Summary-

After the betrayal of the Order and his friends, 16 year old Allen Walker runs – no longer wanting to be viewed as something that is less than human. Hiding from both the Noah Clan and the Black Order he escapes into the streets of London. 8 months later, exorcists meet an 18 year old Andreas Michaels, working as a bartender in a popular high-class bar/restaurant in Italy, while searching for the traitor Walker.

Disclaimer-

I don't own DGray-Man. Seriously, I don't. I would be a hell of a lot richer if I did.

The POV will change a bit in this story – I was experimenting a bit with writing in different points of view within the same story. Sorry if it seems a bit off because of that.

{Allen's Thought speak}

{Neah's Thought speak}

Lavi sighed. This was the 30th person that they had questioned ever since the Order had received Intel that Allen had been spotted in Italy. Lenalee, Kanda and himself had been shipped off as soon as word had got back that the ex-exorcist had been in Italy in the hopes that they would be able to convince him to come back to the Order. He chuckled bitterly in his mind.

Allen wasn't stupid. There was no way that he was coming back – the teen knew exactly what awaited him the second he stepped foot back into headquarters. Imprisonment and execution. Even his (former; Kanda had never really cared for the Moyashi in the first place and all Lenalee saw these days was the Noah inside of him. Both had supported the Order's decision. And, well, Lavi had always been a Bookman first and foremost no matter how fond of the boy he was – Allen both knew and understood that, so he didn't expect any help or support from the apprentice Bookman.) friends wouldn't be able to make him change his mind, Moyashi was as good as gone – he had probably disappeared straight into the streets of London – and there was no way that the exorcists would find him if he didn't want them to. General Cross' apprentice wasn't an amateur at being in hiding.

"Oi! Michaels, get out here!" Was yelled in Italian into the back door of the restaurant they were standing outside of by the well-built older man (dark hair, dark eyes, late twenties/early thirties, had probably worked as a bouncer, experienced fighter – possibly a boxer) that Lenalee had been questioning, startling Lavi from his thoughts.

"Boss?" Came the confused and lightly accented reply from the older teenager who walked out of the door (About average size, 5'7" or 5'8" with a lean runners build, likely aged between 17 and 20. Sandy shoulder-length blonde hair that was pulled back into a short-tail with a strip of black leather and had two chin length bangs framing his face. Dark green eyes and aristocratic features. Well-toned and compact muscles, likely developed from some sort of full body martial art. A long scar stretched from just above his left eye down to his chin. He wore good quality clothes – a black long-sleeve button up shirt with shirt-sleeves rolled up neatly to mid-forearm, black slacks, grey waistcoat and dark leather boots - that were slightly worn. 3 silver rings in the cartilage of his right ear and a black stud in the lobe. Wore a leather bracelet on his left wrist which connected to the simple silver rings he wore on each digit of his left hand via dulled silver chains. Possibly the second son of a minor noble family looking to forge his own path in life.) Lavi flicked his eyes back to the face of the new-comer as he looked towards his boss, his analysis having taken only a couple of seconds.

The 'Boss' turned back to the small group of 3 exorcists - eyes flicking once more over their distinctive clothing before speaking to them in gruff, accented English, "Michaels works the door or the bar most nights. If anyone has seen the kid that you are looking for it would be him." With that said, as well as a nod towards his employee, he nodded before meandering back inside of the bar.

'Michaels' turned back to them, taking in their positions and appearances – the (apparent) leader, a teenage girl wearing knee-high dark boots, as well as the two with her, a red-head wearing an eye-patch and a feminine looking Asian with long hair and a sword, and their odd uniforms - with a slow, suspicious eye. Sighing around the un-lit cigarette that hung from his lips (brand name packet visible in his trouser pocket) he spoke with in English with a thick British accent, "Can I help ya?"

"I hope so." Lenalee had been named as the spokesperson so as to stop Lavi and Kanda from murdering the people around them out of sheer annoyance or boredom, "I'm Lenalee and this is Lavi and Kanda. We were wondering if you had seen a friend of ours around." Lavi scoffed inwardly, she couldn't care less about Allen.

"Andreas Michaels. I can try but I ain't making no promises," the bartender introduced himself before crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall, looking for all the world like he'd rather be anywhere but here, "You got a description or picture of the kid or somethin'?"

She gestured towards Yuu-chan, who grunted before handing over a photo of Allen that was fairly recent. It had been taken at Timothy's birthday party - before all of this Noah mess started up, before the Fourteenth, before the betrayal - and showed Allen in all of his white haired, silver eyed and red-scared glory standing next to Timothy. Michaels glanced down at the photo but his answer came near immediately. "Never seen him," was grunted out by the irate teenager before he handed the photo back to them and reached up to light his cigarette.

"You seem pretty sure," Kanda stated guardedly, "For someone who didn't look at the photo for more than a second."

