Euthanasia, a d.gray-man fanfic

Disclaimer:
I do not own D-Grayman, which is the rightful property of Hoshino Katsura.

Author's Note:
Sad thing is, this isn't the most heartbreaking story I've ever written.
Written all in two sittings, because this kinda inevitable scene has been haunting me for some time.

"Promise me. Please."

It shattered. The silence broke, that was the only way to describe it. One minute it was there, the shining, untarnished thing; the next it was broken, exploding outwards, like the shards of the windows as they blasted apart, the fragmented pieces falling, clattering like rain. Only instead of pouring down life and washing away sins in a sort of baptismal spell, they just littered the ground; glittering in a deadly carpet. The akuma shrieked, one after another, disintegrating. And Kanda didn't care.

He could hear Lenalee shrieking. Lavi's hammer as it smashed through brick and cement, pulverizing the stone, the turrets, their enemies. An ambush, on their headquarters. Again.

They had seen this coming for a long time. They'd prepared. They'd known that the time would come when the Earl would decide to eliminate the problem from its source. They'd known their home would be targeted, because it was only logical.

Mugen sliced clean through another Level Three. This one's skin had been a bit troublesome, but by then, Kanda had taken on too much for this to slow him down. Mechanically, he switched his blade's angle, pushing off the quickly disintegrating carcass. He plowed straight into three more that had been waiting behind his back, Mugen already poised to skewer them, his shoulders and back taking the brunt of the trauma as he rammed through each in turn. Debris, mechanical parts, and whatever their equivalent of blood was rained down on him. Black stars started to form, as the poison of their blood spread, and was just as quickly wiped away.

There had been a time when Kanda wouldn't have played so recklessly with his life; a time when he wouldn't have considered gambling away the dwindling petals of his curse.

Those times had come and died.

Seeing a small flood of akuma behind him, attempting to blast open the heavy doors, Kanda tightened his hold on Mugen, invoking once more as he went, still in free fall.

Hell's insects shot in and out of the horde; leaving a trail of destruction wherever they touched black flesh. Blast marks scorched the walls and ground as the akuma exploded in violent chain reactions, the wind of their departures whipping his hair across his eyes. And Kanda didn't even stop to pay attention to the results of his work. He was already plowing into the next thing to pop up in his field of vision, Mugen poised to cut.

They'd all been preparing for this for months. They all knew what to do; their watches were all synched, their minds all coordinated to the plan they'd set up in defense. But just because their minds were coordinated didn't mean their minds agreed. They took care of that as much as possible however. Keeping busy prevented them from thinking too deeply into their task; the grunt work they were performing now with these nameless Level Twos and Threes were nothing compared to their masters. They all avoided thinking too much ahead.

And then that was all shot to hell.

Beside him, Kanda heard the voices of the Finders as a few of their number screamed; suddenly panicked. What could possibly set them off, Kanda thought, irked, cutting away still more of the hordes that threatened to overwhelm them by their sheer numbers. And then he heard it. Lenalee's voice.

"Allen!"

His insides turned to stone. A long distance away from him, he heard Miranda too, and Lavi both calling out the same thing. Then Crowley. Then Marie. Then…

His head turned, blood and flying strands of hair blurring his vision. Perched on top of the moonlit turret of what once was an observation tower was a familiar silhouette. Flyaway silver hair tossed gently in the blackness; whipped into a snowy halo by the winds of high altitude.

And suddenly it was all forgotten. The carefully made plans, the strict, angry orders, the thousands of people all melting in blurs of motion around him. Kanda didn't need Lenalee's boots to start running faster than the wind blowing past his suddenly deaf ears. All the noises of carnage had suddenly fallen away. All he heard was his voice again, tearstained, pleading.

"Promise me…"

Silver eyes locked with his, as slender, shaky fingers clenched tight onto his arm. Allen was fierce, resolved, determined… even in his worst moment of weakness. Even with his taut shoulders trembling in Kanda's hold, with his voice set on breaking.

"Promise that you won't let him get to me."

He deftly twisted away from a flailing claw, aimed straight for his head. Kanda ran, pulse pounding, eliminating the unearthly shriek of pain echoing from behind him as the Level Two disappeared into the rent air, to join all the other damned souls that he'd freed...

