Title: With These Broken Wings Chapter 2
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: Sorry to any Kanda fans for making him a bully. Is he too OOC? :/
Alternative source: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7426829/2/Wi
5 years later…
Allen was alone.
In a suffocating blanket of darkness, his ashen eyes could barely make out the path before him. Cobbled slabs of bricks were overlapped clumsily and its cold exterior sent shockwaves through Allen’s bare feet. The road was crumbling on the edges, fistfuls of rock falling silently into and abyss of gloomy black. The same black swirled around in a heavy fog across the skies above and mercilessly trapped Allen. Still, even in this foreboding scenery, Allen kept on walking.
“Don’t stop walking, Allen.”
He could still hear a voice in his faded memories murmuring that precious sentence. A warm, kind, gentle voice that was deep and loving, yet those words held an undercurrent of urgency. Why? Why couldn’t Allen remember who that person was, when those four single words had given him strength in the hardest of times? Clenching his fists, he concentrated instead on placing one foot in front of the other, one, two, one, two-
Suddenly, Allen tripped and gravity grabbed him down to the rough floor. Sandy grit scraped his face and left raw tracks of bruises on Allen’s pale skin. All injuries were left unnoticed, though, when Allen stared at transfixed horror at what had caused his fall.
A dead body.
With limbs splayed at unnatural angles, the corpse gazed back at Allen with glassy brown eyes, like a broken plastic doll. Fresh blood was still flowing from a deep gash in the man’s skull and pooled around his matted hair. He was young, probably once called handsome, but it was difficult to tell from what was left of his smashed face.
Trembling violently, Allen staggered to his feet, his knees threatening to collapse at any moment. He kept his eyes fixed to the corpse and took a trembling step backwards, only to have his escape route blocked. The boy spun around and saw another dead body crumpled on the floor, its wounds also fresh but this time it had a sword impaled into its guts. Feeling nauseous, Allen turned and saw a young girl with an amputated leg, a soldier with a barely attached arm, an elderly lady pockmarked with arrows…all of them bathing in a sea of crimson, all of them staring at him.
Allen felt a sticky dripping from his hands. He raised them to his face to inspect- they were smothered in dark red blood…had he killed these people? Was he a murderer?
Terror rose inside him like poison filling a vial and Allen bolted, not caring which direction he was going as long as he could flee from those accusing lifeless eyes. A pair of icy lilac eyes filled his vision and a searing pain dug deeply into his left arm, making him cry out in pure agony, begging for it to stop-
With a breathless gasp, Allen shot up in his bed. He sat there wide eyed, instinctively clutching his left arm in a protective grip. Images of the dead corpses flashed through his mind like a fast forwarded video clip and he could still see crimson blood staining his vision. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal and Allen realised he was safe in his bedroom, with no mutilated bodies littering his tidy floor.
It was just a dream.
More like a nightmare, a voice mocked inside Allen’s head but he ignored it. Sighing deeply, he let his body fall back into his springy mattress. Snuggling into his feathery pillow, Allen let the heavenly duvets envelope his shoulders like soft, fluffy clouds. Seriously, the Order knew how to choose their bed ware. His eyelids began to droop and the last thing his fuzzy mind processed was his bedside clock sitting innocently on the table…
Holy crap, he was late! No, no, no, fucking no! Allen threw aside his blanket and leapt out of bed- only to trip over a chair leg. He hopped around frantically on one foot, a string of colourful words slipping out of his mouth.
Allen could have sworn he could hear someone sniggering in amusement…Lavi must have rigged his room again. Damn it, that could wait until later!
With gritted teeth, Allen ignored his throbbing foot and strode over to his mahogany wardrobe. He flung open the wooden doors and grabbed the first outfit he saw, a long sleeve collared shirt and a pair of black slacks. Glancing at the clock, Allen swore again and rushed into his small private bathroom. Late or not, there was no way in hell he was leaving without having washed.
Under the steel showerhead, Allen resisted the urge to relax and take his time in the therapeutic hot water. Instead, he snatched a bar of honeydew soap from a stand and began to scrub his body vigorously, albeit more carefully on his left arm. Allen spun the water tap to let the water wash away the golden yellow soap bubbles. As soon as the last traces of soap disappeared, he cut off the water and stepped out of the shower in a cloud of warm mist.
