BB says: Alrighty tighty. This is the last chapter of "Bring the Snow." Yes, yes, I know. I hate it too, but all good things must come to an end, no? I originally thought to create a sequel, but now I don't know if I feel like it. At most I might have a few drabbles in me, but I think the adventures of Zahara may have to stop here. We'll see.

Rating: Pretty strong teen. Yep. Teen.

Disclaimer: …

"Chill December brings the sleet/blazing fire and Christmas treat,"

~Sara Coleridge

She couldn't see straight, so thick and rapid the tears fell, her own sobs stifling in the void left by the end of the battle. Everything had come to an abrupt end, deathly silent, all the animals and many of the people long dead from the start.

Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Not the fact they had won the snowy day. Not the glimmering Innocence hidden in the belly of Timcampy. Not even the corpse of the lesser Noah lying to the side, gray skin pallor and golden eyes losing their glow.

There was blood on her hands. Up her arms. In her mouth. Much of it was her own. But most of it was his.

And the tears fell heavier.

It felt strange, vulnerable, to cry after so long, a long forgotten skill practiced once again. It wasn't a habit, to submit to the helpless muscle tension that wrung the saline droplets from her clenched eyes. Nothing short of excruciating agony, could lead her to this point. Something so burrowing, so constant, so all consuming it its depth that the hope of ever feeling anything else was non-existent. The extinguish of any hope that could come. The other side had vanished and abandoned her in her hollow ache.

Like before. Left behind. Damn him.

He was looking at her now, silver eyes blurred but somehow still alert, torso a mess of crimson and serrated flesh, giving his life to a bed of silken white sleet. His Innocence was deactivated, allowing the occasional twitch to express its overextension, swollen, painful veins throbbing around the glowing cross. His fleshed hand made no attempt to hold him together as its godforsaken counterpart jerked and clenched uselessly on the ground. Pale pink and cool calloused fingers found her face, tracing the soft contours and encouraging his heavily lidded eyes to do the same. They found the path of her tears and gently pressed and smeared, trying to dry them.

Fichu leu (damn him).

She wanted to say so much, to scream and yell and throw him to the ground. To chastise him for his weakness, his selfish ways and complete disregard for consequences. This was not how he was to end, not the prophecy that drove so much of the Order's proceedings. He was supposed to defeat the Earl, Destroy time, and if he died in the process than at least he had completed his duty. At least he would have proved that he wasn't evil, that he wasn't just a puppet to be claimed and manipulated by either the Order or the Noah.

That he was Allen.

He was not supposed to be lying here gazing up at her with regretless eyes as death claimed his limbs on a meaningless battlefield. He was not supposed to be caressing her face with fading strength or swimming in his own bloody lungs.

She wanted to scream. But all that came out were choked sobs.

It made her all the angrier. More sobs, followed by a hiccupping gasp that was an attempted curse.

There was a twitch as the bastard in question dared a bloody smile. Gentle, comforting, a blood bubble forming at the corner of his lips even as his dried tongue attempted to wet his drier lips.

"Never thought," he whispered, breathing shallowly "I'd ever see the invincible Z cry." He choked blood, streaming from his mouth and nose as his lungs filled with gore. It was in his hair and on his clothes, gathering in a crimson pond around them. The hand that wasn't supporting his head clenched as Z unconsciously tried to hold the broken pieces of his body together.

"Fuck y-you," she gasped "selfish, a-asshole." He wanted to laugh, whether at her poorly presented anger or his own mortality Z couldn't tell. But his face twisted into a wider smile before his eyes flickered shut.

She thought that when she opened her mouth again, she would shriek and shriek and shriek out all the pain that was a tightened knoll deep within her chest. It would be an eternal carrying note of pain, heard around the world so that humanity would know the sacrifice of this day. That one boy…one man had given up everything for their pitiful existence. In the hope that a leeching species would continue to devour the world and pollute the air with smog and war. She hated humanity so much for being helpless, for causing a demand of protectors like exorcists to save them from creatures created by their own woe. For claiming what was hers. She wanted to curse them all. But all she could produce was a silent scream, air whistling harmlessly from her gaping mouth.

As quiet as it was, she still hadn't heard the footsteps fast approaching. She didn't notice her company until someone wrapped their arms around her breathless body and hauled her to her feet, dragging her away from what was left of the Destroyer. Her sight became a hazy blur of her own flying limbs and her throat's angry screeches.

