Just Diaries of Empty Pages (D.Gray-man, Lavi/Allen, one-sided Allen/Lenalee, PG-13) 1/1
Title: Just Diaries of Empty Pages
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: D.Gray-man
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Yaoi (Lavi/Allen), one-sided het (Allen/Lenalee)
Spoilers: Manga - chapter 124, speculation there after
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "Everything Burns" by Ben Moody feat. Anastacia.
Summary: Her last memory of the Ark was surrounded by still bodies of her friends, her family, with Lavi whispering the same plea over and over in Allen's ear, his voice breaking with each word.
Just Diaries of Empty Pages
By Spinny Roses
Her legs weren't the only casualty of the Ark. Hauling what appeared at the time to be lifeless bodies of Kanda, Krory, and Allen wrecked her body. Her hands were raw, bleeding freely from the countless scrapes from climbing, her legs dangling uselessly after overexerting them. Lavi had tried to pull her to her feet as the world built by the Ark crumbled around them, only to be attacked suddenly by a dying Jasdebi. She hadn't seen anything like it, the psychotic Noah falling apart into two, four, countless bits of ash as Lavi lowered his hammer, laughing bitterly. She had grabbed him, using already raw hands to pull both the boy and her own useless body towards the last, hidden gate.
She didn't know what happened after that. Her last memory of the Ark was surrounded by still bodies of her friends, her family, with Lavi whispering the same plea over and over in Allen's ear, his voice breaking with each word.
---
Komui hadn't left her side, she heard later. At the time, it had been confusing to wake and hear her brother give frantic orders that seemed to have nothing to do with one another. He had broken off when she opened her mouth with a dry click, a glass of lukewarm water already coming gently towards her lips. She had sipped it gratefully, looking blearily up at Komui's painfully relieved face. She tried to ask about her comrades, but her voice betrayed her, coming out as a weak whisper. But even like that, he watched her lips form her friends' names, face going more and more still with each one.
She was crying at the end, at the guilt and deep sorrow etched in her brother's face, at the implications that face meant for Allen. Komui pushed back strands of her hair, running comforting fingers through her too-short hair as she sobbed, too weak to even turn her head into the pillow.
She crashed into dreamless unconsciousness, the last thing echoing in her ears was a quiet command to go to Allen Walker's room
---
Kanda had been there the second time she woke. Relief had crashed through her at the sound of his rough voice reporting his battle against Skin Boric. His words were interrupted as Komui noticed his sister's eyes opening, and the joyful proclamation to the entire medical ward thereafter. As Komui stood up to tell everyone in earshot that she was awake, again, Kanda settled back into his wheelchair, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to run the man through. Something behind the ever-present anger relaxed as he looked over at her, heedless of the seemingly uncomfortable position his left foot had twisted itself into.
---
By the time she was allowed to leave her bed, she had heard the casualty list several times over. Lavi was taken off active duty, and there was talk that Bookman was going to formally drop the boy as his successor. Krory had never been able to rejoin his body. And every day, she saw her own injuries as the medical staff unwrapped her hands and legs.
But the one she wanted to hear never came up, and she never had the heart to ask how Allen was doing.
When the nurse finally came in with a wheelchair, brightly asking her where she wanted to go, it didn't come as a surprise that the first words out of her mouth were the numbers to Allen's room. What was the surprise was the redhead slumped over Allen's bed, seemingly relaxed as his single eye snapped open at the creaking door hinges.
He was almost hostile as he lifted his head, ignoring Allen's soft, confused murmur. She sat, rooted in her spot, as the hostility faded bit by bit, to be replaced with recognition and a warm smile. Nothing about the relief that peppered Lavi's speech felt nearly as real as the hatred when they first entered.
---
She used to have a diary. First written in so if anyone found it, they would know what sort of hell she resided in, it turned into a log of her life, her struggles in the Order. Pages and pages of her world, first narrow then wider as she saw more, traveled more with the Boots on her feet.
Now the pages had only a date. Line after line, a date and empty space as she struggled to find her thoughts, the proper words to express herself. In the end, the space was only filled by another date, carefully written in both her native tongue and the language of those around her.