A few minutes of frantic changing later, Allen halted before his mirror to check his appearance before leaving. His hair fell to his shoulders in damp locks, framing his flat grey eyes and dripping droplets of water. The mousy brown colour had always seemed out of place to Allen against his milky white skin, but he couldn’t place his finger on why. He brushed aside a few stray strands and inspected his fourteen year old face with a frown…something was missing…
Ah, yes. How could he forget? From a small wooden box, a long red ribbon was pulled out. Allen gently looped the silky fabric under his crisp white collar and pulled it into a secure knot. Perfect.
You’re going to be late.
Allen snapped out of his momentary stupor and rushed towards the door to exit. As his hand reached towards the brass doorknob, Allen let his eyes flicker towards his bedside clock. 9:15 am. He paused to think. If he took the normal route it would take at least five minutes since the Order was so annoyingly large, fifteen if he met any Finders on the corridors and would be forced into exchanging pleasantries, and his shift had already started twenty minutes ago…
Oh screw this- he was taking the shortcut.
Allen slid his window open, the aqua panels shimmering in the morning light like water on a pond’s surface. He perched his body on the ledge, felt the cool breeze ruffle his hair and jumped.
His feet softly landed on the slate roof under his window, the impact muffled and barely audible. With a deep breath, Allen began to sprint across the rooftops of the Black Order, each footstep as light as a feather. The route was mapped out clearly in his mind- he knew the rooftops like his own backyard (not that he had one). Built up adrenaline coursed through Allen’s veins like electricity charging a circuit. He leapt across another gap, hoping no one would see him. Answering why he was currently acting like a ninja in a movie would be awkward to answer, to put it lightly.
It took Allen only half a minute to reach his destination- his room was deliberately located close where he worked part time. He somersaulted off the edge of a rusting drainpipe and rolled forward on the concrete floor to break his fall. The rubbish yard was thankfully deserted, Allen’s only spectators being the humongous black bins. Brushing the dust from his shirt, Allen jogged towards a side door and into the Black Order’s kitchen.
Rich aromas of golden pastries and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, tantalising and refreshing at the same time. The kitchen’s main room was as large as a small hall, with several shiny metal counters set up against the walls and along the middle. At the far end, several massive icy white fridges and freezers were stacked to the brim with cream, dairy and other fresh foods. Further ahead, a long row of liquorice black ovens stood back to back with cherry red hobs on top. One of the painted walls had been converted into a serving area, looking out into the great canteen. It was at a huge scale, but the kitchen had a huge number of mouths to feed- they did cater for the whole of the Black Order after all, and that was no easy feat.
Allen slipped inside and headed towards a pink haired muscular man overseeing a batch of onion and beef pies. Upon spotting the new arrival, the man twirled around in his white chef uniform and promptly glomped Allen.
“Allen darling~! You’re here~!” he squealed, spinning Allen around in a suffocating hug. Allen struggled to breathe and rasped out, “…sorry…I’m late…”
“Oh that? Don’t worry about it,” Jerry gushed, thankfully releasing his grip. He brought his face close to Allen’s and peered at him from behind his darkened shades. Allen pulled back a little, uncomfortable with his personal space being intruded. After a few moments Jerry quietly observed, “You’ve been having nightmares.”
Noticing Allen’s surprised expression, he explained kindly, “You have bags under your eyes again.”
It was more of a statement than a question. Despite his happy-go-lucky attitude, Jerry was far more observant than most people realised. Allen gave a polite smile and Jerry raised his hands in mock surrender. It was Allen’s I’d-rather-not-talk-about-it smile, one he used far too often but far too few people picked up the hidden message.
Just then, Allen’s stomach grumbled loudly and he inwardly cringed. Before he could protest, Jerry sat Allen down in front of a counter laden with steaming hot scones and croissants. Allen gazed longingly at the delicacies, his mind conflicting with being polite or saving himself from a hunger induced death. “Thank you, but I’m already very late so-”
“Oh no, darling~! You have to eat breakfast! It’s the most important meal of the day-” It was clear that Jerry wasn’t going to give up until he had eaten, and that his stomach wasn’t going to give in until it had been filled. Allen quickly concluded that he was fighting a losing battle, zoned out of Jerry’s animated lecture and concentrated on shovelling the food down. Luckily, he was talented enough to cook the same amount of food in fifteen minutes, so no one minded the sheer amount of food he needed to survive. Two minutes later, Allen was balancing the tall towers of empty plates to one of the sinks. He was pulling on his apron when Jerry finally finished his one sided conversation with, “…and that’s why we can’t afford for the Order’s cutest assistant chef to fall ill because of a lack of nutrition. Right?”