She lashed and struggled, landing blows on her would be captor as they took her further and further from what she wanted most. This was it, he was leaving her, she wanted to stay, she wanted to be by his side until the last of life left him. She wanted to feel him leech the warmth of her body, engulf him with everything she had left. She wanted the last thing he saw and felt was her holding him so that at least she could feel like she hadn't failed him.

The person held tight, their grip powerful and much stronger than Z. She wasn't thinking straight and was too weak to activate Beastly Beauty; they easily contained the pathetically bleating young woman as she struggled. Her cries became words just before the exhaustion and stress blacked her out, voice hoarse from useless screams and weeping.

"Allen! Allen! ALLEN!"

The typical mass funeral was held, the air heavy with woe and the antibacterial smell of the wounded. Sobs crawled and hung like bats from the echoing ceiling, the rose cross large and silver and authoritative in the mass of unmarked coffins. Lives that gave the ultimate sacrifice and whose families would never know of that powerful gift.

Nurses weaved through the crowds, assisting patients and gently cajoling those who needed to return to bed. The Head Nurse was no where in sight, leaving those who constantly broke her rulings -Lenalee, Timothy, Lavi- to wander through the wounded and offer their own heavy burdens to the thick cloud of lament. It was a closed occasion, for family only, supporting each other and holding the injured close as they sought company for their misery.

Not Z. She couldn't being herself to leave her post in the shadows, leaning over the railing to watch people mourn and wail shamelessly. Like this was some unforeseen event, like they didn't risk their lives knowingly every fucking day of their shitty lives because no other choice was to be had. Because she knew they knew this would happen. On an unconscious, deeply buried plane of being they all knew that no happiness ever sought would last as long as it was wanted, needed. Nothing was forever, everything good ended too early, and at the dip in the hill was always the lowest valley one could ever come to face.

And those below, ignorant in their wretchedness and blind to their own lack of defenses, could never see what she could. Never feel this deep, bottomless pit that had formed from her own dense despair. Her own unhappy truths.

She was so angry.

So grief stricken.

She honestly couldn't tell the difference between life and death any longer. Perhaps the line between the two was as nonexistent as it had been her whole life, a razor's edge she was been forced to walk. She was being hollowed out by heavy darkness as it sucked the light from her eyes and the power from her steps. She was surprised to wake on new mornings, amazed she hadn't simply let go in her sleep and somewhat disappointed to be made to live another day of empty pain. It left her cold. Broken. Silent. She hadn't spoken in a week, and didn't intend to for a long while.

"Come on, Z. We're not mad or anything." Like that was the issue.

"I think it's wonderful. It's okay you hid it from us. We understand." Your opinion doesn't matter.

"Why don't you go see him? It'll be good for his recovery." No.

Her eyes were blank as she stood and went to her room, locking herself in and rarely surfacing to eat. Food was loosing its appeal, she lost weight and sleep as the days drug on in fuzzed monotony. She was a being of the shadows now, praying that no one saw and offered pity to their once powerful empress. The wonder and whisper in her wake at the heavy burden that no one could sense.

She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to even be in the same room as him, acknowledge him. She was so damn angry she didn't know what she would do if left alone with the unconscious young man covered in so many bandages it was almost comical. To know that this one being could make or break her. She couldn't look at him.

God, how she hated him. With every fiber of what she was she despised what had made her rely upon him so heavily. The loss of him could destroy everything she was and could ever be. Throw her into Hell even as his soul was released to the cotton warmth of heaven. He had taken her power away, her ability to simply subtract herself from the situation and effectively weakening her.

Z had known it wouldn't work from that first kiss two weeks previous, from the moment her heart came to beat together with his. This reliance was terrifying and strange, a weak spot that she was honestly disappointed she hadn't found sooner. It had to be eliminated.

No more hands under the table.

Meetings in the shadows.

Gentle brushes in the halls.

No. More.

It was easier this way, honestly. They couldn't afford to worry for each other in battle, seek to protect one another and leave themselves open to attack. That was what happened, wasn't it? The stupid martyr had leapt in to defend her and in the end was worse off for it.

Dead actually.

Z had felt his heart stop. It was a miracle they got it jump started again.

