Author: Air Condition PM
She had been expecting him home. He had only gone out to have a look around. He was supposed to be okay. And yet he stood in the doorway in a growing pool of his own blood, looking at her with the most terrified expression she had ever seen.Rated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Angst - Allen Walker & Lenalee Lee - Chapters: 2 - Words: 3,731 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 14 - Updated: 05-15-12 - Published: 05-08-12 - id: 8096843
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
He wasn't gone for long. Perhaps just a few hours, at most. He should have been back by now, actually. She guessed he would be any minute. He had only gone to have a look around. They had been sent out on another mission, and while it wasn't the furthest from home they had ever been, it was quite a distance. They hadn't even quite reached their destination yet. They still had a day or two of traveling left. She didn't think anything unusual would happen to him; this place they had stopped at seemed quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and nobody they had spoken to had voiced any concerns. They had even found a place to stay for the night: an empty house that belonged to a couple in town. They had been offered the house for just the night, and they took it without hesitation.
She had almost settled down for the night, though she decided it'd be better to wait for him before she went to bed. So, she settled on sitting comfortably on a small chair in the living room. A loud crash broke the silence, and she almost jumped out of her skin. Her immediate reaction was to assume it was an enemy. She moved briskly down the hall, activating her Innocence and turning the corner quickly enough to attack if there was danger lurking.
There was no danger. He was the only one who stood before her, and even if he had meant to be a threat, he wasn't capable of being one to anyone, let alone someone as competent as her. He was barely standing in a slowly-growing pool of his own blood, the doorframe the only thing holding him up. He had pushed the door itself open with such force that it had dented the wall, and she could not figure out how he had the strength to do that looking at him now. He was looking down at the ground, not even looking up to acknowledge her.
She couldn't tell what he was thinking, as she had never seen him quite as bad as this. His expression, or what she could see of it, was one of pure fear, eyes wide and mouth open. His skin was so pale that it nearly rivaled his hair, which was matted and dulled with muddy reds and browns and other sickly colors that shouldn't have been there. His clothes were no better, tattered and torn in various places, shining with blood.
Finally she had absorbed the situation enough to move. She deactivated her innocence, and as soon as she reached for him, he stumbled forward to meet her. She grabbed his arms and he gripped the front of her shirt, but neither was strong enough to stay standing. With the last few seconds she had on her feet, she managed to reach out and slam the door shut again before falling down with him. He sank to the floor and dragged her down with him until she was on her knees, his face buried in her stomach. It was uncomfortable for both of them, but when she tried to push him off for just a second so she could sit down; he clung to her tighter and winced as if she were trying to leave him. It didn't take too much effort to pry his fingers open and push him up, though knowing how bothered he was when she did made it hard enough. As soon as she stopped holding him up, he crashed back down into her, burying his face in her neck. Now that they were close she could feel him shaking, and hear his quick, unsteady breath; almost hyperventilating. She wanted to ask him what had happened, but she had the feeling neither of them could speak, anyway.
She couldn't tell where he was bleeding from; he was covered in it. By now it had streaked her clothes and the stains only grew as he tried to move closer, grabbing the back of her shirt and pulling her in. He pushed his face harder into her neck and she swore he was trying to speak, but nothing came except panicked whimpers and gasps. He scratched at her as if she were trying to flee from him, though she was perfectly still and had no reason to try to push him away again like she had just a moment ago.
She weaved her hand into his hair and held him to her, but that just seemed to break him more. His grip tightened on her sides and he wailed, shaking his head. She felt something warm drip down her shoulder, though she couldn't be sure if it was his blood or if he had started crying. Suddenly he seemed to be unsure of whether he wanted to cling to her desperately, or try to escape her hold on him. It seemed such a hard decision that she swore he could have torn himself in in half. As much as he tried to move, whether it was forward or back, she was too scared to let him and just held him like she was, pinning him there and refusing to let go. Just as soon as he seemed to quiet down, he'd thrash again and some other ungodly noise would escape him. Finally he managed to speak just once, though the words were barely distinguishable.
She wanted to, so badly; but she was frozen to the ground with him and unable to do anything but hold on so he wouldn't cause himself even more pain. Yet, all she was managing to do was wear him down even more as he struggled, though she figured that was better than letting him go without any idea of what he would do. It seemed to work, slowly. Every time he thrashed against her, he got weaker. Her endurance was no better, and she grew tired as well.
By the time the room had gone dark, he couldn't move. The worst he could do was twitch every few minutes, and it was hardly an attempt to break free. Her grip finally loosened now that there was no chance of him doing something destructive. Her fingers seemed to be locked and it took a moment to open them. The hand she had tangled in his hair was almost sticky, drenched in his sweat and everything else that had settled into it. As she relaxed she realized how much her body burned after all the energy she had spent on him. He stayed where he was, leaning forward into her, quietly quivering under whatever horrible weight she could not see. She desired nothing more than to remove it from his shoulders. But, she couldn't, and so she suffered with him.
She ran her fingers along his sides as she lowered her arms, tired of holding them up like she was. She kept brushing through the blood that still wet his clothes, but she couldn't tell if it was because he was still bleeding. Were the wounds still open, or had the blood simply not had enough time to dry? On any other occasion it wouldn't have been as much of a concern, but his mental state just added to her fear.
She leaned back against the wall for support, and he groaned as his weight shifted with her. It was clear that he was uncomfortable like that, but when he started to shift she reached up in case he was going to start panicking again. He didn't; not quite yet. After a minute he managed to get himself in a better position, leaning sideways against her, resting his head on her chest with his knees pulled up to his chin. His hands entangled with one of hers. It seemed that the stress of moving so much brought back his fear, as she felt him begin to shake again. She held his head still, and felt him shudder, ignoring the pain as his nails dug into her arm. It didn't last long this time, as he was too tired to let his emotions get the best of him for very long. Again he sank into exhaustion and relaxed against her. She rested, too, tired from fearing for him.
His eyes grew heavy then, and he seemed to drift away from consciousness, though occasionally he still flinched and clung to her for just a second. She didn't even react anymore, knowing it would fade just as quickly as it had come. As he fell from reality, so did she. As much as she feared falling asleep and missing something, she couldn't stay awake. As soon as he was gone, she lost the last remaining shred of energy she was clinging to, and her surroundings went dark. Her last thought was just hoping that by some miracle that he would be alive in the morning.