The Fine Line

I apologize for Lavi’s odd behavior. And for Kanda’s seemingly erratic thoughts.

Disclaimer of Discalimingness: I don’t own D.Gray-man. If I did… Allen would be tall and Kanda would be short.

Thankfulness

“Sable-chan, you’re going to get all of us in trouble,” Lavi whispered sheepishly when she hung up the phone. He was looking seriously frightened from behind Lenalee’s shoulder. Every bit of color had drained from his face.

Sable waved her hand at him in dismissal. “Oh please, you know I did the right thing. We can just tell Komui that Kanda’s staying to be sure Allen is alright and then he’ll send someone out there. Besides, he wouldn’t punish me if he knew I was ending the violence between those two.” She grinned and flipper her braid over her shoulder so that it bounced behind her. When she smiled like that Lavi could almost think she was innocent.

“But Sable-chan, what if something happens to that Innocence?” Lenalee interjected. “Kanda will never forgive himself.”

“Haven’t you ever done anything risky, ever? These two are your friends! You should worry about them a little more. Let someone else save the world for a change.”

“But it’s the world, Sable-chan. Friends are important, but if we can’t save them both—”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll see if I can find it in the mirror. Keep an eye on it until someone else can go get it. Will that work?” Sable actually looked annoyed with Lenalee, which was scary. But what was worse was the look Lenalee was giving her – like she had stepped on a puppy, or killed a kitten, or smashed her favorite doll.

“For now.” Lenalee frowned at her. “But if anything happens to it, it’ll be your fault.”

Sable did not let that bring her down. “Then we have a deal.”

“AND!” Lavi took Sable by the shoulders and shook her. “How is Yuu-chan!? After all of this I didn’t even get to talk to him! Our plan is ruined! Our hope is lost! He’s just going to start being meaner to Moyashi-chan and then they’ll come back even worse than before! Who’s hurt!? Is Moyashi-chan hurt?! Yuu threw him off of the boat like I said he would, didn’t he? Oh, the sorrow! What if he dies?! Wahhhh…”

It was only the connection of a clipboard to the back of his head that made him stop.

“I’m sure that the plan is not ruined.” Lenalee corrected, trying to make him stop sobbing their notes. “We just have to go through with everything when they call us.”

“Exactly.” Sable smiled. “Glad to see that everything is falling into place… sorta.”

Lavi picked himself up and looked at his fellow conspirators, an idea flashing through his mind.

“You know we could—”

“No, we stick to the plan.”

“Come on, don’t be a Yuu, let me talk.”

“Che.”

“Did Sable just ‘che’?”

“That’s scary…”

“Okay… so here’s my idea…” Lavi leaned in close, explaining everything in infinitesimal detail. When he as through, there was just no denying it. His plan was perfect. Their victims did not even stand a chance.
----------------------------------------------------------------------

When Kanda hung up the phone he came to realize that his hand was sticky. Allen’s blood was all over him; on his hands, his jacket, his face, in his hair. It was disconcerting in the silence of the foyer.

The… silence?

His heavy boots crunched over broken pieces of wood and crisp lumps of snow, more of the weather was swirling in the missing wall while the holes in the others served only to let in the wind. His mind was not focused on that. His mind was focused on the silence that hung over the room like a wet blanket, suffocating his hope.

“Moyashi! I told you not to shut up!” He bellowed upon seeing Allen lying there, eyes unfocused, lips gently parted. He might have looked the part of a sleeping angel with his halo of white hair shining in the fading light.

Kanda’s voice shook away the sleepiness that had clouded his mind and brought back the feeling that he was cold. “Sorry Kanda,” His voice sounded very far away from him, almost like he wasn’t speaking at all. “I’m tired.”

“Che,” Kanda knelt beside him again, resting a hand on his forehead. He had no qualms about touching the cursed boy now. “It never stopped you before.”

“C-cold.”

“I noticed.” Kanda started picking at the buttons of his greatcoat, fully aware how ironic it might have seemed. On their first mission together, Allen had pillowed Kanda’s head on his coat, giving him comfort while recovering from his wounds – and Kanda had yelled at him for it. Exorcist’s jackets were not for comfort. They were for protection. In this case he had convinced himself that his jacket was going to protect Allen from the freezing air, not make him feel better.