The image was still engrained in her mind, coming to the forefront every time she closed her eyes. Better to stop it now, silently, gently. Starting with distance between them.

She wasn't foolish enough to wish he would forget her. But she could hope.

"I need a mission." The first four words spoken in a month. Trying hard not to think of sweet gray eyes and a gentle smile flitting across a horribly beautiful face.

"Z," Komui was one of those trying to understand, to figure the girl's twisted logic in avoiding the one thing they had ever seen her so…passionate about. Desperately attached to. Something that caused her both misery and joy and she was devastated at the thought of his death. He gazed at the hollow shell that had once been so intimidating, deep shadows beneath her snuffed eyes and a pallid tint to her sun ripe skin. Pity welled deep in his heart, mingling with disappointment and horror at the pain this girl brought to both herself and Allen.

The messy office was decorated for the Christmas season, red, gold, and green cascading from unorganized shelves and fake snow kicked about on top of important documents. Garland was strung where the walls met the ceiling, strings of popcorn and candles hanging from the branches of a miniature pine tree perched on the edge of the desk. A ridiculously decorated stocking swung from the front of the office door, compete with waving robotic Santa arms and an ornate letter K. "Do you really want-"

"Yes. The sooner the better. Make it long." He raised an eyebrow, warm eyes in one of their rare, serious gazes.

"Have you talked to Allen yet?" Z hissed low in her throat, resisting the urge to turn and retreat at the question. So much for her preparedness. He got right to the meat of the issue, not fluffing the situation with meaningless babble. She wondered how he knew, but was sated by the knowledge that her relationship with her fellow exorcist was a delicious nugget of gossip for all who would listen. "No." Komui stiffened and sat up straighter in his chair. Like his worst fears had been realized.

"Then you can't leave yet."

"Yes. I can." The man rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, fatigued by the whole situation and wishing he hadn't become the last line of defense. That someone else had been forced to butt heads with the stubborn girl in an attempt to make her undergo damage control. He reached for his favorite mug of coffee, but it was empty.

"What do you want me to say? Do you expect me to let you leave an innocent boy to suffer? Can you honestly say you feel nothing in just abandoning him?" He folded his hands on his desk to show his unwillingness to participate. "This isn't right. I'm actually surprised you're running from the situation like this. I never expected something so cowardly and underhanded. Not from you." His words cut her deeply, but Z continued watching him in forced apathy.

No. She didn't care.

Stupid boy loved everyone. It didn't matter.

She didn't care. About him or anyone else. The black abyss thriving within her made sure of that.

"Damn it Z," the Chinese man was exasperated by her silence. "You can't do this. You know you can't just walk away and pretend like nothing ever happened. If this is anything like I think it is, if he cherishes you like I think he is capable of doing, then he deserves more than careless abandonment. You can't tell me that you don't feel anything, that there's nothing-"

"Mission, Komui. I'm not asking."

"That's too bad. Because my answer is no until you work this out maturely." Z bit the inside of her lips angrily.

"Even if you make me stay here," she growled "you can't make me talk to him. You can't make me," she wrinkled her nose in disgust, a hint of shame entering the shadows on her face. "'Work it out.' I can avoid him as long as I need to and you have to send me on a mission eventually. This conversation is pointless." A struggle took place on the scientist's face as he longed to continue persuading her while weighing the chances of her reacting well to force. If he tried to make her mend the rift, who was to say that it wouldn't worsen things, that she wouldn't tear the boy to ribbons in her fury?

He sighed through his nose. Z knew she had won.

Happy Christmas, oh heartless monster.

She remained silent and stiff on the couch as he rustled through the papers on his desk, her hands folding tightly in her lap.

"Here," he held out the folder as though disappointed in both of them, his eyes burrowing into her forehead in a feeble attempt to appeal to her nonexistent softer side. But Z was set in her ways, refusing to back down on any previously made decisions.

"An ongoing sandstorm has been spotted in the desert east of the pyramids. While we are not certain Innocence is the culprit, Finders are on location to investigate any other strange phenomenon that may be happening in the same area. You are to go attempt to reclaim any Innocence that the scene has to offer…if any. And offer protection to the camp. You leave in three days." He didn't let go of the paper work when Z reached out to accept. "Z," his tone had gone from disapproving to slightly pleading "reconsider. If you're running away from this, I want no part. Think of Allen. Think of what this is doing to him."

