A/N: This story will be set in our modern times, after the Holy War ended. It is basically that everything that happened, happened. But things went a bit awry. I will go into flashbacks and explanations during the story, it'll all be spread out; so don't worry if you get confused. I have the ending planned, so hopefully I can update this when I'm not updating my other fanfiction. This will last at least 5 chapters.

Also, this will include some language and violence, more so in later chapters.

There are no pairings.

is owned by Katsura Hoshino.

Waiting.

He's been waiting for over a century. For them. His friends. His family. No, more than that. His world. The ones he suffered so much for. But it will all be worth it. Worth the pain. Worth the struggles.

Worth the loneliness.

Yes, he was always alone. No matter who he was with, they would all eventually leave him. It was always that way. From the very beginning. Heh, he really was cursed. Cursed to an eternity of solitude. No one ever stayed by his side for very long. After all, there was no room for anyone else but himself. Purged by the light and rejected by the dark, only able to balance along the thin line that is gray. When he tripped into the brightness of the right side, was helped back up by the people that reside there. But soon enough, that warm light began to burn him. That's when the murky whispers started. The blackness of the left side surged forward and yanked him down to them, deeper and deeper.

And then the cycle repeated again.

Those soft hands of his comrades on the right and the cold fingers of his enemies on the left, pulling, pulling. The tug of comfort from his loved ones, or the seductive false promises of belonging from the hated ones. Which would he choose?

Neither. Because he could never be with both. His heart belonged to the light, whilst his body belonged to the dark. So all he could do is stagger forward. But when a certain event came along and brought him together with a little of both sides, what could he do? He was finally where he belonged. The people from black and white with him. And then... Nothing.

The inky tendrils, gone. The warming rays, gone. Suddenly wiped clean. The right side is now nothing but an empty white slate, the left being a stainless black marble. Everyone he knew - dead. From his friends to his foes to those he belonged with, they were all killed.

Except for him.

That incident broke him. Everything about him. Even his time. He was prophesied as the Destroyer of Time. And it came true. He destroyed his own time. Now he is forced to wander the world in his own broken clock face as the things around him change and advance. But he has a chance. A chance to return to normal. Those people, those few people, they contain the shards of his time. The shards of his heart. He gave the pieces to them, and they took it away from him. They exchanged a piece of themselves before they all died. Those people. If he can find them once again, he will be complete. His heart and his time. It will be repaired, and he won't be alone anymore.

But for now, he just has to keep on walking. Never to stop.

Isn't that right, Allen Walker?

...

"Fate's a bitch," the odd young man said in a hoarse whisper as he walked on in the withered grass. His snow-white hair drifted softly in the wind, covering the pale face. He was in an empty forest with many dead trees, and had stopped in a clearing when it began to rain. The booming thunder sounded like cruel laughter to him. His fists clenched and the gloves he wore squeaked slightly from the friction, rain pelting onto his long black coat.

"Fuck you, God! Give them back to me, give them back!" he screamed to the sky. The rain increased and hit his face harder as he glared at the clouds and gray sky.

"Give them back, give them back..."