“Yes, chef,” Allen answered as if he had been listening. “I’ll be starting my shift now.”
Jerry beamed and skipped away to serve a waiting Finder, waving happily to Allen as he left. Allen buttoned up his long sleeved apron, thinking that it looked similar to what the bakers had worn in Italy. The spotless white fabric fell to his knees and the Black Order’s symbol was stitched neatly on the helm.
Allen pulled his ribbon loose from his collar and used it to tie his hair into a low ponytail. A few stray bangs swayed before his eyes and tickled his nose mischievously. He tucked them behind his ears and set to work on the literal mountain of dirty dishes.
At long last, Allen finished buffering the last piece of cutlery he had been given to dry, the sliver spoon gleaming in the bright lighting. He stifled a yawn and carried the tray of sparkling clean cutlery over to a draw, ready to be stored away. As he trudged sleepily past the serving area, the sound of murmured whispers drifted over to his ears. Several cooks on serving duty were warily eyeing the commotion with pursed lips, their customers’ attention equally distracted. Curiosity aroused, Allen fell back a few steps to peer into the canteen.
An exorcist was sitting at one of the tables with a bowl full to the brim with soba. His long midnight blue hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, making his Asian face seem even more feminine. One his hip, an ornamental sword with intricate decorations was resting peacefully. Allen frowned lightly as he immediately recognised the person- Kanda Yu.
A group of Finders stood to the side, watching Kanda stoically eat with deep frowns. They shifted from one foot to another nervously but their eyes gleamed with resolution. Most of the people in the hall had noticed what the Finders were planning and mutters and whispers punctuated the air. After a few minutes, one of the Finders gathered the courage to march before Kanda and stutter, “M-mr Kanda, we don’t like how you’ve been treating us.”
Kanda gracefully twisted a strand of the noodle around his chopsticks, completely ignoring the Finder. At his silence, the other Finders grew braver and joined their friend. They huddled around Kanda from a safe distance and began voicing their complaints.
“You’re always so mean to us…”
“You bully and attack us all of the time!”
“Yesterday, Luke was hospitalised with a broken arm just because he bumped into you!”
The voices grew bolder and exited whispers flitted from the onlookers like a wild bee. Most of the kitchen staff was now gathered by the serving area, drawn in by the drama. A tall exorcist with spiky red hair whistled jauntily in encouragement a few tables down, grinning wildly. The green haired exorcist next to him kicked him lightly in the leg and he yelped. She ignored him, watching Kanda carefully while biting her lip. She had known him since childhood and knew perfectly well that Kanda wasn’t calm at all, on the contrary…
“Just because we’re Finders, that doesn’t mean you can abuse us like this! We’ve had enough!” one of them exclaimed loudly as they started to become annoyed at Kanda’s standoffish attitude. In his anger, he flung his arm sideways and his hand accidently struck Kanda’s bowl. It fell over and the soba noodles slopped messily across the table.
The Finders eyes widened dramatically and they hastily moved backwards. A thick, heavy silence draped over the canteen like a soundproof blanket. All movement ceased in the kitchen and even Jerry stopped stirring his soup. All eyes were on Kanda as he clenched his jaw until the veins jutted out of his upper neck. He snatched up his katana and the sound of metal being drawn pierced the silence.
Kanda lowly growled out the word like a beast.
He stalked forwards like a panther cornering his prey. The Finders gulped and stumbled backwards, tripping over their own feet. Sensing danger, Allen unconsciously picked up a table knife from the abandoned tray of cutlery.
Every single Finder was now breaking into cold sweats and some let out audible whimpers. Allen’s grip on the handle tightened until his knuckles were deathly white.
With burning narrowed eyes, Kanda paused and raised his sword into an attacking stance.
With that enraged roar, he lunged forwards with his sword poised at one of the Finder’s throat. The Finder screamed and without thinking, Allen swiftly flicked his wrist. The knife flew though the air and struck the blade of Kanda’s katana before it hit its human target.
The two metals clashed and a few people screamed in surprise. Being far weaker than a blade of Innocence, the table knife shattered into tiny sliver shards and fell to the floor. A rare, completely shocked expression fell on Kanda’s face, looking comical compared to his usual irritated expression. He looked down to his sword, and then his wide eyes followed the direction the knife had been thrown from.