She snatched the assignment and turned to leave, footsteps echoing in the thick, silent air. "You'll destroy him." The gypsy chose to ignore the accusatory whisper that followed her into the hall.

In a place like The Order, where family was a loosely used term that was flung out on a whim, privacy and security was never much of an issue. Most occupants held close relationships with their "brothers" and "sisters" while others were plenty confident in their ability to defend against any threat their peers could possibly offer. While the latter theory was constantly tested by Komui's assembly line of robots and the off chance of invading demons, the basic concept held true:

The Order was a safe place.

Which was why most in this surrogate family thought it unnecessary to undergo the simplest of security measures. Clothes, food, even jewelry were left unattended at any given time, a silent testament to the faith that the occupants of the ancient castle held in each other. There were the occasional pranks, things could go missing, but nothing extreme, no one was ever hurt (again, there were the occasional robot or akuma, but it had been awhile since either plight haunted the halls).

So when a room was left unlocked its owner could rest assured that no one would steal what little, if any, treasures were to be had within. That the visitor would be polite enough to knock before entering and not entering at all if the knock wasn't responded to. The only reason to lock a door was added security when one was changing clothes and people often forget even this condition.

Z retired to her room, exhausted and knowing that sleep wouldn't come. She would come close, of course, her body would still, her muscles would rest, but her mind and her heart would take no breaks. Her thoughts would stray again and again to the pain in her chest, while said pain throbbed with every breath and begged for relief in the form of warm arms. A rough hand, a soft hand pressing her into a strong chest, a strong heart that beat the same tempo as her own.

She bit her lips, the sharp iron tang of blood telling her she'd finally bitten too hard. She tore free of her day clothes aggressively, pulling on her typical night shirt and throwing herself to her bed. Her loose raven tresses buried her in a curtain of black, shielding her from the glow of the full moon that was trying to stir her into action.

Please.

Please.

Leave me alone.

She couldn't breathe deeply, pain rebounding to its full extent now that she was safe in her room. Angry tears rebelled against her will, storming free of her straining eyelids.

It's for the best.

I'm protecting him.

Protecting both of us!

Z wanted to hit something. Something hard and sure not to crumble, something that would break her fingers or cut into her flesh before giving way. She wanted to hurt in a way she could fix, something that only needed bandages and salve to be well again.

The door opened. She shot up, tears still falling.

He locked them both in.

It was like seeing a ghost with white hair, pale skin and a challenging glare in his storm cloud eyes. Z stared back at him in clear defiance, refusing the blame his eyes threw at her with the force of bullets. She could tell from the way he stood, the stiff coil in his muscles that there was no escape; he would catch her before she even made it to the door, dragging her back to repent for her sins.

She would fight, she told her limp body and noodle legs, she would fight her way out if she had to. She was strong and stubborn, set in her ways. Zahara wasn't just some woman to be bullied, she was the scourge of the Order, an all mighty force to be reckoned with! Let all tremble in her wake, let-

Allen came forward, causing Z to jump and scoot further back on her bed. He covered her floor with long strides and a determined gait, while she struggled to untangle herself from her mess of sheets and hair. A gasp escaped parted pink lips, a powerful arm shooting forward to drag her off her mattress and shove her into the cold stone of her wall. He blocked her with his arms, imprisoning her in the fortress of his body.

Breaths, harsh and mingled, made the small cold room unbearably stuffy. Z longed to open her window and allow the frigid December air to keep the world at a frozen temperature, prevent this spot from going any further. Only now did she recognize her mistake, a severe miscalculation that was going to throw her entire plan into disarray. There was only so far a person could be pushed, taunted before acting. Even Allen had that point where he stopped giving breaks and forgiving.

He was finally lashing back.

I will not be ignored!

They stood in silence, Z fighting to keep still and calm, moving her eyes to look over his shoulder and not into smoldering mercury flecked with sky and sun. The young woman's efforts were unnecessary; no sooner was she pinned did the silver haired boy plunge his nose into the column of her neck, breathing her in.

"Z," Allen sighed into her skin, causing an involuntary shiver. His eyes were a mix of hurt and fury when he pulled back, lips set in a fearsome little line. She swallowed a bitter taste in her mouth and willed herself to sink into the wall, far away to another time when looking at him again didn't fill her with anticipation and guilt. Extreme desire and the knowledge that such things could not happen because of their daily lives.