"Just… promise. When the time comes, and he takes over…"

His two feet landed heavily on the roof, and he dug his heels in to keep from sliding. Kanda ignored the calls from behind him, was mindless of his comrades telling him to fall back, to get the hell away Kanda, what fuck do you think you're doing? He was blind to everything. Everything but that slender, familiar frame, with its smooth skin colored all wrong, tinged eight shades too dark; an unfamiliar smoky gray.

"…kill me."

He bit his lip and tasted blood for the first time. He continued ascending, gaining, pounding up and up the treacherous tar; angling himself so that he would charge the figure from behind. Three of his fingers were broken; it slackened his grip on his sword. Kanda deftly clenched the hilt even tighter; ignoring the acute pain where his knuckles had gone white with strain.

"Don't let me hurt anyone else."

His teeth ground together, like marble slabs, in danger of cracking. He was almost there… Almost… Kanda readied himself to make the blow. It was at that crucial moment when his blade neared him however, that the figure turned. Amber eyes greeted his, instead of the cool, metallic silver he'd been expecting. There were a line of black crosses etched deeply across his forehead, partially obscured by his fair locks of hair. The face was blank, calmly observing Kanda as he bore down on him with the blade, intent on killing him. Something in that expression broke him.

Mugen's blade stopped an inch from his throat, the Innocence humming, sparking from such close proximity to a Noah. Allen (could he still be called Allen anymore?) stared at him with unnerving eyes; alien, both distant and cold. And then a cruel smile split his face in half and made it into a mask.

"What's the matter Exorcist?" the voice hissed, laughing softly. His voice was all wrong too; too warped, like a double treble. The Noah delicately touched its fingers (Allen's fingers) to the blade and ran it along the metal, chuckling when his skin blistered violently and burned on contact.

Madness. This was madness. What the hell was he doing? Kanda's muscles screamed at him, pushing him to make a move. What was he waiting for? His blade was right there.

And still…

The Noah got halfway down the cutting edge before he stopped, leaning his head against the cold steel, which sparked menacingly at his touch.

"What's taking so long?" it whispered, its eyelids lowering seductively.

"Can't make yourself do it?"

Kanda's hands shook, and he was instantly disgusted with himself for it. Ignoring the sardonic, mocking, golden eyes, he took a sharp, hissing breath and schooled his face into impassiveness; edging his grip closer to the guard as he eyed the exposed jugular of the Noah. Just one twitch…

"Do it, Kanda. I dare you to." Another deranged smile lit across the face he knew so well. "It would make him so very happy..."

Kanda's fingers twitched, even as something in the back of his head buzzed at him.

Him? What was it talking ab—

And then he froze. Something in the Noah's eyes had flickered as it spoke. Wordless, Kanda stared down into the amber irises, watching for the change… and then it happened. The yellowish-gold had lightened, cooled, and softened into a paler hue. The pupils had dilated. Slowly… Flickering. Once. Twice. And then, in a flutter of snow-stained lashes, all the glittering, majestic gold was gone, only to be replaced with his tarnished, natural silver; clear, mirror-like, entrancing.

"Allen…" Kanda breathed, grip slackening. Reality slipped even further away. Here was the dream… the nightmare…he'd been waiting for.

Allen, his Allen, looked at him, confused at first. Disorientated. But it didn't matter because this was Allen, not that ghoulish double of him, not that Noah that had leeched away all his persona and left only an empty shell…

Unthinkingly he reached out with his other hand, and touched the soft, marble-still cheek. Still the same. If he just ignored the color…

And then Allen's eyes finally widened, terrified, as he realized what was happening. His head swiveled, taking in first the battle raging below them, then the Headquarters, with half its' wings blown to rubble, and then finally, Mugen, poised menacingly next to his throat. Kanda saw his mind working furiously behind those wintry, haunted eyes.

Then they turned onto him.

The memory passed the air between them like an electric current.

Slowly, Allen placed his hand on Kanda's wrist, and lowered it away from his face. He didn't break eye contact. They both knew what he was going to ask. Kanda felt all the nerve endings in the hand being held petrify, turn to stone. As if to fight that, he held on tighter, trying to get a grip on this illusion, to catch it by the hand, to keep it from slipping further away…

"Kill me Kanda," Allen whispered, and slowly, his fingers slipped out of the others grip, one by one.

…again.

And Kanda knew then, what he knew all those weeks ago, when he was first asked to do this; when he was first presented with the decision to execute the light of his world. The reason behind his crumbling, stone-like front, the chips rent in his broken values, his code of indifference, now in complete shambles.

Kanda knew he couldn't.

"No," he said almost inaudibly.