With shaking hands he placed it across the small boy’s shoulders. The wind bit into his shoulders, caressed his neck with icy fingers, tensed his muscles. It was not warm enough for either of them here but was unsure if movement would be safe.

The front door opened and closed again. “Kanda? Allen?” It was Lloyd. And, God willing, he would have a doctor with him.

“In the kitchen,” Kanda called.

The tall man came in the kitchen door shivering, he had gone without his coat after all, and a bedraggled look on his face. His dark hair sparkled with little gems of melting snow; he wrung his hands to warm them, worry creased his eyes.

God was not willing.

“The only doctor in town is stuck up at the Kask mansion until the storm clears. The nearest hospital is about six miles from here, but I don’t think we want to walk him that far.”

Kanda cursed like a sailor. Allen had never heard Kanda curse like that before, but he had never seen him grin before either – maybe he just saved such things for the days when people died. Whatever the case Allen kind of like it. Emotionally distraught Kanda seemed like more fun than uncaring, indifferent-to-human-life-and-feelings Kanda.

“How long?”

“If this is the worst it gets…” Lloyd gave a little shrug. “Tomorrow, maybe the day after.”

“Che.” That was just great. What was he supposed to do with Allen until he knew what he could do with Allen?

“If… you don’t mind…” Lloyd volunteered. Kanda’s face was looking like something out of a nightmare, almost like he was fighting lost hope and anger at the as time. Sable had said that he was usually emotionless, unless he was ripping someone’s head off, but he wasn’t being that way. Maybe Sable’s little plan had done more than she thought. “Could you tell me what happened? I’m no surgeon but I worked as a medic once—”

He was interrupted when Kanda started regurgitating the story. There were no unneeded details, no long pauses for thought. He just said it how it was while Lloyd nodded.

And then Lloyd stopped to think about it. A deep flesh wound, it seemed, something that would undoubtedly kill if left untreated, but could be made less serious through pressure, warmth, and – when the bleeding had stopped – cleaning. If Allen was still breathing after the ten or so minutes it had taken for him to find where Dr. Johnsen had gone he would more than likely survive the night. And perhaps the next day, given proper care. There was still hope.

“It should be safe for you to take him upstairs to the room you’re renting, if you’re careful. I’ll do what I can to board up these holes. He needs water and heat mostly, so start a fire when you get up there. Preferably in the fireplace.”

Kanda che’d at him. Where the Hell else was he supposed to build a fire? The bed?

“Should he sleep?”

Lloyd shrugged. “Might be the best thing for him.” He went back into the main room and got Kanda the key.

“You’re…talking about me…like I’m not here…” Allen complained from the floor. Kanda did not specifically care if Allen did not like being ignored, he was just thankful to hear his voice. But when had that happened? He could only venture guesses that were most likely untrue. He could blame the poem. He could blame the fact that this was his doing. He could blame any number of things but not one of them seemed to fit. Maybe, somewhere inside, he had always cared for Allen and his voice.

No, I don’t care. I just don’t want to see another Exorcist die. That’s all.

His thoughts would not allow him to keep that in mind when he lifted the boy into his arms so that his head rested against Kanda’s chest. His thoughts wanted to think about what he had done and how it could have been avoided. He did not. He wanted to hate the feeling of someone’s cheek against him, despise the sweet scent that filled his nostrils – all while his mind wanted to cling to these things and never let them go. What was wrong with him?

Allen was thankful for the coat across him and the tender arms around him, content to enjoy the salty smell that came from Kanda. Like flowers and sea water, and something woody. It made him tired. So tired.

Then Kanda started walking back toward the foyer and each step was like a dagger jabbed into his chest. Kanda felt the muscles of Allen’s back tense against his arm and moved slower, sliding his feet like a dancer in an attempt to keep them both as still as possible. There were no more problems until they came to staircase, which made him stop.

