So… this is a "What if Allen Walker was a girl and accidentally got pregnant" scenario. Don't ask me how this fic came about, because I have no idea.

Last edited: April 7th 2018

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"O‒kay, o‒kay. Don't panic. We can still fix this."

As a matter of fact, Allen knew about a whole number of ways to fix it. Or rather, she would have known about at least six of them, had she maybe discovered the nature of her condition a few months prior as opposed to now.

By now, it would be decidedly risky; question remained whether or not it would be any riskier than leaving it as it was.

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't, huh?" she scoffed, clutching her stomach.

The shadow of the Fourteenth offered up no response, looming over her reflection as ever. Barring that, there was only one person listening in, and she rather doubted they understood any of the words; the occasional kicks to her insides were just reflexes, not reactions to anything she might have said. "You're a real kicker, aren't you?"

Initially, she had blamed stress. Reoccurring nausea, pain and mood swings could after all be explained by A) her undeniably stressful and oftentimes perilous lifestyle, or B) her slow but inevitable transformation into the Fourteenth. Both did after all put a significant strain on her, physically as well as mentally. Granted, as far as the mental strain went, the suspicion and distrust from her comrades was really starting to take its toll.

Of course, should they ever learn about this, then‒ Actually, Allen would rather not think about it, seeing that the mere thought made her want to throw up, and that would have been a waste of perfectly good food.

She had been eating more than usual, but no one had seemed to notice. Granted, there might have been a few comments about her gulping appetite for fish a few months back, but now‒

No one had ever claimed that being Alana 'Allen' Walker was an easy task. And somehow, she figured that recent developments would make her life a whole lot harder.

It had been said that knowing was half the battle. The problem, Allen privately supposed, was how to make it out of the second half.

Ironically as it might sound, Allen actually found herself missing Cross. The man might have been a bastard in his own right, but he had been the resourceful sort and would have known what to do.

But alas, Cross was‒ gone, presumably dead, considering the sheer amount of blood found at the scene.

Despite the fact that there had been no body, no proof besides the blood, Allen had not deluded herself with the hope that her mentor might still be alive. Instead she had puked in the sink before just hanging on to it for dear life, dry-heaving, her eyes stinging with tears.

Even Howard Link, the guard dog assigned to her by the Inspector from Central (Leverrier? Rouvelier? Lvellie? Something like that), who had always shown enough courtesy not to intrude on her in the bathroom, had sounded ready to kick down the door.

Fortunately, Allen had been able to pull her shit together long enough to avoid that. It had been by a slim margin, sure, but a margin was still a margin, no matter how slim, and general looks and behaviour aside, Allen was still physically a girl, and thus subject to Link's ideas about showing courtesy to the fairer sex.

Not that she minded or anything though. Granted, it could be annoying on occasion, but some consideration was better than no consideration at all, even if it meant a few carefully phrased inquiries about her health.

That said, most people didn't know. Most assumed that Allen Walker was a boy, voice still unbroken at the age of sixteen.

Now, roughly a year after joining the Order, Allen occasionally found herself wondering why more people hadn't noticed. More so, she wondered why a few of those already in the know hadn't spread the information around.

In hindsight, a lot of it might have been Komui's doing, at least in part. Because despite the man's general attitude towards paperwork, he retained a fiercely protective streak for not just Lenalee but also Allen, who was similar in age.

Besides, it had been Komui along with Bak who had stepped up to defend her back when Cross had allegedly given permission to have Link's superior go full-on Inquisition on Allen's arse after the Ark incident. Considering that, maybe‒

No, no. That would have been a stupid idea.

After all, if Allen did that, then certain questions would be inevitable. For example, the when and the where and the who. Frankly, all of them were questions that Allen would rather not answer. But the answer to the latter question would prove particularly difficult to provide.

Of course, Allen was acutely aware of the fact that she was only delaying the inevitable; if her own mental calculations were correct, then she had to be at least five or six months along. Maybe she had been an idiot for not noticing sooner, for not realising the underlying cause of her symptoms. Granted, her body had acted somewhat mutinously as far as the latter was concerned; it had done well in concealing the mound that was definitely there so long as one knew to look, and it had fooled everyone, Allen herself included.

By now however, it was only a question of time before someone figured out what was up. Heck, Link was the observant sort, so he might have figured it out already. Then again, if he had, then‒

"Walker."

Allen gave her reflection another weary look; she looked terrible, but‒ "Yeah?"

"Are you all right?"

Hah. "No worse than usual. Is it a mission?"

It was, and mounting fears aside, Allen felt glad about getting out of this place, if only for a couple of hours.

"I'll be out in a minute. I need to wash my face."

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