---
Her legs healed. Her Innocence, however, was a different story. She knew it was still there - the Dark Boots still wrapped around her feet, the shackles weighing her down. But time after time, she tried to invoke it with the same lack of success. It wasn't as if it had rejected her, not in the least, but it barely reacted to her commands.
Allen tried to speak with her, to cheer her up. He tried to relate his own experiences with Innocence, trying to invoke his own claw and watching it disperse back into mist the instant it formed. It worked, at first. She smiled at him, more at his presence than his words, when he first came down to speak with her.
Lavi didn't accompany Allen at first. But more and more, the more and more the words rang hollow, he would aid the younger boy into her room and sit, watching her warily. When she refused to see Allen the last time, it hurt more to watch Lavi's hands grip his hip than the confused sorrow crossing his face.
---
The world around her was burning. To her left was Kanda, hair stuck to his face by copious amounts of blood, broken pieces of the chair littering the ground around him. To her right was her own brother, still clutching the controls to his most recent robot. Something crashed behind her, sending a new wave of heat across her back. Allen and Lavi were before her, fighting. She tried to lift her legs, to invoke her weapon, but something held her feet still. Allen took a hit from behind, slamming into a wall, and her own cry was masked by Lavi's irate scream, attacking and leaving himself wide open...
The only thing that kept her together was the scene disappeared when her eyes opened, showing a whole ceiling and quiet chaos.
---
Bookman's official story was mental trauma left from the Ark left Lavi unable to continue the lineage. The true story was the way Lavi never left Allen's presence, the way he tracked the boy's movement with his single eye, the way he was visibly panicked when Allen couldn't be seen.
There was truth in the official story, she knew. The way Lavi clung to Allen, as if the boy was the last bit of stability left in his life, spoke of the truth in that statement. But the untold story was said in the touches, the looks.
---
Hell could never be told in written words, she reasoned with herself as the pages flared and crackled in the fireplace.
No. Hell had to be lived.
---
When her dream finally intruded on the real world, there was relief in it. Now the world would finally look the same as the fiery depths of Hell that it was.
The End
Author: Spinny Roses
Fandom: D.Gray-man
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Yaoi (Lavi/Allen), one-sided het (Allen/Lenalee)
Spoilers: Manga - chapter 124, speculation there after
Disclaimer: Don't own. Title from "Everything Burns" by Ben Moody feat. Anastacia.
Summary: Her last memory of the Ark was surrounded by still bodies of her friends, her family, with Lavi whispering the same plea over and over in Allen's ear, his voice breaking with each word.
Just Diaries of Empty Pages
By Spinny Roses
Her legs weren't the only casualty of the Ark. Hauling what appeared at the time to be lifeless bodies of Kanda, Krory, and Allen wrecked her body. Her hands were raw, bleeding freely from the countless scrapes from climbing, her legs dangling uselessly after overexerting them. Lavi had tried to pull her to her feet as the world built by the Ark crumbled around them, only to be attacked suddenly by a dying Jasdebi. She hadn't seen anything like it, the psychotic Noah falling apart into two, four, countless bits of ash as Lavi lowered his hammer, laughing bitterly. She had grabbed him, using already raw hands to pull both the boy and her own useless body towards the last, hidden gate.
She didn't know what happened after that. Her last memory of the Ark was surrounded by still bodies of her friends, her family, with Lavi whispering the same plea over and over in Allen's ear, his voice breaking with each word.
---
Komui hadn't left her side, she heard later. At the time, it had been confusing to wake and hear her brother give frantic orders that seemed to have nothing to do with one another. He had broken off when she opened her mouth with a dry click, a glass of lukewarm water already coming gently towards her lips. She had sipped it gratefully, looking blearily up at Komui's painfully relieved face. She tried to ask about her comrades, but her voice betrayed her, coming out as a weak whisper. But even like that, he watched her lips form her friends' names, face going more and more still with each one.
She was crying at the end, at the guilt and deep sorrow etched in her brother's face, at the implications that face meant for Allen. Komui pushed back strands of her hair, running comforting fingers through her too-short hair as she sobbed, too weak to even turn her head into the pillow.