No. Don't ask this of me, damn it. He was still looking into that small coin of a face as he said it, ignoring the crucifixes carved into his forehead… Ignoring the skin that was the wrong color, the antagonistic humming of his Innocence, warning him to kill, kill, kill…

"No."

Something crumbled inside his chest; something that he'd hardened since the day the younger left. Something that went missing since the day the death sentence was placed on the other's head; since the day since he'd known this moment would be coming…

Don't do this to me.

His eyes silently took in the frost-white fall of the other's hair; took in the slender lines that made up his silhouette. Took in the shadows that fell across his face, and the moonlight that lined the hollow of his throat.

Don't make me lose this, he thought, even as he felt himself lowering his sword; even as, with the action, he knew that he was condemning his side to death. Dooming himself… dooming Allen…

And God, he thought dully. Was it wrong that he didn't care anymore? The sword clinked gently, its tip falling against the terra cotta at their feet. He was human. He'd known all along that Allen had asked the wrong person to do this. This one, last favor, which he would never be able to uphold...

Kanda was going to fail him. He was going to fail everyone. He was going to doom the world to one more Noah, and leave one of their enemies on the loose; one more pawn for the Earl's sick, twisted game, one more hand by which to die by…

Allen's eyes watched as the humming metal fell, fell away from his throat, and then he looked right into Kanda's face. Kanda's throat hardened. He couldn't lose it. His silence, his refusal, his composure; that was all he had left. But then, like an idiot, he took one look into Allen's face. Tears were falling from Allen's eyes. And then, his tears came too.

Fuck.

One drop. Two. Splashed on the roof under their feet, leaving dark circles soaked into the tiles.

Allen wasn't looking away; his smile had broken, shattered, fractured into too many ill-fitting parts; unable to be hastily pieced together. Because, hell, where was the point in smiling anymore? They were damned. They were all damned. Marked for death.

All because of—

And then it happened.

An explosion, right where they were standing. It happened so fast, Kanda barely had a chance to see it and move his feet before the roof was blasted away. He lighted heavily down, skidding towards the edge of the roof as the blast tore his hair back and stung in his wounds. More fresh scratches to add to his list of problems. But that wasn't the worst of it. He looked around and immediately noticed it.

Where was Allen?

Kanda's head spun, the world tilting forty-five degrees the wrong way. Shaking, he put a hand to his forehead and it came away red. Roughly, he shook the dizziness away, because there wasn't time for that now, Goddamn it.

Where was he?

Kanda took one step forward, and then he saw it in splintered half-seconds; a flash of long, red hair, a tornado of black butterflies, a hammer, breaking the roof in half, a cackle as a large, white-haired something swooped past. An arching spray of wine-dark blood.

"GENERAL CROSS!!!"

The cry from below rang in his ears. Sounds from the outside world started spilling back in. Kanda's feet had moved of its own accord; dodging him around the explosion of projectiles as all hell broke loose.

Now, he took back full control of his body; ignoring Lavi's furious battle with the Noah of Pleasure, ignoring the hailstorm of debris slicing open the back of his uniform. In front of him, General Cross Marian crouched panting; his long black overcoat covering what obviously looked to be a critical wound. The scarlet spread all the way down his front, from his collarbone to his hip. What visible tears that showed whenever he shook and his coat parted looked wicked.

"Damned apprentice," the man growled, blood staining his teeth. The rectangular frames of his glasses were cracked on one side, spider web shattered. His gun was still smoking. Kanda could only follow his gaze to the top of the turret next to them, where another familiar sight stood.

Innocence that shouldn't have still been working swept languidly across the roof tiles, leaving shallow furrows. The white cloak and chrome mask of Crowned Clown looked completely out of place on a Noah; the manic, lazy smile was wrong on the boy's face.

"Hm." The Fourteenth raised his left claw and examined the blood trickling down the tips. "It appears that I missed... I meant to slice you in half, General. My apologies."

"Bastard," Kanda spat, hot fury lining his face, radiating off his blade. Deadly, undiluted rage crackled right off of him. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HIS BODY."

Seeing that smile, on his face, after what just happened… Having him slip away again, losing him in a split second, when all it took was a fanciful whim of the Noah's to allow his persona to peek out, before shutting it away…

Kanda lost it. Big time.