"What do you want, idiot? Can't you see I was going to bed?" Her harsh words did nothing more than amuse him, a humorless smirk pulling up the side of his mouth.

"Do I need to ask why you've been avoiding me?" Z scoffed but her heart wasn't in it, grateful when ebony ringlets swung in front of her eyes. "I knew you were dense, but I didn't think you were quite this stupid." She looked into his eyes to get her point across, steeling herself against the intensity of his demeanor.

"We're through. It was fun and shit, but I'm bored of you now. I had hoped to avoid confrontation but I guess some dumb shits like drama, huh?" Her words were stinging and monstrous to her own ears as they burst forth. Her chest squeezed in agony and protest, trying to suck the words back into her gullet and out of the air where they sat heavily rotting away. But still she stood tall, chin up in a facsimile of assurance.

It was silent. Allen closed his eyes, standing so close body heat permeated straight through Z. She wiggled but his hands flew to her wrists before she could escape, pinning her more soundly. She jumped when he finally barked a humorless laugh.

"Is that so? We're parting ways, just like that?" Z blinked, not understanding what he possibly found so amusing. "Yes. Now get the fuck out of my room." His eyes reopened and trained upon her, dangerously sharp. "You don't mean that."

"Yes. I do."

"No. You don't." She had forgotten she was crying, unpleasantly reminded when soft lips were pressed to a budding droplet, catching it before it slid down her cheek. She stiffened, eyes wide as his mouth traced her tears' pathways, ending with an open mouthed kiss on her chin.

"Get the fuck off me asshole!" A fit of embarrassment and fury rippled, Beastly Beauty managing to push the offender halfway across the room. Allen pulled himself up, body aflame with passion and frustration as Z pressed herself against the wall and as far from him as she could get. Her arms came up to encircled her body, eyes narrowed and furious for his innocent crimes.

"Why are you doing this?" The young man demanded, snarling a bit. His stance was guarded and tense, angry at being so far from her when he had missed her so. Angry for missing such a selfish, venomous, bitch. Angry because with every tear she dropped he felt his rage wane into anguish.

When he had first woken up back at the Order, his eyes immediately scanned his surroundings, jumping to the fierce and horrible conclusion that she was gone. Forever. That she had perished while he lay inert and helpless, probably sacrificing herself to give him another day. Of course. Some akuma had survived his onslaught, caught her off guard, did away with her before she even knew what was happening. While she knelt over him, trying to keep him with her.

Heavy heart, fear, and ardor pushing him out of his bed and to his feet like a physical force. His legs folded beneath him, wounds screaming and splitting. As he watched little blossoms of red appear on his pristine bandages, all he could see was her too still body, lying in the cold mud with bright eyes dimmed to the world and warm hands folded with more solemnity than she had ever showed in life. It took his breath away.

He fought to his feet, gasping and ignoring the tearing at the last of his stitches. A dropped platter of gauze and penicillin told him he had been discovered by a nurse, his frantic eyes taking in the panicked look on the young woman's face before he blacked out again.

His dream was full of blood and unseeing eyes.

When Allen woke again Lenalee was by his side, tears of joy racing down her face.

It was then he learned the truth.

Alive, well, and avoiding him.

It was an aching, throbbing sore hidden behind false joy and his plastered smile. Even when they talked about her, asked about their relationship, he parried their questions without a single hint of his hurt and anger showing through. He'd balled it inside like he had always done, storing it until the guilty party finally came forward. And now that he had her, trapped and afraid, it all fell apart. All he wanted was to forgive her, hold her close and hum sweet words in her ear. The mere sight of her had been enough to soothe his temper.

He had worried for her. Cried out for her in his sleep. And here she was, lurking through the halls like a damn phantom, ignoring everyone and everything and him.

"What is wrong with you Z? Why? Why?" His voice cracked under the weight and Z cringed further into the wall. "I told you! I'm bored of you now!"

"You're lying!"

"I warned you, didn't I? When I felt less I would leave! That I wouldn't stay if it wouldn't work!" Venom fell from her words, pooling at her feet. "And it hasn't! It won't! There's nothing you can do to change the fact that I hate you!"