“Wha—” Allen began to ask what had stopped – being he had given up holding his eyes open.

“Quiet, Moyashi, I’m thinking.”

What is with him!? Allen’s brain demanded. ‘Talk Moyashi,’ then ‘quiet, Moyashi,’ less than ten minutes later! Ooh, that’s annoying…and…so. Very. Kanda…

With slow deliberate paces Kanda took to the stairs, each step taking nearly a full second to ascend. The stairs were old and creaky, but located across the inn from the destroyed kitchen walls, so their safety was more or less guaranteed. The once fluffy red rug that covered them only made the going slower; he let out a shuttering sigh when they at last came to the second floor. There were three rooms, each numbered, and a small area that might have at one time served as a den. The den area was located directly over the kitchen and their room was the one closest to the stairs.

Allen heard a key turn in a lock but he could not imagine how Kanda managed such an act without dropping him.

The room was dark, cold, not much larger than their cabin had been back on the ship – but with a fireplace, woodpile, upholstered chair, bed, and window. The wood floor groaned as he crossed to the bed, the wind hollowed lowly in passing, a log shifted in the pile. Kanda breathed in the still air and fought the urge to glance over his shoulder, knowing nothing was there.

“Th-thanks Kan—”

“Che, remember what I said about apologizing?”

“Uh…yeah…”

“That goes for thanking as well.” Kanda placed him lightly on the bed before turning to the empty fireplace, sure to divert his eyes away from Allen.

Allen smiled into the shadows. “You’re welcome.”

Oh how Kanda hated that. Yes, he had meant to thank Allen for stopping the akuma, but he hadn’t. What gave Allen the ability to welcome him? And why couldn’t he just say what he meant? He picked up a number of wood scraps and began constructing what he hoped would be a fitting fire – he was unaware that he was gathering enough wood for twelve.

Allen watched through nearly closed eyelids as the older Exorcist put log on top of twig on top of kindling, hard face pulled into a gloomy scowl. Allen had seen him grin though, really grin, and just the memory of it made him feel better than any flame ever could. The scowl couldn’t fool him; Kanda was secretly a happy-go-luck person. He just didn’t know it.

The fire cast long shadows across the room when it was lit; the light gave the green curtains a yellow glow and illuminated the ice on the windowsill like diamonds. The musty air became instantly livelier. Allen’s eyes followed Kanda from the door to the window to the bathroom, and they did not falter when the Japanese man removed his bloodied shirt and he took to scrubbing his face in the mirror.

He’s watching me, Kanda thought as he let down his hair to wash the grimy sections in the sink. Why is he watching me?

“Gees Kanda, you could close the door.”

“And you can close your damn eyes, Moyashi.”

Allen didn’t answer and the feeling that Kanda was being watched did not abate. He glared into the mirror and his reflection glared back at him, just as cold as ever. That was good. He didn’t show what he was thinking at all. He still looked like he didn’t give a damn.

Kanda came back into their room with a dark look; his aura of hatred had grown worse if anything, but Allen stiff remembered that grin. His hands were just gentle enough to get the blankets from under Allen without hurting him, nothing more. He clamored onto the mattress without even trying to be nice about it, threw himself to the far side of the bed without regard for bouncing. He pulled the blankets over them both.

“Ka-Kanda, what are you dong?!” Allen’s was incredulous, his voice a half octave higher than it had ever been. A rosy blush blossomed across his pale skin and his once tired eyes found the strength to look surprised.

“Che, you’ll freeze to death without me.” Kanda said logically, snaking his arm over Allen’s shoulders and pulling himself closer. “Body heat.”

“Heh…heh, heh, heh,” Allen thought his face was going to explode. “Are… you sure?”

Kanda sighed and closed his eyes, somehow managing to sound scolding. “Go to sleep, Moyashi.”

Like I can! Allen thought. But he was tired. So warm. So comfortable. So very tired. He wasn’t sure which mattered more, how sleepy he was or how content he felt. In the end it did not matter which was more important because, slowly, the sound of Kanda’s breathing lulled him to sleep. He never saw radiant smile dancing on the Japanese man’s lips.