, but the motion of his hand is slow and precise as he traces the chaotic, interconnecting paths, finger always a careful inch away from the threads themselves. The obvious target is a huge tangle of light that nonetheless seems to be filled with shadow. It was the first thing any of them thought of, but he knows eliminating that would be like lancing out one tumor after the disease had spread to every cell in the body. A grand gesture, but ultimately pointless. It would only grow back.
But there... off to the side and not where he expects. There. He notes the location then turns away sharply, heel of his hand pressed hard against his right eye. It doesn't help.
The woman on the floor sobs and vomits and curls up even more tightly into a fetal position, but he does not allow himself to react. That was one of the first disciplines he forced himself to re-learn. He has needed it often, in these latter days.
"Ready..." His voice has no inflection. He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he strikes out viciously with his right hand, trusting memory to guide him (the palm of his hand is covered with blood, but that doesn't hide the crystalline patterns now starting to break across his skin). He pierces the disk in what he prays is the right spot.
"Now!" he shouts as light explodes around him and the gurgling screams are cut off mid-breath. He can only trust that he is doing the right thing. He can only trust that the others obey. There is no way to check, no way to be sure. There's nothing he can do to control the outcome.
The circle wavers and cracks. The decay pattern continues winding up his arm. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, echoing the words he has been ignoring up until now. There's no answer, but the apology was only an automatic formality, so that's all right.
He's going to go to Hell for this. They both are, and there's no guarantee that they've succeeded in doing anything other than fucking things up even worse than they were before. Finally, he breaks, finally he reacts, falling in bitter laughter. So, he was going to Hell. So what? What did it matter? After all, he's been living there for the past four years.
The circle shatters.
It ends. And then it begins.
* * *
Someone from the next generation would know exactly how to describe the looks on Komui's and Reever's faces after that second phone call: shell-shocked.
The first phone call was bad enough. After that one, they merely looked stunned. For ten minutes after Komui had slowly, haltlingly hung up the phone, they stayed where they were, waiting for what they had heard to stop being mere fact and start becoming real.
There had been too much bad news lately. Komui now had to force himself not to flinch whenever the phone rang. Reever was starting to develop a reputation for snapping and snarling when anyone approached him with a hesitant "Boss, there's something you need to know..."
They had spent too much time helplessly bracing for bad news--too much time trapped in that miserable state Jerry termed "hurry up and wait"--that the receipt of good news caught them unawares. For a few minutes, they simply had no idea what to do. The sudden release of tension shook them nearly as much as any impact.
"They're okay. They're all okay," Reever said for the fifth time. Repetition had still not made it real. From the way he was slumped against the wall, straw barely clinging to the corner of his lip, it looked as if he was about to slide down to the floor at any second. Even his hair had gone limp, the spikes dragged down as he'd plowed his hands through them over and over during the hours when the phone remained silent. Anyone who didn't know better might assume he was drunk.
Komui eventually drew back his hand from the phone, but he kept staring at it as if expecting it to ring any second now with Branch Chief Bak calling to tell him I'm sorry. It was a mistake--they're all dead after all. We couldn't even find the bodies. Their Innocence was destroyed by the Noah. We lost.
In a few minutes, the reality would set in and Komui would bound out of his office, hugging all and sundry, crowing that Lenalee was alive and safe and that oh, yes, the others were all coming home as well. At the moment, however, he was repeating a litany over and over in his mind in counterpoint to Reever's spoken one:
Lenalee. Kanda. Lenalee. Lavi. Lenalee. Allen. Lenalee. Bookman. Lenalee. Tiedoll. Lenalee. Cross. Lenalee. Marie. Krory. Lenalee. Miranda. Lenalee. Safe.
As he named them, Komui held each of them in his mind for a moment, whole and safe. There wasn't anything else he could do to protect them. All he could do was wait for them to actually come home and try not to think of the many ways it could go wrong on a simple journey between there and here.
If that wasn't enough, they had found a new exorcist and had stolen not just the Ark but the Earl's Akuma plant. At least that's what Komui thought he heard. Lavi and Allen had both been trying to talk into the mouthpiece at once, and there had been a lot of scuffling and snarling. They'd given over at once when Lenalee demanded the phone. She had been brief, perhaps sensing that things were bordering on too much. A quick, "we'll be home soon, nii-san--give everyone my love," and then the sound of the handset being put down on the other end. Slowly, the end of Komui's litany began to change. Safe, and maybe we have a chance of winning this thing. Maybe Lenalee and I will live to see the end of this after all.
Reever shook his head and laughing softly. In a few minutes, he'd be running down to the common room, telling everyone the news and laughing as the joyous holler and whoops echoed through the Order.
Komui no longer slumped back in his chair. The blank expression on his face started to shift into the beginnings of an impish smile. The tips of his fingers tapped together, and the nervous fidgeting said he would spring out of his chair at any moment. He might even roll around on the floor, making a paper-work angel on the carpet.
Reever rocked away from the wall and bounced on the balls of his feet, grinning, the straw pointing nearly straight up. "Right. Well, I suppose I should go tell the others, then." He turns, waving goodbye over his shoulder
"What? No, that's not possible. It'll be days before... right... What?" Komui's brows drew together, and Reever could feel himself aging five years with each passing second. It had only been a few minutes. Had something already happened to Lenalee and the others in that short time. "You're sure?"
Komui finally looked up at Reever. Reever hoped for a thumbs up, a thumbs down or any sign of all as to what kind of news this was, but Komui shrugged and looked as if he wished that Reever had some sort of answer.
"I see... No, don't contact the Vatican just yet--I want to find out what's going on first. Right. That's right."
Again, Komui put down the phone slowly and haltingly.
"Well?" And again, after Komui didn't answer, "Well?"
"It wasn't about Lenalee and the others," Komui said, but he sounded stunned and he spoke perhaps a little too precisely. "Apparently there are three exorcists in the order that no one knew about. And they're waiting outside. Right now. Outside the gate." He pulled off his glasses and polished them on his shirt sleeve, nearly bending the frames in the process.
For a good long time, Reever simply turned this new information over and over in his head. It didn't change any. He closed his eyes and sagged back against the door. "The universe can stop being crazy any time now."
After about five minutes they figured they should call in the rest of the team and get a look at their supposed new comrades.
Part 2