"Then why are you crying, Z? Why do you weep over someone you despise so much?" Two treacherous tears escaped at the question and she sneered. "I cry out of exhaustion. I am driven to tears by my own fatigue but a selfish shit fuck refuses to leave me alone." Allen narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, noting the flash of anxiety that flitted through the girl's eyes at the movement. He paused in the middle of the floor, primarily concerned she would dash for the door and be gone.

"You always do this! Hide behind insults when there's no other exit for you and you know you're wrong! Because you're not strong enough to hold up a decent conversation without trying to hurt someone!"

"You're mad because I hurt your feelings?"

"No! Yes! Both!" He stumbled a bit before picking his confrontational tone back up. "It's bigger than that and you know it. It's not just about how I feel, it's how you've chosen to deal with…whatever it is you have to work out. The sooner you tell me what's wrong in that fucked up head of yours the sooner I can leave this behind me too! The sooner you can stop moping around!"

"So the unstoppable Allen Walker is the sacrifice to the wicked witch of The Order? Don't make me laugh! Why do you always have to play the fallen hero, the scapegoat of the people?" She snarled, eyes flashing. "Did they throw you at me? Try and hide behind you despite what may happen? Don't you know you're only one person? It's going to kill you, you fucking moron! You'll die and just expect me to deal with it!" Allen's eyes widened a fraction, clenched fists loosening. "It's not about our relationship, is it?"

Realizing her error, Z cinched her mouth shut and watched him.

"Leave."

"Z-"

She was across the floor in seconds moving in close to strike him again. He saw it coming this time, pulling her into a tight embrace that was more a bear hug than an act of affection.

She fought him more ferociously than she had fought being separated from him, fought the warmth and gratitude her body expressed from once again being close. She had left the well meaning Marie with bruises and scratches; she was hoping to tear Allen to shreds.

The kiss was rough and sudden, Allen swallowing Z's cries of resentment as she struggled, clawing at his arms and biting at his lips. He tasted blood as one of her incisors pierced his tongue, but paid no mind to the pain as he pressed her closer and waited for her to settle.

And she did.

It was too much to resist, her nerves were rubbed raw and her body reacted before her mind could catch up. She felt his arms loosen, but didn't break free, wrapping her hands in his shirt so that he wouldn't be the one to escape. He had better not even try after instigating this.

Everything about their movements was angry, heated, and made all the more heady because of it. It was a clingy battle of desperation between the two. They snapped and scuffed and pinched each other, their brows furrowed to keep them from forgetting the reason for their discontent but their lips moving in unison.

Z could taste his annoyance on his tongue as it entwined with hers. The frustration tensing his neck beneath her hands. The thrumming beat of a wounded heart pressed against her breasts. But she didn't want to stop, she didn't want him to take her words seriously at this moment of collision. She had spoken to hurt him and drive him away but only managed to pull him closer.

It was so irritating she could hit him, the stupid boy.

She settled for digging blunt nails into the tender flesh of his shoulder, earning a smothered growl in the back of his throat. He stopped kissing her in favor of biting her. Hard. Drawing forth a hiss from her mouth and crimson tears from her neck.

Punishment.

Z wasn't sure how it happened and, in her heated fog, didn't really care. Allen pulled away, fingering the edge of her nightdress as though desperately wanting to see what lay beneath, his own shirt long discarded in the fray. The fire in her eyes leapt and snapped at him, challenging the almost terrifying want in his own. He leaned in again, close enough to mumble onto her lips and slip a hand beneath her clothes.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

She devoured his grin and chortle, mussing his hair and arching her back as he returned to her.

Sunlight eased through the window, landing gently upon silvery white hair and the brown hand smoothing it down. It was cold outside the soft blankets on the bed, and Z had no interest in baring herself to the chill air just yet.

This close she could see what she had passed over before, the subtle details in his face that she had never seen. How his ears pointed ever so slightly beneath his messy mop of hair. The delicate structure of his cheeks and nose, almost elfish in the fine way the bones were set. How his scar split his brow subtly, a shallow pit in his face that she traced with a single finger.

The top of his chest was visible, covered in small scars overshadowed by the long healed injury from his own sword. His most recent markings were pink and puckered, still in the healing process but well enough that he no longer required bandages. She brought her hand to these as well, trying to engrain his body on her fingertips for future knowledge.

