A/N: Yay! Ethereal's been wrapped up, which leaves a slot open for a new story. Yes, I have actually reached the point where I refuse to start publishing a work-in-progress until I've finished a story. I have that many WIPs. -.- Oh, well. This won't last long, but I hope you like it anyway!
First, a note: Aaron is Joker, Gertrude is Beast, Edmund is Dagger, Horatio is Jumbo, and Hope is Freckle. It's obvious, I know, but I figured I'd put this here anyway.
Title: Taken for a Fool
Author: liketolaugh
Rating: T
Pairings: None
Genre: Drama/Mystery
Warnings: None
Summary: After the Millenium Earl is killed, Allen has nowhere left to go. That's before he meets a group of disabled children living on the streets.
Disclaimer: Sadly, Black Butler is not mine. Neither is D. Gray-man.
It was only for a month or two.
That had been what Allen assured his friends, the day he left. It was only for a month or two. Just a month or two back on the streets, to get his bearings back.
It did briefly occur to him that most people did not recover their bearings by going to live on the streets.
But. Regardless. A month or two.
That, of course, was before he met Aaron.
Aaron was a boy Allen's age with red hair and no right arm. When Allen first met him, he was doing something close to a fair job of supporting himself, far better than Allen himself had done when he was first a street rat.
That wasn't to say that he had an easy time of things.
"'Ey! What d'you think yer doing, ya brat?"
Allen started and looked back behind him to the fruit stand, which he'd only just visited a few minutes ago.
The stand's owner was standing over a brutally thin red-haired boy, who was on the ground, hand to his face. Allen put two and two together and concluded that the man had hit the boy for trying to steal. It wouldn't be the first time.
He waited for the fruit vendor (not the most generous of men, Allen knew) to chase the boy off before going after him. Allen could easily spare some.
Allen had been out on the street for three weeks now, and, demented as it was, felt much better for it. For most of his life – all of it, really, prior to the Black Order – he had been in a less-than-plentiful environment, and though he enjoyed the benefits that came with it, they also came with a certain measure of discomfort, of expectation, a strange social pressure Allen didn't like.
Here, there was none of that. Allen was dirty, his clothing stained and rumpled and a little torn in a few places, with his ribbon and gloves gone who-knew-where, and he felt more himself than he had in months.
He found the boy sitting on a tattered coat, looking somewhat dejected. For the first time, Allen noted that his right sleeve hung limp, no arm present to support it.
Oh. So he was one of those.
For all the trouble that his arm had caused him as a child, he had always been glad that he, at least, had a body that was whole, if not quite fully functional. It was more than some street children could say for themselves.
"Hey," he said quietly, attracting the boy's attention. The boy looked up to him with a wary, guarded gaze. Allen offered him a slightly tired smile and held out an apple.
The boy looked between Allen and the apple for several long moments before he spoke, voice hoarse.
"What do ye want for it?"
"Nothing," Allen answered easily, having expected the question, voice a little softer than normal. "But if you don't take it, I'm leaving it here."
The boy looked at him for a moment longer, apparently assessing whether or not he was serious, and then reached forward to take the apple, withdrawing it hastily to bite at it hungrily. Allen gave him a small smile and sat down beside him, setting down a few more apples and a partial loaf of bread between them.
Allen was rather good at tucking things away. He was also glad that he retained his skills as a clown, well enough to be a street performer. Even without makeup or supplies, he was good enough to improvise with whatever he found or, almost as often, was given.
It helped that his arm was no longer grotesque and horrifying, it really did.
Seeing the gesture, the boy beside him cast him a wary glance. Allen caught it and gave him a small smile and a nod. Almost instantly, the boy's hand darted out and took off a chunk of the bread, and he quickly devoured that, too.
Like this, they finished the food together, and once it was gone, Allen held his left hand out to the boy.
"Allen," he offered.
The boy looked down at his hand – uncovered, black flesh exposed for any to see – and violet eyes flickered with realization. After all, everyone on the streets had a reason for being there, and he must be assuming that Allen's unnatural hand was his. Once, he would have been right.
And the boy took Allen's strange hand with his own single one, shaking it without further hesitation. "Aaron."
Aaron turned out to be a good-natured boy, much like Allen himself. After that first time, they stuck together for the most part. Allen made enough to support himself and Aaron, and Aaron knew the area better than Allen thought he ever would. Aaron still came up with nearly a quarter of their food, Allen feeling guilty because he knew that he was the one putting pressure on, and then occasionally would find something for Allen to use in his performance, though Allen chose not to ask how he'd gotten them.