She crashed into dreamless unconsciousness, the last thing echoing in her ears was a quiet command to go to Allen Walker's room
---
Kanda had been there the second time she woke. Relief had crashed through her at the sound of his rough voice reporting his battle against Skin Boric. His words were interrupted as Komui noticed his sister's eyes opening, and the joyful proclamation to the entire medical ward thereafter. As Komui stood up to tell everyone in earshot that she was awake, again, Kanda settled back into his wheelchair, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to run the man through. Something behind the ever-present anger relaxed as he looked over at her, heedless of the seemingly uncomfortable position his left foot had twisted itself into.
---
By the time she was allowed to leave her bed, she had heard the casualty list several times over. Lavi was taken off active duty, and there was talk that Bookman was going to formally drop the boy as his successor. Krory had never been able to rejoin his body. And every day, she saw her own injuries as the medical staff unwrapped her hands and legs.
But the one she wanted to hear never came up, and she never had the heart to ask how Allen was doing.
When the nurse finally came in with a wheelchair, brightly asking her where she wanted to go, it didn't come as a surprise that the first words out of her mouth were the numbers to Allen's room. What was the surprise was the redhead slumped over Allen's bed, seemingly relaxed as his single eye snapped open at the creaking door hinges.
He was almost hostile as he lifted his head, ignoring Allen's soft, confused murmur. She sat, rooted in her spot, as the hostility faded bit by bit, to be replaced with recognition and a warm smile. Nothing about the relief that peppered Lavi's speech felt nearly as real as the hatred when they first entered.
---
She used to have a diary. First written in so if anyone found it, they would know what sort of hell she resided in, it turned into a log of her life, her struggles in the Order. Pages and pages of her world, first narrow then wider as she saw more, traveled more with the Boots on her feet.
Now the pages had only a date. Line after line, a date and empty space as she struggled to find her thoughts, the proper words to express herself. In the end, the space was only filled by another date, carefully written in both her native tongue and the language of those around her.
---
Her legs healed. Her Innocence, however, was a different story. She knew it was still there - the Dark Boots still wrapped around her feet, the shackles weighing her down. But time after time, she tried to invoke it with the same lack of success. It wasn't as if it had rejected her, not in the least, but it barely reacted to her commands.
Allen tried to speak with her, to cheer her up. He tried to relate his own experiences with Innocence, trying to invoke his own claw and watching it disperse back into mist the instant it formed. It worked, at first. She smiled at him, more at his presence than his words, when he first came down to speak with her.
Lavi didn't accompany Allen at first. But more and more, the more and more the words rang hollow, he would aid the younger boy into her room and sit, watching her warily. When she refused to see Allen the last time, it hurt more to watch Lavi's hands grip his hip than the confused sorrow crossing his face.
---
The world around her was burning. To her left was Kanda, hair stuck to his face by copious amounts of blood, broken pieces of the chair littering the ground around him. To her right was her own brother, still clutching the controls to his most recent robot. Something crashed behind her, sending a new wave of heat across her back. Allen and Lavi were before her, fighting. She tried to lift her legs, to invoke her weapon, but something held her feet still. Allen took a hit from behind, slamming into a wall, and her own cry was masked by Lavi's irate scream, attacking and leaving himself wide open...
The only thing that kept her together was the scene disappeared when her eyes opened, showing a whole ceiling and quiet chaos.
---
Bookman's official story was mental trauma left from the Ark left Lavi unable to continue the lineage. The true story was the way Lavi never left Allen's presence, the way he tracked the boy's movement with his single eye, the way he was visibly panicked when Allen couldn't be seen.
There was truth in the official story, she knew. The way Lavi clung to Allen, as if the boy was the last bit of stability left in his life, spoke of the truth in that statement. But the untold story was said in the touches, the looks.
---
Hell could never be told in written words, she reasoned with herself as the pages flared and crackled in the fireplace.
No. Hell had to be lived.
---
When her dream finally intruded on the real world, there was relief in it. Now the world would finally look the same as the fiery depths of Hell that it was.
The End