Z realized what she had done, a strange mixture of disappointment and amusement boiling in her blood. For surely only her luck would allow resistance to turn into surrender so easily, for her powerful will to be crushed with the gentlest of touches. Now she would never be rid of him. Forget the sin (she was sure God had better things to do than shake his head at two unmarried people in the heat of a moment) they now shared a bond that she knew he would hold dear. And, upon reflection, she cherished it too.

Gently pulling her body forward, careful not to shake the bed and wake him, Z pressed her bare chest to his, brushing their lips together in contentment before burrowing into his neck.

A hand stirred to life on her hip, traveling over the curve in her waist to rest at the base of her neck. Allen reeled her in for another, slower kiss, broken when he yawned. Z wrinkled her nose. Lovers or not, she hated morning breath.

The two exorcists looked at each other for a moment before the young man broke into a shit eating grin. The only place he could've learned that was Lavi…or maybe even Cross.

"You're glowing," he hummed teasingly, kissing her nose. Z huffed. "I don't 'glow'."

"Apparently you do." She huffed again, opting not to fight first thing in the morning. He chuckled, in too good a mood to pursue the conversation further. They were silent, sensing the castle stir to wakefulness around them. Allen made a small noise in the back of his throat, causing Z to look up at him, eyes narrowed.

"What?" He shook his head, still smiling. "I guess I…didn't think you'd still be here when I woke up. It's nice to open my eyes to you."

"It's my room. Shouldn't I have been the worried one?" Allen's arms tightened, eyes intense as they gazed over her head. "No. I wouldn't leave you, Z. Not unless you wanted me to." Something in the way he said it, in the way he held her so close, brought her guilt of previous days back to haunt her. She took a shuttered breath, closing her eyes.

"I'm sorry." She could practically hear him raise an eyebrow. "I didn't hear you. Can you say that again?" Z frowned, pinching the tender flesh of his chest to show her displeasure. He jumped and protested, but she ignored him. "I'm sorry. There." She pried herself from his arms and lifted her sore body off the bed.

As she scooped the nearest article of clothing, Allen's discarded shirt, she heard him sit up to watch her dress. A strange shock of proud embarrassment ran through her as she felt his eyes. "Why?" Pourquoi? He wanted to know why? Z stumbled a bit, trying to sift through her words. "Because…I should've…could've…" she was hoping he would just accept her apology, but no. He wanted more than that. He wanted an explanation. She sighed and averted her eyes from the figure the morning sun was embracing so dearly. Damn him. No one should look like that when they wake up. Like they were just waiting for someone to jump into bed with them. "I don't want you dead, asshole."

"Why?" Bastard. He was enjoying this. Her discomfort, the power he held over her similar to his domination the night before. Not to say she didn't like it. She was quickly becoming aware that it may have been her "kink", being forced into a submissive role that she would never encounter otherwise. To have him guiding her, strong and forceful and…

"It would hurt," Z muttered, face heated from the train of thought she had halted. She turned from the young man lounging on her bed. "It did hurt. It would be better if this never happened. If I ended it before it got any worse." Allen sighed through his nose, sliding off the bed. He hadn't wanted to get up and was sorely disappointed when she had. Her bed was comfortable, the same type of mattress that he was in his room but this one smelled like her. Something feminine and light that he couldn't find anywhere else. He wanted to spend the morning there, her in his arms, napping and talking. Maybe someday they could.

"No. I don't think it would be better." Z shook her head, but didn't ask why. He responded to her unasked question and came to stand behind her after pulling on his discarded pants. "You would still…I would still…need this. Each other." He wrapped his hands around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as her back met his chest.

"Because if we stopped it now we would guarantee pain everyday instead of just chancing it. Then we would know we wouldn't be happy instead of just fearing the possible. Right?" He smiled that smile, the one that could light up rooms and outshine the sun. A smile that caused warmth to pool in her stomach and her body to draw even closer to him. If that was possible; their legs were entangled, her arms resting on his, bodies pressed together.

Z's face twitched into a scowl. "You've…given this some thought, too?" He sighed into her ear. "Of course. I mean, I couldn't just ignore it. But unlike you," he pinched her, payback for the twist she had given his chest. "I tried to think of why we should keep on." Now she smelled like both of them, his shirt and her flesh meeting in the middle.