Winter was coming now; Allen had meant to be off the street by now, but he flatly refused to leave Aaron and, if he admitted it to himself, he didn't feel quite ready yet. Aaron, on the other hand, was beginning to look more apprehensive as time passed, something Allen understood well, with a shudder of memory.
But they would be fine, Allen assured Aaron, offering the other boy a smile. They would be fine.
Then they switched locations and found a one-legged girl, maybe a year younger, named Gertrude.
Or, rather, Aaron found her. Took quite a liking to her, too, Allen mused.
Allen carefully gathered up the odds and ends he'd used that day – a short but thick stick, a broken kitchen knife, and a ball that Aaron had found him – and bowed one last time to the assembled crowd, offering a smile and holding out a tattered hat that was once brightly colored, also something Aaron found and had apparently thought was funny. Coins and bills landed inside and he smiled, then turned and headed back, remembering to return to kitchen knife to where he'd found it and dropping the stick to leave it where it lay.
Soon enough, he'd turned the corner to where he and Aaron had planned to meet that morning, and tilted his head in question. "Aaron?"
Aaron gave him a sheepish smile and a shrug, while the black-haired girl beside him scowled defensively, arms crossed. Her left leg stretched out in front of her, while her right one was a wrapped-up stump.
Allen only blinked once before offering her a warm smile. "Hey, miss. Mind telling me your name?"
Her scowl softened only slightly, but, at a prompting nudge from Aaron, she did offer, if only grudgingly, "Gertrude." Then, to Aaron, "This is that friend you mentioned?"
Aaron gave her a smile, slightly wry but distinctly fond, and nodded. "Yep, that's Allen. He's been a lifesaver, if I'm honest."
"You were doing fine on your own," Allen dismissed, sitting down beside Aaron and digging into his pocket. He favored Gertrude with another smile of his own. "We can afford one more, if you like."
Gertrude looked at him warily for a moment, but Aaron smiled at her, too, and then she followed, if a little hesitantly, a little suspiciously, eyes flicking over them.
Allen recalled that there had been times that having an unspeakably ugly arm had actually been useful, and gave her a slightly sad smile. She scowled at him. He chuckled, and Aaron winked at him.
Gertrude was nice to have around; Aaron liked her, and Allen could tell well enough that she liked him just as much. Things were a little harder, a little tighter, but they could manage, even with winter coming on fast.
Then it did, and it was the coldest one Allen could remember, full of snow and ice. Nights were long and warmth was scarce, but they could manage.
They would be fine.
Then three became five with perpetually childlike Peter and Wendy, then six with one-legged Edmund. Six became seven with overlarge Horatio, and seven turned to eight with burn-scarred Hope.
One had become eight, and Allen suddenly realized that the situation had changed far beyond what it had been when he first left the Black Order.
Eight people, and the only one with a fully functional body was Allen.
Not to say that they didn't all have their talents; Peter and Wendy were clever and fast, with one distracting the unsuspecting victim while the other stole what they needed. Edmund, while unable to run, had a brilliant aim with whatever you might give him to throw. Gertrude had a temper like fire, fast and hot, and a hit to match, if you were foolish enough to come within reach. Horatio was surprisingly kind, and a better deterrent than one could hope for to fend away any who might consider attacking their group, to say nothing of when they actually did. Even little Hope, younger than any of them, helped, living up to her name and giving them a beacon when nights were unbearable.
Things had changed. It a group, everything was different. With other people to mind, there were rules, and though that was exactly what Allen had been trying to escape, he found that he almost didn't mind.
Allen would spend the day out and around, doing his tricks and being stubbornly legitimate, something he knew the others found endless exasperation and amusement in. At the same time, Aaron and any combination of the others would go do something less legal. Allen tried to find out what, once, but Horatio had informed him, completely serious, that Aaron had forbidden any of them from telling him.
Apparently, Aaron found Allen's determination to be lawful novel enough to be preserved.
Halfway through winter, though, it was colder than ever, and Allen gave in.
One night later, they had to move all the way across town, with Horatio carrying Edmund and Allen carrying Gertrude, but it was worth it for the blankets Allen's winnings had earned them, short-lived though they were bound to be.
"Allen?"
Hope's small voice had Allen turning over instantly to look at her. "Yes, Hope?"
"Are you cold?"
