On A Day…

By Alerae Eirtoren

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Elfen Lied. I just own my own personal love of it.

Summary: Lucy has come back to Kouta after all, although a little bruised and broken but still Lucy nonetheless.

Sure, he kissed her on the stairwell. Sure, they held each other tight before the final goodbye… but now that she has once again defied death and the inevitable is out of the way, can their love survive in the setting of normal life?

I'm not sure how long this is going to be, but basically it's a view into normal life after the series ends assuming that Lucy is the one behind the screen at the very end. I might do more chapters but I'm really not sure.

I know that her real name is later revealed to be Kaede, but I've never liked that name so Lucy will remain as Lucy. Yeah.


The deep sound of the old grandfather clock rings first in his ears and then in his head. "Huh?" He turns, momentarily forgetting the guest behind the screen.


"It's working…" And his heart is suddenly racing, and he gets that feeling in his stomach. It's that sort of foreboding feeling, that flutter he gets in his chest when something big is about to happen.

The shadow waiting behind the screen is oddly patient, though slightly slumped and is very female in figure. He remembers his manners despite the butterflies in his gut and hastens to the thin screen door, opening it and giving an apology for his halt.


Pink hair is what fills his vision, and the shadow that had filled him with cold air now fills him with a stifling joy as it forms into the figure of his painfully missed rogue. Her eyes are tired, she is bleeding and she is bruised and has an open wound on her head where she should have a horn. He can see several entry points for bullets on her blood-soaked clothes, and as she falls softly into his embrace, he can barely hear her whisper:

"I worked hard on it."

She wakes up to the smells of cooking and clean linens. She is clean, and her clothes are comfortable and bloodless. She is warm, but relaxingly so, and as she lies enjoying this small and dark environment between sleep and wakefulness, she slowly comes to realize that it has been a while since she has had a notion to indulge in any given comfort.

She does not remember being washed or her clothes being changed or even being put in this bed, though she knows where she is and the time of day according to the sounds of clinking dishes and the scents of what she is sure is lunch. She does not expect the feeling of a warm hand on her cheek, however. But she is certain of its owner.

His thumb strokes her skin softly, the palm of his hand steady against her jaw. For the most part, she is awake. She is aware of him, and is conscious enough to hold back the tears that fill her closed eyes at the thought that he still loves her and wants to be with her despite all that she has done.

"I won't forgive you," She remembers him saying, "But if you were to hurt anyone again… I would surely regret it."

She had kissed him after that. He had kissed right back. This fool, this man, the only man she had ever loved or will love, the man who's family she had literally torn apart before his eyes and yet he loves her…

Love truly is blind. It is dangerous and its path runs side by side with one's own path to self-destruction, only it is the path that the sane as well as the insane willingly tread upon.

And this whole thing is absolutely insane to her, and as she continues to enjoy the feel of his hand and its soft caress, she continues in this mode of thinking: knowing she doesn't deserve him, knowing she is taking his sanity, if only figuratively, but she also knows that she has lost enough of her own sanity to take the blind risk of trying to be happy with him and to make him happy with her.

He whispers the name of her other half, that being the only name he truly has for her. She never told him her name when they were children, but then again she has long since discarded it… she had never liked that name to begin with. He calls her "Nyu", most likely preferring not to call for Lucy because all of the pain that name entails, and the birth name she never told him is no better off either. Nyu is the representation of her that brings him laughter and peace of mind and the bliss of ignorance, while Lucy is the side that brings the cold truth of his past and her actions in that past.

She wishes he would just forget both, and she could fall into some kind of dreamless oblivion and he would be happy with some woman he has not met yet and not remember her, but that one human part of her, the one with that painful thing they call a heart, refuses to let go. Perhaps that is why she is still alive to be thinking these things, the exact thoughts he had told her not to think.

He calls her again, but this time… "Lucy." And her tears are once again restrained as she slowly opens her eyes to meet the light of day and the blue of his. Her cheek is still engulfed in his hand. "Good afternoon." His words may be short, but the emotion behind them is tremendous.