He threw himself at the Noah, flying across a dead drop that would've meant a broken spine, with Mugen raised, planning to injure him, injure him badly enough for the Noah to retreat, and then maybe they would think up a plan, and Komui or Bak would find a way to siphon it out, and maybe he'd get him back, for just an instant, one last time…

His blade clashed with the Fourteenth's claw, the screaming of sliding metal tearing and twisting in his eardrums. The Noah smiled, holding him off with barely a twist of his wrist, pushing his balance askew as he planted his feet on the awkward angle of the roof.

"You had your chance," it said, coldly. Amused.

He stopped burning. All the rage in Kanda cooled, cooled and solidified. He was cold now. Cold as a frozen lake.

"You are going to die," he said quietly, rationally. "You are going to get the fuck out of his body, and you are going to stay out, and you are going to watch as I cut you in half and fucking enjoy it."

The Musician stared at him. And then he threw back his head and laughed, wildly, hysterically; the deranged cacophany sounding harsh and unnatural coming from Allen's throat.

"KILL ME?" It cackled, pushing him further back. He shifted his footing, least he twist both ankles. "KILL ME?" it repeated, eyes wild. "You bloody FOOL, you think you can kill me!!? He is me!!! There IS no one to save!!!"

The coldness in Kanda radiated outwards, spread across his chest, into his hands. Mugen froze as the hands holding it froze, the owner stone still, face expressionless.

"KILL ME," it continued, still laughing. Below he heard a few akuma join in, as they obliterated a few more soldiers, a few more to die for their cause, fighting for their hopeless, doomed futures. Jasdevi, the twin Noahs, were laughing too; shrilly, their guns only adding to the mayhem. If he listened hard, Kanda could even hear Road Camelot's high, tinkling laughter; a child's laugh, macabre and twisted in this nightmare of his. Kanda had almost forgotten what was at stake, and he hated himself for it.

Abruptly, the laughter cut off.

"Kill me…" the Musician mused, seriously. "You're fighting for a lost cause, boy." It smiled again, sardonically. "I've seen you try. It's not happening. I'm going to live, Exorcist," he said, still smiling twistedly as Kanda's sword swung for his neck, "because I know that you can't bring yourself to kill this."

A flicker. Kanda's sword was fast, but the switch was faster. He tried, he made himself keep going for it, but then Mugen stopped dead, pressed against Allen's throat, a thin line of red already forming. His arms twitched, straining, hardening, trying to keep still. Tears now, carving down that ashy cheek; silver eyes, the face he loved; trapped in a Noah's body. Hopeless, still loving, still begging him, even now, to free him.

"Please." Allen whispered, crying freely. His voice broke, the metal cutting faintly into his skin. The line of red deepened, trickled down his throat. Every muscle in Kanda's body was turned to stone, was set on fire, was frozen fast, was melting…

"Please," Allen sobbed, breaking down, and with the close proximity of their faces; with the soft, warm breath brushing against his neck... with the emotion scaling up the air around them until he couldn't breathe, it was so easy for Kanda to pretend that it was just the two of them.

Kanda made himself do it. He made himself look into those mirror-eyes, made himself push forward with his sword, found that he couldn't.

He couldn't.

And then the moment was gone. He was thrown backwards, falling off the roof, falling through thin air, falling…

A second passed and then he was slammed hard into Lavi, on his hammer, feeling the give of solid flesh and the pop of a socket. He was sure he'd twisted Lavi's shoulder, by the feel of it, as they both crashed into a roof, tile dust falling in clouds around them. Thirty feet above, he heard the sound of the akuma retreating, the sound of the Dreams of Noah's door opening in the air. He opened his eyes, and past the debris, past the splintered roof and the chaos of the aftermath… he could see the flash of white hair turning around, and walking away, following their enemies into the door, waiting to swallow them up.

At the last possible second, the Noah turned, and locked eyes with Kanda; still bleeding, with three broken ribs and a hole where his heart should've been, in the ruins.

And for a second, it looked regretful.

"Nice try," the Fourteenth whispered, before stepping through the burning smoke wreathing the crescent moon, and disappearing from sight.

Blood. It rained down from the window. Just a few drops, a splatter pattern, mingling with the glass. Beads of red, a few of which blackened, unnaturally, and disappeared in a wisp in time to the cacophony that died down now, from when it first blasted apart the air. Shifting glass, tearless sobs, torn from multiple throats; tears staining a flock of mourning eyes, rising to the night sky. The sound of another chance, slipping away, like the tendrils of smoke choking in the still air. The sounds that make up the fragmented beats of a broken heart, a prayer that's not possible to answer.