The blonde sighed, taking a drag of his cancer-stick. "Look, girlie, we might get a lotta weird hair colours 'round here but I ain't ever seen anybody with a mop o' white hair. Least, not on anybody under 40. 'Sides, dunno whether ya noticed or not but this is Italy mate – you don't go walkin' around with a pentagram on ya forehead. It's sacrilege. So, no, I ain't seen anyone like ya friend the entire time I've been working 'ere, capisci?" He said this slowly and clearly, like an adult would to a particularly slow child, and Kanda looked about ready to gut him – never mind the consequences.

"So, we done? 'Cause I've gotta shift starting in 15 and I would prefer to actually have some of my break ya know." Was asked by the particularly irritating restaurant employee. Lenalee was the one who answered, Kanda was more likely to murder him and Lavi was too busy holding back his mental laughter, "Yeah, we're done. Thank you for your help."

Finishing his cigarette, he put the stub out in a nearby ash-tray, "No problem love, good luck finding your friend." And with that, alongside a nod and a half wave, the older teen disappeared back into the restaurant.

Shaking his head at the boy on the outside, while laughing his head off inside of his mind, Lavi turned to follow the highly annoyed Lenalee and Kanda to the next restaurant so that they could find someone else to question. He hoped that he saw the kid again, he was fun to talk with.

{Well, I can't say that we expected that to happen, my dear nephew.} Rang out in the mind of the teen currently known as Andreas Michaels as he wandered back into the building, closing the door behind him. {Though, I will admit that I didn't expect your simple disguise to work so well.}

Andreas-who-was-once-called-Allen sighed, {My disguise worked so well because it was simple. Nothing more than applying some hair dye, coloured contacts and some minor makeup – alongside allowing my old accent to show through and acting a bit more like I used to before I met Mana.} He ran a hand through his fringe, {Though, I will admit that the illusion bracelet you gave me helps a lot in hiding my innocence. Thank you for that uncle.}

{It was no problem nephew.} Came the reply of Neah Walker: the Noah of destruction, the 14th Apostle, the Musician and the boy's adoptive uncle. {At least we know that it works to hide your innocence completely from the Order. Though I still cannot believe that they dare to still call you a friend after all that they have done.} Neah growled the last part of his sentence angrily.

{It is the easiest way to gain information without spreading word to the Noah's that the Order thinks I'm in Italy. People will gossip less about a lost friend than an 'escaped convict'.} 'Allen' thought bitterly before running a hand over his face tiredly. {Not that I really are anyway anymore. I get why Lavi didn't stand up for me – as much as he wanted to he's a Bookman first and foremost. But, for the others, I should have known better than to trust them in the first place. I learned that years ago but I disregarded it and opened myself up again. It's my fault-}

{DON'T YOU DARE THINK THAT!} Neah snarled vehemently. {It is not your fault! You do not deserve this! Understood. You deserve to be loved, to be able to trust without thinking you will be betrayed, Allen. It's their own fault for betraying your fucking trust in the first place.}

{I know, Neah. I understand.} But, honestly, Allen didn't. All of his life he had been called less than human, had been told that he deserved nothing but the worst of humanity, that freaks and monsters could never be trusted (and they could never trust in return), that he was worthless compared to everyone else. It still felt strange to know that Neah knew almost everything about him and yet didn't shy away – in fact, he still loved him nearly unconditionally (likefamily – and wasn't that a strange idea, nobody but Mana had ever been family before.) It didn't make sense that Neah cared about him.

Allen shook his hand and changed the subject, {I just hope that this disguise will work against any Akuma we come across. I really don't want word to get back to the Noah Clan that I'm hiding out here.}

Neah hummed worriedly, {Indeed nephew - after all, highly doubt that the Earl of Millennium nor any of the Noah will care that you are now neutral in this war and will not fight for one side or another.} A thought niggled at the back of his mind but when he reached for it, it disappeared – forgotten. The musician shrugged mentally, I couldn't have been that important after all. {You are an extremely good actor though, my dear nephew.}

{Of course I am uncle. I grew up in a circus after all: acting, disguises and make up are all child's play to me. I could do any of them in my sleep.} Said former circus clown huffed arrogantly, laughing inwardly, before he sobered, {Besides, even if the Earl did accept the fact that I am no longer a part of either side of the war, you are still a part of me. I highly doubt that any of the Noah will forgive the one person who betrayed and murdered most of the Clan – even if you were not in your right mind at the time.}

The Fourteenths chuckles ceased immediately. {That is a good point, I apologise for that.} Neah truly did regret his actions that day – his temporary insanity had cost most of the Clan (most of his family) their lives. All because he wasn't strong enough, wasn't fast enough, because he didn't go for help when he started to slip-

{Enough, Neah, it was not your fault.} Allen voice cut sharply though his thoughts, dispelling them for the most part.

{But-}

{No, uncle,} his nephew cut in, {You were insane at the time. I am sure that if you have a chance to explain exactly what happened that day to them and gave them some space to think things through, then they would eventually forgive you. You are family, after all.} Allen's voice held no doubt, only his absolute conviction in what he was saying.

A voice jolted him from his mental conversation with his last 'living' family member. "Andreas." It was one of his co-workers. "Your shift is starting."