It is then that she realizes the stiffness of the muscles in her jaw, and upon further exploration she discovers that her entire body suffers the same way. It hurts to speak, but she does not leave him waiting. His happiness comes before her physical well-being, in her book at least. "Good afternoon." Her many years of being a sociopath leave her awkward, even to the man she has opened her heart to. She has so much she wants to say, and yet she has a complete inability to say anything at all.

His hand leaves her cheek, though its warmth lingers for a moment or two, and comes behind her back as he helps her to sit up. She feels pain everywhere, but bites her lip before the whimper can escape. He notices. "Don't strain yourself," He says, his voice is like a caress against her ear, "You just need to sit up enough to have something to eat, that's all. Mayu saved some lunch for you before Nana could get her hands on it." And he laughs a little at that as he brings a bowl of soup under her nose and she realizes just how hungry she is.

She feels pathetic as he holds her up and feeds her as well, and the smile on his face is what makes her swallow her pride and continue with this ridiculous scene despite her steadfast need to be self-sufficient. He picks noodles out of the bowl with his chopsticks, blows on them, then deposits them in her awaiting mouth, then repeats as she swallows.

She just doesn't get it. She is supposed to be miserable and he is supposed to only see her as a bloodthirsty monster, but here he is feeding her weak and broken self, trying to once again make her healthy, totally careless or ignorant of the fact that she could kill him at any given moment. Though saying that she could is completely different from saying that she would, of course.

Before long she realizes that the bowl is empty and that the object of her affections is looking deeply into her eyes. She admits to herself with rue that the moment could even be romantic if her thoughts would not be so damnably clouded and she not so damnably, well… her.

"Lucy…" His voice calls her. Not Nyu, not ignorant bliss, but Lucy, cold and merciless truth. Open wounds and two shattered childhoods. A nameless little girl with a river of blood flowing around her hands. A girl later dubbed Lucy, and Lucy is the mask that girl hides behind, with Nyu to be a mask for Lucy. She can't think about it too much or her head might spin. "Lucy!" His voice becomes louder and she realizes that she has drifted too far back into her thoughts again.

Her eyes meet his, and in that blessed instant she is without thought. Insanity can be called thoughtlessness, and if love encompasses them both, then so be it. She is content with that if it means knowing no thoughts, or perhaps even good thoughts, with this man. "Kouta…" She whispers his name to him, her voice cracked from strain and misuse and perhaps a plethora of other things.

The empty bowl clatters to the floor, but he pays no attention to it. His hands once again make their way to the sides of her face, and she feels him pulling her toward him gently a moment before their lips touch. Her neck and back are wracked with pain, but the pleasure of his lips cause her to decide to ignore it, though were she in a different state of mind she would berate herself furiously for such a course of action. But, again, his happiness comes before her well-being, and that is that.

When they part, and she can see him breathing fast and her sensitive hearing picks up the sound of his heart, she knows that this is what he wants. Yuka is nothing to him compared to what he feels for her, and despite how selfish she feels by admitting that, she must also admit that it is nonetheless true. She can tell by the look in his eyes, the look that says that she is all he sees and desires to see.

His arms come about her and hold her tight, and once again she ignores the pain he unknowingly causes her with his affection, and she wonders what kind of karma or irony could possibly be the cause of all this. "I've missed you so much… Nyu… Lucy. Don't leave again, please… please. I- I lo-"

She achingly puts her hand over his mouth before he can say what they both know he was about to say. She would not be able to bear it, and he realizes this. "Please…" Is all she can say, "Not today or tomorrow, maybe one day… but not now… please…"

He nods in understanding and instead contents himself by holding her, and eventually the pain in her body fades as she grows used to this position, and both broken lovers grow quiet as they bask in their thoughts and shared body heat.

Perhaps this thoughtless love has some kind of sanity to it, if only in a somewhat perverse way. These are her thoughts as he gently lays her stiffening, sore body back down on her bed to get some more sleep. He lays down beside her, whispering sweet nothings, or perhaps that is simply only in her own imagination, as the tides of sleep slowly but surely come to sweep her off her conscious feet.

The dreamless oblivion she so desires come to her, but he still remembers her as he watches her sleep. Perhaps there is beauty in insanity, but who's watching for it, anyway?