Heartache Souvenirs - D. Gray Man fanfic
Notes: The title was suggested to me by my Step Dad and I have had the idea of a fic to match it floating in my notes for a long time. Finally I managed to sit down and write it. Unfortunately for me, this was late at night and I suffered the next day with being very tired, but hey, I got something ticked off on my to-write list! And God, does it feel good to upload something new for once!
Disclaimer: I own no characters or settings portrayed in this piece.
I've never cared much about my room. It's always just been a place that I slept and dressed; the rest of my time I spent with my friends. Headquarters was a place I enjoyed wandering around. There were always people there to greet me and to talk to, like the science department and dear little Johnny who adores me, though I can't really think why. He'd always invite me to play a game of chess if I wasn't training or heading out on a mission and he was always kind to me, as was everybody else at the Order. I felt at home once.
Now I just feel cold and empty, I've never spent so much time in my room.
There was a time when I used to think deeply about my life. My life as an exorcist was always dangerous and full of peril, with constant threats, death and blood. Oh, so much blood.
Blood is stained on the Rose Cross symbol we all wear so boldly and we all know it deep within us, no matter how much we try to push away the thought, it is there. Blood of the innocent, blood of the enemy. It is all mixed to create a single ugly smear on the name of the Black Order. But that is what war does to everyone, to everything. It creates scars and tragedy and this no-one can avoid. Not in war.
I remember thinking about the end of the war. What will it be like? I still have to wonder, will peace settle on the earth? Will a tranquil silence breathe over the mountains, plains and seas as the Earl exhales his final breath? Will we still have our innocence?
This thought, as I remember, took off on a tangent which was filled with deep and terrifying realisation that it brought me to tears. My tears were sad and my heart felt heavy, yet I felt empty and without a real reason to cry. It created a strange feeling in my chest that made me want to scream.
Our innocence is the only way we can destroy Akuma and fight against the Noah. We use it to keep the world safe and request nothing in return. It has caused us so much trouble with the Noah and Akuma and has been destroyed and collected throughout this war with no shortage of spilt blood and pain. My own innocence was shattered before my very eyes and yet through it's own will it saved my life and took it's place at my side to fight for good once again. It forces my broken body to fight when necessary and as long as I am still concious, still breathing it will fight on until I or the enemy is dead. I have known it all of my life.
But what if it went away? What is the Black Order without innocence?
A group of teenagers and scientists who are unemployed and anonymous to the world. Really, there would be little point in us any more. When the Earl dies, we all predict that our innocence will disappear into the cube and we will all be left to find our way in the world. But we wouldn't be known as heros. All of our work, pain and triumph would fall on deaf ears. We wouldn't be able to describe such events to anyone, we would just be normal humans slowly growing older in a simple life.
It sounds obnoxious of me to put it into context like that, but after so much has happened in our lives; for it all to suddenly disappear would be so difficult to accept. In all truth, it is the war itself that gives us meaning to keep on living. We don't have jobs, we don't help the economy in any way, we don't have money to live off. We have each other and our innocence. And a will to live driven only by the determination to keep the world's people safe.
Somehow, that feels even more terrifying than the war itself.
It was funny how I thought about all of these things, about how many had been lost in the war yet how much this war had controlled and shaped our lives. How it had changed and moulded us as people. How it had given everyone in the Order friendships that would last for a lifetime. How it had made us enemies we were eager to defeat to keep the world safe and how much more blood was left to be spilt.
But I never thought about losing you.
I didn't think I would ever loose someone so dear to me. For some reason the very idea never occurred to me once. Yet your eye is imprinted in my dreams. It glistens with fresh tears as pain rips through your tattered body before it darkens and closes as your body falls limply to the ground. No-one can get near to you as a wave of attacks throw us back and I feel my heart breaking as I crash against a thick pile of debris. More rubble crumbles on top of my body, shattering it in places, bruising and cutting it in others, but my pain is shoved aside by my determination to reach you.
All I feel is a sadistic longing to watch the blood of the black haired woman flow across the blades protruding from my palm, to watch the life leave her eyes and I will make sure to knock the sunglasses from her pointed face to do so. Somehow my bloodthirsty state of mind manages to triumph and she falls. In the dream you are still breathing shallowly. I run past the female Noah's body and towards your own shredded form, but you don't get any closer. Instead you are at the end of an endless tunnel and no matter how far I run, I never get any closer. Then he appears. He smirks a terrible smirk and raises a gloved hand, showing it to me despite my screams begging him to stop.
His top hat topples from his head as he plunges his hand into your chest and grins up at me. Slowly, carefully, he raises his hand again and pulls out your vital organ, the only thing keeping you alive. I scream at him again when he guides a grotesque striped butterfly to your heart's major artery. The bug's sharp golden teeth chatter excitedly and close in on the vessel. They bite.
I scream and spring from my lying position in a film of cold sweat every time. New tears start rolling down my cheeks and I cry until my eyes are dry, but I never go back to sleep again. I can't bring myself to do it, I can't bring myself to watch you die again, not with the added incentive of my Noah induced imagination.
That is why I am awake now.
I had another dream.
Although this time it was different.
You were smiling. Your red hair melted with orange and yellow in the setting sun and your creamy skin was streaked with rays of golden sunlight. A faint breeze played calmly with the crimson tufts clumsily spiked by the position of your black and green bandanna. You leant against the balcony, watching the boats in the harbour rocking gently with the gentle waves echoing through the air.
I sat in the corner, secretly watching you. Your eye was so peaceful. Not puzzling over some sort of historical puzzle or anxious about some sort of Akuma attack. They weren't sad or giddy, they weren't even fake. They were genuine. I was entranced.
You turned to me and smiled the most realistic smile I had ever seen grace your face, then awoke.
I don't want to go back to sleep.
I don't want to face that memory again.
I can't bare to see your smile when I know it isn't really there.
I stand slowly and shuffle to my window. The curtains are drawn so I pull them back, revealing a solid black night sky. No more than seven stars manage to poke through the gloom and just a thin slither of the moon decides to greet me. I exhale slowly and move my eyes down to the window sill so to see where I can sit. Then I stop.
I feel my hand shake as it reaches out to touch the lump of material lying in the corner of the white window sill. I carefully pick the item up and hold it in front of my eyes. I see part of my reflection in the cold glass.
My face is pale grey in the moonlight and my eyebrows are raised high, my mouth is parted and thin and tear streaks glitter in patterns down my cheeks. The old familiar black face grins down from behind my reflection, but I barely register such images.
Green streaks boldly imprinted on black fills my vision and I well up again. My knees crumple and I fall onto them, still holding up the soft material, crying freely. I slowly bring it into my chest and curl into it, breathing in the soft musky scent it holds as my body shakes with sobs.
I have so many souvenirs from that day, stabbed into my memories by a cold knife. It almost feels ironic that something you left behind by accident could bring me such heartache.
I'm sorry I couldn't save you.
But I'll hold this forever.
I can't let you go.
I won't let you go.