Fandom: D.Gray-Man and 07 Ghost crossover
Genres: Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Action
Summary: Non-Innocence user Allen Walker works as a part time chef in the Black Order, feeling useless in the bloody war. In an unexpected dream, why does that jade eyed boy seem so familiar? Who can he trust and who are really his enemies? Soon, the wheels of fate begin to turn and nightmares slowly haunt reality..
Warnings/Disclaimer: I do not own D.Gray-Man or 07 Ghost, rated T for blood/violence, this is a crossover fic but it focuses mainly on the D.Gray-Man world, OOCness may occur
Notes: My first ever fanfic! Well, techniaclly it's my third...*cough* nevermindaboutthat! The idea was stuck in my head for nearly a year and this chaoter was completely rewritten four whole times *eye twitches* Anyway, constructive/random comments are more than welcome and please enjoy!
Alternative source: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7426829/1/Wi
A deafening gunshot shot rang out clearly and as abruptly as it has started, the fight was over.
Cross Marian leapt down nimbly from his perch on the rooftop with practised agility. He readjusted his pale white mask before strolling leisurely towards the dead Akuma lying on the street. In the flickering moonlight, his silver revolver gleamed and thin wafts of grey smoke trailed from the gun's entrance.
The elite General paused in front of the lifeless corpse and stood there for a few seconds, his eyes shrewd and calculating. Satisfied, he turned away to leave. As soon as Cross' back was turned, the Akuma twitched violently and a scaly arm shot out towards its unsuspecting victim, poised to kill-
A sharp knife sliced itself through the air from the middle of nowhere, as if it has been flung by a ghost. With deadly precision, the weapon stabbed the Akuma in the centre of its slimy forehead. The sheer force of the throw drove the icy steel blade deep into the tender flesh until only the black handle was visible. Blood sprayed everywhere in thick waves and the cobbled street was splashed in pools of deep crimson. Enraged, the Akuma let loose a bloodcurdling roar before the last remains of its energy drained away. It collapsed to the floor with a loud thud and Cross calmly stepped to one side before he was crushed under the sheer weight. The deformed corpse began to gradually glow a soft white before exploding into thousands of shards of gold dust.
Cross pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his long coat and lit one with a metal lighter. As the General inhaled the familiar scent of nicotine, he watched the last specks of glittering dust fade into the darkness of the night.
He was well aware of the fact that he wasn't alone yet he didn't even attempt to turn his head to face his potentially dangerous companion. No one could throw a blade with such ease and inhuman accuracy from a far distance without being labelled as at least a threat. Instead, Cross began to harshly criticise the hidden stranger with his usual bored expression.
"Your reaction time was far too slow, idiot. That fucking monster's arm was five and a half centimetres away from my neck. One centimetre closer and I would have made you wish you were that dead corpse. Your aim was too far left too. Damn brat, training's over for today."
No response was given to this rant but Cross wasn't expecting one to begin with. Now that his job was over, he turned to return to the guesthouse when he was met by an all too familiar scene.
The commotion caused by the fight has awoken what seemed to be half of the village. Despite it being past godamn two in the night (from what Cross could read it the darkness from the old cock tower), their curiosity has overcome their sleep (and common sense) as decided to watch the General fight from a safe distance, never mind the fact that they could have gotten themselves seriously injured or killed. Now that the danger has subsided, the small crowd emerged from their hiding places and immediately broke into enthusiastic applause and cheers. Cross let out a groan- not that he minded the attention, especially since a few pretty village girls were shyly peering at him, but fuck he really needed to sleep. Preferably now.
A short pudgy man stumbled forwards, Cross' sharp gaze observing that his nightwear was far finer than the other villagers- he wore a silk teal green nightdress with a thick fur coat hastily thrown on top to keep warm. His eyes were wide in delight and he gave a nervous cough before quickly breaking into a long winded speech, "Oh great exorcist General of the esteemed Black Priests, with your great courage and power, you have freed us of the nightmare that has plaguing this village for too long. As the mayor elected by the people-"
"Yeah, yeah, get to the point." Cross waved his hand lazily with a deadpan expression.
The mayor hesitated before humbly asking, "Is…is there anything we can do to offer our thanks?"
With baited breath, the crowd watched as Cross raised his cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply. A smirk slowly played on his lips and all traces of tiredness fell from his face. For the first time in his life, a sense of deep foreboding struck the village mayor as the esteemed general asked as innocently as a newborn devil, "Well, there is one small favour you could do for me…"
As the crowds slowly wandered off, a figure stepped out from the darkness of a narrow alleyway. His face was obscured by a hood, masking his expression and identity. A dusty brown cloak well worn from use was wrapped loosely around his body. Although it hid his clothes, it was still clear from his small frame and height that he was young, probably nine years old. Like a shadow, the boy flitted over and in less than a second, the knife laying on the street a metre away was now tucked away into his clothing. Glancing around, he caught sight of the last stragglers of the crowd leaving and he followed them from a safe distance.