Allen's first impulse was to lie. Hope didn't need to know that he was cold, that his arm, especially, ached with displeasure. But her green eye, wide and worried, had him telling the truth before he realized he was speaking.
"Yes."
"I can tell." One arm, thin and frail, shaking slightly, reached out to point. "You're rubbin' yer arm, like it hurts."
Before Allen could come up with a response to that, another call claimed his attention.
"Allen, the little ones're cold." That was Aaron, sounding a little tired himself, but more worried, and when Allen looked over, Wendy was shivering, with Peter clinging to her as tight as he could, also shaking. He could see Gertrude and Edmund struggling to hide their own cold.
"Bring them all over here," Allen called back, sitting up. He gave Hope a smile. "Hope, come here a moment."
Hope, curious, braved the cold to come over to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging the girl close.
"We'll keep each other warm this way," he explained to her.
Instantly, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, burying her face in the crook of his neck with a muffled, "'Kay."
Aaron had brought the rest of the group over by now, and Allen looked over at him, silver eyes set. "Have Peter and Wendy curl up there." He pointed to the ground close by. "Then Gertrude and Edmund on either side." He considered a moment, thinking, then continued. "Pick a side yourself, and I'll take the other with Hope. Horatio can go where he likes. That should keep us warm until morning, at least. I'll see about getting more blankets tomorrow."
Aaron gave Allen a nod, face serious, and the group curled up together and weathered another night.
And so they lasted out the winter and headed into spring, which was warmer, but also much, much wetter.
Still, it was far better than winter, and Allen and Aaron no longer had to worry about one of the little ones freezing to death during the night.
Then Hope came running up to him in the middle of a rainy day.
"Allen! Allen!"
Allen reached up and snatched the pipe, the ball, and the umbrella he'd been lent out of the air before turning concerned silver eyes on Hope. "Hope? What's wrong? You know you're not supposed to go off alone."
He eye was wide, not with fear, but shock. "Some guy came an' he's talkin' to Aaron, an' he said to come an' get you."
Allen frowned, a furrow appearing between his brows. "You sure?"
For all that Allen brought in what he could, it was Aaron who spent the most time dealing with anyone who might confront their little group, and he'd never brought it up before, let alone asked for help.
But Hope was nodding her head frantically, and so apparently Aaron had deemed it necessary for both of them to be there. Quickly.
Allen nodded, gave her a reassuring smile, and turned back to what small crowd he'd managed to gather on the rainy day. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "It seems I'm needed." He held out the collecting hat, striped with apparently amusing orange and blue, and pitying murmurs accompanied what offerings he received. He bowed, returned the umbrella, and then, without further delay, hurried to follow Hope back.
Soon enough, they were back, and a well-dressed man was standing over their group, most of which was hiding under one of the blankets while Aaron stood facing him.
Aaron didn't notice Allen, not at first, but as soon as he did, he waved him over. "Hey, Allen! This man says he has an offer for us!"
The man turned to look as Allen tilted his head, and his eyes widened as they roamed the white-haired boy's face. Allen had to resist the urge to cringe. He knew that look.
He really, really hated that look.
Deliberately, Allen reached up, brushing his hair out of his face with his left hand, revealing both the startling black flesh and the pentagram of his scar. Generally, this was enough to shatter the look into one of horror.
Not this time.
The man smiled at him, a little too warmly, and stepped forward. One hand lightly brushed the side of Allen's face, and then he said, "Amazing. You look almost like an angel, boy, colored in monochrome, yet you are marred by the devil's own hand."
Allen twitched. The man moved away, smiling, if possible, even more genially than before.
"Won't you please," he continued, as if nothing had occurred, "accept my offer and come with me? I would give you a home – food, warmth, shelter, and more."
"What for?" Aaron asked warily.
"If you will only, one day, when you are able," the man started, eyes sparkling with possibility, as if he were the one being offered the chance of a lifetime, and not they, "make a circus for me."
It was an odd request, and for a moment, they all just stared at him. Then Peter piped up,
"'Ey, Allen, didn'tcha say you had a lot o' fun at the circus?"
Allen nodded, and looked at Aaron, who gave him a smile. Allen looked back at the man, and though he didn't like him, he smiled, too, took his hand, and shook it once.
"Deal," he said, voice soft, but certain.
And the man smiled broadly back.
So... Yay? I think it's alright. I promise that they all get their stage names first thing next chapter. Unfortunately, that also means that this is the last chapter in which Allen remains Allen, but, consistency, you know? Ah, well. Please review!
