A/N: I do not own anything about D. Gray-man. This story is based soley on a fictional timeline after the anime's completion.

I do, of course, own Taylor.

Night was falling and the crowds were dispersing towards their cozy homes while a petite girl with wild blonde curls stepped down from her milk crate podium. A small child, being practically dragged by an impatient father, stared at her 'til she smiled. His father finally grabbed the boy the scruff of his shirt neck and, though he berated his son, hid a look full of pride at his existence.

Every so often such a scene would present itself as she stopped her singing for the day, and a pinprick of pain would lace past her heart and through her lungs, to her eyes and then sometimes...sometimes, out her of them.

"Oi! Wench! Who said you could stop, eh?" Flinching and making sure her thick, painstakingly straightened bangs covered her eyes she turned to look at the man addressing her so obnoxiously. The man grunted in pain as his superior elbowed him, none to gently, in the ribs.

"Taylor, sweetie...what he means is that the night ain't done and there are still people here willing to tip for your beautiful voice. Now, I'm sure the boss could have other positions available assigned you easily. Though you would have to memorize quite a few positions to fit that bill.

"He did have such high hopes for you in this field though. So how about you get up there and do your job... Before I make you get down here and try another one." The gangster, who played the pimp with the other girls in the syndicate's charge, let out a guffaw at the terror and disgust apparent in the tight, straight line her lips formed and how stiff her limbs became.

"Oi! He's giving you a chance to use that pretty little mouth of yours the way you want to."

Thusly treated, Taylor climbed back onto the milk crate that bruised her feet to sing the songs that were her only way out of reality.

It was nearly midnight when the last person left the dock for sleep. Stepping gingerly, a small blonde girl minced off her pedestal towards the darkness of the poor district. Her stride was slow and pained and her mind so consumed in her own misery that the pair of cat eyes following her devotedly was left unnoticed.


Taylor was awake with the diminishing of the stars. It had been a long time since the gangsters and pimps caught her asleep and unawares. And the last time they did, it had marked them much more than her. The beating was still a raw memory though, lending an edge of self-perseverance to her morning schedule. Self-perseverance huh? She thought derisively. "At least I can sing."

She took her bath and the water she had for breakfast quickly, wasting no indulgences in the bathing water that was too cold and the drink long past room temperature. The dilapidated, half-rotting building this branch of the syndicate occupied sat in a rat-ridden district among people with boils on their faces and maggots in their hair. The advantage in being here was strictly locational. One direction of the road led to the docks, the other to the square. Not that any of the girls went down the town-side way. Not even me. "Maybe today though."

There were three guard posts on the way to the city. One had Bobby and Frank on duty most days, and those blokes were as dumb as doorknobs and lazy as ones in need of oil. Taylor could generally pass these guys up with ease, and so as their eyes followed some dame's tail, the singer slipped past a pile of crates in the opposite direction of the sloppy men's gazes.

Check one.

The next post was manned by Twiller and Sooth, two of the higher ups in security. The trick was to catch them arguing or cause some sort of distraction to get them going. But they usually yelled at each other over little things so it generally paid to wait it out. "Now I don't want ANY shenanigans out of you two...The Boss is making a tour 'round here today. Not a peep you hear!"

Shit. The fear of the head guy was so strong that they wouldn't be fighting at all. But . . . maybe... Taylor followed the one ordering Twiller and Sooth around thinking quick. He seemed to be older than the others, a bald patch forming on the back of his head. His suit was too loose, and his after shave was too strong


The Branch Leader of the Broken Sign Syndicate detested being awake anywhere between the time the sun dawned till it disappeared. There was no heavy tavern business in the day, and whores did not sell till the night hour could hide customers from the judgmental eyes of common society.

There were only two things that kept the man awake during the bright hours. One: life threatening situations. A fire, a flood, an enemy raid, things like that. Two: A visit from the head honcho. A visit from The Boss, though, could be a life threatening situation, so all in all one thing kept him up.

It was out of season for The Boss to come to this sector too.

The Branch Leader wiped a few dots of sweat from his brow while he waited in mounting trepidation, but finally his right hand, Perry, sauntered back in, trying not to show fear to the man lead into the littered and dusty room he slept and did business in.

"I do hope that she is on her way, then, Dominick." The Boss said in a way that was more of a lazy demand then a sociable comment, to which the Branch Leader nodded, vigorous in his fear.

"As soon as we can find her, sir. She tends to..."

"I do not like being made to wait. If I am, this branch might take some heavy hits as a reprimand." The threat made clear as the Boss fingered the warm wooded cudgel he used as both a walking and beating stick. "She had better hurry."


Taylor hide behind some boxes around the corner from a couple gossiping city women, their disgusting garments reeking of body odor and the sour scent of spoiled milk. The aging man, who looked a bit familiar, though it was impossible to place, had gone through the door to the main building 10 minutes past. Doors through which no force in heaven or hell could bring her through.

"Oh yes. I hear'd bout that. Seemed mighty standoffish, those people."

"Heard tell they were Exorcists."

"You don' say...quite young to be workin for ta church there though."

"Mmm yes and a girl there too."

"Pretty little thing I suppose."

"Don' be sayin that round this block now. They migh be lookin for more gals..."

"Watch yer words!" The two chatterers turned and walked past the corner that had separated them from Taylor, upon whom seeing they screamed.

Immediately security was on them, and, as Taylor tried to break a dash for it, Soothe snatched the waist of her tattered skirt, bringing her crashing down to the ground. "We was just looking fer you, pretty singer."

Taylor knew and felt the truest of fears then.