After a few streets of walking, the boy found himself at the wooden brown door of the local tavern. He pushed open the chipped door knob and slipped inside. Luckily, no one noticed- the young boy had troubles in the past with being kicked out of pubs, although he had no idea why. The tavern was well lit with amber lighting, matching the cosiness of the roaring fire in a stone fireplace. The warmth seeped into the boy's chilled hands and his body soon forgot the icy coldness outside. The boy walked around the sides of the room, his eyes methodically scanning past the drunken men as he searched for any signs of his master.
It didn't take long to find him- Cross Marian has a skill for being the centre of attention. He was relaxing on a cushioned sofa, with one arm slung around a blushing woman and the other holding a glass of expensive red wine. Several empty wine bottles were littered on a table to his right and he downed the intoxicant with inhuman speed, as if it was mere water. The mayor was slumped in a chair in front of the counter, tears streaming down his face as he helplessly counted the growing pile of bills. The boy waited silently by the side, observing his master chat up the beautiful maiden with the charm of a professional host.
Out of the blue, a painted rouge fingernail tapped the boy curiously on the shoulder. He turned to face a heavily perfumed lady in tight clothes that displayed her smooth legs. As his head moved the boy's head accidently fell, revealing his fair face, mousy brown hair and dull grey eyes. The lady let out a high pitched squeal and gushed excitedly, "You're so cute! What's your name, little darling?"
"Oh my, you're a shy one, aren't you? Oh, do you want some yummy cake? Or maybe some sweets, honey?"
"Allen," Cross interrupted, having watched the whole scene with a frown. Upon being addressed directly, the boy automatically faced Cross with a face as blank as a robot. Cross inwardly sighed before bluntly commanding, "Go and pack your things, brat. We're leaving tomorrow morning."
"…yes master," Allen quietly replied, his voice barely audible above the din of the tavern. As silent as a mouse, he left the building to obediently carry out Cross' instructions. The perfumed lady pouted at her prey escaping and wandered away for another drink. Cross' maiden by his arm excused herself for the night, apologising profusely with a pleasant pink tinge to her cheeks. Left all alone with only his beloved wine for company (never mind the fact that the pub was still half full of people), the exorcist General began to ponder.
It had been nearly five years since he'd taken in that brat. Five damn years of travelling all over the world to shake off their pursuers, five damn years of playing babysitting, of raising a kid who was completely emotionless when Cross has first found him…completely broken…
And the brat had hardly changed at all.
Sure, Allen has grown physically and Cross put him though a training schedule that would put the military to shame. At the age of only 9, the boy's strength, speed and agility were higher than most grown adult men- Cross had made sure of that. No, it was his mentality that was the problem.
Allen couldn't interact with people. He hardly spoke, only using his voice when absolutely necessary or to respond to Cross. He kept to himself as much as possible and hated human contact. He was completely empty, like a glass vial waiting to be shattered. Not that Cross could blame him after all the kid had been through. But how many more years would it take for Allen to open up? Because of their constant travelling combined with Cross' duties as a general, there was never enough time for Allen to settle and make friends, despite Cross' best efforts.
What Allen needed in his growing state was somewhere he could stay for a long period of time, somewhere where he would be safe from their pursuers, somewhere he could be loved and learn to call home…
Damn it, he was getting too sentimental. His index finger traced the rim of his wine glass and a thoughtful hum escaped the General's lips. He had made his decision.
It was time about time he paid a visit to the Black Order.
A week later, the pair was standing outside the entrance of the Order as the grey heavens lashed out pails of rain. Allen clutched his small leather suitcase tightly; all of his worldly belongings were packed neatly inside. The young boy didn't know what business his master had planned in the eerie building located on the peak of a spindly cliff. They had visited far stranger places on their travels though so Allen wasn't concerned. He shivered slightly as the merciless downpour showed no signs of yielding; if anything it seemed to be raining heavier than before.
"Typical British weather," Cross grumbled to himself, noting Allen's trembling figure out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly, a black golem shot out before them and hovered in front of the two visitors with its devil shaped wings. Cross returned its ogling stare with an irritated glare of his own. "Komui Lee, you've been keeping us out here in this freezing rain for fifteen bloody minutes, so would you mind please opening the fucking door?"