He spotted Allen standing next to the tray of cutlery and put two and two together. His eyes narrowed again into a mutinous glare and he strode to the kitchen’s side door.
Allen saw Kanda looking as if he wanted to murder him, slowly and painfully. He vainly tried to hide by ducking under the counter and the staff shot him bemused looks- none of them had seen him throw the knife. Which was why they gasped in shock when Kanda slammed the door open, marched over to Allen and lifted him up by the collar. Some of the men moved to stop him, but Allen had already been dragged out into the canteen and thrown roughly onto the floor.
Allen coughed and rubbed the red welts on his neck, but Kanda yanked his collar forwards again and hissed venomously, “I’m going to murder you for throwing that, bean sprout.”
At least the murder part was correctly guessed.
Kanda shoved Allen back onto his back and kicked him in the guts. Hard. Allen doubled over and clenched his fists in frustration. He knew fully well he could send that obnoxious Exorcist flying in three seconds flat, but he couldn’t. Cross had ordered him not to draw attention to himself, and beating up Exorcists was a hell of a good way to attract unwanted attention. Instead, Allen struggled to keep his face blank- he wasn’t going to give Kanda the pleasure of seeing him in pain.
Another blow was landed, firm and heavy. Several people rushed forwards to try and stop the beating, but Kanda struck them with his sword as if he was swatting flies away. Outraged shouts filled the canteen and a full on brawl was about to begin when a deafening shout rose over the din.
“Stop it! STOP IT! YUUUU!!!”
A giant black hammer crashed down in between Kanda and Allen. A trolley was upturned and empty plates and bowls were sent soaring everywhere. Allen ducked his head into his hands to protect him from the flying projectiles. He glanced around and groaned inwardly at the mess that he would have to help clean up later. Lavi hopped of his hammer and flashed a cheeky grin. “Sorry, sorry, it was the only was to get Yu’s attention.”
Kanda pointed his sword dangerously at Lavi, his attention diverted. His vein throbbed as he threatened, “Don’t call me-”
“What makes you think Allen threw that knife?” Lavi cut in, seemingly not caring that a weapon was being aimed at him. “I mean, little Allen here is the Order’s cute mascot! He’s waaaay too adorably innocent to do that!”
Several onlookers nodded in agreement and Allen resisted the strong urge to facepalm. Just because he put on a polite mask and didn’t reveal his fighting skills, how on earth did that make him some “cute mascot”? Deciding to play along, Allen flashed Kanda his most innocent smile as if to say, “Who, me?”
Kanda’s eye twitched but the scene was interrupted but Komui’s static voice calling out from the loudspeakers, “Could Kanda Yu please report to my office for a mission, please. I repeat, could Kanda please report to my office. Thank you!”
Huffing, Kanda gave Allen one last glare before storming out of the canteen. Everyone let out a sigh of relief and broke into heated conversation. The group of Finders were pulled by the ear by the other senior Finders present, being harshly scolded for acting so rashly. Some of the onlookers stayed to ask Allen if he was alright while the rest tried to salvage their meals from the mess. Lavi turned to Allen with his hands casually slipped in his pockets, his eyes glimmering in worry. He asked concernedly, “Oi Allen, are you o-”
“Allen!” Lenalee cried, as she finally broke through the crowd. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Should you go to the infirmary?”
“I’m fine,” Allen calmly answered with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He started to clamber up to his feet when Lavi suddenly crouched down and flipped his shirt up. “What are you doing?!”
“You’ve got done in pretty bad. Well, not that bad for Yu’s standards. That bastard…Doesn’t look like anything’s broken…there’s going to be some pretty impressive bruising though,” Lavi expertly observed as he prodded Allen’s stomach. Some parts were already starting to colour a light lilac and blue but Allen could hardly feel the pain- he had been through far much worse with Cross’ training. Lenalee looked as if she was going to burst into tears any moment as she whispered, “We’re all on the same side. Why does Kanda always do this?”
“Because he’s a jerk. We should tie him up, kidnap him then drop him off at an anger management centre,” Lavi joked, patting Lenalee on the shoulder. “The photos would sell almost as well as Allen’s…n-not that I’ve ever taken any pictures of you, Allen! Really!”
Lenalee giggled, her sad mood vanished at Lavi’s antics. Lavi pulled Allen’s shirt up higher to check for any more injuries. Panic flared up inside Allen as his left arm was centimetres away from to being exposed and he shoved Lavi off. He quickly insisted, “I’m fine, really. Please don’t worry about me. I’m going to finish my work in the kitchen now.”
