The missing scene from the epilogue of Exorcist, depicting the much awaited – and possibly somewhat anticlimactic – Allen versus Cross.

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Without much further ado, he headed for the door, leaning his head against it without unlocking it, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm. "I was just wondering when you were going to turn up, Cross."

"Open the door, brat," the voice of an unseen former tormentor drawled, all while Allen found himself wondering whether or not to comply with the other's demands, momentarily entertaining the thought of not doing so, already imagining the rather one-sided conversation that would no doubt spring from that.

"Open the door, brat."

"How about… no."

"Open the door, brat."

"No."

"Brat, open door. Now."

"Sod off, old man."

"I'll break this puny thing down if I need to."

"And I'll call the cops on you… and file a restraining order."

"Brat, open the door."

"Old man, die."

Actually, now that he actually thought about it, the latter could actually prove rather entertaining.

Then again, seeing to the fact that he was on a rather limited time schedule, he finally opted for the latter, unlocking the door and opening it, greeting his former guardian for the first time in what seemed to be ages with this very forced smile on his face, delivering his greeting flawlessly even so.

"As much as I would like to slam this door in your face and all, would you fancy a cuppa?" he politely inquired, coming face to face with the utterly despicable goddamn debt-making evil drinking womanizing bastard of a no-good former guardian.

"So that you can poison me?"

Poison? Allen leaned against the doorframe, contemplating the notion.

"That thought hadn't actually crossed my mind yet, but thanks for the tip," he said, and when he received no viable response, he sent the other an exasperated look, wanting to see the matter dealt with as quickly as humanly possible. "Okay, look… what do you want? As you should already be aware, I have spent the better part of forever avoiding you, nearly getting myself killed in the process, so… why are you here?"

Once again, the other just stared down at him, looking at him as if he was something unsightly, which was a very Cross-like thing to do overall and one Allen had a great deal of experience with.

"Look," Allen finally said, already starting to fear for his continued – not to mention fragile – state of reasonable sanity. After all, it was entirely possible that the man before him wasn't Cross and maybe just a very realistic rendering of his own delusions; his worst fears even. He feared for it, as well as for his continued self-control, feeling like it was going to start slipping at any moment.

"If this is just you having been evicted or whatever, I'll be perfectly willing to give you around 15,000 right now – in cash – and wire double the amount into an account of your choosing provided that I'll never have to see you ever again," he went on, because he did – as a matter of fact – have such a vast amount of cash on hand. "And I'll be skipping town in… about an hour and a half and will be leaving the country altogether within about six, so in case you've got any unfinished business with me, I'd prefer it if you finished it quickly so that we can be out of each other's hair and lives permanently from now on… and if this is another debt you're trying to shove onto me, I'll-…"

His attention briefly having wandered off sometime during his rant, he was surprised when a thick envelope – the sturdy type made out of parchment – was thrust into his face before being deposited into his hands as he instinctively held them palms up to receive it, looking down at the thing as if it was something completely alien to him – something very alien and probably lethal.

He immediately snapped his head back up, about to demand some sort of explanation from the man, only to discover that the latter was nowhere to be seen, as if having suddenly vanished into thin air, leaving only a small residue of cigarette smoke and a mild stench of red wine.

He blinked; once, then twice. Then, he shut the door and locked it behind himself before leaning against it, sliding right down it and into a seated position on the floor, partially relieved and partially disappointed as to how brief and seemingly painless such a dreaded meeting had proven, especially so when he had spent so much time and gone to such ridiculous extents to postpone it. It was almost as if he had come face to face with the bogeyman, only to realize he had spent all this time being scared of his own shadow.

"I… am an idiot."

He really needed another vacation; he really did, and preferably a prolonged if not permanent one, abroad and far – far, far – away. Then again, since this was him and his life and all, it wasn't as though he would ever truly get one with his constitution.

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