There was a shocked silence before a familiar static filled voice crackled from the golem, "…General Marian Cross? Is that really you? Everyone thought you were dead-"
"Just open the damn door already!" Cross roared, a vein throbbing dangerously on his forehead. Next to the general, Allen sneezed lightly before clinging onto his thin cloak with renewed fervour. Cross frowned and opened his mouth, but his speech was cut off by the screeching sound of the iron doors swinging open.
"Finally..." Cross muttered, stepping inside into the main entrance hall of the Black Order. Allen followed behind the general and quietly watched as the taller man stripped off his decorative coat. Cross hung his wet garment on one of the many warm heaters lining the room and gestured to Allen to do the same. Wooden shelves were stacked with neat piles of folded towels and there was a sack already half full of used towels- clearly, it was a common occurrence here to get caught in bad weather.
Grabbing a towel, Cross dried off his fiery red hair with the soft, fluffy material. Seeing that Allen had finally struggled out of his sopping wet cloak, Cross took the cloak from the boy to dry and flung a towel at him. "Dry your hair properly, damn brat. I won't babysit you if you catch a bloody cold."
As soon as the words left his mouth, a steel door slammed open from the far end of the hall and a man rushed forward towards them. He was Chinese, with oriental eyes and shoulder length purple hair that was covered by a strange white cap. His glasses were slightly askew and when he reached the pair, he stared at the General with his mouth hanging open.
"It's you! It's really you! This is so great! Where have you been for the last five years? The whole Order thought you had died since you were missing for so long and we've being trying for ages to contact you-"
For the second time that day, Allen sneezed before he carried on drying his hair meekly. Komui's attention was drawn to the small boy and a manic grin appeared on his face. "Oh…ooohhh I see now. Ha ha ha! You're shyer than you appear, General!"
"What the hell?"
"The Order is very understanding so you didn't need to avoid us for five years just because you got an illegitimate child-"
"Idiot, he's not my kid."
Komui smiled kindly at Allen. "Let's get you in some dry clothes before you fall ill." Cupping his hands around his mouth, Komui called loudly in a sugar laden voice, "Le~na~lee~ darling~!"
A few seconds later an eight year old girl skipped down the corridor in a frilled rose dress. Her short hair was tied up into two cute pigtails and her eyes were a sparkling shade of violet. As soon as she saw that Komui had company, Lenalee squeaked in surprise and hid behind her older brother.
"It's okay, Lenalee. They're not bad people," Komui comforted while patting his sister gently on the head. "Could you take this boy to the clothes room to find some dry clothes for him, please?"
Peering curiously from behind Komui's white coat, Lenalee gazed at Allen before breaking into a smile. She grabbed his small hand and lead him out of the hall, chatting animatedly to her possible new friend. Allen didn't attempt to resist and let the younger girl drag him off.
The two men waited for them to leave before Komui finally broke the silence. "General Cross, where were you for the past five years?"
"That's not important," Cross brushed off the important question. He grudgingly knew he'd have to make up an excuse at some point in time but he had more important matters to take care of first. "I need you to do something for me."
Knowing it wasn't in his place to press any further, Komui reluctantly let the matter slide…for now. Wait, Cross was actually asking for something? The wine bills from before Cross left the Order still made Komui wince…
"It's not about alcohol, idiot," Cross said, rolling his eyes as the Chinese man sighed in relief. "I want the Order to take in the brat you saw just now. His name's Allen Walker."
Komui raised an eyebrow at the unusual request. "Take care of? As in, raise him up and look after him?"
"Can he use Innocence?"
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Komui took a deep breath. "…General Cross Marian, regardless of your high position, we are in the middle of a war and the Black Order is not an orphanage-"
Cross raised his hand and stated, "He's my apprentice." Noticing Komui's incredulous look, the general quickly carried on, "Hey, there's no rule saying a non-Innocence user can't become an apprentice. If you take care of him, I'll visit the Order every two months."
Komui's jaw dropped at the last statement. Every. Two. Months. He could already imagine all the paperwork and hassle he would be saved from if the General visited the Order regularly like he was supposed to, instead of vanishing for long periods of time with no methods of contacting him. And less paperwork meant more time could be spent perfecting his robots and more quality time with his precious Lenalee. But…Komui frowned lightly. Why was the aloof and distant Cross Marian going so far for this boy?
"Do we have a deal?" Cross asked, his gaze boring into Komui's eyes.
There had to be some sort of trap. This was far too simple.
As Cross knowingly smirked and they shook hands, a thought nagged at the back of Komui's mind.
Allen Walker…to mean this much to Cross Marian…who exactly are you?