"Huh. Thanks Jake, I was lost in thought." Allen took a deep breath (immersing himself completely in the mask that made up Andreas Michaels – the tough second son of an upper-middle class British family who had been sent to Italy as a punishment for breaking off a betrothal contract and trying to take control of his own life.)and it was Andreas who stood up to take his shift behind the bar of the prevalent Italian restaurant.

Andreas Michaels trudged tiredly up the stairs of the building to his third floor 1 bedroom apartment while cursing about having to pull a double shift with absolutely no warning.

"Fucking job, fucking boss, fucking bar, fucking third floor, fucking stairs, fucking Enrico…" he swore quietly under his breath, keeping up his tirade as encouragement for making it up the stairs. It was just his luck that the trash didn't turn up to his shift and Andreas had been the only one who was available to cover it, even though he had literally just finished an 8 hour shift already. Before he could get properly into his rant a woman's voice interrupted him.

"Andreas, my boy, is that you?" The former exorcist looked over the staircase banister into the face of 72 year old Daniella Sinclair (who often supplied him with treats, sweets and fresh bread from her son-in-laws bakery) who lived directly below him. "Oh dear, you look horrible. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Mrs Sinclair," Andreas replied, keeping his tone polite and inward curses from slipping into his voice – it wouldn't do to anger the woman who kept him supplied with Sugary Goodness after all. "I'm just a bit tired, I had to pull a double shift at the restaurant last night and so haven't been able to sleep. I be fine when I get a couple hours." 'And I haven't slept properly since I escaped from the Order. It's not safe to sleep deeply when you are being hunted.

"That does explain why you are back so late. I was worried when I didn't hear you get back at 10, like you normally do, last night." The old woman's voice was tinged with relief.

After several more minutes of meaningless chatter and pleasantries Allen-who-was-currently-Andreas reassured her, once again, that he was fine before tackling the last staircase up to his flat. He wanted nothing more than to collapse straight onto his bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

As he struggled to keep his eyes open, Andreas shoved his key into the lock and pushed his door open – dropping his shoulder bag onto the floor beside him and flicking the lights on. He had just enough time to close the door behind him before his brain registered the other presences in the room with him.

Instantly he was wide awake and ready to fight.

"Wha-! Who the fuck are you, why the fuck are you here and how the fuck did you get in here!" Andreas growled out to the two figures in front of him, adrenaline pulsing through his body (heightening his senses and reflexes), an older man (early twenties) as well as a pre-teen (around 12) girl.

"Allen~~~," the girl sang out. "Don't you recognise us~?" She pouted, actually fucking pouted. What. The. Fuck.

"The hell are you on?! Who the fuck is Allen?! My name is Andreas. An-Dreas!" He spelled out forcefully. "Bloody hell, it ain't that 'ard to fucking remember."

It was the shitty trash that was dressed as a nobleman who spoke next, "Don't bother with the act, Shounen. We know that you recognised us."

"Look, mate." Andreas forced out between gritted teeth, trying to be polite. "I don't know who you are. You looking for someone else, so just get the fuck outta me-!" He was cut off.

"We can sense the fourteenth."

Silence. The room was in complete silence for several seconds after the statement from the girl. It was only broken when Andreas – no, this was Allen – slumped back against the door, all of his anger and irritation draining out of him instantly.

He sighed. "Of course you bloody can. Why the hell not?!" Allen muttered tiredly. "Fucking Noah!"

{So, uncle, care to explain why you didn't mention that little, insignificant, fact?" The reincarnation of the Fourteenth apostle sweetly asked his uncle and predecessor.

'Fuck!' Neah thought worriedly, 'I knew I had forgotten something.' {Err-. Well. I, err-, maybe. Forgot about it? Pleasedonthurtme.} The musician stuttered out, rushing the last sentence so that the words blurred together.

{Of course you fucking did!} Allen thought in disbelief. "Bloody Neah! Who the fuck forgets something so important." He muttered out loud under his breath (though still loud enough for the other Noah in the room to hear him) slamming his head back against the door in order to display his exasperation.

Running a hand down his face he looked into the increasingly amused faces of Tyki Mikk (3rd Apostle and Noah of Pleasure) and Road Camelot (9th Apostle and Noah of Dreams). Allen let himself slide down the door until he was sitting against it with his knees pulled up to his chest.

"So: Tyki, Road. What do the two of you want with me?"

So, yeah. I don't particularly like how this turned out (and seriously hate the ending) but I can't really think of anything else to add to it, I had planned to do a Tyki POV to finish it up but my muse died a swift and painful death – understandable really since I wrote most of this in my lunch break at my weekly work experience. Actually, when I first wrote this it was all from a single point of view but when I was typing it up on my laptop Lavi started screaming in my head and wouldn't shut up, so now he has a nice long part from his POV and I've decided that I love his character. Still, I quite like Andreas-Allen's character and how he turned out and Neah is awesome so whatever. About the illusion thing, the chains are very similar to Kurapika's from HunterXHunter and the way it's anchored is based on the Fuinjutsu and Henge from Naruto. Right, anyway, tell me what you think and if any wants to continue this on go ahead just PM me if you want to post anything so I can put a link up or something.

Thanks for reading, CharlotteDaBookworm.