There was something primal in the draw of her in his clothing, like the second she had pulled her arms through the sleeves she had marked herself as his. Similar to the bruise-like splotches he'd left on her neck and chest, this was another way to mark her as a taken woman.

And although her body language was agreeable, leaning back against him and emitting an irresistible heat, when Allen turned her around to press his lips to her forehead her eyes spoke another tongue altogether. Z was confused and culpable, needing to be with herself in order to sort her thoughts. The young man understood -was a bit disappointed, needed a cold shower- but accepted.

"Take a shower," he mumbled into her temple, "I'll see you at breakfast."

"Happy Christmas Eve's Eve!" Lavi gushed merrily, throwing himself at the table and properly startling Miranda. The jumpy German gave him one of her shaky smiles before returning to her porridge and, like the rest of the Mess Hall, watching the two sitting across the table.

She felt guilty just listening to the rumors surrounding her friends, but without proper information she could hardly question the words being whispered around her. She didn't know what to do, how to deal with the situation other than apologizing. And because Zahara had been both scary and allusive lately, the insomniac was forced to thrust her repentance upon Allen every time she saw him. Although he was constantly assuring her that as long as she didn't partake of the rumor spreading she wasn't to blame, she went running to him whenever she heard his name in the same sentence as Zahara's.

Miranda finally stopped a day earlier, when Lenalee pointed out that the mere mention of Zahara's name caused a strange, almost undetectable wince to appear on his face. Of course she had to apologize for causing him such pain, but she was careful not to mention the rumors again.

So when the two most talked about people walked into the Mess Hall together she was struck silent in apprehension of what could possibly be happening and why and how and….

Oh. This was all so confusing.

Miranda covered her blushing face with a shaky hand, her friends left to wonder if they should offer comfort or if this was just another one of her episodes. They voted the latter when the woman nearly fainted as the dramatically discussed couple sat directly across from her, not touching but sitting close enough for Z to hold the hand not shoveling food. Of course Miranda had noticed this nearly a month ago. She knew that something was going on with them way before anyone else, but she was afraid to point it out lest she accidentally lie.

"We should meet in the library later guys," Lenalee was saying, a hand rubbing Miranda's back in the wake of this internal conflict. "They lit the fireplace. We can roast chestnuts and tell stories. We could probably ask Jerry to make us some cocoa too!" The Chinese girl made eye contact with Allen, her eyes flickering to Z and back again without her realizing it. There was a weary question hovering in the air, one not completely covered by her accommodating face.

Allen smiled indulgently, squeezing Z's hand for no particular reason. Like he was just glad she was there. Z looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, relishing in the little burst of warmth in her chest. "That sounds like fun, Lenalee. Do you think he'd be willing to bring cookies too?" Z rolled her eyes but there was a faint smile on her face. He knew how she loved cookies. "Ginger bread would be nice. And proper for the holiday, right?" After Z's long silence, the table seemed shocked she had spoken so easily, a certain glow about her person and the shadows on her face much lighter. Lenalee smiled at her friend, glad that her sadness had finally come to an end and she was regaining her appetite.

"So you guys make-up, or what?" A pin was heard falling to the floor, Lavi's statement classic for his personality; dead serious and direct, but somehow spoken lightly. A glittering green eye inspected the two with increasing curiosity, making Z weary of this situation ending up in a book of some sort. Judging by the twitch under Allen's smile and the pause of spoon to mouth motions, he was thinking something similar. This moment felt broadcast throughout the room.

"Yes."

"You could say that." The cafeteria took a breath. Lavi grinned that same shit eating grin that had made Z want to hit Allen not two hours before. "So you guys made the beast with two backs? Make-up sex is the best, right?" Allen froze, so much red on his face he looked to be an aspiring lobster. The spoon fell from his fingers and landed in his glass of water as spasms racked his body and his breaths became little more than little squeaks of disbelief. He was clearly trying to reprimand Lavi for such (true) insinuations but couldn't get over his own shock and embarrassment.

Z, unfortunately for Lavi, was not as affected.

Somewhere between her leaping across the table and delivering devastating fists to his face and body, he was heard crying out "worth it!" Everyone could agree the shriek of this attrition victory was after she had grabbed him by the collar, in middle of her throwing him across the room, but before she attempted to brain him with a pineapple. It was at this point Allen tried to break them up and received a prickly fruit to the face.