Lavi raised an eyebrow in blatant disbelief. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called out to the serving area, “Hey, Jerry! Can Allen get let off work early to “rest”? He’s pretty beat up you know.”
“Sure thing, honey. You go catch up on some sleep,” Jerry winked back. Allen thanked Jerry with a bow and hastily left before Lavi dragged him along into one of his mayhem making schemes. Chuckling at Allen’s escape, Lavi turned back to Lenalee. “He’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
“I hope so…” Lenalee murmured as she gazed at Allen’s retreating back. Lavi frowned and quickly changed the topic of conversation. As the two chattered, they didn’t notice a blond haired man lurking behind them with two strange dots on his forehead. His eyebrows were furrowed deeply as he stared intensely at the shattered pieces of the table knife lying innocently on the floor.
He had seen exactly what happened and who exactly had thrown that knife.
Howard Link marched out to report his findings.
Allen wandered down a narrow path of dirt and mud, emerald green leaves brushing against his hands. As soon as he had left the canteen, his feet had broken into a run into the maze of a forest located nearby the Order. He wanted somewhere to escape, somewhere to think- and he knew just the place.
After scanning the towering tree trunks with bleary eyes, Allen finally spotted a certain side path leading off the main one. If it hadn’t been for the wild bluebells growing on either side, Allen doubted he would have been curious enough to enter the darkened path for the first time many years ago.
It had been in the first months few after Cross had left him at the Black Order. Allen could remember vividly his lack of appetite, strange foreign people trying to force him to eat, unfamiliar faces everywhere he looked, the nights of crying for Cross to come back…Those habits had faded away because of Cross’ monthly visits, but the loneliness still lingered.
Allen reached the end of the path and stepped into a large clearing. Mint green grass carpeted the floor in a soft cushioning and was dotted with petite daises. A small stream ran along the side, with crystal clear water trickling over the smooth pebble bed. The water shimmered to match the aqua blue sky above and tiny golden fish darted in and out of vision. Autumn was slowly leaving yet the sea of wild flowers growing in patches amongst the grass was still in full bloom. Sunshine yellow and ruby red tulips stood with straight backs while clusters of white baby breath flowers were scattered randomly. Trees lined the edges of the clearing and were garbed in leaves of chocolate brown, cherry red, tangerine orange and lemon yellow.
As always, the beautiful scenery soothed Allen’s heart like a balm. The sight of flowers always made him feel nostalgic and safe, like a father’s embrace. He lay down on his back in the grass, letting his polite mask slide from his face like butter melting. No one was here to see him, so it was fine…
His mind drifted to the incident in the canteen- everyone knew that Kanda bullied Finders because he believed they were useless. To that arrogant bastard, anyone lower than an Exorcist was inferior and useless.
Allen felt more than useless. He wanted to fight so badly- fighting was like his second nature. Why had Cross trained him so brutally if Allen couldn’t even use Innocence?
Sighing, Allen watched a creamy white cloud float past in the sky. His eyelids slowly drooped as the many sleepless nights finally caught up to him. The melody of swallows sounded relaxing to his ears, like a mother’s gentle lullaby, and soon Allen fell into a deep sleep.
In his dream, Allen was standing at the same cobbled path as the one in his previous dream. He glanced wearily in the depressing darkness- he wasn’t in the mood to run away from any more bloody corpses. Squinting in the gloom, Allen turned his head and saw another road parallel to his. It was also suspended in mid air, with similar crumbling stairways, twists and turns. He blinked, but it was still there. Strange. He had never noticed that before. He walked to the edge of his path and saw a set of crumbling stairs leading downwards. Allen shrugged his shoulders and carefully plodded down the staircase- it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.
As he stepped off the last step, Allen found himself on a square paved block. Peering ahead, he could make out another set of stairs connecting to the second road he had seen. Titling his head at this strange development, Allen began to tread forwards when he froze.
He wasn’t alone.
At the other end of the square, a twelve year old boy was sat down with his knees drawn up to his chin. He wore a crumpled black vest with a matching pair of trousers, rips tearing his clohing in several places. In his arms, the boy was tightly clutching what seemed to be a military uniform reduced to battered shreds. His brown hair was messy and his jade green eyes were filled with grief.
Allen moved closer and cautiously asked, “Excuse me, but who…are you?”